Webster’s dictionary defines Speed as the fallowing: the rate of change of position along a straight line with respect to time over a set distance. In other words, the quicker you can get from one place to another. The question is what do you, do when your family has spent the last two generations in search of ways to accomplish this goal faster and faster. Would do you do when the family business is the search for more Speed. For Robert ‘Robby’ McGuire the answer is easy. You grab your sister and strap on a pair of Formula One racecars then go for broke.

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Chapter 12
Sunday morning Raceday, Australian Grand Prix
For the first time since receiving the news that my cancer was in remission, I wasn’t able to sleep. I should say I got very little sleep due to just pure excitement. Not even the party last night was enough to distract me. I know that is all part of the deal as a Formula One driver. I’m just happy as hell that I didn’t have to stay for more than a few hours. Dad made sure of that. He even threatened to put a couple of guys into the hospital for looking wrong at Beth.

I wanted to laugh as he put one moron in his place when he put the moves on me. I know that dad can be frightening when he gets mad, but I’ve never seen him get like this. I mean breakout the shotguns and rings with the guys. Sure, I’ve seen him pull the whole ‘overprotective dad’ bit with Beth’s dates, but never for me. It took me a few minutes to figure out what was going on. I was his little girl now, I was no longer his oldest son. Talk about a blow to the ego. As I sat in my room trying to get to sleep last night I stewed over the fact people will be treating me as dad’s little girl first. The more that I thought about it, people had been doing exactly that for the past few weeks. All that did was piss me off.

The real bitch was the other members of the teams, well male members, still treated me the same way as they did back home. It was the other men from the other teams that were giving me the eye. Not in the friendly way either. They have been sizing me up like a prime rib in the tiger’s enclosure at the zoo. I’ll be honest and say that it has made me more than a little uncomfortable. I think that is why dad has been so protective over me and Beth lately. I think that the only reason why Tony has been getting a pass with dad is because he is a member of the MRDI team. I know he’s giving Kelly a pass because she is a girl and I’m supposedly safe. If he only knew how much we get up to when we’re alone. On second thought, no he doesn’t need to have that knowledge.

I spent the last hour and half down in the hotel gym going through my usual morning workout. I know that I have started to push myself again, but after last night I need to get in the right headspace for the race. I’ve already taken my morning shower and had breakfast sent to my room. I still need to unwind before the race. If I don’t I won’t be in any condition for the race. I think I’ll spent some time with my music and let the bullshit just fallaway into the nothingness of the beat. I know that I have to leave for the track shortly, but a few minutes should help. There was something about the Qualifiers yesterday that has been bugging me. What that is I don’t know, but I know it is important.

As the music plays in my earbuds I let my mind drift back to those last few laps. I can see how the other drivers were attacking the track in my head. Even that idiot Caldera. There was something that kept drawing me back to the way he spun out and how the other drivers kept moving off to one side whenever I got on their tails. I know that a lot of them aren’t used to that style of driving. My alarm clock went off drawing my attention back to the here and now. Leaving me with more questions than answers as to how to win the race. I knew the answer lay in the Qualifiers. Not so much in where we placed, but how the other drivers drove the course.

I go over the schedule for today in my head. The first half of the day was something that I didn’t want to face. There was the morning warm up and meeting with sponsors. Followed by the race day parade. With the driver introductions at the track and final race rules briefing. If I don’t get a move on I’ll never make it to the track on time. We can’t afford a can’t get a helicopter into the circuit just to avoid the traffic jams caused by the fans. That means I either jog down to the track or drive. Neither of which is was the best of ideas.

Thanks to yesterday’s Qualifiers both Beth and I have gained more than a little publicity. I mean, how often is it that a pair of newbies place in the top ten during their first Qualifiers. Let alone take fifth and sixth places at the start of the race. We had pulled off what would be considered the impossible in most peoples’ eyes. Word had spread faster than greased lightning. We’ve already been getting requests for autographs and photographs from race fans. Mom and dad suggested that we leave extra early for the track this morning. Just to avoid the rush.

I take a few minutes and step out onto the room’s balcony for a few minutes. I look over at Albert Park and the track. I couldn’t get a good look at the track itself, but I could already see the fans gathering. With one last look I went back inside closing the door behind me. I grabbed my equipment bag and leathers heading for the door. Stepping into the hall I was greeted by Danny, Tony, Greg, and Kelly.

“Hi guys. I take it mom sent you to get me and Beth?” I asked looking at Danny.

“Got it in one, Bobbie. Your folks didn’t want you two walking around on your own.” There was a note of worry in Danny’s voice. One that I was quick to pick up on.

“Okay, guys. What the fuck is up? Are the rest of the Horsemen waiting downstairs?”

Danny sighed. “You know that fuck stick that spun out yesterday?” I nodded my head. “Well, last night he and a few of his crew were running off at the mouth. Talking about you and Beth not finishing the race. More than a few of the other teams made similar comments along those lines. Your dad figured it would be best if we escorted you down to the track to keep the flying monkeys in line.”

“So, Caldera is still blaming me for his lack of talent.” I growled as I clenched my fists. “If they think I crowed his ass yesterday he is in for a big surprise today. They want to play rough. Fine by me.”

“No shit, little sis.” Beth snarled as she walked up behind me. “Who do we put in the wall first?” I smiled at Beth as let her anger show. Normally, Beth was calm, cool, and unemotional when it came to her driving. “I say we put everyone who gets in the way either into the ditch or the wall.”

“Nah, we don’t do shit sis.” I gave her a toothy smile that was similar to that of a hungry Great White shark. “They want to play, I’ll play.”

I was already forming a plan in my head. One that would make any driver that tried me regret crossing my path. “What’s the one thing I have always been good at?”

At their blank looks I started to giggle. In a sing-song voice I gave them my answer. “There's trouble on the streets tonight. I can feel it in my bones, I had a premonition. That he should not go alone. I knew the gun was loaded but I didn't think he'd kill. Everything exploded, and the blood began to spill.”

Beth, Kelly and the guys busted out laughing as I sang the opening lines of Glenn Frey’s ‘Smuggler's Blues’. The meaning was clear as a bell and they knew it what I was up to. Especially when I switched over to the opening lines for Steve Earl’s Copperhead Road. “Well my name's John Lee Pettimore. Same as my daddy and his daddy before. You hardly ever saw Grandaddy down here. He only came to town about twice a year. He'd buy a hundred pounds of yeast and some copper line. Everybody knew that he made moonshine.”

“HOLLY SHIT!” Danny called out. “She is going full on moonshine runner here.”

“Yup. And those mooks won’t know what hit them until the race is long over with.” I grinned. “They only think that they know how to race. The funny thing is so do we. Only we know how to race in more than just one way.”

Beth snickered. “Why do I foresee a massive rat-race in our near future?”

That’s when it hit me. What had been bugging me since yesterday. The way other drivers were acting during the Qualifiers. The whole process reminded me of a rat-race back home on the backcountry roads. Even the track was laid in a similar manner to way as backcountry roads were naturally. There were always wide sweeping turns, short hairpin turns, snake or chicane turns, with straightaways for varying lengths. Not to mention the raises and falls of rolling hills with turns on the crests, sides, and bases. While Albert Park was damned near flat it wouldn’t matter. Most of South Carolina had everything I just thought about. Formula One racing was practically made for me and Beth.

“That is exactly what we’ll be doing Beth.” I told her with a mile-wide grin. At her blank look I knew that I had to explain my strategy. “Beth, think about the way the track is laid out. Now, place the cars in a starting line-up. What does that remind you of back home?”

Beth did as I asked and closed her eyes before smiling from ear-to-ear. “Saturday night in Columbia, down in Five-points. We got these bitch in the bag. Who’s playing bunny for the fox?”

“You’re the bunny, I’m the fox.” Kelly, and Beth joined me as I giggled, and the guys just chuckled. Our friends had seen me, and Beth pull this kind of shit before. Only the last time we did this, it was for pinks lips in Columbia. I turned towards the elevators in a better mood than I had started the day with. “Come on guys. Time to play with our favorite kind of dipshit.”

The ride down in the elevator didn’t take long. The trip through the lobby though was another story. We hadn’t gotten fifteen feet before Beth and I were swarmed by teenage girls and boys wanting our autographs. I couldn’t believe what was going on. It didn’t make any sense to me or Beth. We hadn’t even won a race yet, and already we were being treated like rock stars. I wanted to kiss the guys once they were able to push their way through the gathering. Kelly ran interference for us long enough to reach a taxi. Once inside the taxi, I told the driver to take us to the racers’ entrance over at the track. He pulled out but did ask to see our ids before taking us to where we asked.

Kelly and the guys showed up ten minutes after we arrived. I was so thankful for the race teams’ private entrance to the track. I looked at Kelly when she climbed out of the taxi and smiled. “Thanks for running interference Kelly.”

“No problem, Bobbie. I just can’t figure out what the hell was going on.” Kelly answered with a frown. “I mean yesterday we walked through the lobby and nobody gave you two a second look. Today it was like you’re Justine Timberlake.”

“WE posted in the top ten, Kelly.” Beth told her before going on to explain. “Those kids saw two girls that are barely a few years older than they are playing with their heroes on the track. We’re the new heroes to them. More so for Bobbie.”

“Wait! Just wait a minute. First, how did they even know about where you placed? Second how did they even know what you looked like? Your parents have been careful to not let your pictures out. Third, how would they even know where you are staying?” Kelly stood there counting off her points with her fingers. “Explain that to me.”

“One, everyone and their brother knows where we Qualified. It was a worldwide broadcast after all. All those kids saw what we did on the TV. Two, our faces were plastered right next to our car numbers and post position. Third, all it took was one enterprising maid, janitor, or bellhop to spread the word.” I explained for my girlfriend. Then kissed her. “Just be thankful that they don’t know we’re dating.”

“Okay, I’ll let that one go. FOR now.” Kelly smirked then turned and guided me inside. “We got a race to get ready for, you two still have morning warmup to go through yet. Not to mention the drivers meeting and autograph session.”

As much as I wanted to pound her, Kelly was right. With less excitement than I felt earlier I headed inside the track. We headed straight for the locker rooms to change and get ready for our day. After they changed the guys and Kelly went over to the garage while Beth and I headed over for the drivers’ race briefing. I sat with Beth as the officials went over the rules, flags, and what penalties would be applied for infractions of the rules. After that we had to deal with the driver introductions. I was a little overwhelmed by the crowds’ reaction to my name. I wasn’t expecting the roar that came out of the stands. It so loud that it was almost like a physical force hitting me. After introductions Beth, me, and the other drivers spent the next hour shaking hands and meeting with sponsors before the race parade. I swear I just want to go some place nice and quiet to relax. I finally got the chance an hour and half before the start of the race.

When the time came for the start I walked out with my music still playing in my ears. I finish getting dressed for the race standing next to the car. I thank Chief Hailee for making the modification to my radio, so I can jack my Ipod into the car’s communication suite. I know that it is not standard, but I really need my music to stay calm while I drive. I look around at the other drivers getting into their cars and smile at their little pre-race quirks. Given the importance of the start, it’s not surprising that drivers are often at their most focused on the grid. Some prepare for the beginning of a race by creating a mental image of the start that they want to make, and, as a result, teams will often try to protect their drivers from overly intrusive media attention on the grid in case it interferes with their concentration. I know that my team will keep the media away.

Thankfully the race start procedure is strictly timetabled from the time that the pit lane opens (30 minutes before the race start) to the time that media and other non-essential personnel must leave the grid (10 minutes before the start). In this period, each team’s engineers and mechanics will be working through specific procedures to prepare their cars.

I know that Chief Hailee and Chief Marks are going to hold off for as long as possible before starting the engines. You see a Formula 1 car's power unit is started as close to the start as possible, because once it’s fired up it’s vital that the car doesn’t sit still for too long. This is because the majority of an F1 power unit’s cooling comes from airflow whilst the car is in motion and, if left stationary for too long, the heat generated can cause damage to the rest of the car, especially at hot races.

All mechanics must be clear of the grid within 45 seconds of the one-minute signal being issued. Then, 15 seconds later, a green light is displayed on the starting gantry to indicate the start of a single formation, or ‘warm up’, lap. My actions on this lap are vital to my chances of making a good start. For starters I got to get enough heat into the brakes and, in particular, my tyres. I can do this through hard accelerations, better known as burnouts, and braking or by weaving back and forth across the track. From the outside this behavior may appear random, I’ll be following a strict plan agreed to by either mom or dad. They’re our race engineers to get everything to just the right temperature.

I also need to use the formation lap to select specific engine maps and clutch modes to make I can get the best getaway possible. For the driver in the pole position, controlling the pace of the formation lap is vital as he does not want to complete the lap so quickly as to be left sitting on the grid for a long period as other cars take their places behind him. This is because while his brakes and tires cool, his engine temperature will rise.

As we come to a halt on the grid, the course car and medical cars are also in position further back, the start sequence is initiated by the race director. I keep my eyes fixed on the starting light gantry, where a sequence of five red lights is illuminated. When the red lights go out after a random time delay over which the race controller has no control the race is underway. To ensure fair play, each car is monitored electronically and any driver jumping the start is penalized.

As the field accelerates away from the grid towards the first corner there is an incredible amount of jostling for position as drivers try to either consolidate or gain position, depending on how good their initial getaway was. I see the first four cars spread across the width of the track. I was sure that there was going to be contact. Especially as the cars are particularly heavy with fuel, have relatively cool brakes and tires. Not to mention that most of them are off the normal racing line where the track surface is likely to offer less grip.

I won’t say that it was luck that no one went in or crashed during the first lap, but more due to the skill of the other drivers. Beth and I barely made it through the first lap untouched. Not that it wasn’t hairy on more than one corner. I could already tell that the other drivers were out to rattle the two of us. I did the first three laps to the sound of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell. As I came out of turn sixteen and onto the front straightaway I hear the opening notes to Steve Earl’s Copperhead Road. I started to laugh as I cross the start/finish line.

I knew that I had the next few laps as I slide through turns one and two. I know that the driver next to me must have freaked out because he drives off into the grass. I up shift and drive hard for turn three just before breaking hard and letting the rear end push me through the turn. I see Beth drop into my review mirror. She was doing exactly what she always did when we rat-raced back home. She was blocking for me while I got up close on the ass end of the lead drivers.

Lap seven came with a change in songs and a double yellow flag between turn ten and eleven on the back straightaway. I started slowing down even before dad came over the radio. “Back it down baby girl. Alveres, Comely, and Julian plowed in on turn fourteen. It’s a bad one Bobbie.”

“Copy that papa bear.” I knew that if dad was calling the wreck a bad one. I didn’t care really so long as the red flag didn’t come out. If that happens then we had some real problems on the track. The weather is perfect, the track is in great condition, and the cars are still close to top form. “Any idea to the cause?”

“Alveres cutdown a tire coming out of turn thirteen and started to slideways into Comely and Julian going into turn fourteen on the straightaway.” I could tell by the tone in dad’s voice that he wanted to use a more colorful description of the drivers involved in the wreck. I had a good feeling that Alveres did something stupid to cutdown that tire.

As we round turn thirteen I could see the wreck just up ahead. The lead cars were hitting their breaks hard. I quickly followed suit as I didn’t want to get penalized for passing on the yellows. I really didn’t want a drive-through penalty this early in the race. A drive-through penalty requires the driver to enter the pitlane, drive through it while obeying its speed limit, and exit without stopping. Drive-through penalties are normally imposed for minor offences, for example curb-hopping at chicanes, ignoring yellow flags, or cutting corners. While a drive-through is less costly to a driver's race times than a stop-go penalty it can still screw with how you finish in a tight race. Beth must have been thinking along the same lines as she pulled up close behind me as we approached the wreck site.

As we drive by them, I can tell that it is a bad one. None of the three will be finishing the race. Not with the amount of damage they have suffered. I do spot a few good signs. First, all the drivers are out of their cars and walking around. Second, there was no fires. That’s one of the biggest fears in any type of racing. Burning gasoline can reach temperatures close to 500 degrees. Not something that most humans want to be exposed to.

I’m just happy that the monocoques worked as advertised and everybody was walking away in one piece. The monocoque, French for ‘single shell’, or 'tub' is the heart of the modern Formula One car. It incorporates the driver's survival cell and cockpit, and also forms the principal component of the car's chassis. With the engine and front suspension mounted directly to it. Its roles as structural component and safety device both require it to be as strong as possible. Like the rest of the car, most of the monocoque is constructed from carbon fiber. Up to 60 layers of it in some places. With high-density woven laminate panels in other areas covering a strong, light honeycomb structure inside.

At the heart of the monocoque lies the survival cell and within that the cockpit. For safety reasons, no fuel, oil or water lines may pass through the cockpit and the driver must be able to get out within five seconds without having to remove anything except seatbelts and steering wheel. Which he must be able to refit within another five seconds. The width of the cockpit must be 50 centimeters at the steering wheel and 30 centimeters at the pedals. The temperature inside the cockpit averages 50 degrees Celsius.

To help with a driver’s escape, the dimensions of the cockpit opening have grown over the years. Currently it must be 850mm long, at least 350mm wide at the pedals and 450mm wide at the steering wheel, with the rear half wider still at 520mm. The rear 375mm of the cockpit’s side walls must rise upwards at an angle of at least 16 degrees. This is to reduce the risk of injury in the event of one car flying over the top of another. The edge of the cockpit must be enclosed in an energy-absorbing material with a thickness of at least 100mm.

The survival cell is surrounded by deformable crash-protection structures which absorb energy in an accident and features a roll-over hoop behind the driver’s head, made of metal or composite materials. The survival cell’s flanks are protected by a 6mm layer of carbon and Zylon, a material used to make bullet-proof vests, to prevent objects such as carbon fiber splinters entering the cockpit.

The driver’s seat is a single plastic cast, tailored to provide optimal support. Since 1999, rules have stipulated it may not be installed as a fixed part of the car. Instead it must be possible to remove the driver and seat as one after an accident, thus eradicating the risk of spinal damage. Compulsory since 1972, today F1 seat belts comprise a six-point harness, which can be released by the driver with a single hand movement.

All Formula One cars must be equipped with a fire extinguisher system. This automatically spreads foam around the chassis and engine area in the event of fire and can also be operated manually by either the driver or marshals. Also required in the cockpit is a master switch that deactivates the car’s electronics, fuel pumps and rear light.

An accident data recorder is also compulsory. Linked to a medical warning system, it registers important information such as speed and deceleration to tell medics how severe the impact was. In addition, there is a cockpit display with red, blue and yellow lights which informs the driver about any warning flags being waved around the circuit.

AS we round turn sixteen and head for the start finish I start thanking mom and dad for the experimental monocoque they put into mine and Beth’s cars. With about 50 square meters of carbon-fiber mats processed I have more than half the additional protection as the other drivers without the added weight. From the looks of things Alveres, Comely, and Julian are going to be fine but they’re going to need new cars for the next race. I’m just happy that all the safety features worked.

I may be competitive and will push the boundaries of the rules to win. But I’m not so much of a bitch as to wish for someone to get hurt in the process. I may race hard, and mean, but I race cleanly. Even when was rat-racing I never put the other driver in harms way on purpose. I keep waiting for the green flag to go back to racing but for some reason the marshals are keeping us under the double yellow. I mean the wrecked cars are all off the track.

“Dad what’s up with the hold on the double yellows?”

“It’s not good kiddo. The marshals are talking about red flagging the race because of fuel on the track. For now, it’s single file all the way around the track. Keep you cool and run your race kiddo. By the way you’re doing great. How in the hell did you and Beth come up with this strategy?”

“How do you think we won all those rat-races? This is what we do. I get them looking over their shoulders at me. While Beth slips pass them on the inside. Once she has their attention I drop in front them before they know what hit them.” I giggled as I spotted my new target. “Keep an eye on the thirty car once we start racing again.”

We completed four more laps under the double yellow flag while the safety workers cleaned up the track. I found out what was going on during two of those laps. It seems that one of the wrecked cars ruptured their fuel cell before sliding off the track. The fact that this even happened means that one of them got hit right behind the tub. The only way for that to have happened was for the area to have been hit by more than 80G’s. It was on the second pass that I got a good look at what happened. I saw the car as the safety crews were loading it onto the recovery truck. One of the cars had its entire rear end ripped off in the crash rupturing the fuel cell. For the first time I was happy for the multiple safety redundancies built into each car. Just for such events on the raceway. I don’t even want to think about the lives they have saved over the years. I know that they saved three today.

Beth and I did our best to keep our tyres clean and warm while waiting for the green flag during these caution laps. We still had a lot of racing to do yet. Forty-six more to be exact, or just short of 244km to go. I don’t care who you are, that is a lot of racing in anybody’s book. For those not in the know that is close to 151miles. This most likely one of the longest rat-races I have ever run. The whole race is just over 307km or 191 miles. I figure that I’ll need to replace my tyres at least two maybe three times before the end of the race.

When the green finally came everyone took off like a bat out of hell. For the next fifteen laps everything went green. Unfortunately, neither Beth or I was able to pass for the next position. No matter what I tried I just couldn’t make the next driver screw up. He was almost prefect in his attacks on the turns. His blocking techniques was text book perfect and totally legal. As much as I want the marshals to throw a blue flag on the guy he is just too good. He had just enough speed to stay ahead of us but still block for his team mate in third position.

Chief Hailee came over the radio as I entered turn one just after the speed trap. “We need to bring you in on this lap, Bobbie. Your time is falling off faster than expected. This is my fault kiddo. Those soft tyres aren’t holding up the way we expected them to. We’ll switch you out to the mediums when you come in.”

“Okay Chief Hailee, it’s your call.” I started my countdown as I exited turn two. With each turn and every straightaway I come closer to a new set of tyres. I don’t bother trying to save the ones that I am currently running. I push my car hard enough that the fourth-place driver finally gives up fourth place. He moves to the outside in turn eight to allow me to pass. That was his mistake as both Beth and me speed past him before he knows was happening. I let Beth pass me on turn ten just before we enter the straightaway into the turn eleven-twelve chicane. As I do I pull a slide job on the joker we just passed.

I keep up my blocking until we exit turn sixteen and head for the pits. I slide into my pit box, just like we had practiced back home. I feel the car bounce up into the air. Then land back on all four tyres within two seconds. The lollipop goes from red to green. I pull out as fast as I came to a stop. I don’t bother to check the time of the pitstop. I know that my guys and gals have been busting their collective asses to get their time down. Before we left and during our practices they were able to get all four tyres changed in 2.3 seconds. This time I know that they did it in under that time.

On the next lap Beth went in for her pit stop and fresh tyres. As she enters back onto the track I know that we are clear back in fifteenth and sixteenth places, for now. That won’t be for long as the other drivers will need to pit soon themselves for new tyres. Five laps later we were right back where we were before we pitted for tyres. Only this time we had the advantage. The first through third positions were running on cold tyres. And we took advantage of their short comings in a way they never saw coming. They raced us like we were the same type of professional drivers. The problem was we were street racers turned pro.

As we were exiting turn eight the opening notes of Bruce Springsteen’s Born to run play in my ears. I drop the hammer and push past Beth to pull right up on the ass end of third place. For the next three minutes and forty seconds I hound the man’s rear end. I worry at his back tyres at every turn. In the straightaways I would drift back and forth behind him keeping the man guessing at where I would go next. Mean while Beth played her roll perfectly as the ice princess. The cold calculating computer driven driver. She never once left my rear end. Right behind me the whole time. Just waiting for the signal to make the pass. I didn’t need to give the signal though as after three full laps on his tail the driver losses control in the hairpin, turn fifteen. He slides into the grass backwards on two blown tyres.

The yellow flag comes out again with 24 laps to go. I had been expecting to get the half black, half white flag for unsporting behavior. So, when it didn’t come I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn’t afford any penalties this early in my career. The most common penalties the marshals’ issue are a drive-through penalty, a five-second time penalty and a ten-second time penalty. In extreme cases marshals may choose to enforce tougher penalties. They can drop a driver any number of grid positions at the next Grand Prix; impose time penalties; reprimand a driver; exclude a driver from the results; or suspend a driver from the next race. Any driver receiving three reprimands during a season will automatically receive a ten-place grid penalty for the current or next event, but only if two or more of the reprimands were for driving infringements. The stewards may also impose penalty points on a driver’s Super License. If a driver accrues 12 penalty points in a 12-month period, they will have their Super License suspended for one race. Penalty points remain on a driver’s Super License for a period of 12 months after which they will be respectively removed on the 12-month anniversary of their imposition.

Of all the penalties that the marshals can drop on me the points are the ones I fear the most. Because unlike the other drivers those points can be levied against my regular driver’s license back home. Good old South Carolina Red State horseshit just waiting in the wings. Part of the requirements to get a Super License in South Carolina is to have an active driver’s license. Any penalty points will be treated as if I got a speeding ticket on the Interstate. In South Carolina your driver’s license gets suspended after 8 points. In the eyes of South Carolina, a Super License is the same as a commercial driver’s license.

Chief Hailee and Marks pull both me and Beth in for new tyres again one lap later. Only this time they have Beth come in first. Again, we’re off sequence with the other teams. They have pulled us in ahead of them. I know that we haven’t fallen off on our times. “Chief Hailee why are you pulling us in now?”

“Just do it Bobbie. Don’t worry about strategy just drive like you have been. Leave the strategy to me and Marks.” I sigh and do what he says. I make one more lap as Beth has her pit stop before me. As I pull into pit line I see why he told me not to worry about strategy. The drivers in first and second place are also pitting. That was all I needed to see to understand the reason for our pitting now. They were trying to get a jump on us with fresher tyres. I could see what Chief Hailee and Marks are up to now by bring Beth in first with the first-place driver. And by having me pit with second-place.

Once back on track with the race Beth is in second place while I’m still in fourth. I realize that I need to get around the now third place driver if I’m going to give her a hand going for first. My chance comes ten laps later in the DRS Zone. This is the first time I’ve used the Drag Reduction System. The DRS is an innovation that makes the driver’s task overtaking slightly easier. Within the designated DRS activation zones, a driver within one second of a rival car may activate his DRS. This alters the angle of the rear wing flap, reducing drag and thereby providing a temporary speed advantage. To ensure that overtaking is not too easy, the length and location of DRS zones are carefully controlled. Until now I have been using under braking, and over-steering to slide past in the corners.

This type of pass requires an enormous amount of skill from the overtaking driver. Not only is a driver likely to have had to move off line onto a more slippery part of the track, he must also judge how late he can leave his braking. Get it wrong and you overshoot the corner, spin off or worse make contact with the car your trying to overtake. This is the type of passing I’m used to as a rat-racer. I reach the DRS zone and hit the activation button.

I snap out and around the third-place driver before he even knows that I’m there. I’ve spent the last full lap lulling him into complacency. I pulled off the move perfectly. If anyone askes me about this pass at the end of the race I’m going to lie though my teeth. I wasn’t expecting to be able to pass this man so easy. Then I see it as we rounded turn fourteen. Black smoke starts pouring out of his exhaust. I don’t know what happened to his engine but the black with orange circle flag accompanied by that car’s number flies. That is all I need to see, as that is the one that warns a driver that he has a mechanical problem and must return to his pit. The race is now down to just me, Beth, and the joker in first place. It is more than twenty seconds back to the next car on the lead lap. We still have sixteen laps to go before the checkered flag and one more pit stop.

As I pull in behind Beth the sounds of Judas Priest ‘Turbo Lover’ fill my ears. Until now I had not realized how far into my race mix I had gone. With more than eighteen songs down I had ten more to go before the mix will start over at the beginning. That was over fifty songs but between the three Qualifiers, two warmups, and today’s race I’m surprised that my mix lasted this long. For the next eight laps Beth does her best to pass and take the lead. The problem is the lead driver was in first for a reason, he was just that good. With just eight laps left I watch as he and Beth head for pit row. I cross the start/finish for the third time and lead my fourth lap of the day. I know that once I come back around I’ll be right back in third place, unless I can pull a rabbit out of my ass.

With this thought in mind I put the peddle to the medal. I throw out all pretenses of racing like a Formula One driver. I know that I stand a good chance of being Half black, half white flagged or just flat out black flagged. I just got to go with my gut feelings and drive the way I know will get me ten to fifteen more seconds of an edge. Time that I will need in the pits. Even as I enter turn one I let my ass end slide as I turn hard on my wheel. I drift through turns one and two as if I had been doing it all day long. I keep the drifting to a bare minimum for the rest of the course, but I do drift my way through the hairpin turns. I kept waiting for the warning flags, but they never come. The only reason I can figure I haven’t been black flagged is because they think I’m real close to losing control due to tyre wear. That and I’m pushing my car to its limits.

I exit turn sixteen and head for the pits breaking hard. I get down to pit row speeds in time to avoid a penalty for speeding on speeding on pit row. As I pull into my pit box I feel my car bounce into the air the second I stop. I never take my eyes off the lollypop and my front jack-man. The milli-second Danny and Steve drop the car Danny jerks the front jack out of the way I speed away. I fight to keep my speed down as I drive the length of pit row. I pull out just in front Beth and the led car with ten seconds to get up to race speed. For the first time I really am winning the race. All thanks to a little bit of luck and a shit load of skill on my part. I break hard going into turn one to cut off the other driver.

From here out I’ve got to drive defensively. My rearview mirrors just became my best friends. Dad really starts to call out the turns and straightaways for me. for the next five laps I let my mind focus solely on the track and my music. I round turn sixteen and enter the front straightaway for the third to last time. By blind fortune and luck, I cross the start/finish line just as ‘Light ‘em up’ by Fall Out Boy starts to play. I fight to control my laughter as I break hard and snap hard on the wheel cutting the other driver off in the turn. I wipe snap my ass end around on turn two grab second gear and floor it for turn three. I don’t know what happened to the bonehead behind me, but I don’t get black flagged, not even a warning from the marshals. I look in my rearview mirror to see the nose of Beth’s car climbing up my ass. I can tell that she is driving her car just as hard. This is going to come down to a drag race somewhere on the track. A Drag race between the two of us for first place and whoever blinks first loses.

I can’t help myself. I got to run the rest of these race full out as a backcountry street-rat racing country girl. These pud pounders have been screwing with Beth and our teams for the last week. It was time to show them all what two Darlington county Southern girls can do. They think they’re better than us just because they drive Formula One. Well, today they’re going to see nothing but taillights from a pair of ‘ugly Americans’. Beth may not have started out wanting to be a Formula One driver like me, but this past week has pissed her off.

We enter turn four almost side-by-side. I got just enough of a lead on her to keep my first-place position. It takes some work, but I squeeze past her and get a one second lead on her as we go into turn five. I keep my led enough that I’m able to open it up enough to gain some time. I know that we got another lap to go but I’m not about to just give it to her. This is a race. There is only one winner the rest are all losers. She knows this as much as I do. Like the Intimidator once said. ‘Second place is just first loser.’ Today neither of us is racing for second place.

We blast our way through section 2 like our asses were on fire. Neither one of us lets up in the turns. Going for broke the whole way. I can hear dad yelling at me to reign it in but I’m having too much fun. I can tell by the way Beth is driving that she is in the same boat as me. If I could have thrown my head back and howled I would have. This is no longer a race against the other drivers. This is down just me and Beth in a winner takes all knock-down, drag-out, no holds-bared, rat-race. All with nothing more on the line than pride and bragging rights.

We attack section 3 by driving through the 11-12 chicane on the edge of sanity. Turn 13 pushed our skills. We hit the DRS zone at full speed. Beth in an attempt to pass tried to used her DRS here. I just had too much room to block her for that to work. I key my radio for her car. “Sorry sis but you’re going to have to beat me the old-fashioned way.”

“Is that so little sister? Then it is on, bitch. Let’s do this. We got one lap left to go.” I giggled at her response and push my car harder. I know for a fact that both Beth and I held back during Qualification and for most of the race. Now, that we were out front there was no need to keep a lid on our engines. We came out of turn sixteen onto the front straightaway and the start/finish. The white flag was flying. I let up and let Beth pull along side me. she knew what was up. We crossed the starting line for the last time and the race was on.

We rounded turn 1 side-by-side in a slide. Turn 2 was taken the same. We were getting more than a little sideways with our racing now. This was all backcountry rat-racing at its finest. The short jog to turn 3 give us enough time to down shift for turns 4 and 5. We powered out of 5 and through the 6-7 chicane. Turn 8 gave us enough time to up shift to get some speed up before breaking hard into turns 9 and 10. The 11-12 chicane was almost anticlimactic after that, but the straightaway into the hard-right hand turn 13 made up for it. The exit out of 13 followed by the short straightaway is where Beth made her move to pass again. Only this time she pulled off the DRS maneuver and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop her. Not with turn 14 right there and having to break hard myself to keep from spinning out. After that it was all her race. All I could do chase her down and hope she makes a mistake in less than a half mile.

Beth made the final two turns with picture perfect execution. She really earned her nickname of ice princess today. She stayed frosty the whole race right up to the last lap. She took advantage of every mistake the other drivers made. Not once did she lose her cool and let her emotions get the better of her driving. I’m proof of that. I got excited and gave too much room on the inside in the DRS zone on the final lap. She saw my mistake and drove right past me. It was prefect execution of the DRS to take the lead. With it the win for the race. We cross the finish line two seconds apart. I follow her around one more time to slow down and cool off our engines. I know that we still got the winners line bullshit to deal with yet, but I don’t care. I may not have won the race, but I did graduate finally. I kept my promise. I can honestly say that I’m a real Formula One driver now.

-----tbc-----