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.

---

Chapter 23
Silverstone Great Britain

I was more than a little surprised by the changes made by F1A over the last few weeks. I knew that Formula 1 teams could make massive alterations to their cars overnight. What I have seen goes beyond what even I could expect. In just a few short weeks the other teams were able to not only take the design of our safer fuel cell but produce enough of them to outfit each car with a main and a spare. I was even more amazed that those new fuel cells were waiting for their teams at Heathrow Airport.

I’ve heard more than a few of the other drivers thanking my mom and dad for giving up the design specs for those new fuel cells. To me those thanks made up for mine and Beth’s less than stellar performance over the last few races. We barely qualified for Monaco. Montreal was a total waste with neither of us placing higher than Beth in 12th. Le Castellet Beth finished dead last while I placed 19th. As for Spielberg Austria, let’s just say that I would have preferred to have skipped that fucking race. We may have placed in the teens, but that was just barely. I know that part of the problem has been Barcelona and the effect that race had on both of us.

Neither of us have been sleeping too good since then. I got so bad that mom offered to pay for Sharron’s plane ticket to meet with us in Canada. Hell, I was almost tempted to cover her flight myself. I do know that I have run up a massive bill in roving charges on my cell phone. After the second night of sweat drenching, bed pissing, scream inducing, nightmares, I was half tempted to sign Sharron on as part of our team. I know that Kelly would support me if I got her to sign as the team shrink. I think the one thing that has kept me from going completely around the bend, besides my nightly chats with Sharron, is my morning runs with Coach Hall or Kathy. I know that the two of them have found me more than once in the hotel gyms.

After yesterday’s qualifying rounds I think we might have rounded a turn. I’m just happy that our sponsors haven’t pulled out. Then again, our team is still holding the top position in the Builder’s Race. We may have slipped in the driver’s points some but we’re still on top. The problem is the other drivers have been cutting into our lead big time. Those four races really hit us hard. Both in points and our confidence. Then yesterday for the first time sense Barcelona Beth had one hell of a qualifying run. She posted the second fastest qualifying time ever, she just missed tying the Silverstone record by one-one-hundredth of a second. Me, I was just happy with qualifying in third place. Not bad really.

“Hey, sis. You just going to stand there all day staring at the track?” I chuckled as I turned to find Joey standing behind me. “It’s not like you don’t know every inch of this track. I swear you and Beth have been pouring over those maps and watching those films nonstop. Not too mention running the track every morning and evening.”

I just chuckled. “I hear you Joey. You know for the first time since Spain I truly feel like racing today.”

“Then it’s about fucking time, young lady.” I spun on my heel to find mom standing behind one of the toolboxes. The fact that she just used a curse word had my undivided attention. “You’ve been holding back long enough, dear. Care to tell me why you finally decided to get back in the saddle?”

I looked back out at the track named Silverstone. The Home of British Motor Racing and one of the great cathedrals of motorsport. The one track that holds the names more legends than any other. This track also holds a special place in my heart. I may have been drawn to the sport by the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve race, but it was Silverstone that made me a true fan. The only other track that holds a greater importance for me is Austin, Texas. The only Formula 1 race held in the USA. I looked back at mom and sadly smiled as I gave her a one word answer. “Lisa.”

“Hold up here love. You do know that you and Kelly are due to be married soon? Do you really think that Kelly would find it acceptable that you’re out there racing for an old girlfriend?” Mom smirked.

“It’s not that mom.” I whined. “This is the race that Lisa challenged me to win just for her after she found out about my contract.”

“I know kiddo. I just don’t want you pushing yourself out there day. Remember we got fifty-two laps to cover just over three-hundred-and-six kilometers. Not to mention the warmup laps. You’re third in the field. Right behind your sister. This is your type of track. Fast with wide open turns. More than eighty percent of that track is still the old airbase perimeter road.” I wanted to laugh at the way mom was talking about the track. But she was right. “I think you can close your eyes and walk me around the track, dear?”

I didn’t even think twice about her challenge. I closed my eyes and thought about Silverstone. “The start of the race is located between Club Corner and Abbey Corner on International Pit Straightaway. The almost flat out, right-hand turn of Abbey leads immediately into the left-hand turn of Farm before cars brake heavily into the second-gear for the right-hander of Village Corner. The even slower left-hander of the Loop comes immediately afterwards. It leads into the flat-out left-hander of Aintree. From there cars head down the DRS zone of the Wellington Straight, designed in twenty-ten to promote overtaking on the track. Turn number six, the left-hander of Brooklands, is a nasty second gear turn and leads immediately into Luffield. A low speed second-gear curve, in the opposite direction. The right-handed turn is a wicked hairpin. Up next is the right-handed kink of Woodcote.”

I keep my eyes shut and let the smile come to my face as I go over the track in my head. I can see the next section in my head clear as day. “This leads cars down the old pit straightaway, National Pit Straightaway before the difficult sixth-gear right-hander of Copse, with a minimum ass kicking speed of one-seventy-five when dry. The challenging complex of Maggotts, Becketts and Chapel come out of nowhere. They’re a left–right–left–right–left complex. The minimum speed through here is usually one-hundred-thirty. The exit off the last left-hand turn leads the cars down the seven-hundred-seventy-meters of Hangar Straightaway. This is one of the fastest straightaways that ends with the fifth-gear right-hand corner of Stowe at the end.”

I heard the chuckle from mom, and Joey as I finished going over the last part of the track. They knew that I had the track down perfect. “The fifteenth turn of the track, better known as Stowe, has a minimum speed of one-hundred-twenty-five. The turn drops out onto a short straightaway, named the Vale. The Vale leads cars downhill towards the Club complex. Heavy braking is required for the hard left-hander of turn sixteen. Understeer can be an issue for the next two right-hand turns of seventeen and eighteen, as drivers tentatively accelerate round to the start–finish line of International Pit Straightaway. If you’re not careful you can lose the race between the Club Complex Chicane and Abby Corner on International Pit Straightaway.”

When I opened my eyes my parents, Kelly, Beth, and Joey stood there clapping their hands. They weren’t the only ones either. More than half the team had joined my family as I went over Silverstone in my head turn by turn, straightaways to pit row, start to finish. Even three of the other drivers were standing there clapping their hands. Talk about embarrassing. I let my smartass bone shine. I smiled and gave them a small curtsy.

“I have to say Miss McGuire. You have an extremely technological grasp of Silverstone.” Robert McNairy said as he walked up to shake my hand. “I do wonder if you grasp the beauty and truly historical nature of this place?”

I have to give the British driver this much. This was his home track and if anyone knew the true nature of Silverstone. It would be him. He was also one of the first drivers to accept me and Beth on the circuit as equals. That is another thing. The attitude of most drivers has changed over the last few weeks. There are still a few Old World drivers that don’t want us here, but they are firmly in the minority now.

“Mr. McNairy, I won’t even try to grasp the significance of this particular raceway in words.” I told him honestly. Then smiled to take any sting out of my words. “I’m a racecar driver sir, not a poet.”

McNairy just clapped his hands again. “Well, said young lady.” Then he looked out at the track. “Before she became the home to British motorsports. This grand lady started life as a World War Two Royal Air Force bomber base.”

“Excuse me sir, but did you just say that Silverstone was at one time a World War Two bomber base? How did it go from that to this?” Joey asked McNairy with respect and surprise at hearing this tiny bit of history.

“We have Wilfred Andrews, and the RAC to thank for that young man. It was his vision of a British Grand Prix on the roads of Great Britain. Sadly, there wasn’t a possibility of closing the public highway as what could happen on the Isle of Man, or the Channel Islands. The years following the war were a time of extreme austerity for the British. There was absolutely no question of building a new circuit from scratch. Andrews and the RAC had to find a viable alternative. This was where the Royal Automotive Club and the Royal Air Force became the best of friends.” Joey wasn’t the only one drawn in McNairy’s history lesson. Practically everyone in our pit area was listening to the man as he told the history of Silverstone.

“Wait a minute here Robert. Are you saying that one of the oldest racing tracks in the world is a combat veteran?” Anthony Lacasse asked in total surprise. I knew that the Italian driver was anything but stupid. So, his surprise was genuine to say the least.

“RAF Silverstone was home to the Seventeenth Operational Training Unit RAF operating the Vickers Wellington bomber. During the war years this Grand Lady trained a great many of our pilots to carry the fight to the Nazis.” There was a sense of pride in McNairy’s voice for the history of Silverstone. Of all the tracks I think this is the only one that started life as warrior.

“McNairy, I have to say that you truly have surprised me. I’ve never really thought about the history of our sport.” Lacasse expressed my feelings as well as for a few others in the pit area. “Is Silverstone the only circuit that holds such a fascination for you?”

McNairy started chuckling. “I guess you could that say I’m the unofficial Historian for our sport Anthony. Don’t worry though, after you’ve been around for as long as I have. They’ll start seeing you as the ‘old man’.” He then looked over at me and smirked. “Or ‘old lady’.”

I just bowed my head and chuckled. He was right. McNairy was currently the oldest driver on the circuit. Robert McNairy has been racing for longer than just about every driver there is. No matter what automotive sport they’re in. According to mom, McNairy is just short of fifty and he’s been driving since he was twenty. He has also constantly been my biggest competitor. Needless to say, he has had my respect from day one. He was also one of the first to return the respect that Beth and I have shown the other drivers.

“You know something Mister McNairy. For a British rogue, you’re quite the gentleman.” I turned sad as I remembered who his old partner was. “Um… sir, I would like to give you my condolences for Robert Campbell. I understand that he was more than just a team mate for you.”

The older man sighed before looking me in the eye. “Rob was almost like a son to me and a kid brother to the other members of our team. After his folks died, we were all that he had. He was always at one member of the team’s homes during our downtime. I will say this much, he truly respected you and your sister. Not just as women but as fellow drivers.”

“Trust me, sir. We know. He was a true sportsman. He always gave his best both on and off the track.” I looked down at my feet and crossed my hands at my waist. “Sir, I hope you understand why I didn’t show up at the funeral?”

“You’re forgiven young lady.” McNairy gave me a reassuring smile. “I fully understand your reasons for not being there. A young person shouldn’t have to face death like that. The flowers you sent were a fitting tribute.”

The flowers McNairy was talking about were sixty-eight white roses, one for each race that Campbell had participated in shaped in wreath. It was mom who suggested the design. Kelly was the one to hold me while I ordered the flowers. It was my family that got me through the televised funeral. In his rather short racing career Robert Campbell had become a national hero.

McNairy must have noticed something as my attitude became somber. “Sorry. I forgot that you’re a cancer survivor. You must have faced your very own death more than once in your young life already.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” I mumbled.

“Take some advice young lady.” I just nodded my head. I would always take advice from someone whose been racing longer than I’ve been alive. “Stop trying to out run the Bounty Hunter. Trust me young lady, in the end it doesn’t matter how hard you try, he always wins.”

I wanted to argue with the man, but he was right. You can only outrun the Bounty Hunter for just so long. He and his posse always get their due. Charon, Thanatos, the Grim Reaper, the Devil’s Bounty Hunter, whatever name you use, Death always wins in the end. I should know I’ve seen it enough times on the children’s cancer ward of USMC.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, sir. I think that the number is somewhere around fifteen now.” I heard a few chuckles and looked over my shoulder at my friends and family. Not to mention my pit crew. “Okay, let me correct that number to somewhere around fifty to sixty.”

“That’s just the people who know and love you, dear.” Kelly said sweetly as she walked up and slipped her arm through mine. “The problem is you’re just too stubborn to know any better.”

“I am not stubborn. I just refused to back down from a challenge.” I countered figuring that I had grounds for my argument. After all I survived cancer because I refused to give up and die thanks to Sharon.

“That’s for damned sure.” Danny popped off. “I think the only time you’ve ever backed down was when you thought the challenge wasn’t worth your time.”

“Not true, Danny.” Kelly snapped. “She’s walked away from plenty of stupid challenges. Ones that were nothing more than comparing dick sizes.”

Her comment about ‘dick sizes’ elected a few chuckles along with a slight blush from McNairy and Lacasse. To them and the rest of the world I was a young late teenage woman that knew how to drive a Formula 1 race car. I understood the reasons behind that stupid clause in my contract. It is hard to convince people that you’re really a boy when you look more like a girl thanks to your measurements and size. As much as I wanted to say that I’ve only whipped it out once to prove that I’m male. There was one too many people around that didn’t know my secret.

“Miss McGuire I truly hope that you and your fiancée have a long and wonderful life together. As I fear there is no man that could ever keep up with her.” Lacasse told us with a smirk. I blushed while Kelly giggled.

“I have to agree. They do make a lovely couple. And Miss Ringwald’s playful sense of humor definitely offsets Miss McGuire’s too serious nature.” McNairy said to Lacasse. I wanted to argue with them both, but they were basically right. Kelly did keep me on an even keel. Well most of the time. “I do hope that you young ladies are going to send out invitations to the wedding.”

“Don’t worry Mister McNairy, you should be receiving the invitation shortly. There are only a few drivers that we’re not inviting.” Kelly snarled out the last part as she looked over at two of the last three drivers to have a problem with me and Beth. “To be blunt there are only three that ain’t welcome. I won’t piss on them if they were on fire.”

“Let it go, Kelly. They’re not worth it.” I patted her hand. This time I was the one to snarl. “Besides, when the race starts, I’ll drive their asses into the ground. As long as they race clean, no problems. They come after me they’ll learn just like the others that I don’t play fair.”

“Miss McGuire, I disagree. You have always played fair. Until the other side tried to get stupid. Then you happily show them the errors of their ways. I will be honest. When you and your sister first showed up in Melbourne, I was one of those who doubted your abilities. Then I watched as you young ladies not only win the race but did so solely on your abilities to out drive those around you.” I was shocked at hearing Lacasse admit to his feelings about me and Beth. “You two young ladies impressed a good number of other drivers that day. Not just McNairy and I.”

“They’re not the only ones, Miss McGuire.” I turned to the one driver that I never expected to see in my pit area in a friendly manner Pedro Rodríguez. “I am the first to admit that there are a few of our fellow drivers need lessons in manners, and sportsmanship. I will say this. You and your sister are not among their number.”

“Senior Rodríguez.” I began with a slight bow to the second oldest driver on the circuit. “We have only tried to compete fairly and honestly.”

“That you have. Unlike a few of our fellow drivers.” Rodríguez actually looked in the direction of two of my biggest pains in the ass Author Kent and Ramon Castro. “Those TWO are sorely in need of life altering beatings.”

I wasn’t the only one to sputter over Rodríguez’s comment. I think everyone in my pit area was stunned by the man’s change of attitude. Until a few weeks ago he was one of the drivers that wasn’t on my side. He wasn’t all-out against me, but he definitely wasn’t one of my friends. For him to be here now, like this, was way beyond anything I would ever expect. His anger towards Kent and Castro was something I never expected.

“We’ve offered to hand those out, Senior Rodríguez. For some reason they just haven’t been willing to take the offer.” Tony snarked.

“So, I’ve heard young man. I’m also not surprised that they have turned you and your countrymen down. Kent may be loco en la cabeza, but he is not stupid. That honor goes to Castro. He is still not happy with the way things ended at Barcelona. I hear he is still trying to blame you and your sister for that crash. The fool.” Everyone could tell that Rodriguez wasn’t proud of his fellow countryman, and his teammate.

Not that I gave a shit about the two. I knew that they were nowhere near as good as they thought they were. If they were then they would be the ones in the points lead and not us. As it was the two of them were halfway down the driver points standings with no way of catching up to us. They would have to win the next five races to climb their way up far enough to challenge us.

“He’s not a fool. The man is just plain stupid and incompetent.” I turned to find another new face in our pit area, Ivan VolKov. Ivan spat on the garage floor. “He is much like the old Communist Party commissars.”

This peeked my attention. “Why would you say that sir?”

“He is like all of those pigs. Wanting honors that he does not deserve. While not showing respect to those who have earned it.” Ivan explained as if it was common knowledge. I could tell that this was a sore topic for the man. He gave me and Beth a sly smile. “Unlike you young ladies. You have earned all of the honors we can give you.”

“I don’t know about honors sir. We just want to go fast, and have fun doing it. The fact that we get paid for doing something we love is just icing on the cake.” Beth told him with a smirk.

“The problem is we just can’t slow down once we get going.” I had to get in on the fun. I already knew where Beth was going. “We got the speeding tickets to prove it. Just ask our team mates.”

My comment about speeding tickets had the desired effect on my teams as they started to chuckle. The other four drivers just looked at my team before joining them. Ivan slapped me in the back letting his laughter roar. Ivan may be the biggest driver currently on the circuit, but he was smaller then most of the males on my pit crew. Not that it mattered as he was still bigger than me and that slap hurt.

The overhead speaker crackled. “Ladies and gentlemen, would all drivers please report for driver introductions. We say again all drivers please report for introductions.”

I smiled gave Kelly a kiss before joining Beth and the other drivers for the introductions. After introductions came the parade, with the anthem coming shortly thereafter. With the parade and anthem out of the way there was the fan meet and greet. It when the final call to mount our cars came. I was way pass the point of being anxious. I had my earbuds in before even reaching my car. Even as I was climbing into the cockpit, I started to feel the adrenalin rushing into my veins.

Kelly leans in to give me a kiss that ignites my passions while Danny takes his time to strap me in tight. When Kelly pulls back, she hands me my balaclava, glove liners, and gloves. The last item she hands me is my helmet. “Win this one for Lisa, love.”

Once I was ready, I gave Chief Hailee a thumbs up and flipped the ignition switch. Chief Hailee signaled Tommy and the engine came to life. Once again, I feel more than hear the purr of the demon. Even before I can shift into first gear the monster is lurching at its chains. Once again begging to break free of its bonds and vent its rage.

For the first time in months I feel the smile come once more to my lips. I don’t really know what has changed in past few hours. I just know that I no longer feel the dread that had paralyzed me for the past weeks. The fear is still there, but it no longer controls me. As we pull out for the warmup lap, I can tell that this race belongs to me. To me alone and it is mine to lose. Beth may have the pole position, but I have the better car. Not only the better car, but I’m the better driver.

Even as we round the first turn, I know the track has changed. I can tell that the track surface is hotter than yesterday. The setup I had for the qualifying runs will need to be changed with the first tyre change. I’ll need more down force in the turns. This is a fast track. I can run the powerplant close to its max through the first section. It’ll be sections two and three that I’ll need to watch my speed. Even then I’ll be able to push the car harder than I did during qualifying.

My radio comes to life for the first time as Kathy starts laying out the field for me. “Listen up Bobbie. Only Beth and McNairy are ahead of you. The rest of the field will have to fight their way up to just challenge you once you round Abby Corner. If you don’t miss your shifts that is.”

“Eat me, Kathy.” I snapped back. I was in the mood to go fast.

“Damn girl! What’s got into you? You’re sounding feisty today.” I could hear the giggle in her voice and knew that she was ready to call the race for me.

“Let’s just say that I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. Okay?” I knew that she would understand. Of all the girls on our team outside of Beth and Kelly, Kathy had been there when I was at my sickest.

“About time you decided to take back your life. Now, listen up. The track temp is a lot hotter than yesterday. You’ll need to take care of your tyres. No slide slipping or drifting today if you can avoid it. The turns have a healthy buildup of rubber thanks to the past few days. You should be able to hold the inside line all the way around. Only use the outside for passing and blocking. As for the straightaways keep your foot down until the last second. That’s where you’ll make up the most time.”

“Copy that, Kathy. Just do me one favor keep an eye out for Castor and Kent. I have a feeling that if they get the chance, they’ll try something.” I knew that I didn’t have to tell her that. I just didn’t trust those two.

“I already got them in my sights, Bobbie. Don’t you worry about them though. You just run your race. Leave those jackasses to me and mom.” The radio went dead as we rounded the last turn and started to line up for the start.

Once stopped behind Beth, I reach down and hit the play button on my iPod. The first whistled notes of Rammstein’s Engel sound in my ears. I can tighten my grip on the wheel at the first stirrings of the base guitar. With a gentle touch I caress the peddle shitter when the lead guitar came in. The sounds of the music push my already forming adrenaline rush even higher. Almost to the point that I’m close to coming in my panties. When the green flag drops Beth takes off with McNairy hot on her heels.

I held back blocking Sorenson as we entered Abby Corner. I wanted to give Beth the chance to clear McNairy and open up her lead. I didn’t care if Beth led a few laps. Hell, I didn’t care if she led the whole race. It won’t matter in the long run. Because by the end of the day. It would be my car that crosses that finish line first. We exited Abby Corner with the left-hand corner of Farm coming on faster than I expected. I watched Beth closely as she went for the inside curb hard. I knew that she was trying to block McNairy. I also knew that it wouldn’t work. This was his home track.

When we exited Farm, I was more than slightly surprised to see Beth still in the lead. McNairy should have over taken Beth halfway through the turn. It didn’t make sense. Something has to be wrong. Either that or McNairy is playing with my sister. As we enter the first DSR zone just before the Village turn, I excepted to see McNairy pass Beth or at least challenge her. Again, nothing happened. That’s when I noticed something. Either McNairy was falling back, or I was gaining on the man faster than expected.

I looked into my rearview mirror for Sorenson and the man wasn’t there. “Kathy where the hell is Sorenson?”

“Don’t worry about him, Bobbie.” Kathy snapped. “Just keep your eyes on McNairy. You’ll be on his ass by the time you reach Wellington straightaway.”

Damn. That was faster than I planned on. If I reach him on Wellington, then it’ll be a drag race between the two of us to Brooklands corner. Damn it. I do not want to try to pass McNairy on the straightaway. As we come out of the hairpin turn that is called the Loop, I spot something in the way McNairy is driving. “Son of a bitch. Kathy is McNairy trying to drift?”

“It looks that way, Bobbie. That’s why I told you to keep your eyes on him.” I could tell by Kathy’s tone that something was worrying her.

“What’s bothering you Kathy?”

“Besides you and Beth. How many of the other drivers do you know that can drift? I don’t mean by accident but the way you two can.” Now I understood Kathy’s worry. These were professional drivers. For someone of McNairy’s caliber to be trying something new was not good for me. It could only mean one thing. They were on to mine and Beth’s driving style.

“Maybe, half the field if not more, Kathy. Remember that more than a few of these guys carry tickets for other motorsports. Hell, Sorenson has his ticket for MotoGP, Moto-two, and Moto-three. Not to mention Drift and Indy.” I must have impressed Kathy because she went silent for a few seconds. It might have been because I was busy with powering down the Wellington Straightaway.

Kathy was right, I was right on McNairy’s ass and having to fight to keep from running him over. It happened just the way I figured it would. McNairy and I got into a drag race heading for Brooklands, Luffeild, and Woodcute turn complex. I needed to either drop back or get ahead of him. I didn’t want to try this man in those three turns. I looked for Beth and she was already entering the hard 90 degree left hand turn that is Brooklands.

I could tell by the way she is breaking that either McNairy or me is going to have to use the outside line in those turns. Not fucking good all. For either of us. I keyed my radio fast. “Kathy how much rubber has built up on the outside line of Brooklands?”

“Stay to the inside, Bobbie. According to Beth that turn is covered by marbles. You need to starting breaking now.”

I took her advice and hit the brakes. McNairy shot passed me and dove hard into the turn. He took the inside line just inches ahead of me. Just the way I thought he would. I had to brake even harder as we exited Brooklands and entered Luffeild. I wanted to take the looping right hander at a higher speed but even if McNairy wasn’t in front of me the G-forces prevented a higher speed. This turn is not one to take for granted.

As I enter Woodcute I spot my chance to pass and take it. McNairy made one mistake on entering Woodcute. He went too wide on entering the turn. He left just too much room for me to slip pass on the inside. As I passed him, he raised his righthand. As if he was acknowledging his mistake. I powered through the rest of the turn picking up speed for the exit onto International Pit Straightaway. I top out at just over 185mph.

I got my first clear view of Beth’s rear end just before she entered the righthand Corpse turn. I could tell that she wasn’t using her brakes to slow down. Only her transmission. Beth was engine braking. I downshifted to sixth-gear as I entered Copse turn, dropping my speed to an ass kicking speed of 155mph. The left–right–left–right–left complex of Maggotts, Becketts and Chapel came out of nowhere. I took the five turns at just over 145mph. With each successful turn, I slowly increase my speed. I know that I’m pushing the edge, but the music is driving me to reach deeper inside myself. I need to go beyond what I have done in the past.

I exit the final lefthander of the complex and smile. With all her lead, Beth is only halfway down Hanger Straightway. She’ll lose even more of her lead when she brakes for the righthand turn of Stowe. The only problem is I’ll need to brake just as hard, if not harder to take the same turn. I hit my brakes hard and down shift to fifth gear just to handle Stowe corner. The G-forces push down on me as I hit the apex of the turn with near blackout force. I understand what McNairy meant by racing on this track was like flying a fighter jet. With each turn and straightaway I wanted to push my car closer and closer to the edge. Along with myself.

I shot down the Vale at just over 130 before braking for the left-right chicane. As I exit the chicane, I’m right on Beth’s ass end. I dive for the inside and cut Beth off at the entrance to Club turn. I feel my smile grow as I shoot past her and take the lead. From here out it doesn’t matter what else happens. This race is mine.

“GOD DAMN! Bobbie where the hell did that come from?!” Kathy shouted over the radio in her excitement. I knew how she felt.

“Go Speedy go!” I had forgotten that Chief Hailee could talk to me over the radio. “Burn it down Kiddo!”

“Don’t stop, baby girl! Go Speedy go!” Dad shouted right behind him.

The one voice that I wasn’t expecting to hear just then drove me more than any other was mom’s. “No prisoners Bobbie! Do it baby! Do it for Lisa!”

I exited Club corner dropped the hammer and never looked back. I had forty-nine laps to prove that I owned this track. Forty-nine laps to glory. Forty-nine laps to take back my place on the Formula one circuit. Forty-nine laps with nothing between me and the finish line. Forty-nine laps to fulfill a promise to one person. A promise that no one was going to stop me from keeping. I knew that Lisa would be watching this race. I had to win just for her. If it was the last thing I ever did.

Two laps later Judas Priest’s Turbo Lover filled my ears. I knew that it was a sign. A sign for what I didn’t have a clue. I just took it for what it was and drove my ass off. I knew that nothing was stopping me as the sounds of Meatloaf’s Bat out of Hell began to play on lap eight. For the next five laps I put down some of the fastest times in the history of Silverstone. Chief Hailee had me pit on lap thirteen come in for new tyres and slight adjustment to the front wing and stabilizers. My pit crew turned in a one-point-two second pit stop. Long enough for a change in songs.

As I was pulling out the opening notes to Rush’s Tom Sawyer thundered in my ears. The music reached deep into my soul. It drove me to push my car and myself even harder. I had to win this race, period. Kathy gave up on trying to warn me about taking the turns faster than the other drivers. Instead she started counting down each turn and straightaway for me. Whenever I came up on another car, she would tell me where to take the turn or straightaway to make a solid pass and clean pass. With her help I was able to lap the last seven cars with ease. We had truly become a solid driver/spotter team.

Chief Hailee called me in three more times for both fresh tyres and minor adjustments. The adjustments were done to keep up with the changing track conditions. At laps sixteen, nineteen, twenty-four, and thirty-six the yellow flag came out for drivers in the grass and gravel runoffs. I was surprised that we had only those four yellow flags with as fast as the track was today. I was expecting at least another two or three yellow flags. Along with one major crash. That crash came late in the race.

At lap forty-seven the crash that I was expecting finally happened. It wasn’t the major blowout that I expected though. The crash occurred between two of the lapped racers between the Vale and Club turns. Kathy warned me of the wreck as I exited Chapel onto the Hanger Straightaway. I knew that the Marshals would throw the yellow flag before I reached the wreck. I had plenty of time to start gearing down for the wreck. With both Stowe and the Vale straightaway between me and the wreck I knew that the recovery crews would just be getting there as I passed them. I also knew that the rest of the field would be looking to capitalize on the wreck.

It would force me to allow the rest of the field to catch up to me. Not something that I was looking forward to dealing with. Once Beth and the rest were on my ass, I would be fighting to regain my lead. Just as I thought. As I reached the midway point of Hanger Straightaway the Marshals throw the yellow flag. The only it was a full track yellow not the section yellow that I was expecting. I keep gearing down until I reached pit road speeds. I slowly rolled pass the recovery crews and the wrecked cars. I smiled as I watched the drivers climb into the ambulance to be transported to the infield medical center. The fact that both drivers were up and walking around lifted my sprites higher than I could ever have hoped.

It took another full lap for the recovery crews to clear the track. Another lap after that for us to go back to green flag racing. When the Marshals waved the green flag, I didn’t think twice. I floor the accelerator shifting up throw the gears. I hit Abbey turn wide open. Beth was hot on my heels working the shit out of her steering wheel and gears. I have to give my sister her due. She wasn’t going to just let me drive off into the sunset with a win without a fight. When there are less than three laps left in a race no one is your friend and teammates become rivals. Even amongst sisters. I know that Beth is going to do her best to win, but like I said earlier this race is mine to win or lose.

I came out of Aintree with no sight of Beth or McNairy. I reached Brooklands just as AC/DC’s ‘Shoot to thrill’ sounded in my earbuds. It was all I needed to haul ass for the finish line. I caught a glimpse of Beth in my review mirrors. I had to smile. She was no longer a threat, and neither was McNairy. They have their hands full fighting off the rest of the field. I round Luffield, Woodcut, and tear down National Pit Straightaway. I get another glimpse of Beth and McNairy in my review coming out of Woodcut just as I enter Cospe turn. I don’t know how but they have both fallen off the pace badly. I key my mike.

“Kathy, what’s going on with Beth and McNairy?”

“Nothing. They’re both fighting their asses off just to keep in front of the field. Hell, McNairy is doing most of the blocking for the two of them. By the way McNairy is holding on to third by the skin of his teeth. Beth has been able to gain some ground on you. Not enough to be concerned about.”

“Do you think she’ll try to use the DRS zone Maggots?”

“Negative. If anything, Beth will come after you on the Hanger Straightaway or the Vale, Club chicane. Those are the only two spots that she has a chance to gain the upper hand.”

“Thanks, Kathy.” I dropped off the radio as I rounded the exit of Beckets turn entering the Hanger Straightaway. I never looked back as I sped down the 770 meters of one of the fastest straightaways on the F1 circuit. Just as I hit the brakes for Stowe Beth appeared out of nowhere. She was right there on my ass halfway through the turn. Talk about a kick in the ass. I pushed my car harder than ever before.

No way was I going to just let my sister take the win from me now. Not when I was two laps from winning the Rolex British Grand Prix. With Vale, Club and the International Straightaway just ahead of me, I knew that I was in danger of losing the race to Beth. With her hot on my heels I had the feeling that these last two laps were going to be a knockdown drag out fight to the finish line, with a full-blown drag race to the finish.

“Shit! I’m sorry Bobbie. I didn’t see Beth pull that slide on McNairy.”

“Forget about Kathy.” I chuckled. “I’ve seen Beth pull that stunt on more than one person. It’s one of her trademarked moves.”

“Can you get away from her before Abby?”

This time I really did laugh. I never even gave the thought of getting away from Beth a second glance. I wasn’t about to lose now. I dropped the hammer one last time. I dove hard into the left-right-hander that is the Vale/Club Chicane. Beth was right behind me, but it didn’t matter. I knew that she couldn’t hold the inside line through Club. That is where I’ll leave her in my dust. I’ve been watching Beth in my review mirror for the last lap. Her car’s performance has dropped off in the wider turns of the track. She won’t be able to keep up with me in those turns, but she has the advantage in the tighter corners. Not that it’ll matter in the long run. Between the wide sweeping turns and fast straightaways this is my kind of track. The race is mine and that is all there is to it.

Just as I exit the Club Complex Chicane, I got a surprise as the first notes from one of The Rolling Stones’ greatest hits. I drop the hammer and tear down the length of International Pit Straightaway to the thundering sounds of ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ I feel my heart beat quicken as Beth drops back. I know exactly what she is going to try and pull on the next corner. I’ve seen pull this same tactic on one too many drivers back home.

Just as I hit the brakes for Abby corner Beth tries to cut me off on the inside. She wasn’t expecting me to dive hard on the curb and whip back for the inside of Farm. As we round Farm I can see Beth practically pounding on her steering wheel. I’ve made her mad. This is good. The madder Beth gets the more mistakes she’ll make. The more mistakes she makes, the better things will be for me. I know that sounds screwed up but this is a race. As I round Aintree and head down Wellington Straightaway I spot Beth in my review just coming out of the Loop. I can tell by the way her car is handling she is going to be fighting it all the way around the track. The race is now mine.

I don’t care what else happens. McNairy will have to fight his way pass Beth to get to me. I know my sister. Beth maybe pissed off at me, but she won’t stab me in the back. She’ll block McNairy and any other driver for these last two laps. In her mind, if she can’t beat me. Then no one will.

“What are you thinking baby girl?” Dad’s voice brings me out of my trance.

“That this race is over. I’ve won. Everybody else is racing for second.” I know that it was cocky of me. I just didn’t care. It was the truth.

“Then drop the hammer kiddo. You got a lap and a half to go. The only person who can threaten you now is your sister.”

“She lost the race back on Abby.” I told him quickly.

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s pissed off, daddy.” Was all I had to tell him.

“Ah shit! No wonder her time is falling off. You didn’t piss her off on purpose? Please tell that you didn’t do that.”

“I cannot tell a lie. She did it to herself.” I giggled and held the inside lane for Brooklands and Luffeild. I start putting on the speed as I enter Woodcute and increasing my lead once more on Beth.

Kathy comes up on the radio. “Clear Copse corner and the race is all yours Bobbie. You got a two second lead on Beth, and a four second on McNairy.”

“Like I said earlier, Kathy. This race belongs to me.” The authority in my voice left no doubt as to who was going to be the winner today.

I powered off Copse corner at 185mph. Onto the back half of the track I feel my smile grow even wider. I brake just enough to take Maggots, Becketts, and Chapel at just over 150mph. I exit Chapel ready to power down the Hanger Straightaway when I get this feeling of unease. All day long I’ve felt as if I belonged out here. Until now that is. Now, it feels as if this race is being handed to me. That I’m a fraud. That feeling haunts me down the 770 meters of Hanger Straightaway until I have to hit the brakes and gear down fast for Stowe. As I slide around Stowe corner the feeling disappears.

There before me is the Vale, and nothing but empty raceway. I don’t even think twice and push the limits. The limits of both my car and myself. I round the Club complex and see the start/finish line. With no one around to slow me down. I flash across the line at close at top speed. Kathy starts counting down the turns one by one for me. She calls them out by name as I put them in my review mirror. I only slow down for the hairpin turns. Other than that, nothing stands in my way.

“Don’t stop now, baby girl. The race is all yours. Do it for Lisa.” That was all mom had to say. All I needed to hear as I crossed the start/finish line. I was going to put down the fastest time ever for Silverstone. Beth may have put up the second fastest Qualifying time ever, but I was going to own the record for the fastest race time ever. Lewis Hamilton may have the record at 1:25.892, but after today it will be only for his Qualifying time. I know that I’ll cross that finish line faster than anyone before me. I cleared Copse corner and headed for Maggots. I only let up for Chapel corner.

With Hanger Straightaway once again in front of me. I push myself and car even harder. I brake and gear down for Stowe. “Talk to me Kathy. What’s my time look like? How close to the record am I?”

“At this rate you’ll cross the line at a minute-twenty-five-point-eight-nine-one. That’ll put you in at one-one-hundredth of second faster than the standing record.”

Damn, 1:25.891 is still not fastest enough. I need to be in at 1:25. I want a record that won’t ever be broken for a long time. “Not fast enough.”

“Bobbie don’t go pushing things. We still need that car for next week.” Mom warned me over the radio. A warning that I wasn’t going to heed. Not that I needed to. I hit the Vale and Club complex with an ease I haven’t felt all day. I exit the Club complex and push the accelerator to the floor. “Oh, the hell with it. You’re going to do whatever you want anyway. Brake the record.”

That was all I needed to push my car’s engine to its red line and thunder across the finish shattering the record of 1:25.892. “Holly shit! Way to go kid! You just set a new record at one-minute-twenty-four-point-nine-nine-seven seconds. Almost a full second faster than Hamilton.”

I starting slowing down. I let Beth and McNairy pass me on the Wellington Straightaway. I took my time completing my last lap for the day. As I reached the Hanger Straightaway, I looked up at the sky. “This one was for you Lisa.”

-----tbc-----