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Total number of drivers 40. Number of company teams 10. Number of tracks 20. Number of countries 12. Time frame 6 months. Number of Fallen Angels hooked on speed 2. The McGuire sisters are and they’re out for blood in the newly founded International Stockcar Racing Association. After two years driving the Formula One circuit Professional Drivers Roberta Bobbie McGuire and her sister Elisabeth ‘Beth’ McGuire have made real names for themselves. The two young ladies took the world by storm in their first year by placing 3rd and 4th in the Championship points race. Now their plans and dreams of starting in the International Stockcar Association have come to fruition. The Fury twins plan to prove to the world they belong in Stockcar Racing. And they don’t care who they have to put into the wall to bring home the inaugural championship.

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Chapter 3
Thursday, Daytona International Speedway, Daytona Beach, Florida: 0830

I looked out the door of the team trailer at the ‘Granddaddy’ of all NASCAR speedways, Daytona. We arrived here yesterday with our individual teams’ tractor-trailers hot on our heels. I know that I should feel something more but I’m still running the high from last week’s win. I mean how times does a person get the chance to not only drive the inaugural race in a new sport. But win that same inaugural race. I won’t even go into the party after the race. I think I’m still suffering from the hangover.

It was my first time at being able to drink legally at a victory party after winning a race. I will admit to overdoing things just a tad bite. Okay more than just a little bit. Alright already, I overdid it big time. I do know that I’ll never touch Champagne again. Beer is one thing, but that stuff is deadly in its sweet and innocent deceptiveness. I do know that Mercedes-Benz was over the moon with our performance not to mention our individual sponsors response. The odds of one manufacturing race team coming in 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th in the inaugural were something I had no desire to calculate. I mean they had to be worse than the odds are for winning the Powerball lottery.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts of that victory party I head for the garage area. As I walk in the first thing, I see is my car with its hood up. Dad and Chief Hailee are both under it discussing something. What I don’t know, nor do I want to know just then. I still haven’t had my morning coffee. All of my pit crew see me walk in and just stay away. After two years they’ve all learned that until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee or a morning workout to leave the fuck alone. Yes, I know that I’m not a morning person. To me the words ‘morning’ and ‘chipper’ do not belong together in the same sentence. Not if you want to keep your head on your shoulders.

“Here, you need this more than I do.” I looked up from the hand holding the cup of coffee under my nose to find Jim standing there with a grin. “Three sugars, cream, and extra caffeine.”

I just grunted and took the offered cup of coffee knowing that it would be wrong. As I take my first sip, I am surprised to find that Jim actually got the way I like my coffee correct. I quickly take larger drink of the sweet, sweet nectar of the goddess. Before I released it, I had drunk half the cup and never thanked Jim. “Thank you, Jim. I really need this.”

He just chuckled. “Forget about it, Bobbie. Kelly warned Sam and me about your early morning moods back in November.”

“I’d say that she was pulling your leg, but I know myself all too well.” I grumbled. “I know that I’m a real bitch in the mornings.”

I took another drink of my coffee as I looked over at my car. “Any idea of why my dad and Chief Hailee have the hood up on my car?”

“You’re not going to like it, Bobbie.” Jim sighed. “When they offloaded your car yesterday. Danny spotted a small patch of oil where your car sat.”

“Shit. Not good. Transmission or engine?” I asked not liking what I was told.

“That’s what they’re trying to figure out.” Jim took a drink of his coffee. “Either way your dad is already talking about pulling the whole powerplant.”

“Damn. If they pull the whole powerplant I’ll lose the whole day.” I bitched.

“More than that, Bobbie.” I looked over at Jim in confusion. “Remember, we’re running a modification of the NASCAR rules. There’s only one day of practice before we qualify. Without the test runs today. If they pull the engine or transmission for your car.”

“I lose my chance at figuring out the best line for racing on this track.” I finished what Jim left unsaid and just sighed. Taking a drink of my coffee I looked around the garage area. There was only one team not present and setup. The sounds of four semitrucks passing through the tunnel let me know that the last team was arriving. “Well at least Red Star was able to replace their cars. Any word on that change in the schedule we heard about at the party, Jim?”

“Just came in this morning. You’re going to like the new line up, Bobbie.” Sam said as he walked up smiling. He held out a fax sheet for me. “Take a look for yourself. Though why the ISA big wigs dropped the two races in South America is fucking beyond me.”

I looked down at the new list of races and smiled. With Rafaela and Buenos Aires Speedways in Argentina now off the list that opens a one-month window for the two Speedways Japan. Not that I mind in any way. Especially when there’s the chance to race on an island is solely devoted to a Superspeedway Stadium fascinated me. I could hardly believe that the Mitsubishi Motors Island was manmade. I mean who goes out and builds a 500-acre square island just to turn around then put a 2.5ml stadium style racetrack on top of it. I reread the official notice for a second time.

To All Drivers and Teams,
Do to circumstances outside of our control there has been a change in the scheduled races. The ISA has already taken measures to secure any cars or other equipment already shipped to Argentina. Thanks to measures already in place the 3rd and 4th races will still be held. Please note the changes listed below. The ISA will not be held hostage by political parties in any nation.
Sincerely,
Irina Stumpfegger
Irina Stumpfegger
Chairwoman
International Stockcar Association

1. Pocono Superspeedway, Pa, USA
2. Daytona Superspeedway, Fl, USA
3. Mitsubishi Island Speedway, Chiba, Japan
4. Motegi Twin Ring Speedway, Motegi, Japan
5. Calder Park Thunderdome, Melbourne, Australia.
6. Northern Territory Superspeedway, Darwin, Australia
7. Brooklands Superspeedway, United Kingdom
8. Rockingham Speedway, United Kingdom
9. Rome Speedway, Rome, Italy
10. Paris Superspeed, Paris, France
11. Texas Motor Speedway, Texas, USA
12. Indianapolis Motor Speedway, In, USA
13. Berlin superspeedway, Berlin, Germany
14. Lausitzring Superspeedway, Lusitzring, Germany
15. Mosco Superspeedway, Mosco, Russia
16. Warszawa Speedway, Warszawa, Poland
17. Castelo Superspeedway, Toledo, Spain
18. Talladega Superspeedway, Al, USA
19. Atlanta speedway, Ga, USA
20. Darlington Speedway, SC, USA

“You know that we’ll have our hands full when we get to Tokyo, right guys?” At their blank looks I sighed. “Mitsubishi Island Speedway is a one of a kind superspeedway. None of the others are sitting in the middle of the damned ocean on an island. It may be a stadium track but we’re going to be facing similar weather conditions to what we face here. Only it’ll be a lot worse as there won’t be anything to cut to ocean breeze.”

“Damn. I hadn’t thought about that.” Jim said as he looked in the direction of turn 3 and the world-famous beach. “How bad do you think it’ll get Bobbie?”

“If it doesn’t rain and the winds stay relatively calm. No worse than here on a bad day in February.” I told them both with a slight frown. “But the second it rains, or the winds pick up. All bets are off.”

“Shit. Do you know anything about the layout of the Tokyo track?” Sam asked.

“It’s a two-and half-mile stadium paperclip, guys.” Beth said walking up to us. “It was built on the same lines of Martinsville, only longer. Total length is two point five miles. Maximum banking is twelve degrees in the four turns covering one-thousand-three-hundred-twenty feet. The front and backstretch are five-thousand-two-hundred-sixty feet long with a five-degree inward slant. The grandstand seating for a hundred-twenty-five thousand. The only way to the stadium is by three six lane road bridges.”

“Thank you for the coffee.” I gave Beth a dirty look as she snagged the refill from my hand. As I fixed a new cup of coffee for myself, she gave me her usual number 4 ‘big sister’ look before continuing. “Where was I? Oh yes. Mitsubishi Island may sit in Tokyo Bay, it is not in Tokyo Prefecture, but the Chiba Prefecture. The island is at the end far end of the Tokyo bay.”

“Okay sis, give it a break for now will you.” I bitched as she just grinned. “What I want to know is how you got the intel on the track already?”

“I googled it when I heard about the change in the schedule.” Beth smirked as she grabbed a muffin off the table. “But what I want to know is why dad and Chief Hailee have the hood up on your car? Did you blow the engine or something last week at Pocono? If you did it would serve you right.”

“All I know is what Sam and Jim have told. My car has an oil leak of some kind. From the looks of things, dad is going to pull the whole powerplant.” I bitched as I looked over at my car. My fears were confirmed by dad and Chief Hailee standing up straight.

“Pull the whole powerplant Chief. Breakout both the replacement engine and transmission. We’ll break this pair down and find out where that leak is once we have them on the rack.” Dad ordered then looked over at the rest of the crews. “I want every car gone over with a fine-tooth comb. We’ll forgo today’s practice runs for safety.”

“Are you sure, Bob? I mean the other cars are in good shape.” Chief Hailee asked my dad in confusion. “Shouldn’t you check with Jewels first?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. As for dealing with my wife. She might be the boss, but I run these fucking teams. If she has a bitch about me putting the safety of our drivers first over a few practice, runs. Then she can find a new Senior Mechanic while finding out exactly what it’s like sleeping in the doghouse.” Dad grunted. That’s my dad for you. Safety first, last, and always.

“Okay, Bob. I’ll get the guys going on the swap out. Any word on the restrictor plates?” Chief Hailee asked as I walked up.

“We finally got word on those last night. We’ll be using them only at Tally and here.” Dad answered much to my relief. “We’re still waiting on word about the overseas tracks. Though I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing at three maybe four more restrictor plate races before the season is over.”

“Which tracks do you think the ISA will saddle us with plates dad?” I asked.

“Going off the new list alone.” Dad turned thoughtful. “I would have to say both the tracks in Australia, just because of their size and configuration. After that Berlin and Mosco. Only with Berlin because of the sheer length of the straightaways. Mosco is a the one that worries me the most. Of all the new tracks, Mosco is the world’s largest tri-oval at five miles.”

“Wait a minute, dad. Did you just say that the Mosco speedway is almost twice the length of Talladega?” I couldn’t believe my ears. There is no way that someone would build a track that big. “You got to be shitting me.”

“I’m not joking Bobbie. You know that guy who made it big in oil and ethanol futures a few years ago, Ayushiyev Rollan Vladislavovich.” Dad asked me with a smile. I just nodded my head as I knew exactly who he was talking about. “Well he wanted a showcase for our new sport as well as alternative fuels like ethanol. As well as bring the sport of Stockcar racing to his homeland.”

“Um… Mister McGuire how many of the tracks are going to be alternative fuel tracks?” Sam asked as he walked over with Jim and Beth right behind him.

“Sam, how many times have I asked you boys to call me Bob?” Dad sighed.

“At least once per day for the last two years sir.” Jim cracked with a smile. “And our mothers would snatch us bald if they heard us call by your first name. We kind of like having a full head of hair sir.”

“They’ve got you there, dad.” Beth giggled.

“Damned smart assed kids.” Dad grumbled good naturally. He gave the two guys a friendly smile. “To answer your question Sam. Of the twenty racetracks that we’ll visit over the season ten of them will be alternative fuel races.”

“Damn. That means two deferent types of engines.” I bitched. “At least.”

“Just be thankful that we’re only having to deal with Hydrous ethanol and high-octane gasoline. We could be stuck dealing with LPA and diesel as well.” Dad pointed out bluntly as he looked over at the fuel trucks. “I won’t even go into all the other stupid ideas that proposed for fuel usage.”

I looked down at the changed list and the note that accompanied it. “Why do I get the feeling that the two Argentina tracks were trying to force the use of some other alternative fuel on us?”

“Yup. In the last few Argentina has fast become one of the biggest exploiters of Bio-diesel, HCNG, H2CNG, and Ammonia based fuels for automobiles.” Dad explained with a nasty smile. “All good fuels sure, but they suck for raw horsepower. For our needs, methanol, Hydrous ethanol, gasohol, and good old high-octane gasoline are preferable.”

“Well, see as how our cars are down for the day. What can you tell us about this monster? I mean come on here dad. Daytona is the ‘Granddaddy’ of all superspeedways. I know that you and mom have had more than one of your designs run here.” I pointedly asked changing the topic.

To answer my question, he walked over to his personal tool chest. Opening the top draw of the bottom half dad pulled out a stack of printouts. We all followed him over to the worktop table. There he dropped the printouts on the table. There had to be at least 100 aerial printouts of deferent racetracks from around the world. I noticed that they were broken down by types and sport. He had sections for F1, Indy, F2, F3, NASCAR, and now ISA. I watched as he pulled out the printout for Daytona.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I give you 1801 West International Speedway Blvd, Daytona Beach, Florida 32114. Better known to the world as the Daytona International Speedway. Since opening in 1959, it has been the home of the Daytona 500, the most prestigious race in NASCAR. In addition to NASCAR, the track also hosts races of ARCA, AMA Superbike, IMSA, SCCA, and Motocross. The track features multiple layouts including the primary 2.5-mile high-speed tri-oval, a 3.56-mile sports car course, a 2.95-mile motorcycle course, and a 1,320-foot karting and motorcycle flat-track. The track's 180-acre infield includes the 29-acre Lake Lloyd, which has hosted powerboat racing.” I started to chuckle at dad’s impromptu presentation.

“Okay dad we get it already. We don’t need a history lesson. I think we’ve all dreamed of racing here. Although Sam and Jim have already raced here.” Beth huffed as she crossed her arms. I can tell that she was still pissed about not being able to race NASCAR last year. “What we need are the exact details of the track?”

“Fine.” Dad grunted. “Spoilsport. Ruin my fun.”

“Dad enough already give Beth a break. She’s not the only one that is still pissed over what went down last year. I mean we should have been racing NASCAR last year. Not bouncing around the world in Formula One for one last season.” I looked over Beth. “And you. Enough with the attitude already. It’s not his fault that we got stuck running another season in Formula One. No need to be a fucking raging bitch about things. Got it?”

“Fine. I’m sorry guys.” Beth said as she bowed her head. “It’s just that of all the speedways this one holds something special for me.”

I pulled Beth into a quick hug. “I know sis, I know. Just don’t let your emotions get the better of you. Let dad give us the breakdown on the track.”

Dad pulled Beth into a hug the second I let her go. “Don’t worry kiddo. I’ve got everything you need to beat this track.”

“I hope you do.” She answered smiling wickedly at me. “Because this time, I am going to beat a certain someone’s ass to the finish line.”

“Give it your best shot sister dear. Your good, but I’m better.” I snarked.

“Only if we don’t get there first, Bobbie.” Sam grinned.

“Okay you four enough. Time for the breakdown.” Dad chuckled. “While Daytona has a road course we’re only concerned with the tri-oval. The racing surface is asphalt. It’s total length two point five miles. With four main turns in a tri-oval. Turns one through four all have a banking of thirty-one degrees. While the tri-oval has a banking of eighteen degrees. Like a lot of superspeedways, the back straightaway has a slight banking of two degrees.”

Dad took the cup of coffee from mom as she walked up to the table. “Thank you dear. As I was saying. The trick to winning here is going to be both fuel and tire management. That and a good deal of luck.”

“The good thing for us this weekend’s race it’s only four-hundred miles. Not quite as grueling as last week’s race.” Mom said before taking a drink of coffee. “The race will be run in four segments of forty laps each.”

“Any word on the forecast, Ma’am?” Jim asked.

“If the talking heads are to be believed. We’ll have clear skies from tomorrow until Sunday. With daytime highs in the mid-eighties.” Mom got a thoughtful expression on her face. “That’ll put the track temp around ninety-five to one-hundred at the start of qualifying tomorrow. With Saturday’s race time start temp being even higher.”

“About the qualifying mom. Any word on how the officials are going to play, things?” Beth asked.

“It’ll be by positioning from the last race.” Mom turned and grinned at me. “That means you’re in the hot seat Bobbie.”

“Great. Anybody what to take my place in line?” I asked.

“Nope.” Jim said while popping the ‘p’. “You’re on your own.”

“Ditto Bobbie. I’m happy with my third place. This is one track that has a nasty streak that will pop up out of nowhere and bite you in the ass.” Sam snarked as he took a drink of coffee.

“Yeah well you two would know. You’ve both raced here before.” I bitched. “As it is you and the other NASCAR regulars all have an advantage over the rest of us when it comes to the US tracks.”

“Not by much Bobbie. How many tracks have you and Beth been sent to just to test out new designs for your parents? What five, ten?” Sam asked.

“If we add in the short tracks seven.” Beth answered for us. “Eleven if we count the dirt and road tracks.”

“And when you add in two years off Formula One racing. You both have as much experience as any of the regular Stockcar drivers.” Sam sighed. “With one exception. J.J. Sims for Red Star Racing.”

“You just had to mention the biggest outlaw in Stockcar racing in the last ten years. How many teams has he drove for? I’ve kind of lost count.” I grumbled and looked towards the Red Star garage area.

“At last count seven. Then again he’s never had a full season ride until now.” Mom told me with a faint smile. “He’s always been one hell of a test and substitute driver for any builder. I wish we had him six years ago.”

“Why ma’am?” Jim asked.

“We were trying out a new alternative fuel engine for Indy. That engine was a total failure. That worthless slug Tommy hand grenaded the engine in turn three at the Brickyard. Six months of hard back breaking work down the drain. That’s why.” Dad bitched. I could tell that he was still pissed at our former test driver. Then again Tommy was high on my list of favorite people either.

“Damn. I thought that only the Big Three were experimenting with alternative fuels back then. Was any of the other automotive sports experimenting them? I mean I know that we are dealing with alternative fuels in our sport. But we are the new kids on the block as it were. And we can kind be expected to be a bunch of mavericks in our sport.” Sam told us.

“I’m surprised at you Samuel.” Mom snarked giving him a funny look. “NASCAR has always been a testbed for new technologies. Especially for engine and transmission designs. We’re always pushing the technological edge.”

“Sure, I knew all about that ma’am.” Sam said as he scratched the back of his head. “I just never thought that what we do with our cars as being used by the actual automotive manufacturers.”

“You would be surprised by the amount our of research that goes into the new designs coming off the assembly lines.” Mom was interrupted by the arrival an ISA messenger. “How can I help you Mister Heinz?”

“Update on one of the teams for the race this weekend, Mrs. McGuire.” Heinz said and hand mom a printout. “Seeing as how you were the one to insure their participation. The committee felt that you should be notified directly.”

Mom took the printout from Heinz and began to read as he walked away. “Well, it looks like Reynolds will be running a full team. Thank goodness.”

“Okay mom. What do you know that we don’t?” I asked.

“After last week’s wreck the ISA committee were talking about sanctions against RRI. They felt that that the wreck was all their fault and could have been prevented.” Mom and dad both sighed. “It took your father, me, plus all Crew Chiefs explaining to that august body that wrecks like that happen and no one is at fault.”

“Um… okay I’m a little confused here ma’am. Everybody knows that when you get out there and pack race like we do. Sooner or later the big one happens. It’s not a case of if but more like when.” Jim complained.

“Jim, Sam, you boys need to understand that most of the ISA commission are former Formula One commissioners and owners. Most of these men have never seen a wreck on the scale of last week’s wreck. To them there has to be a reason for such uncontrolled destruction. Be it illegal equipment, driver fault or misconduct, even just outright cheating.” I quickly explained. “Trust me on this, guys. They’ll come around to the way that Stockcars race. It’ll just take them time.”

“You sound like you’ve already dealt with this problem Bobbie.” Sam remarked.

“Yup. And all of you former NASCAR drivers will face the same problems over the coming season. Your old ways of ‘work hard, play harder,’ need to be tuned down some. Remember that the International Stockcar Association is a combination of two philosophies.” Warned them.

“What are you talking about Bobbie? Stockcar racing is Stockcar racing. It’s down and dirty, bumping and grinding. Trading paint at one-seventy and dancing three wide in a turn.” Sam grunted. “It’s beer, hotdogs, country music, and rock-n-roll. You know good old Southern hospitality.”

“Guys I hate to tell you this, but Bobbie is right. The ISA maybe all about Stockcar style racing but it is also an International Racing association like Formula One. That means Champagne, caviar, cocktail dresses, and tuxedoes. Most of our fellow drivers have come over from what is considered by many to by a gentleman’s sport. Therefor they’re more than expected to act accordingly. It’s almost demanded of us.” Beth explained. She looked over at the other garages. Then she grinned. “That’s why we had Issy come in and give you country boys lessons in etiquette.”

The gathered pit crews who overheard Beth’s cutting remark chuckled as Jim and Sam both blushed. I just grinned and looked over dad. He was the only one who was not laughing. Something was bothering him. “Dad what’s wrong?”

He looked down at the map of Daytona. “Nothing Bobbie. Just a feeling.”

If there was one thing, I’ve come to respect was my father’s hunches. “You got a plan for winning. Don’t you?”

“Yes, and no Bobbie.” He looked back up at the three of us. “It’ll all depend on where you all qualify tomorrow.”

“Do you want us to hold back during our runs sir?” Sam asked first

“Yes and no, Sam. This is one time we’ll need to play things by ear.” We all watched as dad ran his finger around the track layout. “The problem is the sheer number of manufacturers represented.”

“What do you mean sir?” Jim asked for us confused drivers.

“Okay let me break it down for you all. We have ten teams of four drivers each. We represent Mercedes-Benz and the good old USA. Up next is Reynolds Racing representing the United Kingdom and Bentley. Next is King Night for Japan and Lexus. From Mother Russia we have Red Star and Lada. Then there is the second UK Horn Thomas driving for our friends at Aston Martin. Our odd duck team our Europe is Bisbee Snider from Australia driving the Holden Commodores. Our friends over at Northern Alliance from Norway went with Audi. The Thunder Valley crew with all their ties to Switzerland naturally pick KOENIGSEGG.” Dad chuckled as he talked about the next team. “I love the sense of humor the next team has. I mean come on. Who names their racecar Prototype Outcasts? Any way they’re out of Italy and using Maserati. The last team out of France les Ailes de Justice are using Peugeot. Do you see where I’m going here boys? Ten team, ten manufacturers, one Manufacturer’s Championship.”

“Ah shit. The ISA is more about the Manufacturer’s Championship than the driver’s championship. This well all come down to which manufacturer team has the most wins over the season. The drivers’ championship will be more like a sideshow.” Sam bitched to switch Beth and I only nodded our heads.

“Look boys. We know that you’re not used to being second to the manufacturer’s cup race, but this the way the ISA is setup.” Mom told them gently. “Don’t worry you’re not the only ones having a hard time grasping this change.”

Dad just chuckled and looked over another former NASCAR driver. “Don’t believe us, just go ask Dave Reese. He’s dealt with it before.”

“What do mean sir?” Jim asked not knowing Reese’s past.

“Reese started out in Indy. He drove for three seasons before making the jump to NASCAR. It took him a few seasons to get the idea of team driving worked out of his system. Now, he’s having to get back to that concept. For me and Beth the idea of racing as a team is still part of our racing style.” Then I chuckled. “That is until the last lap. Then all bets are off and it’s every man for themselves in a race for the finish line.”

“Man, this is going to take some getting used to.” Jim chuckled. “But I’ll give it a chance.”

“Okay already. Just let me race and I’ll do my best.” Sam grumbled. “But if I can’t have a cold beer at the end of the race. All bets are off.”

We chuckled at Sam’s complaint about not being able to have a cold beer at the end of a 400 to 500 miles race. Not that I blame him. Last week I had to wait until the camera crews were pointed somewhere else to wash the taste of burned rubber, and 500 miles out of my mouth. Sam and Jim were able to sneak off to grab a few beers after the race. I got stuck with cheap ass Champagne and dealing with the C.O.W.s. I felt Beth nudge my side and looked to where she was pointing. “Ah shit! Cab this day get any more FUBAR?”

“Roberta!” Mom scolded me then looked to where I was. “Okay. I’ll forgive you this time. Wonder what they want this time?”

“Da bist du Juwelen!” Mrs. Mercedes called out as she led Mrs. Maybach, Mrs. Jellinek, and Mrs. Benz into the garage. “Roberta Schatz, wo ist diese schöne Braut von Ihnen und Kindern?”

It’s taken me the last two years to master enough German to carry on a conversation with the four Crazy Old White Women when they get going like this. The fact that Bertha was asking about Kelly and the twins first was a good sign. So long as those four were talking about family I was safe. The second they started in on the cars I knew to get out of the area. Sadly, I couldn’t do that right now. Sam and Jim haven’t been exposed to the COWWs in one of their ‘management moods’ yet.

“Kelly ist bei den Mädchen zu Hause. Einer von ihnen hat eine Erkältung.” I explained to Bertha that Kelly was at home with the twins and that one of them had a cold. I was sure that even she would understand not traveling with a sick baby. I switched over to English for Sam and Jim. “Guys why don’t you go get changed. With the way things are going I doubt that we’ll get any practice runs in today.”

“Sorry Bobbie, but you’re the only one that won’t get the chance at a practice run. Beth, Sam, and Jim have cars that are in good shape.” Dad said and pointed to the other three team cars. “Let’s get them out on the track people. I want at least twenty laps on each car.”

Beth gave me a look of sympathy then headed for her car. I knew that I was on my own. While I still had mom to back me up. “I’m sorry ladies, but I really must help Chief Hailee figure out where that oil leak is coming from.”

With that mom left me to the mercies of the Granddams of Mercedes-Benz. I’ve been betrayed by my team, and my family. With no clear path to escape the COWWs. This is what Khan must have mean about the Klingon proverb that tells us revenge is a dish that is best served cold. It can be very cold in a Stockcar garage area as I just found out.

“So, what can I do for you ladies? I know that you’re not just hanging around the garage area for no reason.” I asked grinning.

“It concerns this evening’s sponsor party Roberta.” Maybach answered honestly. “We were wondering if we could impose on you and your teammates. You see there is a certain VIP that we need to impress.”

“Who?” I asked.

“She’s a possible candidate for the new plant manager in Gastonia North Carolina.” Mrs. Jellinek explained with a friendly shrug of her shoulders. “You might have heard of her, Julie Manner.”

“Julie Manner former CEFO for DEI. Businesswoman of some reputation. Known as being a grade A bitch in the boardroom. Only weakness is kids.” I answered. “Please tell me that she’s not the VIP in question.”

“In a word Schätzchen. Yes.” Bertha said grinning as I groaned.

“Let me guess. You need me or one of the others to put on the charm for her?” I asked and then groaned again as Bertha nodded smiling. “You do know that we’re all in steady relationships?”

“Liebling, das ist nur eine kleine Unannehmlichkeit. Jeder weiß, dass Rennfahrer berüchtigte Flirts und Womanizing Schlampen sind.” Snickered that old bat Benz.

I almost lost my cool when she called racecar drivers flirts and womanizing sluts. The problem was there are a few of that fit that description. “Why is it that there are always a few bad apples in every sport?”

“I apologize for Frau Benz’s attitude Roberta.” Bertha said glaring at her fellow Grandam. “Entschuldigung jetzt Greta!”

Greta Benz actually blushed before saying. “I am sorry Roberta. I know that you are not that type of person or athlete. You maybe a demon by the wheel of your car, but you are always a Lady off the track.”

“Forget about it, Frau Benz. I know that there are more than a few drivers out there that think they’re God’s gift to women.” Said waving away the apology. Then I gave her a nasty grin. “I’ve done my best to correct a few of those attitudes over the last two years. For some reason they never understood my ‘love taps’ as being behavioral correction therapy.”

All four of the older ladies chuckled at how I described putting a few of the male drivers into the wall. I got nailed for ‘unsportsmanlike conducts’ last year, but I really didn’t care. I had earned enough money to pay off any fines out of my own pocket. I know that Fontana and Caldera didn’t get the hint. They’re both still horn dogs. Though I doubt that they’ll be chasing after any of the wives and girlfriends of the Stockcar drivers again. Not after last week’s little altercation.

“Ja. That is true. You did have a way with getting your point across.” Bertha chuckled. “Though if last week is any indication. More than a few of your countrymen will not tolerate the amorist ways of the signal drivers.”

“Yah we rednecks do get kind of pissed off when someone makes a pass at our better halves.” I snarked letting my South Carolina accent show. It had the desired effected on the four women who all laughed.

“At least our Fury has given up her habit of using snuff.” Maybach chuckled. “I only wish that we could get the rest of her team to give up the habit.”

“Who says I’ve given up my snuff?” To prove my point. I reached into my leather’s breast pocket pulling out a can Copenhagen Snuff. “I don’t always dip, ma’am, but when I do. I only use the best.”

“You do know that stuff causes cancer, Roberta?” Bertha commented. They all knew that I was a survivor. More than once over the last few years these four women have cornered me over my health.

I just sighed. “Mrs. Mercedes, I have very few vices and snuff is one of them. I know that tobacco use can cause cancer. I also know that I’m more likely to suffer a relapse than most survivors.”

“That is not the point Roberta.” Bertha huffed. “You have a Frau und Kinder, to think of now. You are part of our Angehörigen now. Verstehe?”

“Yes ma’am.” I sighed. I put the snuff tin back in my breast pocket. “I’ll deo my best to quick.”

“Thank you, dear. We know that you’re still a tomboy at heart.” Bertha said with a smile. “You couldn’t drive the way that you do with out that important part of your personality.”

“Und we love you for it, Roberta.” Maybach jumped in with smiling. “We know that you tolerate having to dress up for the parties.”

“We also know that you and your Schwester can be Ladies in such situations. That is way we are asking this favor of you.” Bertha said taking control of the conversation again and bring us back on topic.

“Okay, I’ll do what I can Mrs. Mercedes. On one condition. Tell me why?”

“Our current manager in North Carolina is wanting to retire after thirty years. He along with his family was there when we opened the planet and more than earned his right to retire. He now wishes to return to Germany to spend his final years brewing beer.” Bertha explained. “We’ve been interviewing potential candidates for the last few months. We’re down to the final three.”

“And Julie Manner is one of them. Who are the other two?” I asked.

“Richard Castle from your Falcon Motorsports. David Graffelman general planet manager for Hennessey Performance Engineering. Both are fine planet managers, but well.” Bertha sighed and I knew what was coming. “They’re our husbands’ choices. As you know we want to make changes in the business world. We would like to see a few more women in charge of our manufacturing planets.”

I wanted to sigh but knew better to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. I’ve known these four women for two and half years now. I knew their attitudes towards the male dominated business world. In my first year of driving for Mercedes in Formula One I learned the fast way that they were the real power in the company. No one, and I mean, no one crossed these four women. Not and got away with it once they found out about it. If they wanted to put a woman in charge of the North Carolina planet. Then you can bet your ass there would be a woman in charge of that planet.

“Okay ladies. I’ll do what I can to swing the deal for you.” I gave them all a smile. “Just don’t go pinning all your hopes on a backwoods country girl who loves to drive fast for a living.”

The four women just chuckled and wished me a good day. Once I was alone, I grabbed a pair of field glasses, radio, and climbed on top of my car hauler’s trailer. I spent the rest of the morning helping Beth, Jim, and Sam to find better lines during their test runs. I may not have been able to get in a test run myself, but I could still see the others reacted to the changing track conditions. Shortly after noon dad called me down from my preach.

“Okay Speedy. Your car is ready. Get out there and give me five warm up laps then crank it up to race speed for the next ten. After that bring her back in. Understood?” I paid close attention to what dad was telling me. I knew that he had his reasons for wanting only fifteen laps out of the new power planet. I nodded my head and started climbing into my car. “Oh, and Speedy one more thing. Turns three and four are starting to get a buildup of rubber on the outside line. Stay down low.”

That was all I needed to hear. “Gotcha pop. Stay low, five laps for warmup then ten laps at race speed. After that bring her back in.”

“Good girl. Now get out there and show those three what you can do.” Dad told me as me handed me my helmet.

After strapping in I pulled on my gloves then helmet. I reached over flipped the two battery switches and mashed the starter button. The sounds of the massive V-8 engine coming to life brought a smile to my face. With the help of my pit crew I rolled out of my garage space. I shifted into 1st gear and headed for pit road. As I pull onto pit road, I noticed that the other teams were calling in their drivers. They were clearing the track for me.

I decided to ignore the insult or compliment. I just wanted to test out my new engine. I hit the play button for my iPod, then headed for the exit of pit road. Even as I pulled out onto the track’s inside caution lane. I could already tell that the new engine had more power than the one I used at Pocono. I worked my way through the gears as I drove through turns 1 and 2 then down the back straightaway. God how I love the feel of a stick-shifter, four on the floor transmission. I will give Formula One their due with their pedal shift transmissions, they give you a lot more gears. But in the end, you lose that visceral feel of controlling the car’s unbridled power.

I hold back on the throttle for the first five laps like dad ordered. It takes me close too ten minutes just to make those first five laps. As I come out of turn 4 on the 5th lap I down shift to third gear. As I cross the start finish line, I finally open up the massive V-8 engine and unleash its power.

For the first of those next ten laps I barely tap into all of that power. I just wanted to get a true feel for all that power under the hood. When I pass through the tri-oval section of the track the next time I really open up the engine and go for broke. For the next ten minutes I crank out the tones and pour on the speed as I knockdown the laps one after another. The enter time Kathy keeps up a steady conversation in my ears.

She never once let me go too high into the turns or too low. She must have been watching the others way closer than I was to have figured out the prefect line the way she has. Then again, I’ve said it before. Kathy and her mom can read a track and call a race better than anyone I know. Now, that they’re not having to watch a track filled with more twists and turns than a drunk snake. They’ve only gotten better. On the last lap Kathy calls a warning. “Heads up Bobbie. You’re about to have company. Yup it’s your old friend Caldera. Looks like he wants to prove that he’s better, again.”

“Oh, for the love of little green apples. Forget this crap. I’m bringing her in now. I the entrance to pit road clear Kathy?” I asked as I started to down shift coming off turn 2 onto the back straightaway.

“All clear Bobbie. Don’t down shift too far. That fool is still trying to figure out how to drive with a continuous banking Bobbie.”

Once I heard that I got my ass off the track as fast as I could. I know that I should be more sportive of the other drivers. It’s something about Fontana, and Caldera that rub me the wrong way. As far as I was concerned those two could eat the wall in every race until they lost their rides. I had just pulled to a stop and shutdown the engine in the pit box we were using for testing when Kathy screamed over the all-hands network.

“CRASH TEAMS TO TURN THREE! I REPETE ALL CRASH TEAMS TO TURN THREE!” I dropped the window net and disconnected my helmet. Scrambling out of the car I looked towards turn 3 in horror. There sat Caldera’s car on its roof.

“What the hell happened? He couldn’t have been up to race speed that soon.” I demanded of Danny my jackman.

“He left pit road and dropped the hammer Bobbie. The dumbass was pushing full throttle before he even exited turn two. He went high on the back straightaway into all that loss rubber. He lost control the second he tried to go low to get some control in turn three.” Danny just shook his head. “He lost control went into the infield grass and rolled it.”

We all watched as the emergency crews rushed to the overturned and wrecked car. It didn’t take them long to get Caldera out of the car. I could tell that he was fine just by the way he was walking. “Thank god. He’s alright.”

“I would have thought that you would want to see the man out of racing any way you could Bobbie. I mean don’t you hate the guy?” Danny asked.

“I do want to see him out of the sport Danny. But I don’t hate him. I won’t waste that strong of an emotion on the slug. He’s an egotistical son of a bitch that is going to get himself killed one of these days trying to prove to the world he’s the greatest. I just hope that he doesn’t take some poor unfortunates with him when he does. Especially me.” I grounded out. “Come on let’s put my baby to bed. I need to head back to the hotel and get cleaned up for tonight. I’m sure Beth and the others have already left for the day.”

“About that Bobbie. Do you mind if the rest of us skip the sponsor party? We’re thinking about spending the night taking in some of the Daytona Beach Nightlife. You know hit one of the seafood houses, then have a few drinks, followed by some dancing.” Danny grinned as he wiggled his eyebrows.

I chuckled and nodded my head. “Sure. Have fun and stay out of trouble.”

“Will do boss.” Danny grinned as he tossed me the Boy scout’s three finger salute. “But I doubt we’ll be getting into any trouble as the wives will be with us. the girls have a tendency to keep us out of trouble.”

I had to give it to him there. The women in the pit crews tend to mellow out the more aggressive nature of the men. The problem is the women are more devious in their revenge schemes. That old saying about angelic faces hiding devilish hearts is all too true. Then there is also the fact that most of the girls on our pit crews can handle a firearm better than most men is not common knowledge. They’re more than happy to jump in swing during a fist fight as the next man in line. They can all be real hellcats when pissed off. I remember the last time my pit crew got into it with another team. The girls were right there next to the guys slugging it out.

“Bobbie, I need a word with you before you head back to the hotel.” Dad waved me towards the trailer grinning. Once there, dad turned serious. “Listen up kiddo. I don’t want to worry you, but your mother found where that oil leak was coming from. It’s not good Speedy.”

“How bad is it dad?” I sighed.

“Well there is good news and bad news. The good news is this is not sabotage. The head gasket ruptured. It could have happened anywhere and anytime. My beat is during last weeks race. Seeing as how we were using the same engine from Pocono. The bad news is it’ll take us all night to repair the old engine.” Dad sighed heavily. “If at all possible.”

“Damn. Not good. That means we only have three engines that are ready to go if we blow one between now and Saturday’s race. Not good at all.” I said thoughtfully. I crossed my arms under my breasts and though the situation over. “Dad can we even repair my old engine?”

“Honestly?” He asked then answered as I nodded my head. “Doubtful. I’ll be honest. I got a feeling that there is even more wrong with that engine. Shit that I can’t find until I have completely broken down.”

“Can we get a replacement for it before race time, dad?” I wondered.

“Maybe. Don’t really know. Why?” he asked me.

“Keep the other three backup engines for the others. Call home and have Joey dropship us a replacement overnight. I’ll hold back on the power during qualifying tomorrow as best as I can. That way we’ll still have a replacement engine for me. If push comes to shove.” I explained.

“Okay, Bobbie we’ll go with your plan.” Dad said with a grin. “You know it does a father’s heart good to see their child come into their full potential.”

He pulled me into a tight hug. “You’ve done me proud Bobbie.”

“Thanks dad.” I sniffled as I let him hold me tight.

He pulled back turned me towards my bus and swatted me on the ass. “Now get. You got a party to get ready for tonight. As for the COWWs ignore whatever they wanted you to do. Have some fun and relax. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a good time for all.”

-----tbc-----