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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 back 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 6
Studio 1, WWLF 99.5 FM, The Wolf, Daytona Beach, Fl. Sunday: 10:00 am

“IT’S TIME FOR YOUR MORNING INJECTION OF ROCK-N-ROLL DAYTONA!” The radio host shouted into the mike. “It’s Danny and Sally with your morning power drive. Boy do we have a show for you today.”

“Okay calm down Danny. I know that you’re excited about our guests. But you got to give me a chance to do their intros.” Sally fake bitched over her mike. “Ladies if you have to deal with an overbearing chucklehead like I do. Then you’ll love our guests this morning. These young ladies really have a way with leveling the playing field in the workplace.”

“You can say that again, Sally. They also have a fun way of dealing with slow or lousy drivers.” Danny chuckled. “Though I doubt we could get away with putting them into the guard rails on I-ninety-five.”

“Very true Danny. Then again most of the time these lovely ladies only pound on other drivers at over two-hundred miles per hour.” Sally pointed out while laughing. “Though from what I understand they do love to tear up the back roads from time to time.”

“How true it is. Though I still find it hard to believe that these young ladies could ever be confused with your everyday street racers.” Danny chuckled. “They look more like runway models.”

As much as I want to beat the ever-living dogshit out the man I behave myself. Though I do give him my number 4 evil grin. “You know something Danny. Toto made a similar remark the night before qualifying.”

“Bobbie, remember what daddy said about castrations at highspeed.” Beth chided me while pointedly looking at the male host of the radio show. “We’re only allowed to do that on the track.”

Sally chuckled as Danny covered his crotch out of reflex. “That ladies and gentlemen was our guests this morning. Mrs. Bobbie McGuire, and her older sister Beth McGuire-Towers, of McGuire Racing International. Welcome ladies. Why don’t we start off with the one question that is on every racing fan’s mind. How did you ladies get your start?”

“It all started just over two years ago, when our family was in a jam. Our former test driver got into some trouble the night before our parents were due to test an experimental powerplant for Mercedes-Benz Formula One racing.” Beth began to tell a very abridged version of how we got into F1 racing.

“You’re telling us that you two young ladies won full contracts after just one test drive? I’m sorry but I find that hard to believe.” Danny came back snidely. “How did you really get that contract?”

“You know something Danny. You’re starting to get on my nerves with your sexist attitude.” I snarled. “I’ve dealt your type for the last two years on the F-one circuit. And I’ve beat every last one of them to the finish line. As it stands right now. Between me and Beth the only trophy we don’t own from the Formula One circuit is the Driver’s Championship. That is something no other driver or manufacturer can say.”

“Um… Danny I just got done looking up Bobbie’s personal record. It seems that on the day she and Beth won those contracts. Bobbie set an unofficial record at Darlington.” Sally giggled. “You know your favorite track. The Lady in Black, the Track too Tough to Tame. That Darlington.”

“WHAT?! NO WAY!” Danny jumped on his own computer terminal as me and Beth sat back grinning. “Holy Hanna!”

“Don’t forget the eleven track records for speed, and time that Bobbie has set over the last two years.” Beth must have decided to get in on the fun. Because she came out throwing sliders. “Road and Track named her the fastest woman in Formula One racing last year. She would have taken the Championship in our rookie year and last year if not for seven wrecks.”

“Speaking of wrecks. I understand that you’ve both had some rather close calls over the last two years. Any comment on those?” Danny asked quickly. Too quickly to not appear as if he was looking to change the topic.

“What is there to say? When you drive at speeds over one-fifty. Things tend to happen. Murphy is a race fan after all.” I told them both with grin.

“I understand that you ladies were given a rather unique nickname. The McGuire Furies. How did that come about?” Sally asked.

“That is one of the more PG nicknames we’ve been tagged with, Sally. There are more than a few that we’re not allowed to use due to FCC regulations.” I quickly answered back with a chuckle. “As for how we got the nickname of the Furies that goes back to a race were more than a few of our males competitors didn’t like the way we drove. But it was an announcer for Speed Network that coined the nickname of Ice-Cold Furies to describe the way we drive. Cold, calculating, and passionate.”

“I see. It’s not so much about you personally but the way that you two ladies drive. After watching the Thunder Rolls four-hundred on Saturday I can see why they would say that.” Danny chuckled. “That finish though was one for the record books. Bobbie you took the checkered flag by one-one-thousandth of a second. While your sister was a one-one-thousandth of second ahead of third place and your teammate Sam Hurley.”

“I really hate to agree with him. But for once Danny is right about something. How soon after you crossed the finish line did you know that you won Bobbie?” Sally asked with an awe-struck face.

“We didn’t know until Commissioner Grégory Van Den Houte made the announcement over the track’s loudspeakers. I don’t think anybody really knew until he made the announcement. For a few minutes there I really did believe we did the impossible. A three-way tie at a Stockcar race.” I answered honestly. “Not that I’m going to complain about taking the win. I worked my backside off for it. I had two of the hottest drivers on that track leaning on my door panels for a full lap. Not fun people.”

“You should try it form the inside sis.” Beth chuckled. “That whole lap I was praying that none of us had a blowout.”

“Well, you only had to explain to your sponsor about one door panel.” I bitched for the audience. “Try explaining two damaged panels.”

Danny and Sally both chuckled at the sisterly byplay. Danny asked our next question. “Beth, Bobbie, as you’re our first guests from the ISA would you care to comment on the suspension of Toto?”

“No comment.” Was all I said. Which was echoed by Beth.

“I see. So, his accusations of sexual favoritism and sabotage on behalf of MRI are unfounded?” Danny persisted.

“Hold on here. What accusations?” Beth demanded.

“According to Laurentino Toto you and the other women of the ISA are being given special treatment by the Race Officials during inspections in return for sexual favorers. That his car was sabotaged by one of your pit crew just before he went out for qualifying.” Danny explained smugly.

“For starters let’s get the freaking record straight about a few facts. Every woman in the ISA has busted their collective backsides to get where we are in the international racing world. We’ve had to fight time and again to gain the respect of our fellow drivers twice as hard because we’re women. As for Laurentino Toto he is, no let me correct that, has never been anything more than a replacement driver. In the seven years he has driven the F-one circuit he has never placed higher than tenth. The man made the jump to the ISA in hopes of landing a fulltime ride.” Beth snarled.

“He is also a sexist pig of the first order. There isn’t one female driver, girlfriend, fiancée, or wife that he hasn’t made an inappropriate sexual advance towards in those seven years. There have been more formally logged complaints against the man for sexual harassment then any other Formula One driver currently on the circuit. I won’t bother with the number of threats concerning bodily injury towards Toto by other drivers.” I ground out between my teeth. “As for the so-called sabotage. The man tried to push his car beyond its limits to take the pole position. He wrecked because of his own stupidity. Laurentino Toto had no business being on that track.”

“Those are some rather harsh accusations ladies.” Danny said sitting back. “Do you have any proof?”

“Just pull up his F-One record. It’s all there in black and white.” Beth told him. “The nice thing about being a public figure. Everything is out in the open for anyone to see.”

“What I want to know, as do a lot of NASCAR fans, is how you two lovely ladies were able to put on such fantastic showings at both Pocono and here at Daytona? After all, all of your racing experience has been on Formula One tracks.” Danny asked with real curiosity.

I chuckled as Beth grinned. “It’s simple Danny. When your parents are world renowned race car designers and builders you get a chance to test those designs. On more than just the local track.”

“Hold on here Bobbie. Are you saying that your parents actually design Stockcars for NASCAR drivers?” Danny demanded. “Like who?”

“Due to contractual obligations we’re not allowed to divulged the names of their clients. We can tell you that a good number of their car designs are used by NASCAR and Xfinity Cup drivers. There are even a few Gander Truck drivers that use their designs.” Beth explained.

“That still doesn’t explain how you were able to dominate the field two weekends in a row ladies. I can see one of the fourteen NASCAR drivers pulling that off.” Danny challenged both me and Beth. “Sure, you haven’t been ‘tinkering’ with your competitors’ cars.”

“So, we have to be cheating? Because according to you. A Formula One driver doesn’t have the skills to pull off back-to-back wins on two superspeedways is that it?” I snarled.

“To be honest Bobbie. Formula One drivers have historically performed below their traditional Stockcar counterparts during their first year of Stockcar racing.” Danny answered flippantly.

“You know something butthead. You’re two steps from a life altering beatdown. Then again you can’t fix stupid, even with duck-tap.” Beth ground out.

“I’m just stating facts, ladies. No need to get your nickers in a twist.” Danny answered smugly. “Though I can see how Toto’s claims of sabotage could be viewed as an accurate assessment of the situation.”

That was it. I had, had enough of this chauvinist pig. “Let me give you a freaking wakeup call, dip-wad. I’ve been test driving our parents designs sense I was sixteen. I’ve logged more laps on Darlington Speedway than most current drivers on the NASCAR circuit. Of the thirty active NASCAR tracks there are only six that I haven’t driven at least fifty test laps. If you really think that my sister and I can’t compete against regular NASCAR drivers think again. Just ask any one of them how they feel about driving against us. They’ll all tell you the same thing. They’ve been wondering when we were coming back to our roots.”

“Then what about the so-called childhood leukemia? How can someone who suffered from such a cancer actually make a recovery to the point to actually become a professional race car driver? Sorry but that is impossible.” Danny sniped with a very smug look on his face.

Needless to say, I was pissed. I was already standing up. I was going to give the ass-beating this fucking clown deserved. Beth grabbed my arm to stop me. While Sally glared at Danny with open hatred.

“Beth, Bobbie, I would like to apologize for my co-host’s ignorance.” Sally said as she glared over at Danny. “I imagine that you get a lot of crap from jackass NASCAR fans who have no clue to your background. That shouldn’t have been the case here. As I know for a fact that he was given a full history on the both of you. As usual he ignored the history in favor of been an ass.”

Then it hit me. Danny was one of those obnoxious want-to-be radio shock jocks. The fuckhead was intentionally trying to piss me and Beth off. It was time for me to end his fun fuck train. “Oh, so instead of this being the impartial interview that we were guaranteed by YOUR producers and station owners. You wanted to pull some kind of ambush in the hopes of getting dirt on us. Thank you so much. Mr. Boil, you’ll be hearing from the MRI lawyers. I do hope that you own more than just the shirt on your back. Let’s go Beth.”

“Wait! What does that mean?” Danny shouted over the mike.

“Simple Danny. You’ve finally pushed one of our guests to the point that they’re going to sue the station.” Sally grunted. “Thanks a lot, you moron. Mrs. McGuire, I do hope that I’ll not be named in the suit.”

About that time the show’s producer and station owner walked into the booth. The owner was the first to speak. “Danny Boil, you’re fired. You were warned that Mrs. McGuire’s medical history was off limits. Now, get out of my station. Before you have a sudden case of two left feet.”

The station engineer popped his knuckles. “We’re already set to broadcast a prerecorded show, Bill. Let me throw the fuckhead out please?”

“Oh, for the love of god. Everybody needs to fucking chill. I was only going for the shock effect. I meaning come on. This is all about entertainment and getting the most ratings.” Danny tried to weaseling his way out of troubled.

“You’ve been warned repeatedly about pulling this kind of shit Danny. Especially on air. You’re done here. Clear out your desk.” The producer snarled. “This time the station won’t be covering your ass.”

“I have the right to conduct an interview as I see fit! You can’t do this to me! I’m a respected member of the press!” Danny screamed.

That was it, I had enough. I slapped the dog piss out of the man. “Fuck you cocksucker. The only thing you are is a bottom feeding lowlife. One step above leeches and sea slugs. If you want to sue for the slap go right ahead. The last time I checked I could use a tax deduction.”

“What slap? I saw Danny boy here running into the door jam.” The owner said as he crossed his arms glaring at Danny.

“You really need to watch where you’re going, Danny. Next time you could fall down a flight of stairs.” The engineer chuckled.

“He has been running into the studio walls lately. I swear that I’ve seen him drinking out of that flask he keeps in his bottom draw.” Sally said with a smile. “I would personally him send to the hospital to get a BAT done. Drinking on the job is grounds for termination. Not to mention being a reason for withholding of unemployment benefits in the State of Florida.”

“Now, hold on here! You’re blowing things out of proportion. I’m sure we can work something out.” Danny was doing his best now to keep his job.

“You’re done, Boil. Do yourself a favor and get out of my station before I press charges for slander. On top of firing your ass.” Bill snarled. “And one more thing, fuckface. That job in New York you’ve been pushing for. You can forget about it. I already talked to the owners. This little stunt you pulled today just put an end to your career as a radio show host. No one will touch you with a thousand-foot transmission tower. Your shock jock stick won’t fly anymore in any market.”

Bill turned to the engineer. “Rick escort this fuckhead out of my station. If he gives you any trouble. Beat him within an inch of your life.”

Once Dan Boil and Rick the station engineer had left the studio Bill turned to me and Beth. “Ladies, on behalf of WWLF, the Wolf. I would like to apologize for the treatment by my former employee.”

“No need to apologize for an asshole Mr. Weller. Your station has a very reputable reputation for interviewing your guests. If you didn’t my sister and I wouldn’t have agreed to the interview.” Beth said with a smile.

“Mrs. Towers, that is where you are wrong. My station, my employee, my reputation. That assclown has been warned three times about going off scripted during interviews. This interview was his last chance. The man has pissed off more than a few guests with his shock jock bullshit.” Bill sighed. “He has a bad habit of ambush questioning guests. It was only a matter of time before someone threatened to sue his happy ass.”

“Well, we won’t be suing the station sir.” I told him honestly. “That dickhead on the other hand better have more than just the shirt on his back.”

“Sadly, Daniel Boil has been living paycheck to paycheck for the last seven years. The man has two ex-wives and three kids. Between alimony and child support he barely had enough to pay rent, bills, and fill his frig. If it wasn’t for his girlfriend Kim. He would have starved.” Sally commented then snorted. “She is your typical blond beach bunny.”

“Big tits, big hair, big ass, and no brains.” Rick said as he walked back in. “Building Security is taking care of Danny boy, Bill.”

“What happened?” Bill asked.

“He got stupid.” Rick pulled out a flash drive. “Twenty will get you fifty, that little piece of plastic has a crush program on it.”

“Don’t tell me that he tried to plug it into his workstation.” Bill snarled. Rick only nodded his head. “Get the fucking cops down here, Rick.”

“That’s why I turned his ass over to Security, Bill. Full charges?” Rick asked already knowing the answer.

“Throw the fucking book at his ass.” Bill ordered as Rick just smiled and walked back out the studio. Once Rick was gone Bill gave me and Beth an apologetic look. “Sorry about that ladies.”

“We’ll forgive you if you’ll answer a question.” I smiled.

“A crash program is a prerecorded slash and burn show. If he had loaded it into the stations programming. It would have gone off at a set time. I don’t even want to know what that shock jock wannabe would have said about my station. That fuck nut had pulled a similar stunt at his last station.” Bill grunted in disgust. “I knew that I should never have hired his ass.”

“Then why did you?” Sally snapped.

“He’s my fucking brother-in-law, Sally. My wife hounded me for three months to hire his ass.” Bill sighed. “You always do shit for family.”

“That you won’t do for strangers. We understand that sir.” I told him. “How about we start the interview over with just Sally?”

“You’re still willing to give us an interview, Mrs. McGuire?” Bill was shocked by my request.

“Sure. At least she’s willing to follow the agreed upon questionnaire.” Beth said with her #2 ‘butter won’t melt’ smile. I swear to all that is holy and demonic. I really need to learn how my sister can make that smile, and not look dopy doing it. At least it’s not as bad as her #6 puppy dog eyes. Whenever Beth turns those on me. I just cave every time. Maybe it was the fact that I have a natural weakness to the dreaded puppy eye attack because I’m technically a male. I know that dad, Tommy, and Joey are also defenseless against Beth’s puppy dog eye attacks.

“Okay Sally, you always wanted to do your own show. Now it’s time for you to shine, gal. I’ll get the studio setup for recording your new Morning Show intro. Got a name for it?” Rick asked her with a smile.

“Morning Drive Time. How’s that sound?” Sally asked with her own smile.

I shook my head as did Beth. “Not catchy enough. You need something with a real punch to it. There has to be at least fifteen shows out there called that or something similar.”

“How about Speedway Sally? You know a play on the title Mustang Sally.” Beth offered. “After all the studio is less than a quarter mile from the Speedway.”

“True. How about it, Sally? You game?” Rick asked with a smile. He knew that the young woman had been wanting her own show for months now. He wasn’t the only one that was sick of Dan and his bullshit.

“Queue up Mustang Sally for me Rick. Time to rock the beach Cincinnati style.” At the questioning look on my face Sally laughed. “I’m a transplant. I grew up in the Over the Rhine area of Cincinnati. My favorite radio stations were WOFX, The Fox and WFTK, 96 Rock or just the Rock to the locals.”

“I have to ask. Is there really a WKRP in Cincinnati?” Beth asked grinning.

Sally just groaned and put her head down on the control desk. “WHY?! WHY?! Oh Lord does everybody ask about the Carp and the Pig?”

“Um… I know this is going to sound crazy. But what are the Carp and Pig?” I asked the poor radio show host with a giggle.

“WKRP supposedly used the carp as their mascot. While their rival station WPIG used a pig as their mascot.” Sally sighed as she sat back explaining about the two famous fictional radio stations in her hometown. “The Carp and the Pig were used as tributes to Cincinnati’s past.”

“Okay, how does that happen?” Beth asked.

“At one time Cincinnati was the pork capital of the US the early eighteen-hundreds. There were more pork packing houses in Cincinnati than anywhere else. As for the carp. That is a forgotten part of the city’s history. At one time Cincinnati produced more processed freshwater fish than any other city in the world. Thanks to several major food packing companies.” Sally answered Beth with a sly smile. “More than a few of those companies are still there operating. Though pork and fish aren’t the only products they produce now days. Cincinnati is still a major player in Military Rations.”

“As fascinating as my DJ’s hometown history maybe. We still have an interview to get done. Sally we’re all set to record. Got a fresh tape in the deck and your new intro is queued up and ready to play.” Rick said over the studio speakers for us all to hear.

Beth and I returned to our seats and waited for Sally to kickoff the show. As the opening notes to Mustang Sally played Sally leaned into the mike. “Hello Daytona. This is your host Speedway Sally. I’m here to get you ready for your morning drive.”

When her opening song ended Sally brought the mike up. “Morning ladies and gents to my first show. And what a show we have for you. Today we have two very interesting ladies for you. Mrs. Bobbie Lee McGuire and her sister Mrs. Beth Tower. The winners of the ISA Thunder Rolls four-hundred.”

She looked over at us. “Good morning ladies.”

“Morning Sally. It’s a real pleasure to here today.” Beth answered back with a smile.

“Same here, Sally. I got to say that it is a real honor to be here on your first show. Not to mention your first interview.” I threw out smiling.

“Thank you, ladies. Now that the mutual admiration is over. Let’s jump right in with the question that is on everyone’s mind. How did you get your start as professional racecar drivers?” With that Sally set the tone for the interview. Both Beth and I gave one of the best interviews in our careers.

After an hour and a half Sally finally called an end to our interview. “Ladies it has been a real pleasure having you here with me today. I do have one last question before you leave. Where are you off to next?”

“After a short stop back home in Darlington. We’re off to the beautiful Mitsubishi Island Speedway, in the Tokyo Bay, just off of Chiba, Japan for the Top Ramen Noddle four hundred. The following weekend we’ll be racing at the Motegi twin ring Speedway, in Motegi, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan. That will be the Sushi Cat five hundred.” Beth told her with a smile. Then handed her a schedule of all the up coming races and where they were around world.

“Wow! Then the ISA is a real International Stockcar league. You have what twenty races around the world?” Sally asked in true amazement.

“Yup. Sure do. Even though a good number of them are here in the US. All of our races are on Speedways or superspeedways. None of our races are on short tracks.” I answered her then grinned. “At least for now.”

“Then the ISA hopes to add a few short tracks to the mix?” Sally asked quickly knowing her audience. “Any idea of which ones?”

“The answer is yes, but they’re still under negotiations with the owners. We know that the ISA wants to add a few short tracks to the schedule. We just don’t know which ones or when that will happen.” Beth told her. “Sorry, Sally. Wish we could tell you more.”

“No problem Beth. Do you mind if we put this schedule up on the station’s website? I know that more than a few of our listeners will love to know when you’re racing.” Sally prompted.

“Go head, Sally. We want all of our fans to know where we’ll be racing.” I told her with a smile.

“Once again. Thank you for coming on my show ladies. Though I wonder what you’ll do to top off last week.” Sally grinned.

I just had to go for the punch line she left hanging in the air. Taking a deep breath, I began to sign. Beth jumped right with me.

Sally busted out laughing as we exited her studio as she worked her console. Before we had even reached the front lobby, she had Tom Petty’s original release of the song blasting over the airwaves. We stopped to listen to her parting comments. “And that is the best intro for a parting song I have ever heard ladies and gents. As a parting wish for good luck here’s Blake Shelton’s Bringing back the sunshine.”

I turned to look over at Beth smiling. “You gotta love it when someone takes a lead in like that and runs with it.”

“I know. Come on sis. We got a plane to catch.” Beth said as she headed for our rental car. “Besides, I know that you want to spend some time with Kelly and the kids before we have to jet off for Japan.”

“You better believe it sis. The only draw back to racing on the international level is the time away from home.” I sighed and looked up at the clear skies of Daytona Beach. “Don’t you just love the life of a gypsy?”

Beth just chuckled. “You know that if mom hears you say that. She’ll skin your ass alive and then put Joey in your car for the next race.”

“OW! Damn you wound me sister.” I placed my hand over my hart and played at being shot by something. “Sadly, you’re right about mom cutting my ass for that comment. I swear she’s toucher about being called a gypsy than Romani.”

“Damn, sis. You really need to sit down and study our family history.” Beth said as she slide in behind the wheel of our rental car. “That or listen to Grandma Celestina’s stories from the ‘old’ country.”

“What does that have to do with the tea in China?” I asked as she started the car. I knew something was up by the way Beth was acting.

“Bobbie, I swear. If I didn’t know that you had an IQ above one-thirty.” I had to interrupt Beth at this point. Mainly because I knew that it was a sore point for her.

“One-forty-two.” I giggled.

“Fine. You have an IQ of one-forty-two three points below genius. Though there are times that I doubt the validity of that test. Either it’s wrong or the chemo drugs screwed with your brain cells.” Beth snarked. Then turned serious. “I forget at times that you and Joey don’t know that Great Grandma Reveka is originally from Transylvanian.”

“Ah shit. Now I know why mom gets so pissed off when I make the crack about loving the gypsy life. What I don’t understand is why does she always say that we’re from Ireland.” I bitched.

“Dad’s family is from Ireland Bobbie. But to answer your question. Grandma Celestina was raised in Ireland before her family came to the US in forty-nine. It was easier for them to claim they were Irish than Romani for immigration purposes.” Beth explained as she drove through downtown Daytona traffic. “Just look at how the Romani are treated here in the US today. Back then after World War two the bigotry was worse. I think the only Europeans who were treated worse in post WW-two Europe were the Germans.”

“Yeah I never really thought about that. Then again, you got to remember who my World History teacher was for my last year.” At her blank look I just sighed. “You remember Mister Howitzer?”

“Oh god! You had old cannon mouth.” Beth sighed as she pulled to a stop at a light. “You know that he got fired while we were in Italy last year?”

“Yup. I heard from Tim Hill about his dismissal. Talk about a raising a shit storm. I think only old Iron Panties firing had a bigger splash at our old school.” I chuckled. “Oh, did you hear that she was arrested last month?”

“No way. What did she get picked up for?” Beth asked with bated breath.

“You know that fancy antebellum house of hers?” Beth nodded her head. “She used school funds to pay for part of the renovations. That’s embezzlement.”

“Oh man. That explains a lot. Tony’s kid sister Terrie was by the house a few weeks ago. She kept going on and on about the arrest of some former staff member of BSH. Talk about karma.” Beth chuckled. “I never thought that old Iron Panties would see the inside of the gray bar motel.”

“Speaking of the gray bar motel. You going show up for Harding’s new hearing?” I know that I’ll be there but I’m not too sure about Beth.

“You better believe it. That fucker was one of the assholes that destroyed my Charger. I don’t care if he wasn’t the one to throw the firebombs or that he wasn’t even there. He was still the one that followed me around town reporting back to the others where I was. His lawyer may have gotten him a new trial on a technicality.” Beth snarled. “But he is still guilty as hell.”

“Hey! You’ll get no arguments from me.” I said holding up my hands in mock surrender. “As far as I’m concerned those fuck nuts need to spend the next thirty years behind bars at hard labor.”

“Well. We know where and what I’ll be doing. What are your plans? Other than spending time with Kelly and the kids.” Beth wondered.

“Not much really. I’ll probably spend some time working around the farm. I know that the back forty fence needs mending. Then there’s the repairs to the exercise corral’s water trough. I swear I must have gone over that auto fill system with a fine-tooth comb. It still keeps jamming up for some reason. I also got to rebuild the Deer’s engine.” As I listed the chores that waited for me at home Beth chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing Bobbie. It’s just that I never thought that of the two of us. You would be the one to settle down first with a family.” Beth sighed then chuckled some more. “I know that me and Tony have been married for a year now, but it still feels like we’re on our honeymoon. You and Kelly have the whole house and two-point-five kids thing going on. You’re way more together than we are. Hell, we’re still living in an apartment.”

This time I sighed. “Beth, I know it sounds like I’ve got my shit together. Trust me, I’m winging shit in a major way. Mostly because I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to ask mom or dad for advice. I mean come on here. You buy a TV now days and they send you home with a thousand-page manual on how to operate the fucking thing. But with a child they place it your arms and kick your ass out the door with nothing. It’s all guess work and you pray you don’t fuck up.”

Beth started to chuckle at first then laugh out right at me antics. For a few moments I thought that she would need to pull over to collect herself. When she finally stopped laughing, she wasn’t able to look me in the face. When she did, she started laughing again. In between breaths she finally got her shit together. “Sorry, Bobbie. It’s just that the way you put being a parent has to be one of the funniest I’ve ever heard.”

“Thanks sis. I’m only stating the truth though.” I chuckled. “I will tell you this much. I won’t give up being a parent for anything. I just hope that I’ll be around to see them take their first steps, open their first Christmas presents, graduate high school. You know all those really big events in a child’s life that so many take for granted.”

“You will be Bobbie. You will be.” Beth told me as she reached over and patted my left leg. She knew what was going through my mind. Of all those in my family only Beth knew my greatest fear. “If, and it’s a big if, the cancer should return we’ll all be right there beside you. All the way to the finishing line. Even Kelly and the babies will be there for you.”

“I know you will, Beth.” I sighed. “Now, what think about think about our up coming race in Chiba? Do think the sea breeze will effect on our cars?”

“Last night I got a full breakdown on Mitsubishi Island Speedway. “It’s a two-and half-mile stadium paperclip.” Beth said as she pulled onto the Interstate heading for the airport. “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. They’re tall enough to act like a massive windbreak and surround the enter track. The only way to the stadium is by three six lane road bridges.”

“Damn. All it needs is a roof to be the prefect track.” I chuckled.

“The Japanese Government denied Mitsubishi the needed permits for a roof structure. Most because of the yearly Typhoons.” Beth snarked with all the confidence of an engineer. “Not surprising really when you think about it.”

“Yah that sounds about right. The question will be if we can make the right adjustments during the race to compensate for the rubber buildup.” I thought about the track surface. “That concrete will eat our tires up in no time.”

“That is the only problem, Bobbie. Remember this time we’re going to have to play the fuel mileage game.” Beth warned. “I still cannot believe they’re making us use that shit. Hydrous ethanol has no place in racing.”

“I don’t know, Beth. Over the last few years alternative fuels have really taken off in the research fields. They’re fast becoming the way of the future.” I told her honestly. Then chuckled. “It’s not like you haven’t been playing around with that idea for a Hydrogen powered engine.”

“Okay I’ll confess to that but only if you’ll tell me what you’re doing with that sixty-eight Ford LTD Country Squire Station Wagon. You know the one that you got stashed out in your back barn.” Beth chuckled. “I know you too well for it to be an electric of hybrid.”

“You know that old song ‘Copperhead road’?” I asked her with a smile. Beth chuckled as she nodded her head. “Well, I got a limited home distillery license. For the last few months, I’ve been cooking up a few batches of granddads home brew shine. Do you remember that old wives’ tell about moonshine runners using their own produce to run their cars in emergencies?”

“You have got to be kidding me?” Beth asked in shock. “You’re seriously not trying to build a moonshine burning engine?”

“That naturally aspirated four-twenty-eight V-eight ‘Big Block’ engine is just about perfect for a pure alcohol burning engine.” I chuckled as Beth fought to stay in her lane.

“What the hell have you done Roberta?” Beth demanded of me.

“Well, I still got a few modifications to make to the engine.” I told her with a grin. “But I took her out to the Blue Knight track before we left for Pocono.” I giggled. “I turned in an eight point nine second mile.”

“Holy Shit! That is almost top fuel dragster speed.” Beth exclaimed.

“Like I said I still need to make a few more modifications. The biggest of which is figuring out how to keep that power under control. It’s just way too much horsepower thanks to the fuel.” Then I dropped the other shoe. “I’ve even went out and got a two-forty “Big Six” inline-six and two-twenty-three “Mileage Maker” six for comparison. I still have the same problem with both.”

Beth got a thoughtful look on her face as she maneuvered between two local cars for the airport exit. “Have you tried to deal back on the fuel intake?”

“Done that already. Still way too much. It’s almost like, the shine is burning way too hot. I keep having to replace the rings.” I grumbled. “Not too mention the spark plugs, injectors, and head gaskets.”

“Could it be the fuel itself, Bobbie?” Beth asked.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s just granddad’s recipe. We’ve been sipping that shit sense we were old enough to steal a jar when he wasn’t looking.” I said.

“Shit that might be your problem, Bobbie.” Beth chuckled. “You got to remember that it’s better than a hundred proof. Have you been proofing your runs or just going with comes out the tap?”

“Not really. I mean I’ve just been making small batches. Fifteen or twenty gallons at a time.” I chuckled. “It’s not like I’m making it to drink.”

“Then it’s time to for you to talk with granddad. If anybody knows what you’ve done wrong. He will.” Beth chuckled. “I’ll beat you a C-note that if there is any truth to that old wives’ tale. Grandad knows how it was done.”

“True. How many years did he serve for making moonshine anyway?” I spotted the rental center drop off before Beth. “There’s our drop-off sis.”

“I think he did two or three years the one time he was caught. Not too sure. You got to remember that was back in the late fifties.” Beth answered as she pulled up to the airport drop-off for our car rental. “Back then the judges were a hell of a lot more lenient with WW-two and Korean war vets like grandpa. Especially if they were a war hero like him.”

“I don’t doubt that.” I told her as we pulled to a stop. I waited for her to put the car in park before getting out on my side. Beth popped the trunk so we could get our luggage. As I was getting our luggage, she turned the keys over to the attendant. The attendant kept looking at the two of us like he wanted to ask us a question. I knew what it was and saved him the confusion. “Don’t worry we took really good care of the car. We’re not like Cole trickle and Rowdy Burns. We have nothing to prove to each other.”

The attendant chuckled as he realized that he had been caught. “It’s nothing like that Mrs. McGuire. I know that most professional drivers go out of their way to take care of the cars they rent. I know that we’re not supposed to ask but is there any chance that I could get your autographs ladies?”

Beth and I just chuckled. Beth answered him with a smile saying. “Sure. Where’s your book?”

The young man ran back to his counter and returned with one of the small autograph books. After signing our names, we wished him a good day and headed for the check in. A short two hour wait in the VIP lounge we were on our way home with a short stop in Columbia. As much as we’ve made over the last two years. It still wasn’t affordable to hire a privet charter plane to fly us straight to Darlington. Not that it matters. The closest airport to Darlington is in the next country over, Florence Regional Airport. A good hour-long drive from our homes.

As we flew towards home I thought about the upcoming race in Chiba. I pulled out my lap and went over the layout of the track. There was something about it that just screamed at me. Back in October, I took one of our cars to Martinsville for a test drive. While I could see the similarities between the two tracks. There was still something bothering me about this track. I need to figure out what that was and fast. I didn’t have much time before we had to fly for Tokyo. As I sat there going over the track’s layout it finally came to me just as the captain gave the order to return our trays to the upright position and prepare for landing.

As we exited the airport we were greeted by Kelly. “Hi guys. Did you have a good flight?”

“I slept the whole way.” Beth snarked as she pointed at me with her thumb. “Your wife spent her time going over the layout for Mitsubishi. Well sis. Did you figure out what is bugging your ass?”

“Yup. That track maybe laid out along the lines of Martinsville.” I answered her as I started to smile. “But it another Dove. Only this Monster is jacked up on steroids and is twice the size.”

“Oh shit. Are you saying Mitsubishi is the bigger little bother to Miles?” Kelly asked in shock and fear.

I could only give her the only answer that there was to give. “Yes.”

-----tbc-----