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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 16
Roman Speedway, Rome, Italy; Wednesday: 1400
The Beretta 500 garage meet and greet.

I cannot the bullshit that we’re having to deal with thanks to the Catholic Church. It is bad enough that we have to run a 500-mile race on a 2-mile oval stadium fucking concrete track. We have to deal with some asshole priest blessing our cars before the race. Now I got nothing against religion. I lost my trust in organized religion long ago. Spending time on a child’s cancer ward almost dying has a tendency to slant your world view towards such things. Besides, prayer and blessing have nothing to do with a person’s skill on the racetrack.

“Stop grinning your teeth, Roberta Lee McGuire. Let the good Father carry out his religious obligations.” Mom said as she put her hand on my shoulder. “We knew that we would have to deal with something like this when we saw the racing schedule. Especially here in Rome.”

“It’s not that mom. I could care less about all this religious nonsense. What I can’t stand is the Church stuffing their believes down our throats.” I snarled.

“Bobbie just deal with it for now. A good number of your fellow drivers follow the faith.” Dad said from behind me on the right.

“Dad I’ve got no problems with someone else following their beliefs. Just leave me out of it.” I grunted then turned to look up towards the front straightaway stands. In the center of the privet boxes direct over the start/finish line hung the banner for the Pope. “I still can’t get it out of my head that HE’s going to be here.”

“Best be on your best behavior Bobbie. From what I understand His Holiness is a real fan of car racing.” Tony chuckled next Beth.

“Bobbie do us all a favor. Play nice today. Please?” Jim asked almost plaintively. Not that I blame him. His is the only Catholic among the MRI drivers. To be racing in front of the Pope must be the highlight of his career so far. Then what he said about me playing nice hit my brain.

“What exactly does that mean partner?” I snarled. “I always play nice until someone gets stupid and tries putting me into the wall.”

“Bobbie you may think you’re playing nice.” Sam chuckled then spit out a wade of tobacco juice. “But you swap more paint than most NASCAR drivers on a given day.”

“Bite me Sammy boy. Just because I love to bump and grind at one-eighty plus I no sign that I play rough.” I harrumphed then reached into my leathers pants pocket. Mom gave me a dirty look as I packed the tin of Copenhagen. After working a pinch between my left cheek and gum I grinned up at dad as he took the tin from my hand. “It’s regular dad. I got away from the Wintergreen last year.”

“Bobbie I really do wish you would give that stuff up.” Mom sighed. “Not only is it a nasty habit but with your history probability unhealthy.”

“I know that mom. I don’t dip all that often. Only on race days. I got to do something to get my nervousness down. These new haulers don’t have my hidey-hole for before the race.” I looked around the garage and pit area. “And trying to find some place quiet around here is kind of hard.”

“The new European haulers will meet us in Paris. You’ll have your hidey-hole back soon enough Bobbie.” Dad said as he put my Copenhagen in his shirt pocket. “Sorry about the setup that we’ve been using for the last few races kiddo.”

“Don’t worry about that shit dad. What have you been able to figure this damned track? After a full week I still haven’t gotten a handle on this paperclip.” I demanded before spitting out a wade of tobacco juice.

“THAT is the sixty-four-dollar question of the moment.” Dad grunted then spat out his own tobacco juice. “I swear Bobbie. This fucking place is the bastard child of Darlington and Dover.”

“I thought it was just me. With Turns one and two sitting at twenty twenty-seven degrees and turns three and four at twenty-five they’re just like Darlington. Then you add in the straightaway’s banking at eight degrees this track is one nasty bitch. If Turns three and four were tighter; and the track shorter it would look like Darlington’s egg-shape. The really big deference is the surfacing. If it was asphalt instead of concrete with places would be a squared offed Darlington.” As I said this something clicked in my mind. I spat out my juice and smiled. “That’s the answer dad. We run this race like we would at home with the Dover setup.”

“Wait! What?” Dad asked in surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Robert stop and use that head of yours for more than a hat rack.” Mom snapped. When dad snapped his mouth shut and looked out at the track in thought. “If we use the Dover setup for the race the cars will have better grip and a tighter aero package over the length of the race.”

“Something better suited to a concrete track.” Dad grunted before spiting out another wade of tobacco juice. “It’ll take time. Not something we can do in the time allotted before the race. We’ll just have to make adjustments over the course of the race. Two maybe three pit stops to get what you want.”

“More like we’ll be making adjustments throughout the race dad. I got a feeling that we’ll be chasing the handling throughout the day.” I whispered.

“How bad are we talking about here Speedy?” Mom mumbled.

“Remember Spain last year, mom?”

“Oh shit. Not good.” Mom whispered.

“It’ll be worse than that Jewels. This track is so damned green that the concrete is still curing in some spots. Then there is the ugly fact that whoever built this damned place used highway guardrails for part of the safer barrier along the top edge of the turns. The entrance to pit road is as narrow as it is at Darlington. There is also the slight twist in the exits. The concrete surface will eat tires like a cartoon pastry chef eating donuts. Fuel management is going to be damned near impossible. Not at the speeds the drivers are going to be able to pull. Jewels we’re talking one-ninety plus.” Dad said as he listed off the ‘ah fuck me’ points of the track. “I swear the designer of this track took all of the worse points of Darlington and Dover then incorporated them into one track.”

“Damn. I knew that we would start running into oddball track conditions when we started running on these new European tracks. I just wasn’t expecting them to hit us like this.” Mom sighed then looked out at the track. “Looks like I need to do more research on the up coming tracks. This won’t happen again Bobbie.”

“Not your fault mom. We won’t really know what we’re facing until we’re at the actual tracks themselves. We can get all the construction specs we want. They’ll only do us so much good in the long run. None of our races are restrictor plate races. We’ll be pushing the edge harder than any other motor sport there is. Just look at the average speeds we’ve been running so far.”

“What are you getting at Bobbie?” Dad questioned me with real worry in his voice.

“Over the last eight races the average speed has been one-ninety-eighty to one-ninety-nine. Even the Brooklands’ race was ran at above normal average speeds for a non-restrictor plate race. I mean come on. We were turning two-thirty-five on average. I won’t even go into what we were pulling in Japan at Chiba. You got to remember were racing on speedways of one-point-seven-five to two-point-five miles in length. We can really open up our cars out there mom.”

“Trust me Bobbie. I haven’t forgotten. Even time you or Beth get out there I spend the next three to four hours with my fingers crossed. I know every inch of the cars you drive because I designed them. Every last inch is built for safety and speed. The problem is you four kids have a nasty habit of driving right pass the limits of the cars liked there not even there. You especially.” Mom harrumphed.

“It’s not like that mom.” I whined. “I just don’t think about what I do out there behind the wheel. I just let the music.”

“You let the music take you away to the place you need to drive.” Mom sighed in interruption. “You’ve always driven that way, kiddo. You just don’t see the limits. As for your sister. She turns to ice, let’s the world fall away, and just drives. Sam for all his bluster is the most technical driver we have out there. Once he figures out the fastest line on the track he’s gone. Jim is just like you in some regards to driving. Only he is a more of a by-the-seat-of-his-pants style driver.”

“I can’t help it mom. I’ve always driven that way. The harder the music pounds the faster I got to go.” I chuckled.

“Trust me kiddo. We know. Me more than your mother.” Dad grumbled. “She doesn’t have to rebuild the fucking engines after you get done running a race. I think the only car that I haven’t had to fuck with is your Viper.”

“Speaking of cars and engines. Do have a chance to look at that engine design I emailed to you?”

“You mean the one for an alcohol burning engine to fit in your sixty-eight Ford LTD Country Squire Station Wagon?” He asked with a smile. “Yeah, I got them. I really like the design and concept. The only complaint I have with them is the fact that you’re using a POS Country Squire Wagon.”

I actually blushed when I answered. “It was all I could get a hold of at the time. I check every junk and scrapyard for four states. Only Johnson and Sons in Akin had a sixty-eighty big block with a body for sale.”

“Bobbie why didn’t you contact Marks and Hartman over in Batesburg?” Mom sighed.

“Who?” I asked in confusion.

“They’re a new pick-n-pull salvage yard that open a few years ago. They specialize in pre-two-thousand cars, and trucks.” Sam explained for me.

“Damn. I thought I knew all the yards in South Carolina.” I bitched.

“Mi scusi, ma lei è la signora Roberta McGuire?” Asked a Priest as he walked into our garage area with a friendly smile.

“Sorry, what was that?” I asked bluntly. “I don’t speak Spanish.” I got an elbow in the ribcage for my smart assed comment from mom. Not that I gave a shit. Like I said before I hate organized religion and the men who push it.

“Oh, I’m sorry ma’am. Are you Mrs. Roberta McGuire?” The man asked again.

This time I sighed and answer. “What can I do for you padre?”

“Ah good. I was sent to escort you and your teammates before Archbishop Amedeo Pessolano.” The Priest said with a slight bow.

“I don’t know about the rest but for the answer is thanks but no thanks, have a nice day. Now bugger off.” I grunted to the shock of the Priest.

“But signora.” He started and I stopped him.

“Let me explain this for you in terms that even the most ignorant fuck nut can understand. I’m not some dog that can be called at your master’s whim. You go back and tell Archbishop Amedeo Pessolano that if he wants to see me. He can bring his happy ass down to the garage.” I fought to keep the snarl out of my voice. “Just like the other fans who paid for the chance to see us in person.”

“But… but… No! That is unacceptable. How dare you compare the Archbishop to some common fan. He is one of the preferiti.” The Priest huffed only to get a glare of total confusion from me. He looked over at Jim as he did cross thing that most Catholics do before jim grabbed me by the arm and started pulling.

“Excuse us Father. I need to have a few words with my friend here.” Jim said as he and Sam dragged me off to one side of the garage. “Bobbie for once in your life pull your fool head out of the engine block and think. I don’t care about your feelings on religion you know that. This is one time you need to stuff that shit on the back burner for a little while.”

“Okay Jimmy what’s the big deal with this Archbishop?”

“God save me! Bobbie the man stands a chance at becoming the next Pope.” At my look of confusion Jim sighed. “Okay, here’s the deal. There are a select number of Archbishops, Bishops, and Cardinals that are selected to become the next Pope. Don’t ask me how they decide on who it just is. These individuals are called the preferiti everybody in the Catholic faith knows who they are. In the Catholic faith you just don’t tell one of them no. Not without a fucking good reason. Which you don’t fucking have girlfriend.”

“Okay just why don’t I have a reason to refuse?” I demanded. I went for the oldest joke in the book when it comes to talking about freedom of choice. “The last time I checked I’m still free, white, and over twenty-one.”

“No, you’re not. Your happy is still married the last time I looked with two children. That means your choices are now cutdown by three quarters.” Beth snarked then went for the kill. “Look Bobbie you just need to treat this like you would any other sponsor event. Just go meet the man and make nice.”

“Okay fine. I’ll do it.” I pouted then looked at Jim. “Only to make you happy. But if they tell me I have to put on a dress I’m bouncing.”

“No problem Bobbie. Just please play nice?” Jim almost begged.

“I said I will already damn it.” I pouted again. “I know how to behave in public.”

“That’s the problem Bobbie. You have a habit of forgetting your manners with certain people. Namely those that pay our bills.” Beth sighed.

“That is where you’re wrong Beth. The people I have problems with are those who believe that they are entitled to special treatment because of their positions in society. Those are the people that chap my ass.” I almost snarled.

“People like the Archbishop.” Jim sighed. “Okay we get it Bobbie. The man is exactly the type of person you can’t stand.”

“It’s more than that Jim.” I sighed. “Back here I was a kid in the cancer ward we would see these so-called philanthropist every few weeks. They would come in visit us kids throw around some money for a photo opportunity. Then just disappear not really caring about us kids on the floor. We were nothing more than a publicity tool for them. A way to show off their money and power to the general public.”

“I get now, Bobbie. Meetings like this one brings up bad memories.” Jim answered sadly. “I can tell that Beth has always known. Sam and me just never really thought about how the privet meet and greets affect you. You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this over with. I’ll fine myself a nice little quiet spot later and have my breakdown in privet.” I grunted and led them all over to the priest. “Okay padre let’s go see your boss.”

“Thank you, senora. This way please.” The man said with a bow then turned and started walking towards the grandstand tunnel.

Mom and dad stopped me for a second. Mom gave me a warm hug asking. “You good with this sweetheart?”

“I’ll be fine mom. Just have find me someplace to crash when I get back.” I said and left to follow the priest. If I had stuck around, I would have heard mom and dad having a privet talk of their own.

“Bob, we need to get handle on all of these high profile meet and greets.”

“Jewels this is one time that I agree with you. Ever sense Julie Manner took over as our liaison there have been more and more of these damned things.” Bob grunted as he looked around the garage area. “Speaking of Julie. Where is she now?”

“The last time I saw her, she was dealing with the ISA transportation coordinators.” Jewels told him honestly. “About what I don’t know.”

“Time for us to have a little one on one talk with the lady.” Bob snarled. “I’m getting tired of all the bullshit she’s been dropping on our drivers.”

“Bob you need to calm down a little. You got that look in your eyes again.” Jewels chuckled as she moved Bob’s favorite torque wrench out of reach.

“I don’t need the ‘attitude adjustor’ to deal with Julie.” Bob grunted as he popped his knuckles. “I just need five minutes in a back room.”

“Beating the shit out of the woman won’t solve the problem. Let me deal with her and explain that her little one-on-one fan meetings with the brass are counter productive for our drivers.” Jewels asked of him sweetly.

“Fine you handle it Jewels. Just get the point across to our dear Julie that I don’t need my drivers upset before a damned race.” Bob snarled then stalked off.

“Whew. Avoid that calamity by the barest of margins.” Jewels sighed. “Though I better have that talk with Julie now. If I don’t Bob will take matters into his own hands and that never ends good.”

“You know something Jewels you have a gift for understatement.” Chief Hailee chuckled as he walked up to her. “The boss is many things. But when it comes to people fucking with his drivers and family. Tolerant isn’t one of them.”

“You can say that again. I think the only man on this team with a shorter temper than his when it comes to the safety of our drivers is Jack.” Chief Marks chuckled.

“Speaking of the other cars gentlemen. How are they handling for Beth, Sam, and Jim?” Mom asked of the two Crew Chiefs.

“About the same as Bobbie’s, Jewels. This track is still a mystery for us. The biggest problem we’ve faced this week is tire wear. We’ve tried every combination under the sun to get a handle on the matter and failed.” Hailee grunted then looked over to where the Stone brothers were working. “Jack, Bill, can you to come over here for a few minutes? The boss needs a word with you.”

When the Stone brothers looked up at Hailee they just nodded and started walking towards them. Jim being the older was the first to say anything. “What’s up guys?”

“I’ll get straight to the point James. What is the situation with tire wear on your two cars?” Jewels basically demanded.

“In a word Ms. Jewels. Shitty! We’re getting some weird wear patterns on the rear tires that the balance and alinements don’t count for.” Bill answered. “I’ve gone over every tire in our pits. They all have the same type of wear patterns.”

“Alright get with Bob, guys. He and Bobbie were talking about how the track was tearing up the tires before she got dragged off. He might have some ideas.” Jewels told them as she turned o go find Julie. “Does anyone have an idea where I can find our so-called liaison official?”

“Julie is over near the press box, Ms. Jewels.” Jake snarled. “Do me a favor and reign in that bitch before I wear out my favorite tire iron on her head.”

“Oh shit! What’s she done this time Jake?” Jewels asked already knowing the answer.

“She let that damned Priest into my garage without notifying me first. Fans are one thing. They know to stay out of the actual garage and away from the cars. That fuckhead barreled in like he owned the place. He damned near got crushed by stack of tires we were checking out.” Jewels was surprised by the anger in Bill’s voice. She gave Jake and Bill a sad nod of understanding.

“I’ll make sure that Julie understands there are certain areas that fans are not allowed to go, gentlemen.” At the looks of anger on her Crew Chiefs’ faces she knew that she had to defuse a major problem before they took matters into their own hands. Keeping her husband in check was one thing but dealing with four pissed off master mechanics at once was another matter. “I got this guys, go back to work.”

Apostolic Privet Viewing Boxes

I have to give it Father Azelio. After he introduced himself, he actually pulled his head out of his ass and started to act like a regular fan. He even apologized for dragging us all the way up here to met his boss. He even went so far as to offer an explanation behind why we were meeting with his boss this way. To be honest I never would have thought that a man of the cloth would be the target of assassins, terrorists, and other politically minded criminals. I have to admit that I was being an ass down in the pits and apologized.

Then Father Azelio did the one thing I never expected him to do. He asked me why I felt the way I did about the situation. When I explained to him my feelings about these types of one-on-one meet and greets. The man just smiled and offered his forgiveness for his boss placing me in an uncomfortable position. He went on to explain that a great many people felt the same way that I did. It was many of those people who filled the ranks of the Church’s enemy ranks.

Once we reached the door to the Apostolic privet viewing boxes, I was surprised to see several members of the Swiss Guard. Without thinking I blurted out. “I would have expected to see track security up here or maybe State Police.”

“Bobbie, when it comes to the Pope, Bishops, and Cardinals in Rome. Their security in solely entrusted to the Swiss Guard. Not even the Italian National Police screw with them.” Jim told me bluntly.

“Oh. Then I should consider this area a sperate nation?” I asked him.

“The Vatican and all of its holdings are by International Treaty consider a wholly sperate nation, signora McGuire. This section of privet viewing boxes are owned by the Vatican. Therefor they are part of the Holy Roman Catholic Church.” Father Azelio kindly explained for me as we approached one of the box doors. “When we enter, I will introduce you one at a time the Bishop.”

“I hope that the Archbishop isn’t expecting us to be formally dressed.” I mumbled. “Because there is no way I dressed for that kind of bullshit.”

“Knock it off Bobbie.” Beth whispered as she elbowed me in the ribs.

“Do not worry signora McGuire. The Archbishop understands the need for your racing leathers. Your team is due to run a few practice laps later today correct?” Father Azelio asked with a sly smile. “To be honest with you signora the Archbishop had been a fan of you and your sister for sometime now. Ever sense you first appeared on the Formula One circuit a few years ago.”

“Um… where did he first see us race?” Beth asked him.

“He first saw you race at Spielberg during your rookie years. Then later that same year at Budapest and Monza. Last year he was able to see the Barcelona, Le Castellet, and Austin races.” Father Azelio answered with a slight blush of embarrassment before continuing. “He was rather put out when he didn’t receive an invitation to your wedding to your lovely wife.”

“Sorry about that but our wedding was strictly a friend and family affair.” I chuckled. “Like I told the granddames of Mercedes-Benz. Friends and Family only. Don’t screw with Kelly’s dreams of the prefect wedding.”

“Oh we understand. After all, if I’m not mistaken only certain drivers, plus members of the MRI family were in attendance.” Father Azelio chuckled.

“If you mean the Blue Devils and Darlington car clubs you’re right. Even then there were only a certain number of us there as representatives, Father.” Jim chuckled.

“Here we are ladies and gentlemen.” Father Azelio said as he opened the door in front of us. He stepped inside saying. “Your Excellency allow me to introduce the drivers of McGuire Racing International. Signoras Bobbie McGuire, and Beth McGuire-towers. Signors Sam Hurley, and James Fields.”

Beth was the first to greet the Archbishop, followed by Sam then Jim. I wait until last. I was surprised by the way the Archbishop acted towards three Protestants. I was even more surprised when he asked for us to autograph one of the team posters and our individual posters. I never expected to meet a man of the cloth who was actually a true believer in his faith. I guess I got pretty jaded during my time as a cancer patient on the children’s wards. All those ‘Fire and Brimstone’, bible thumping, ‘born again’, types that we would seeing prancing through the wards really left a bad taste in my mouth. Mostly because they would never give me a straight answer as to why a merciful God would inflict cancer on a kid.

“They tell me that you are a savior of cancer, Miss Bobbie. Is this true?” The Archbishop asked with a friendly smile.

“Yes sir. Childhood Leukemia. It is common knowledge.” I answered truthfully. “Only I should say that I’m still in remission. I won’t say I’m an actual survivor until the day that they find a cure for Leukemia and other cancers.”

“A very commendable attitude to have Miss. I will confess that I have an ulterior motive for you and your team visiting me this way.” I could smell the sewer rat climbing out of his hole already. “I have heard through the local Deceases that you have a tendency to visit the Children’s wards in the nearby cities where you race.”

At my look of shock, he just chuckled. “The Church sponsors several Children’s Cancer Wards around the world. Before I joined the Church, I studied to be a doctor. I did my residency at Bon Secours St. Francis Hospital in Charleston. I still have a great many ties in South Carolina. You’re well known to the staff of the hospitals in the Holy City of South Carolina.”

“Um… thank you, your Excellency. I try to keep my visits under the radar as best as possible. I know that the kids enjoy them.” I sighed. “And I cannot stand having the press, especially those jackass sports announcers, sticking their noses in where they don’t belong. All that hubbub doesn’t do any good for the kids.”

“Oh, I understand your attitude completely, Miss Bobbie. That is one of the real reasons why I have asked you here. Of all the drivers in ISA your team is known for their charitable works. I was hoping to impose upon the four of you to visit the Gemelli Hospital here in Rome.” The Archbishop chuckled. “It seems that you four have become something of a role model for the children, Mrs. McGuire.”

“I’m no role model, your Excellency. I have far too many faults to hold that kind of position. I swear like a sailor. Drink like a GI on payday. Drive like the Hounds of Hell are chasing me.” I began to list off my normal everyday faults.

“And those are your good qualities.” Sam snarked causing everyone in the room to laugh. Including me. “But there isn’t a more caring individual driver in the pits.”

“So my aids have informed me, Mr. Hurley. Though she is not the only driver with these same qualities. Your whole team is known for having such charitable hearts.” The Archbishop counter with ease.

“Excuse me your Excellency, I have no problem with visiting the Gemelli Hospital. Just don’t ask for me or the rest of these miscreants to act as role models for the children. Please remember that in our hearts we’re all a bunch of Outlaw Street Racers. We’ve all broken more laws than I care to comment on in our younger years. We’re nothing more than a pack of rowdies that straightened out their acts. Nothing more, nothing less. Make no mistake about that.” I chuckled as Jim, Sam, and Beth all nodded in agreement with me.

“Pack of rowdies that straightened out their lives. Sounds like twelve men who dared to follow a carpenter who spoke of peace, love, and understood in a violent time. All twelve were considered a pack of rowdies themselves. Yet they went on to work a great many wonders in our savor’s name.” The Archbishop countered grinning. I wasn’t the only to blush in embarrassment at the comparison to the 12 apostles. “Tell me ladies and gentlemen have you ever heard the parable of Tobias the bandit?”

“Um… who sir?” Jim asked in confusion.

“Not surprising. It is one of the little-known acts of redemption by the Apostle Philip. Shortly after arriving in ancient Greece, Saint Philip came upon a road bandit. When the bandit found that Philip had no money, he became enraged and wanted to kill Philip. Saint Philip saw a chance to not only save his life but the soul of the bandit. He began to tell the gospel of the savor to this bandit. Soon the bandit fell to his knees in wonder at the acts spoken of by the man named Jesus. After hearing of the savor’s great works and sacrifice for all men the bandit renounced his false god and repented his sins. This bandit was Tobias of Hierapolis. Tobias went onto become one of the first Greek martyrs. He was another outlaw that straightened out his life.” I had to smile at the way the Archbishop turned our own arguments against us. This man really knew his faith and its teachings. He turned to Jim and smiled. “There are many more such stories to be found within the scriptures James. Also don’t just study the bible. There is a good deal to be learned from the other faiths.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say this Excellency. I would think that you would condemn the other faiths for not following the teachings of Jesus.” I asked him bluntly.

“I have found that wisdom and faith are too different aspects of life young lady. To cut yourself off from even one source of wisdom is to become stagnant. To become stagnant is to become like the fruit on the vine that has been left too long to ripen. It weathers and dies.” He chuckled. “Much like the way you study the racetracks you race on. I too study the other faiths of the world. I may not agree with their teachings, but I gain an understanding of the people. Like the good Lord says. We are all sinners in the eyes of God and our sins are forgiven.”

“Sam got a bandit on you?” I had spit out my dip on the way up here from the garage. Sam just handed me the tin of tobacco pouches. After placing one between my cheek and gum I garbed one of the disposable cups on the refreshment counter. “I got to say sir. You are a rather unusual man of the cloth.”

“Just as you and your team are not your usual professional drivers, Mrs. McGuire. I have followed your sister’s and yours carriers for some time now. Unlike a good number of the Formula One drivers, you two never let your successes go to your heads. Just as your teammates never let their success in NASCAR go their heads. I find your honest down to earth attitudes to be refreshing.” The Archbishop chuckled. “Especially yours young lady.”

“How’s that sir?” I asked bluntly.

“You treat me the same way that you would any of your many fans. I believe the only fans that have ever gotten special treatment from you are the Make-a-wise children.” He explained with a real smile. “For example, you just placed a pinch of tobacco in your mouth without a second thought. I believe you call it dipping.”

“Sir, I learned a harsh fact a long time ago.” I told him as I spit my first wade of juice into the cup. “We all have an expiration date stamped somewhere on our ass. Only the man up stairs knows when that date is. There is no use putting on airs for the people who would give you grief for being yourself.”

“Yup that’s our Speedy for you. Lives her life the way she’s going to live it and to hell with what anyone else thinks.” Sam chuckled. “The best piece of advice I can give you sir when dealing with her is simple. Don’t screw with her pursuit of happiness and she’ll leave you alone. Make the mistake and screw with that pursuit, not even the Lord almighty will be able to help you.”

“Got that right, Sam. She may be my sister, and I love her dearly, but she’s the only person that frightens me when she gets pissed. Not even I’ll get in her way if she’s behind the wheel and pissed off.” Beth chuckled then gave me an exasperated look. “Though she does have a few bad habits that are unlady like.”

“Bite my leather covered ass, sister dear. You got no room to talk.” I snarled.

The Archbishop just chuckled at out little by-play. “That is exactly what I was commenting ladies and gentlemen. Your team is known for its dynamic. None of you take yourselves to seriously. Always cutting up as it were.”

“That is where you’re wrong sir. We may cut up from time to time. When it comes time to get serious, we’re always professional. We know that lives depend on our professionalism. To take anything we do behind the wheel of our cars lightly is to place not only ourselves in danger but other drivers as well.” Jim countered quickly. “It doesn’t matter what we’re doing on the track. Running test laps, practice laps, qualifying, or the race itself. We all know that the Bounty Hunter is always out there looking to collect on a bounty.”

“The Bounty Hunter?” The Archbishop asked in confusion.

“The Devil’s Bounty Hunter, sir. The lost soul known to all as the Ghostrider. It’s an old legend from the American South and Southwest. Depending on who you ask you’ll get one of two stories. Some say the Ghostrider is the damned soul of a human and every generation has one. On the other hand, there are people who say he is one of the fallen Angles that sided with Lucifer in the Great Heavenly War. Either way they all say he is sent by the Devil to collect on his contracts.” Jim explained with a sly smile as he talked about one of his favorite topics. “But the one thing all the stories have in common is this. The Ghostrider is the Devil’s Bounty Hunter, and no one can outrun him. Not even the Devil himself.”

“I must say that sounds like a rather formidable agent of evil.” The Archbishop must have been impressed by Jim’s explanation.

“I love old legends like that one sir. I have always believed that there is a grain of truth in those old stories. That one just has to read through them to find the truth.” Jim answered honestly. “I figure that when I retire, I’ll spend my time actually hunting down the truth behind a great many of the legends within the US.”

“A worthy goal. I hope that you don’t neglect your studies in the faith.” He asked.

“No sir. I think the only one here who doesn’t follow a set faith is Bobbie.” Jim told him honestly. Much to my embarrassment.

“Tell me, Mrs. McGuire. Is what your teammate says true? That you don’t follow any faith.” I could tell that the Archbishop was sniffing around a possible convert.

“I’m a racecar driver, Excellency. My mind tells me that I’m not meant to under God. My heart tells me I’m not ready too.” I looked out the window down at the track. “Out there is my church sir. My religion is called speed. My Saints are named Petty, Earnhardt, Foyt, Andretti, Elliott, just to name a few. The good Lord shows me his divine presence every time one of my fellow drivers climbs out of a wrecked car or crosses the finish line safely.”

“I see. A faith like no other, with Holy Saints that performed miracles of speed. Very commendable Mrs. McGuire. To find divine providence in a sport where death is an all too real factor.” The Archbishop said with a funny smile playing at his lips. “I find that your view is similar to that of a soldier on the battlefield.”

“Are you talking about that old saying of ‘there are no atheists in foxholes’ sir?” I had to ask of the Holy man.

“It takes more than just luck and skill to win races, Mrs. McGuire. It all takes faith.” I was about to argue the point when he explained his reasoning. “You have to have faith in your pit crew, their equipment, your teammates, even in your car. Without that then it doesn’t matter how lucky or skilled a driver is, they will always lose in the end.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that sir. I just know that I can trust my team and the jobs they do. That’s all I can say about that.” I grunted.

“To have trust in those around you to preform the unseen. That young lady is the very foundation of any faith.” The Archbishop chuckled as I grasped the lesson he had so easily slipped into our visit. Talk about a real theologian. I could agree and chuckle at the man’s intelligence.

After that, our discussion turned to lighter topics. After we left an hour later, I was surprised to realize that I had actually enjoyed meeting the Bishop. For some reason I knew that this meet and greet would be one of my fondest memories.

Meanwhile in the Press box.

Jewels stormed into the pressroom in search of one Julie Manner. Unlike her husband Robert McGuire Sr. Jewels understood what Julie was trying to do for the teams. She may not like it, but she did understand. She spotted Julie over by the coffee counter. With the woman in her sights Jewels’ famous temper flared. “JULIE! We need to have ourselves a little talk.”

“What have I done this time, Jewels?” Julie sighed. She knew that if Jewels McGuire was here then she had somehow pissed off the drivers.

“Not here. I’m sure that we can use your privet bus for our talk.” Jewels snarled.

“Right.” Julie now knew that she had done something that had really pissed off the drivers and most likely Jewels’ husband. They said nothing during the golfcart ride over to Julie’s RV bus. Once there Julie led Jewels inside. “Okay let me have it.”

“Julie you have royally screwed the fucking pooch this time.” Jewels snarled.

“I take it that Bobbie and the other drivers aren’t too happy with the one-on-one with the Archbishop?” Julie asked with a heavy sigh. “I know that Bobbie has problems with some of the personal meet and greets I’ve sit up. I can honestly understand it to a point, but I wouldn’t have thought she would have a problem with today’s. I mean she and the rest of the team is meeting with an Archbishop.”

“It’s the fact that you sprang it on them with no notice, Julie! God Damn It! How many times have we told you about this shit?! Do you understand what it does to our drivers’ mental states, bitch?!” Jewels was pissed and wasn’t holding back. “The only thing that was keeping me from gutting your ass. Is I would have problems hiding your fucking worthless body. Not even the COWWS fucked the pooch this bad.”

“Okay hold on here Jewels. Just what are you talking about? How can our drivers meeting an Archbishop be bad?” Julie was truly confused.

“Look, Julie, meeting with the fans is part of the job. Sam, Jim, Beth, and Bobbie all know this an except it. They don’t have a problem with meeting fans in the pits.” Jewels sighed. “It’s these fucking one-on-ones that you’ve been sitting up.”

“I don’t understand. I’m only doing what is best for the team.” Julie countered hotly. “These meetings bring greater chances for sponsors.”

“I know that, they know that Julie.” Jewels snapped. “But that’s what the fucking sponsor parties are for damn it. When you go setting up these little get togethers of yours. You piss off the other teams. When you go pissing them off, they paint targets on the backs of our drivers.”

“Are you telling me that my privet fan parties are placing our drivers in danger?” Julie asked incredulously. “You have to be kidding me?!”

“I’m not fucking joking around here, Julie. I know that you haven’t had much exposure to this side of the business. Because if you did you would know the types of egos you’re fucking around with. Professional Racecar Drivers have a nasty habit of building rivalries out of nothing. Rivalries that can turn deadly at the drop of a hat. It usually doesn’t take much for that to happen.” Jewels explained with more than enough heat to drive the point home.

“Oh shit.” Julie whispered as the implications of Jewels’ warning hit home. “Just how bad is the situation Jewels?”

“Bad enough that this Saturday’s race is going to be one for the books. Our drivers are going to be trading paint with team in the race!” Jewels snarled. “I should say they’ll be trading more paint than they normally do.”

“Jewels, what do you mean by trading paint?” Julie asked kindly.

“Okay, time for Stockcar racing one-oh-one. Stockcar drivers are not ladies and gentlemen. They are a bunch of rowdies out to have good time on the weekends by racing. To win they will bump and grin their way around the track. Dented fenders, doors, and side panels are just part of racing. In the words a great Crew Chief. Rubbing is racing. The bump and run is a great way to pass someone.” Jewels smiled as she explained the facts of Stockcar racing to their newest coordinator. “Now that bumping, and grinding can turn deadly without notice.”

“I get it. In my foolish excitement to promote MRI. I may have alienated the other teams with my privet meet and greets. Damn it! How could I have been such a fool?” Julie snarled at her ignorance.

“Well now you know. Correct the problem and don’t fuck up like that again. From now on when one of your ‘connections’ wants to meet with one of our drivers. Do us all a favor. Invite them to the next sponsor’s party. Then get with Bobbie and the others beforehand. Let them know who it is and leave the rest up to them. Trust me. They’ll do you proud. They’re not the total social outlaws that people think they are.” Jewels snapped and headed for the exit to Julie’s bus. “Just do me a favor. Stay away from Bobbie for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because unlike the other drivers, Julie. My youngest daughter has a mean streak in her that is unlike any other. You pissed her off today.” Jewels answered over her shoulder as she stepped off the bus. Julie ran to catch up. She had to know just how bad she fucked up. “For your information. Bobbie hates organized religion.”

“Oh shit! Would a bouquet of chocolate flowers and a bottle of champaign cover the bill?” Julie asked in small hope of gaining forgiveness.

“Forget the chocolate and champaign. Find the best bottle of bourbon you can and maybe see if you can get her tickets to a rock concert. If you can’t do that see if you can’t find a live-in nanny for her kids.” Jewels sighed. “I swear Bobbie and Kelly have interviewed more than forty potential applicants sense the babies were born. None of them have come close to passing the interview standards.”

“I think I might have the answer to that problem already. Why didn’t you come to me with this problem before now?” Julie chuckled. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. After pulling up her pictures, Julie showed Jewels a picture of a 25 yr. old college student with blonde air and green eyes. “My niece Sue. Now I know that for some South Carolina families having a Clemson Tiger maybe a problem.”

“Better than a damned Gamecock in the house.” Jewels chuckled. “Personally, I could care less. I just want my grandbabies to be looked after by someone who knows what they’re doing. What are your nieces qualifications?”

“She has her nursing degree in childcare. She’s been working at Grand Strand Medical Center in Myrtle Beach for the last two years on the Neonatal Care ward. As for school she graduated first in her class.” Julie told her proudly.

“With qualifications like that. Why would she want a position as a nanny?” Jewels asked in real confusion. After all a Neonatal Nurse earns major bucks.

“To be honest. She’s been looking for a position as a nanny for sometime now. It seems that she can earn twice as much working in the privet care sector as a nanny than she can working in a hospital.” Julie answered honestly.

“You have got to be kidding me?” Jewels asked in surprise.

“Sadly I’m not.” Julie answered honestly.

“Will if she is willing to work for three-thousand a month plus room and board I’ll arrange for an interview with my daughter-in-law.” Jewels told her.

“Make the arrangements. I’ll make sure she’s there.” Julie answered with a smile.

“I hope Kelly well accept her. It would be nice to have Kelly at a few of the overseas races. Bobbie always preforms better in front of her.” Jewels chuckled. “I swear those two girls have a tighter connection that Bob and me.”

“I doubt that Jewels. Their love is just newer. I’ve seen the old footage of Bobbie’s F-one races. She drives just as hard now, if not harder, as she did on the Formula One circuit. With the way the other teams are shaping up. We’ll need every advantage we can get our hands on.” Julie chuckled. “And I’m not above playing the wife and mother card to win.”

Jewels chuckled. “I knew there was a strategist hiding in there somewhere.”

-----tbc-----