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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 26
Darlington Speedway, Darlington, Sc, Thursday: 3 days to Championship Race

Robert McNair chuckled as he walked up the stairs to the last row of seats in the Colvin Grandstand. His destination was the young woman at the very top. She stood out among the rest of the spectators who had come out to watch the practices. Not because of the way she was dressed, but because of the tangible air of raw speed that surrounded her. Only professional racers could give off that air. Then again Bobbie McGuire was more than just a professional driver. She was his boss.

“Scoping out the competition boss?” Mac as he sat down next to her. “Don’t you know that’s cheating according to the gentleman’s rules?”

“I’m no gentleman. You should know that by now.” Bobbie chuckled. “I’m a redneck gal first and foremost. You know our motto.”

“If you ani’t cheating, you ani’t trying.” Mac chuckled. “Anyway, what are you doing up here? It’s not like you have to worry about winning the championship.”

“That may be true Mac.” Bobbie said as she pointed down at the track. “But too many of the new drivers are pushing themselves on this track.”

“You think they might be getting too close to the edge?” Mac asked her with worry.

“Yup. Way too close for my comfort Mac. This is one track that you can’t turn your back on. No matter how many laps you’ve run around her. The Lady in Black is a mystery of the first order. She’s never the same.” Bobbie told him before she spit a wade of tobacco juice into a cup.

“I’ve heard Hailee and the other crew chiefs say the same thing. I just don’t see how a track can change as much as they say it does. Not one with a fixed layout.” Mac grunted then chuckled. “By the way. Does Kelly know you’re dipping?”

“No, she doesn’t, and she better not find out from you. As for how the track changes. It just does. The racing line moves around like a cat on a hot tin roof.” Bobbie told him with a chuckle. “I know it sounds crazy, but that’s the truth.”

“I’ll take your word for it Bobbie. I just know that our F-One teams won’t come near this place. Not even to test their engines.” Mac grunted.

“With good reason Mac. The only people foolish enough to try testing a Formula One engine on this bitch is Beth or me. Not even Sam or Jim will get behind the wheel of a Formula One car here. Testing over at the Knight is one thing but this track is far too unpredictable to run Formula One tests here.” Bobbie told him honestly. “You got to be half nuts to run Formula One tests on this track.”

“That explains a lot. No wonder my drivers want nothing to do with racing you and your sister.” Mac chuckled. “They know you’re crazy.”

“Gee thanks a lot Mac.” Bobbie chuckled. “Then again you might be right. Me and Beth have to be slightly crazy. After all we did challenge you on your home track.”

“You know something boss. You gals are the only drivers that I know of that who are brave enough to go all out at Silverstone against me.” Mac chuckled as the sound of a V-8 firing over, reached their ears. “Looks like Grigorievna is getting ready to make his first run of the day.”

“He’ll put it in the wall before the end of his fourth lap. The man still thinks this place is just like Warsaw. Only smaller.” Bobbie sighed. “If he wrecks this time. He’ll miss the race on Sunday.”

“Don’t tell me that he’s wrecked once already in practice.” Mac asked in surprise.

“Sure, he did it back on Tuesday. I was watching from the Pearson grandstand when the dumbass slammed into the wall on the exit of turn four. As much as I like the man. He’s too full of himself and way overconfident for his own damned good.” Bobbie snorted as she watched the Red Star car pull off pit road.

“Any other fools I should look for boss?” Mac as he thought about Bobbie’s assessment of the Russian driver. “Like maybe a few drivers among Justice or Outcasts?”

“Not so much them but Bisbee Snider, Thunder Valley, and Northern Alliance. All three teams have drivers endanger of losing their sponsors. Not that you’ll hear me complaining if two of them are dropped.” Bobbie told the Scotsman with a snort.

“Let me guess Seth Fisher and Joel Franz.” McNair asked then snorted when Bobbie just nodded her head. “Why am I not surprised. Those two always were too full of themselves for their own good. Oh, they’re good drift racers some of the best, but they lack the needed mindset to race in any other sport. Both got their ass ends hand to them when they tried their hand at Formula One.”

“I know. They both drove for Mercedes before Beth, and I replaced them. They’ve been gunning for us from day one of this season.” Bobbie grunted. “Not that they’re the only ones nor the most radical of our haters.”

“I still don’t understand why they have a beef with you and Beth? There’re plenty of other women drivers in the ISA. Why target you and your sister?” Mac asked her.

“They’re just the most vocal of the ‘boys only club’ drivers. Beth and I’ve been their main targets because we’re the two female drivers with the most wins. We’ve constantly shown to the world that women can compete as equals.” Bobbie spat a wad of juice into her cup then smiled. “Too many of the ‘boys only club’ are having to realize that their skills just aren’t up to the level needed to drive a stockcar.”

“I have to agree. Put me in a Formula One car and I’ll give you a run for your money.” McNair chuckled as he watched Grigorievna round turn 3 into turn 4. “But in a stockcar it’s another story. There’s not too many drivers that can compete with you and your sister behind the wheel of a stockcar.”

“We’re just more comfortable with driving stockcars Mac. Sure, we made you and the others on the Formula One circuit work for your living.” Bobbie chuckled at the snort McNair let out. “But we were never a real threat to you guys.”

“In the words of your lovely wife boss. I call horseshit on that one. You and your sister were a true threat the second you signed those contracts. The both of you honed your skills on the back roads of South Carolina. You might have been considered rookie drivers, but you sisters were far from it. The way the two of you drive has always been on a level far beyond most professional racers. When you suggested that I look to the Darlington county Car Clubs for my Formula One teams. I didn’t give it a second thought. They might not have climbed over the wall at a professional track, but they all showed professional level skill from day one. I could have been prouder of those youngsters.” McNair told her with real pride for his team. “Just like a two drivers and their pit crews three years ago.”

“Okay Mac I hear you. By the way you and your people put in one hell of showing this season. I was positive that Temperance was going to pull down fourth place in the Drivers’ Championship. Damned shame she blew her engine like that at Abu Dhabi.” Bobbie grunted then turn her full attention to the track as the sound of squealing tires reached her ears. “SHIT! HE’S GOING TO LOSE IT!”

Then to both her surprise and McNair’s Grigorievna regained control at the last second. They were both positive that the man would have hit the apex of turn 1 and 2. Instead he spun down towards infield. Bobbie held her breath as the car narrowly missed the infield safety wall. When the car finally came to a stop inside apron its front bumper was inches away from the wall. When Grigorievna restarted the engine there was an unhealthy cough followed by the engine self-destructing. Grigorievna quickly abandoned his car as the now burning engine fire slowly began to consume his car. They watched as he jumped over the safety wall in both fright and anger. Bobbie just shook her head in disgust.

“Damned fool. I told him and the rest of Red Star to watch their speed going into that turn.” Bobbie said out load then explained for a confused McNair. “They were watching our practice run on Monday. Aleskeevich asked we were all slowly down for the turn one entrance. I spent the better part of a ten minutes trying to convince them to follow our example.” Bobbie sighed. “But like I said earlier. They still believe that Darlington is just a smaller version of Warsaw.”

“Which is why Grigorievna screwed up and spun out. That doesn’t explain why you knew he would blow his engine.” McNair pointed out. “I saw that shake of your head when he went to restart his engine.”

“If he had spun out before or after the apex it wouldn’t have been a problem with restarting his engine. You spin out in the apex of those two turns you stand a one-in-four chance of over torquing the transmission. It’s thanks to the heavy banking in that part of the track. Refiring the engine isn’t a problem. It comes when you try to shift gears that the locked up transmission causes the engine to seize up and then blow.” Bobbie explained for McNair.

“That’s why you were so confident that you wouldn’t be facing him come Sunday. You knew he would get out there and push his car to the edge. You expected his over confidence to be his downfall. Any other predictions you want to make boss?” McNair asked as he pulled out his cellphone. “Like say, who is going to win the race?”

“Going to place a bet on the race Mac?” Bobbie asked with a chuckle.

“Just a small one. No more than a c-note.” McNair chuckled.

“The longshot for winning is going to be Rosie John. The local sports reporter placed the odds for her winning at forty to one now that Grigorievna is out of the race. I would say they’ll drop to thirty-nine to one. There’s now way the Marshalls are going to let him race. Not after that little show he just put on for the crowd. They already warned him and the others that have already wrecked in practice. That one more wreck and their out.” Bobbie told him honestly.

“As for the actual drivers that stand a chance of winning. It’s two-to-one odds for any member of MRI. For everyone else the odds are starting off five-to-one for depending on the team. Only Prototype Outcast are starting off at seven-to-one.” Bobbie told him honestly. Then handed him the sports section for the local Darlington newspaper The News and Press. “Bill Markham is pretty good at getting the odds right for any driver racing here. For a shithead sports reporter he’s pretty good at handicapping a race. If I didn’t know better. I would swear he makes most of his money working as a bookie for the casinos in Vegas, Reno, and Atlantic city.”

As Robert McNair looked over the driver listing for the race on Sunday he chuckled. William Markham had listed the drivers by their teams, manufacturers, and countries in a gride format. Similar to what a Horse Racing handicap report uses.

Teams Manufacturer Driver Odds Country

• McGuire Racing Mercedes-Benz
• Bobbie McGuire(F) 1-1
• Beth McGuire Towers(F) 1-2
• Sam Hurley 1-2
• James ‘Jim’ Fields 1-2
• Reynolds Racing Bentley
• George Baker 1-12
• Bobby Parker 1-8
• Oscar Johnson 1-19
• Rosie John(F) 1-40
• King Night Lexus
• Hitarashi Sukejuro 1-15
• Kuno Junzo 1-15
• Sakurazaki Mashai 1-26
• Mori Unkei(F) 1-5
• Red Star LADA
• Nazarova Grigorievna 1-39
• Koychev Fyodorovich 1-15
• Abdulov Germanovich 1-28
• Rokossovsky Aleskeevich(F) 1-5
• Horn Thomas Aston Martin
• Ben Baldwin 1-5
• Ronan Bain 1-24
• Nathan Watson 1-32
• Alexa Peters(F) 1-7
• Bisbee Snider Holden
• Caleb McLean 1-19
• Joseph Lachman 1-36
• Seth Fisher 1-20
• Violet Knight(F) 1-5
• Northern Alliance Audi
• Stijn Bargboer 1-8
• Louwrens Hartman 1-30
• Elco Schrijvers 1-15
• Elle Harbert(F) 1-6
• Thunder Valley KOENIGSEGG
• Siegmund Kühne 1-17
• Marc Wimmer 1-14
• Joel Franz 1-18
• Larissa Andris(F) 1-10
• Prototype Outcast Maserati
• Raniero Accomando 1-27
• Gerino Rosetta 1-35
• Panos Kontotis 1-18
• Sabina Altimari(F) 1-7
• Les Ailes de Justice Peugeo
• Jules Grinda 1-38
• Léonard Carrell 1-17
• Lilian Picard 1-19
• Christen Dior(F) 1-5

“Tell me something Bobbie. Is this bloke some kind of Casanova wanting to get in good with the lassies or is he giving an honest handicap for them?” McNair asked. “The only female driver he didn’t give decent for winning is Rosey John.”

“He may be the biggest horn dog on the writers desk over at the News and Press.” Bobbie chuckled. “But if he took the time to put it in print. Then it is gospel. For a piece of shit reporter, he’s very honest and extremely unbiased.”

“Commendable treats for someone in his profession. Then the fact that he has you as the favorite to win is pretty much accurate. With one of your teams being the closest at beating you. Fallowed by the rest of the female drivers in the field. He has an interesting take on things. Wonder why he’s giving the lassies such favorable odds?” McNair asked her while scratching his chin.

“Because he’s been out here watching the practice runs every day. With the exception of the MRI drivers. That man watched every last driver like a hawk. He didn’t need to watch us. He has known how the four of us drive for some time. From having watched our team practice runs during the offseason. He’s also seen us race over at the Darlington Knight. That man studies racecar drivers the way other sports reporters study the athletes from other sports.” Bobbie told him honestly. Then went on to explain why. “William Markham learned to understand and respect how important the racecar culture is to Darlington and the surrounding counties.”

“Rather remarkable for a sports reporter. Most are only interested in the college and professional team based sports. At least that is the case for the ones at home.” McNair said with a crooked smile.

“It’s usually the same way here. Markham is rather unique among his peers. Then again if the guy was in one of the larger markets he might have a different point of view. Especially if he was in Columbia or Greenville.” Bobbie chuckled then sighed as the next car fired over its engine. Picking up her field glasses Bobbie scanned pit road for the car. “That damned fool. If he pulls out now.”

“Who is it boss?” McNair asked then took the field glasses from Bobbie. “Oh shit. If he rolls off pit road now. There’ll be more than a few sanctions leveled against the Frogs. Jules Grinda should fucking know better.”

“That’s the problem Mac. It doesn’t matter if they win or lose this last race. Word has already gotten out. Les Ailes de Justice won’t be fielding the same team of drivers next year. Hell, there’s even talk about them scrapping their whole program. Then starting over from scratch.” Bobbie snorted then sighed as Jules Grinda pulled around the pit road wall heading for his garage. “Look’s like he’s canceling his last practice run for the day.”

“No, it’s not that boss. Listen to his engine. It’s running way to rough for some reason. If anything, he’s showing an uncommon amount of smarts for once.” McNair told her as they watched the car come to a sudden stop halfway back to Grinda’s garage. “Yup that’s what I thought. They’ll have to change out that engine before tomorrow. By doing it today. He avoids the penalty for a last minute engine swap.”

“Yeah you’re right. That engine is missing on at least two cylinders if not more. That’s the seventh engine this week to break down like that.” Bobbie grumbled.

“Aren’t these the same engines that have been swapped out through the season?” McNair asked her as he continued to study the stalled car.

“Naw. Those were all melted down after Motegi. At least that’s what we’ve been doing.” Then it hit her like a bolt of lightning. “Shit the more cash strapped teams have been reusing their old engines. Rebuilding their engines after each race and alternating them between the races.”

“And which teams have been having the most problems with funding?” McNair asked.

“The three teams with the worse cash flow problems are Les Ailes de Justice, Red Star, and Prototype Outcast. All of whom have blown at least two engines this week.” Bobbie answered him honestly.

“And which of those twelve drivers. Who have had the worst showings?” McNair asked.

“All the drivers that have had a blown engine. Shit. Their giving the engines in the best condition to their top performers. I got a feeling that there’ll be at least six new drivers nest season.” Bobbie sighed then snarled. “Bunch of damned fools. They want nothing but winners on their teams. Screw the fact that it takes two to three seasons to truly understand stockcar racing.”

“It’s worse than that Bobbie. The manufacturers for those three teams are known for do more than just firing drivers after a losing season. They’ve gone so far as to penalize their pay for losing a race.” McNair said as he stood up. “Damn I’m getting too old for seating on bare concrete. Those cheese eating surrender monkeys over at Peugeot are especially known for those types of heavy handed actions.”

“That would explain the rumor about Les Ailes de Justice looking at firing their drivers after tomorrow. They haven’t won a single race this year. They’ve only had three top five and seven top ten finishes all season. Even then their only driver to pull that off was Christen Dior.” Bobbie told him.

“Dior is a damned fine driver. Of the four Touring car racers to come over to the ISA. She is the best hands down. That is probably why she made the transition better than her teammates. She is used to a closed cockpit and full chassis car. Though the cars use by the WTCC are not as heavily modified as the custom built stockcars used by the ISA or NASCAR.” McNair explained for her.

“Damned. Why the hell would she sign with them? I mean if they have a reputation of fucking over drivers like that.” Bobbie asked him.

“When they formed the International Stockcar Association it gave a lot of drivers a chance at stepping away from their old contracts. Of the thirty-two drivers international drivers nineteen of them were stuck in go nowhere contracts with teams that were all about their start driver. Much like the contracts that Temperance had been dealing with until you hired her. It didn’t matter how damned good of a driver she is. She was never allowed to shine. Always being forced to sport some over indulged wanker who couldn’t find their way off an empty roundabout.” McNair snorted then pointed down at the Bisbee Snider garage area. “Tossers like that worthless jackass Joseph Lachman. The only reason he even has a contract with Bisbee Snider is because of my niece. If she hadn’t spent all of last year blocking for him and Seth Fisher both of those wankers would still be looking for rides.”

“I kind of noticed that without someone blocking for them those two can’t do shit on a track. I just thought it was them trying to figure the best way to race on oval tracks. Never realized they can’t drive as individuals.” Bobbie snorted.

“It’s worse than that Bobbie. Almost all of the international drivers are used to a team centric racing format. With one driver for that team chosen to be the team captain or lead driver. The ISA might have a Manufacturers Cup Race, but it is not the main focus of the sport. The ISA is all about the Drivers’ Championship.” McNair chuckled lightly as he stretched out his back. “Speaking of that. How does it feel to be the ISA’s first Champion?”

“I don’t have the trophy on my mantel yet Mac. Beth, Sam, or Jim can still overtake me in the points standing.” Bobbie pointed out only to get a laugh from McNair.

“Bobbie there’s only one way for that to happen now. You would have to stay home on Sunday eating bonbons. Even then the gap between you and the rest of the top five contenders is enough that they would still only come in second place.” McNair chuckled then grunted as he spotted someone heading their direction. Pointing in the direction of the woman headed our way. “Heads up Bobbie. Mad COW alter.”

“Sorry Mac, but that is no crazy old white woman. I actually look forward to seeing her.” Bobbie stood up and walked to down the stairs to meet the woman halfway. “Mac I would like you to meet the woman who got me to live for more than just the next day, Doctor Sharron Kelly. Hi Sharron. What brings you out here today?”

“Well Roberta if you won’t come to me. I’ll come to you.” Sharron snorted as she crossed her arms under her breasts. “Then again this gives me the prefect excuse to get out of the office for the afternoon.”

“Wait a minute, Sharron. I’m not scheduled to see you until next month.” Bobbie bitched as she pulled out her cellphone to double check her schedule. When she saw that she was scheduled to see Sharron earlier that morning Bobbie groaned. “Oh shit. I’m sorry Sharron. I kind of… well…”

“You got caught up in scouting the opposition.” Sharron sighed then chuckled. “No problems Bobbie. I called Kelly yesterday to confirm our appointment and she warned me that you’ve been spending all of your time here at the track. I know how you get tunnel vision when it comes to preparing for a race. So, I reschedule my afternoon appointments for this morning and cleared my afternoon.”

“Glade to someone is trying to retighten those loose screws and bolts of yours boss.” McNair chuckled from behind Bobbie. Before he held out his hand to Sharron. “Robert McNair at your service Doctor.”

“Don’t let that posh British accent of his fool you Sharron. The man is a total nut job. He’s as crazy as I am on my worse day.” Bobbie snorted.

“Roberta McGuire the only person who is as crazy as you are, is your sister Beth.” Sharron snorted then chuckled as she took McNair’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Sir Robert. I’ve heard a lot about you from Bobbie.”

“Lies I tell. Nothing but falsehoods and half-truths.” McNair countered. “Unless she was telling you good things bout me. Then it’s the god’s honest truth.”

Sharron laughed at the man’s blatant attempt at misdirection. “You’re right Bobbie. He is a charming rogue for an Englishman.”

“Bloody hell. No respect I tell you. I get no respect at all.” McNair grumbled as he faked straightening out a tie. As both Bobbie and Sharron chuckled at his antics. McNair gave them a jaunty smile and flippant salute he headed down the stairs. “I hope you brought a heavy torque wrench with you Doctor. That one’s bolts need to be torqued down to thirty pounds.”

“Sorry old boy but the specs for this particular modals bolts require pneumatic torquing to sixty pounds, and I just don’t have the equipment. She’s a lost cause I’m afraid.” Sharron sighed dramatically. “Sadly the poor girl never stood a chance. Her own parents are twice as nuts as she is, and I won’t even bring up her older sister. The whole family is bonkers I tell ya.”

“Why do you say that Doctor?” McNair asked as he stopped next to her the stairs.

“The whole lot are absolutely bonkers over speed and cars. Not a one of them has the common graces to appreciate a fine horse under their seat.” Sharron snorted. Only to get a rolling belly laugh out of McNair. While Bobbie just glared at her.

“See you at tonight’s meet and greet boss. Be sure to bring that lovely wife of yours this time. My last few sponsors have been rather dual. Kelly always has a way of brightening up the most stuffy gatherings.” McNair told Bobbie before turning back to Sharron. With a smile he handed her an 8.5x3.5 glossy cardstock event ticket. “It would be a crying shame for such a lovely lady to spend the evening alone Doctor. Knowing my boss, she has most likely forgotten to order enough tickets to allow those close to her to attend. Please come as my guest.”

“You know something Mac. I can still fire your ass.” Bobbie snarled.

“You could Bobbie, but then who would you find to replace me? Remember I’m the one that brought together that band of rowdy misfits you call a Formula One racing team. No one else is crazy enough to even try controlling.” McNair chuckled as Bobbie stuck her tongue out at him.

“Thank you for the offer Sir Robert. As much as I would to attend the party as your guest. Unfortunately, I must turn you down. You see I’m covering for a friend over at McLeod Health Darlington while she is out on maternity leave.” Sharron told him with real regret in her voice.

“Maybe next time Doctor. Until them I bid you good day. Unlike someone around here. I still have to work for my living.” McNair snarked as he walked away.

Once they were alone Bobbie and Sharron sat down on the top tier of seats. “So, who really sent you out here Sharron? I know that I didn’t have an appointment today.”

“Your father called me this morning after you left their offices. Bobbie your parents are worried about you.” Sharron told her as she looked down at the track. “From what I’ve seen so far. They have good reason. You’re obsessing again.”

“I’m not obsessing Sharron. I’ve got a damn good reason for watching the other drivers during their practice runs. Mom, and dad, haven’t seen the danger yet. Hell, none of them are seeing it.” Bobbie snorted as she watched the next car start its engine. “Why won’t they listen to me?”

“Bobbie what exactly are you seeing that they’re not?” Sharron asked her.

“It’s the way the other teams are treating this track. Almost every last driver that has never raced here is acting like they’re back at Warsaw’s Black Lady. I don’t know how many times one of those fools has come too close to the edge in the turns. So far there has been seven wrecks. All of those drivers belong to the last place teams with no chance at winning the Manufacturers Cup.” Bobbie snarled. “I keep trying to tell mom and dad, but they just won’t listen.”

“Bobbie they have been listening. The problem is they’re not obsessing over it. They see the danger and are doing everything in their power to lessen the impact on you, Beth, Sam, and Jim. What you’re doing is unhealthy. Bobbie you know that there are just somethings you cannot control. Exactly how many times have we talked about this topic?” Sharron asked her longtime patient.

“I’ve lost count Sharron. Let me think for a minute.” Bobbie grunted trying to avoid the very painful truth just then.

“Twenty-three times over the last six years Bobbie. Though this is the first time it hasn’t involved the death of someone you got too close to. The hardest hit you ever took was the death of Robert Campbell. You were close enough to hear his screams as he burned to death. In the last three years you have come close to dying four times that I KNOW of personally. I don’t even want to think about the number of times that you kept from me.” Sharron snorted as Bobbie cringed at being chewed out once more by her friend and sometimes head shrinker.

“You have a bad habit Bobbie. One that will drive you around the bend and into the nuthouse if you let it take control. You’re a professional racecar driver Bobbie. Dancing the thin line been sanity and insanity is part of the job. You take every precaution with your safety. Then go out there and push your car to its design limits. Sometimes you go passed those limits and the car breaks.” Sharron told her with a soft smile of pride in the young woman.

“By all rights in the last three years you should have had at least three to four season ending wrecks, two carrier ending wrecks, and one fatal life ending wreck. Of the nine wrecks you’ve been involved in that I have seen. You shouldn’t have walked away from four of them. Yet the safety features that you build into your cars have keep you injuries to a few broken bones, sprains, bruises, and pulled muscles. Nothing that was carrier ending or life-threatening.” Sharron pointed out as she thumped Bobbie’s leg with the back of her hand. “By all rights that wreck in Chiba should have put you out for the season not just the month.”

“Trust me Sharron I know how lucky I got with that wreck.” Bobbie sighed.

“It was not luck Roberta. The MRI cars are always three to four steps ahead of the pack when it comes to chassis design safety. I know that your parents are always testing new designs and materials. Before they build the first protype they run hundreds, sometimes thousands, of computer simulations. Then they put those protypes through hell doing everything they can to destroy them in the testing labs.” Sharron told her with a chuckle. “What they do is cutting edge design work.”

“Trust me Sharron. I know that better than anyone else.” Bobbie chuckled then sighed. “I bet my life on their designs every time I slide behind the wheel for one of theirs cars. I’ve been doing it for so long. That I don’t think about it anymore.”

“Then what has you so fixated on this race? From what I understand no one is near enough in the stands to even challenge you. You could lose the race tomorrow and still walk away with the Drivers’ Championship.” Sharron pointed out then saw the flicker in of doubt in Bobbie’s eyes. “What do you still doubt the fact that you’ve actually EARNED that championship Bobbie?”

“Maybe.” Bobbie sighed. “Sharron is it right for me to be the championship winner?”

“Bobbie of all the drivers here. You have as much right to that trophy as any of them. Some would say that you have more rights to it than rest. Yes it’s true that you and the other four MRI drivers are the youngest drivers in this sport. That doesn’t matter. The four of you have bust your asses harder than any other team. You’ve all logged more hours on the tracks of the ISA than the rest. Either behind the wheel of your cars or running laps around those tracks. Of the four of you. Bobbie you’ve trained the hardest of them all.” Bobbie could only chuckle as Sharron pointed towards Bobbie’s personal need to stay in shape.

“Normally I won’t discuss a patient with their spouse. But I made an exception in your case. Kelly told me about how you spent the months leading up to the start of the season poring over maps, schematics, film footage, and everything else you could your hands concerning the racetracks of the ISA. At one point she thought you were letting your OCD get the better of you. Until I asked if you were doing anything that you have done in the past to get ready for a season.” Sharron told her bluntly. Then gave Bobbie a ninja hug. “Look kiddo I could sit here for the next hour telling you how much you deserve that trophy. It wouldn’t matter.”

“Why is that?” Bobbie asked her.

“Because the only person’s opinion that matters is yours. Fuck what everyone else thinks. Compared to you they’re all nothing more than a bunch of no talent jealous cock bits.” Sharron snorted as Bobbie chuckled. “Bobbie I’m being serious here. When compared to you nine out of ten drivers can only wish they were half as talented as you, and the other MRI drivers. You four drivers are in a class all to yourselves. Even inn that class you stand out as a cut above the rest.”

“Then why does it feel like the ISA Officials are just giving me the trophy to go away?” Bobbie sighed heavily. “Just feels like. Oh, I don’t know.”

“You need the Darlington win.” Sharron sighed realizing what was eating at Bobbie. “This is your home. You know this track in ways that no other living driver could dream. Yet you have never had the chance to actually race here until now. You don’t want to face off against the ISA. You want to fulfill your dream of going head-to-head against your NASACAR heroes on your home track.”

“Yah. You could say that Sharron.” Bobbie answered in a small voice. As much as she hated having to admit that she was still chasing a childish dream. Bobbie knew that she couldn’t lie to Sharron. “Only now that the Rainbow Warrior, Little E, Smoke, and Seven Time have all retired. That will never happen.”

“Bobbie did you ever think that you would be the one to set the standard for a whole new sport?” Sharron asked her while hiding her smile. “That you would be the legend that all the other drivers are chasing?”

“What are you talking about Sharron?” Bobbie asked quietly.

“Bobbie stop and think. In the inaugural season of a brand new sport, you have won seven out twenty races. Finished in the top five an additional six times. You set the bar so damned high that only someone like those four drivers could come close to matching it. You’ve set speed records around the world in not one but two motorsports. You have turned out two winning rookies seasons as far as the official record books go. The only thing you have two goals left to active. The first is a triple crown. You came close three times this year. If not for that wreck in Chiba. You would have had your first. As for your Grand Salm if they had let you compete in all the races at Moscow. That would have been your first.” As Sharron listed off her accomplishment over the season Bobbie has to smile with pride.

“I did kind of put on one of hell of show this year. Didn’t I?” Bobbie asked as she giggled lightly as Sharron just nodded her head. “I hadn’t really thought about all I had done this year. I just went out there and drove like I always have.”

“Right up to the edge of insanity with your ass on fire.” Sharron chuckled. “If you were one of my other patients I would have you committed. Simply because of your suicidal tendencies behind the wheel of a racecar.”

“Sharron you beat that nonsense out of my ass when I was a teenager.” Bobbie smirked as she thought back to that day. “If I memory serves me right I never did get that blowjob. Just a sore ass and a reason to keep fighting.”

“Can I tell you something Bobbie and it not go beyond us?” Sharron asked with a bashful smile. “Of all my patients. You’re the only one that would have work on. You were just in the right mindset to need a good old fashioned ass cutting to get you living again. I knew in an instant that the best way to get through that engine block you call a brain was to piss you off.”

“I do not have an engine block for a brain.” Bobbie huffed.

“Like hell you don’t. Inside that brain of yours is a NASCAR racing chip. You have a RT/V-ten for a heart. Twenty-W-fifty synthetic motor oil for blood. All wrapped in Goodyear Eagle race tires for skin. You take cream and sugar in that one-ten octane you call coffee.” Sharron snarked.

“I’m not that bad.” Bobbie snorted then blushed asking. “Am I?”

“Bobbie I would be surprised that you don’t dream in fast forward.” Sharron laughed. “You have been at your core a racer from the time you could walk. It took childhood leukemia to slow you down enough for the rest of the world to catch up. Even then it took multiple rounds of chemo and an experimental treatment to bring you to a standstill for more than two days.”

“Okay Sharron. I hear you. So, what do you suggest I do now?” Bobbie asked her.

“Go home. Kiss your lovely wife. Hug your kids. Feed that mangy mut you call a dog. Then take the rest of today to get ready for the meet and greet. Taken tomorrow of to clear your head. Then bust your ass during Qualifying on Sat. Then come Sunday win the ISA’s inaugural running of the Seaway Foods six-hundred on the meanest, nastiest, most unpredictable, track in all of NASCAR.” Sharron dropped the timber of her voice to sound like a hyped up radio announcer. “The Lady in Black, the Track Too Tough To Tame, Darlington Speedway.”

“Okay Sharron. I get the hint.” Bobbie chuckled as she stood holding out her hand to her friend and doctor. “Come on. I’m feeling like a cold one. Care to join me?”

“Wish that I could kiddo. I wasn’t kidding about pulling a shift at McLeod Health tonight. Leslie’s pregnancy isn’t going as well as she hoped.” Sharron groaned as she stood up. “She should have known better at her age. I would have thought that two kids was enough. Having one in your forties is hard on any woman.”

“Wait a minute! Doctor Leslie is in her forties! I thought she was only thirty at most. How old was she when she had Jill and Tim?” Bobbie asked in surprise.

“She was in her early thirties when she and Jarod had the twins.” Sharron chuckled. “She hides her age well.”

“Say Sharron that girl you had to make the emergency run for. How is she doing?” Bobbie knew that asking about another patient was touchy at times.

“Not good I’m afraid. Carrie’s fighting with the ‘why me’ syndrome. I just can’t reach her for some reason.” Sharron grumbled.

“Sharron she is an athlete. A highly trained athlete at that, one who has spent years mastering her skills and body. If you want to reach her. Find a new sport that she can shift that drive towards mastering. Think outside of the box. Use people like that runner from South Africa as examples.” Bobbie suggested. “Though I would leave out the part about him becoming a murderer.”

“Only you would think of using someone like Oscar Pistorius as a role model.” Sharron chuckled then snarled. “Oh fuck. How did that cocksucker get in?”

“What? Who?” Bobbie asked then looked to where Sharron was at that time. “Fuck me. I thought they banded Barns from the track.”

“McGuire you’re going to pay for what you’ve done to my and my family you freak!” Barns shouted as he climbed the stairs. “If you think that having me thrown out of the pits and garage area will protect. You’re sadly mistake.”

“You know something Barns. I wasn’t the one to throw your ass out of the infield. If I was you will still be digging the asphalt out of your ass.” Bobbie snarled as she start towards the report with blood and mayhem in her eyes. Only to be stopped by Sharron. “Get out of the way Sharron. I’ve had it with this worthless fucker.”

“Bobbie beating the crap out of this man is not worth your freedom.” Sharron warned her then turned to Barns. “As for you Eric. I suggest that you find someplace else to be and someone else to bother.”

“Shut up bitch. This worthless tranny freak may have fooled you, but I know the truth.” Barns snarled. “And once I have the proof. So will the rest of the world.”

“Was that a threat?” Sharron snarled. “Because if it was then you’ll be hearing from the police very shortly.”

“Bitch. Don’t you get it? I’m a member of the press. The police can’t touch me.” Barns snapped. “I can destroy your ass with one article.”

“Barns I suggest you take a minute and think about where you are right now.” Sharron told him in a soft calm voice. “If I were you I would carry your happy ass out of here before someone takes you head off.”

“Just what the fuck are you talking about?” Barns grunted as he looked around the stands and the people near them. It wasn’t until now that he saw the matching jackets. In a voice so low that only Bobbie and Sharron heard. “Oh shit. Not again.”

As the twenty odd car club members stood up Eric Barns found his escape cutoff. Bobbie snarled as she stepped down close enough to get right in Barns’ face. “I know you’ve fucking been warned to stay away from my family. I know you were warned to stay away from me. What is your major malfunction? Why are you so set on being up my ass every chance you fucking get? And don’t tell me it’s because of that worthless fucking son of yours.”

“People like you don’t belong in professional sports. The only place a tranny bitch has in society is working the streets as a whore or behind bars in prison getting passed around for smokes. You don’t belong among honest god fearing people.” Barns snarled as he spat out his hate filled rant.

“Miss Bobbie we got this.” One of the car club members snarled. He didn’t even give Barns a chance to defend himself. The punch to the back of Barns’ head was fast and powerful. The reporter crumbled only to be caught before he was halfway to his knees. “Snip, Lockpick, get this piece of shit out of here. Use the team van. Take his ass out to Chopsticks old place on Honeywell Rd.”

“Don’t kill him Flint. Can you tell me where I can find that worthless dickweed son of his. I want a word with him about twisting the truth.” Bobbie ordered the leader for the Ridge Runner car club.

“Evergreen Hills outside of Bishopville. The stupid shit rolled his Firebird off the four-oh-one overpass for I-twenty at over one-twenty. He was stupid enough to challenge Aron Speedle to rat race for pinks.” Flint told her honestly. “Before you ask Miss Bobbie. Speedle isn’t a member for any of the clubs.”

“And his father is still blaming me for his son’s first round of stupidity. Everything is my fault. Because his couldn’t drive to save his ass.” Bobbie sighed. “If I would end up being the primary suspect. I would make his ass disappear.”

“Don’t worry Miss Bobbie. After today. He’ll never bother you or your family again.” Flint told her honestly as the two Ridge Runners dragged limp form of Eric Barns from the stands. “Go ahead and head home.”

With that the car club members slowly left the stands. Sharron just chuckled as Bobbie sighed. “I got to say Sharron. There are times when I wonder what I missed out on by not joining the Knights.”

“Bobbie the only way you could have helped those clubs they way you have was because you were an outsider. It’s also way they’re so loyal to you and your family.” Sharron pointed out for Bobbie. “I would have thought you realized that by now.”

“I realized that two years ago Sharron. I just wonder how my life might have gone. If I hadn’t sign that first contract. I know that I sure as hell wouldn’t have seen as much of the world that I have. I never really expected the level notoriety that I’ve achieved.” Bobbie chuckled. “Then again everybody loves the bad girls.”

“That they do. You and Beth are the biggest bad girls on the world stage of racing.” Sharron chuckled. “Come on let’s get out of here. You have a party to get to, and I have a shift to get ready for.”

-----tbc-----