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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 4

Dayton Beach, Fl, Thursday night

Bobbie walked into the reception room as if she had just stepped off the runaway in Milan. The click of her five-inch designer high heels on the marble floor drew more than just the attention of the gather men. The women who were at the sponsor’s party looked upon the young professional driver with jealousy filled eyes. Most of them could only dream of having a body such as hers. What none of those women realized the hard work that Bobbie put into to have such a body. A body that was showcased by a figure-hugging cocktail dress by Loran Taylor.

To the world Bobbie had become the girl who had won it all behind a fast car. In many ways she had done exactly that, but tonight she needed to do the one thing she hated the most. Tonight, she had to play the game of politics. The one game that she was not good at. As it was, she knew that her sponsors needed her to play nice with Julie Manner former CEFO for DEI. It didn’t take Bobbie long to spot the only redhead in the room who was wearing a business suit.

Bobbie now understood why the Grandams of Mercedes-Benz wanted her to work on Julie Manner. Two Scottish women would naturally get along in their minds. Only problem Bobbie was Irish. Bobbie was what they called the Black Irish with her slightly darker than normal complexion and jet-black hair. Over that last few years, she had let grow. It now reached to just above her hips. Normally she just kept it in a ponytail at the top of her head, unless at the track. Then she wore her hair in a French braid. Tonight, Bobbie wanted a more dramatic look. She let it hang lose.

Between the dress, heels, makeup, and hair Bobbie looked stunning. Needless to say, Bobbie achieved the effect she wanted. She captured Julie manner’s attention the second she walked into the room. Bobbie gave the woman a smile as she grabbed a glass of white wine from a passing waiter. With a smile to the man. “Thank you.”

The waiter returned her smile. “You’re welcome. Ma’am.”

With wine in hand Bobbie began to work the room. She spent time with individual Company owners and team managers. She even talked with a few of the other drivers. Bobbie may not be good at playing politics, that didn’t mean she couldn’t play the game. Bobbie had learned the hard way the rules of the political game in her first year as a Formula One driver. Even as she worked the crowd, she remembered that very first disastrous sponsor party two years in Australia.

Julie Manner watched the young woman who had burst onto the Formula One racing circuit two years. Everything about the young woman intrigued Julie. From the way that Bobbie seemed to glide effortlessly around the room in five-inch heels and designer cocktail dress to the effortless way that she worked the crowd. There was an air of danger about Bobbie that just seemed to draw Julie to the young female. She could almost see the young woman’s powerful aura. Everything about Bobbie screamed ‘Speed demon’ to Julie.

“To hell with waiting around. I must meet this young lady.” Julie turned to her current party companions. “Who is that fascinating young woman?”

“That would be Roberta McGuire. Last week’s winner and former Formula One driver.” The woman to her right answered. “One of the Formula One Furies.”

“I believe they call her and her sister the Ice-Cold Furies.” Another woman told her. “Something to do with the way they drive from what I understand. They say that she drives as if the Devil himself wants her soul.”

“I see.” Julie smirked. “Excuse me ladies. I believe that I must talk with this young lady myself.”

Bobbie had gone out of her way to stay just far enough away from Julie but still remain in her line of sight to be enticing. Bobbie had done her homework on Julie before coming to the party. She knew all there was to know publicly about Julie Manner. Age 34 born on August 18, 1987. Hometown Staten Island, New York City. Never married. Graduate of Mount Holyoke College. A Lyon with a master’s degree in engineering. Oldest child of William and Cathy Manner’s three children. Her two siblings are boys both younger. John age 30 and Henry age 28. Both married. Known tea-totter, and nonsmoker. Only weakness, kids.

Julie Manner had a secret that she went out of her way to hide. Julie Manner was a lesbian. For someone like Bobbie all the signs were there to see. After all Bobbie was technically in a lesbian marriage. In the past three years Bobbie had learned to spot those of an alternative sexuality and lifestyle. As the two women approached each other they naturally sized the other up. Bobbie was the first to smile. She liked what she saw in Julie. Julie returned the smile that Bobbie gave her then looked down at her left hand. Julie spotted the ring on the left-hand ring finger and smiled even wider.

“Good evening Mrs. McGuire.” Julie said as she held out her hand. “Is your husband here with you?”

“I see that not all of the rumors about me have made the rounds. My wife is at home with our children. Traveling with a sick toddler is never a good thing.” Bobbie answered with a heavy sigh. “I love your suit. Kline?”

“No actually. I ordered this through Venus. It’s a shame that your family isn’t here with you. I thought that all drivers had their families with them at the races. Though I can see and understand why you wouldn’t want to travel with a sick child.” Julie told her with a grin.

“Thank you for understanding, ma’am.” Bobbie told with real respect.

“Julie please, Roberta. I hate formality at such events.” Julie politely asked of Bobbie.

“It’s Bobbie, Julie. I hate being called Roberta. It sounds too much like when my mother is chewing me out for blowing an engine.” Bobbie chuckled. “That or something else stupid that I’ve done.”

“I doubt that she chews you out all that often then.” Julie chuckled. “You know I’ve followed your racing carrier. I must admit that I’m impressed.”

“No offence Julie, but I know for a fact that you are not a real fan of auto racing.” This time it was Bobbie who smirked. “Anyone can google my name and find out my racing stats. Just the way I did for you.”

Julie just chuckled. “Guilty as charged. Though I must admit that I wasn’t expecting to be confronted by such a lovely creature. Who is your Stylist?”

Bobbie saw no reason to lie to Julie. “Isabella La Fayette, Stylist and image consultant. I doubt that you have heard of her though.”

“Bobbie, if there is anyone who hasn’t heard of Issy in the corporate world. Then they’ve been living under a rock or a cave in the middle of Bum-fuck Egypt. Is she still using that fake Orléanais French accent?” Julie chuckled.

“Why do I have the feeling that you know more than you’re letting on?” Bobbie asked with a crooked smile.

Julie smiled and dropped her polished speech. “Well, let’s just say that Issy, and I have a lot in common. We ran in the same circles for a while. Back before she divorced that pig cheating pig, Patrick La Fayette.”

“From the sounds of that accent you had someone do a little editing to your bio.” Bobbie giggled a little. “That’s a Queens accent if I’m not mistaken.”

“Got it in one. I’m surprised you spotted the deference. Most people can’t tell. When were you in New York?” Julie asked politely.

“Issy talked me and my sister into doing a walk for her in New York following last season. We spent a few days doing the tourist thing. During those few days I heard more accents in one city than I did in all of traveling around the world.” I explained for Julie. “But it was the native New Yorkers that fascinated me the most. I swear each one of the boroughs of New York City has their own accent.”

Julie chuckled at Bobbie’s comment about her home city. “New Yorkers are rather proud of our melting pot status. Though it has brought in a rather interesting mix of languages and accents.”

Julie gave Bobbie another appraising look. “I must say Bobbie. You are nothing like the other drivers I’ve met over the years. You seem to have a rather eclectic background. How is you come by your education?”

Bobbie turned serious as her thoughts returned to the darkest period of her young life. “I spent a lot of time in hospitals when I was younger. I spent a lot of time watching the History Channel, Travel Channel, and the Science Channel, plus a few others.”

“They kept your mind off unpleasant things.” Julie said with more than a little understanding. “I lost my baby sister to illness when she was three.”

“Hence your only known weakness. Children.” Bobbie grinned. “Do you still spend your Holidays on the Mount Sinai Children’s Ward?”

“How on earth did you know about that?” Julie asked in amazement.

“Oh, I have my sources.” Bobbie placed her left hand over her mouth giggling. “You do know that nurses are worse gossips in the world? Especially those that work the Children’s wards of major hospitals.”

“A little sight-seeing, I take it?” Julie chuckled before taking a drink of her whine. “Tell me something Bobbie. Do you visit all the hospitals nearby when you travel or just the Children’s’ Hospitals?”

“I do what I can with time I have.” Grinned then cocked her head to the side. “Just like a certain Corporation Executive Officer that I know.”

“Guilty as charged.” Julie giggled. “I really must find a way to make my visits less circumspect. How on earth do you get away without the press finding out about your visits?”

“Simple.” Bobbie grinned. “I got a pit crew that carry out the none too subtle threats of bodily harm to those that dare to stick their noses into my privet life. The last time a reporter got nosy. They were found tied to the courthouse flagpole bare assed and upside-down with a ball gag stuffed in their mouth. For some unknown reasons, the local cops and DA’s office declined prosecution.”

“I must say that your pit crew has a very interesting way of handling the press.” Julie chuckled then turned thoughtful. “I wonder if I could get my bodyguards to pull that off one or two times?”

“I don’t know about your bodyguards, but I know that the MRI pit crews won’t have a problem having your back.” Then Bobbie grinned. “That’s the nice thing about having a bunch of rowdy rat-racers for teammates. They get awfully protective when people go screwing around with the ladies of the MRI family.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, but what exactly is a rat-racer?” Julie asked.

“Most people just call us a bunch of street-racers. Only Bobbie calls us rat-racers.” Jim said as he walked up with his fiancée Caroline. “More than a few us owe Bobbie and Beth a lot. Especially those of us in the Darlington Knights and Blue Devils. Though they never belonged to either club or any of the car clubs. Bobbie and Beth were always the ones to beat on the back roads. It didn’t matter what county they raced in.”

Bobbie and Julie noticed that Jim had one of the local microbrews in his free hand. Bobbie just frowned. “How many is that Jim?”

“Don’t worry Bobbie. That’s the only beer he’ll have tonight.” Caroline answered quickly. “He knows what’s at stake tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll leave it alone, Caroline.” Bobbie gave Jim the onceover then grinned noticing absence of the ever-present lip bulge from snuff usage. “She hide your dip on you, Jim?”

“She caught me just before we left the room.” Jim grumbled.

Bobbie busted out laughing and reached into her purse. “Here I got an extra tin. Just don’t let it get around.”

“Forget about it!” Caroline snapped then sighed. Looking over at Julie. “Mrs. Manner please forgive these two. Like the old saying goes. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.”

Julie busted out laughing. “Or in Bobbie’s case. The country girl.”

They all laughed at Julie’s joke at Bobbie’s expense. Bobbie put the offending round tin back in her purse with a smile. Julie noticed that the three Southerners didn’t take themselves to seriously. She was beginning to understand why the Mercedes-Benz group wanted her to meet these fascinating young people. They were joined by two more couples while they were laughing.

“Julie allow me to make introductions. Starting off we have the driver of the number seventy car sponsored by Stormbridge Designs James Fields and his lovely fiancée Caroline Marshal. Next up is Sam Hurley driver for the fifty-three-car sponsored by Rosewood Solutions his better half Missy Carter. Lastly, we have my sister Elisabeth McGuire-Towers. Driver of the thirty-right-car, sponsored by Wizard Industries, and her husband Anthony Towers.” Bobbie rattled off for Julie.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re the driver of the number five-car sponsored by Horze Equestrian Wear. I must say Bobbie. I am slightly surprised that you were able to get HEW to sponsor you.” Julie said with a questioning note to her voice. “How did you pull it off?”

“Who do you think is their biggest purchaser? I swear I’ve never seen Bobbie wear anything but Horze Equestrian Wear. She practically lives in their designs. The only time I’ve ever seen her in a dress another at one of these events is when Kelly forces her to dress up for a night on the town.” Beth chuckled out with no remorse.

“I’m not that bad.” Bobbie stamped her left foot pouting. Then placing her left hand on her hip Bobbie sniffed airily. “I just find their designs comfortable. Not to mention affordable.”

Julie stood there for a second before laughing once more at the byplay of the two sisters. She looked over at Tony. “Are they always like this?”

“Only off the track.” Tony smiled as Sam, Jim, Missy, and Caroline just nodded their heads. “The only time my wife and sister-in-law are serious is on the racetrack. When they’re behind the wheel of a race car nothing and no one gets between them and the finish line without a fight.”

“Usually a hard fought one at that. It takes someone with extreme balls to beat these two.” Sam told her honestly.

“I may have had the pole position and fastest car during last week’s race, but it did me no good. Once Bobbie and Beth got out front, I knew they would never give up the race.” Jim explained. “Not even to one of their teammates.”

“That doesn’t sound like an organization that I want to belong to.” Julie sighed as she thought about what Jim told her.

“That is racing, ma’am.” Beth told her bluntly. “Teamwork is fine in the pits and during the majority of the race. On the final lap though it every man for themselves out there on the track. It’s about more than just the checkered flag. It’s about pride.”

“Pride?” Julie asked in confusion.

“There are few people in this world that have bigger egos than racers.” Bobbie began to explain. “We kind of have to have massive egos. Just so we can push a thirty-five-hundred-pound car to its limits.”

“Stockcar drivers are an unusual breed of professional driver. To us there’s nothing like dancing three wide going into a turn at over one-eighty. We draft, bump, grind, and use our cars like they’re one tone sledgehammers. Trading paint is all part of the game.” Beth jumped in with her own explanation while looking at Bobbie. “Even with pain in the ass teammates.”

“I see.” Julie started to laugh. It seemed that everything she had ever heard about the McGuire sisters was true. They were friendly, outgoing, carefree, and beautiful away from the track. Yet, fiercely protective of those they care for. She could also tell that this was an organization that she would be proud to be part of. As the new plant manager for Mercedes-Benz in Gastonia North Carolina she would have that chance. “Ladies, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me. I need to find four certain ladies and have a long discussion.”

“Go ahead. You’ll find the COWWs over by the refreshment line.” Sam told her while pointing towards the aforementioned women.

“Excuse me. What or who are the cows?” Julie asked in shock.

“Crazy Old White Women.” The four drivers sang as one. It took Julie a second to grasp what they were saying before she busted out laughing again. After a few minutes she had to wipe tears from her eyes. The term fit the four granddams of Mercedes-Benz perfectly. She had spent enough time in the presence of the four older women to see why the drivers and pit crews of the MRI Team came up with the term.

“Bobbie, it has been a pleasure. I look forward to seeing you race this weekend.” Julie said as she turned to head for the grandams of Mercedes-Benz. She did stop before heading over. “Bonne chance Roberta.”

“La chance est pour les imbéciles, Julie.” Bobbie answered back with a smile. “On the track only skill counts.”

Julie stopped and gave Bobbie a friendly yet thoughtful smile before answering back. “Only in your case Bobbie.”

With that the newest member of Mercedes-Benz and family friend of the McGuire’s walked off to coral the most formidable force within the Company. Beth and the others gave Bobbie friendly smiles. “Way to go sis. Once again you go and pull off the impossible.”

Before Bobbie could say anything, she was smacked on the ass. The anger flash in her eyes as she rounded on the offender. There before her was the one person that she would gladly put into the turn 4 wall. As much as she wanted to pound the piss out of the man Bobbie wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. Tony, Sam, and Jim on the other hand didn’t have that problem. All three men grabbed a hold of the man and slammed him into the nearest wall.

“Don’t Tony! This asshole is mine.” Tony was all set to break the man’s face when Bobbie snarled. “You know something Toto for the past three years both me and my sister have put up with your fucking bullshit. More than one driver has told you to back off and leave a wife or girlfriend alone. Just what the fuck is your malfunction asshole?”

“I just can help myself. I see a lovely woman and just have to get to know her.” Toto grinned. “Even you should be able to accept a true man’s advances.”

This time Bobbie barely held her and anger in check. “Do yourself a favor dipshit. Find a new ride. In another sport.”

“But why should I do that? Not when there are so many beautiful ladies in this one?” Toto grinned with an expression of raging libidinousness that would have been worthy of a whole company of soldiers.

Bobbie stepped forward until she was inches from his face. In a whisper just loud enough for Toto to hear she snarled. “Because if you fucking don’t come Saturday I’ll put your sorry mother fucking ass into the wall. This time they won’t be sending the wrecker for your ass. They’ll be sending the meat wagon and not even the greatest doctors in the world will save your ass. Toto that isn’t a threat. It’s a fucking promise. Now get out of here.”

Bobbie stepped back and nodded her head to Sam and Jim. As they let Toto go Bobbie looked down at his crotch. The growing wet spot let everyone in the area who witnessed the confrontation know that he lost control over his bladder. Toto for once in his life took the better part of valor. Even as he was running from the room the sounds of applause could be heard. More than one couple were smiling at and clapping approval for what the MRI team had just done. Even a few of the marshals’ and their wives were applauding.

“Come on guys let’s get a few beers to go. I want to take the party elsewhere. You with me?” Bobbie asked with a milewide smile. As one the team of drivers and their better halves each grabbed two beers on the way out of the room.

Julie Manner stood next to four grandmas of Mercedes-Benz grinning. “This is going to be a very interesting relationship.”

“What were you saying Ms. Manner?” Bertha asked in confusion. Then saw where Julie was looking. “Ah. I see. It seems that you’re witnessing our lovely Furies in their natural state. As it were. Pissed off.”

“No. I doubt that Frau Mercedes. I had the pleasure of spending some time with the young ladies. It seems that one of the other drivers overstepped the bounds of appropriate behavior.” Julie told them all. “I’m actually surprised that Mrs. McGuire didn’t take the man’s head off at the shoulders.”

“Our Bobbie wouldn’t have taken it that far.” Maybach quickly countered. “Now, come Saturday it will be another matter entirely.”

“Why do you say that, Frau Maybach?” Julie asked her bluntly.

The four grandmas chuckled. Bertha saw the look of confusion on Julie’s face. “You have heard of the way that the two sisters drive, ja? Well the stories are nothing near the true. Toto has gone out of his way and angered the one driver he should have stayed away from.”

“Very true. She’ll turn her car into a sixteen-hundred-kilogram battering ram. When she does, she’ll drive Toto into the first wall that she can find.” Maybach told Julie honestly. “I doubt that she won’t even think twice about it when she does. She’ll also make it look like an accident.”

“Ladies I have given your offer of employment great thought. I’ll accept on one condition.” Julie told the four.

“What is your condition, Ms. Manner?” Bertha asked.

“That I get to be the liaison between Mercedes-Benz and MRI.” Julie answered with a sly smile. She knew that she had them over a barrel.

“Why would we give up our position as their liaison?” Bertha asked.

“Easy, because unlike you. They don’t hate me.” Julie told them bluntly.

Daytona Speedway, Fl, Friday afternoon

The roar of a massive V-8 engine brought me out my meditative state. Standing up I stretch for 5 minutes. I double check the time. I still got twenty minutes before I have to be at my car. I’ve come to love these new car hauler trailers. They're 15ft longer than the normal car hauler trailers. They’re an extra 5ft taller. That extra space allows us to double stack the cars at the end of the trailer. This leaves the rest of the trailer to be used as both mobile garage and breakroom for the drivers.

Each of us has setup those breakrooms to fit our individual personalities. Beth’s is basically a small one-person dance studio. Sam did his up as a game room or man cave with a 70in flatscreen TV, surround sound stereo system, an X-box 360, and Satellite TV from Direct TV. Jim turned his into a drafting studio complete with all the trimmings. Me I turned mine into a meditation studio with a fold down bunkbed. On the floors I had 2in. exercise mates. In the back corner I placed a tower stack mini stereo.

Unlike most drivers Beth, Sam, Jim, and I usually arrive at the track way earlier than even the fans who spend all day trail-gating in the parking lots. We normally reach the tracks at just before 0530 with the pit crews. Coach Hall would have us go through a light workout fallowed by a 5-mile run. It always got the whole team up and ready for the day ahead. At least it got the pit crews ready for their days. Like Beth and me, Sam and Jim needed to spend time get into the right head space for driving. We all had our own little rituals to achieve that.

For Beth is was through dance. Usually ballet anymore. She started taking lessons after our first season in Formula One. She tells me that it helps her to calm and center herself. Sam plays First-person shooters on his Xbox. He’s pretty damned good at them to. I know that I don’t want to play him too often. Jim spends his time drafting designs for everything from cars to trucks. Some of his designs are really out there. I would love to see more than a few of them built. Hell, I would love to be able to just drive one of them down the streets of Darlington. For me it’s good old-fashioned yoga to classical music. I leave the hardcore music for the track.

My thoughts are brought back to the here and now by a knocking on the door. I hear mom’s voice calling out to me. “Bobbie time to go.”

“Be right there, mom.” I quickly finished dressing in my leathers. I know that the Nomex suit, my leathers will be all that stands between me and death should the car catch fire during a wreck. Not that I plan on wrecking. But you can never tell how shit will go once you’re doing 180+. One mistake and you’re upside down rolling end over end or cartwheeling ass end over nose. Ending up in an exploding ball of flame.

As I step outside my room mom waved for me to turn around. I just did as she wanted. I grabbed the nearest work stole and sat down. I knew that she won’t let me climb into my car with my hair in a lose ponytail. She never did. Every time I left the trailer to qualify, practice, and race mom would braid my hair. Usually she did something simple like a French braid if we’re practicing or making test runs. Today was different. Today was a qualifying. Ever sense I took the pole 5 times in a row last year she’s done my hair in a Dutch braid. I won 5 more poles, and 7 top 5 positions while wearing my hair in a Dutch braid. Mom calls it my lucky braid.

“Bobbie you’re number twenty-two for the qualifying. When you get out there the track will be at race temp. We haven’t had any rain. The rubber is building up fast baby girl. By the time comes for your turn the grip will be just about perfect. I want you to stay low on the inside of the turns as best as possible while you warm up your tires. When you start your run go high but stay close to the center line. That upper line won’t come in until we start racing tomorrow.” Mom said as she worked my hair into the braid starting at the top of my head going downward.

“I know that you’ll be tempted to push the new power plant but don’t. At least not until you get ready to go for your qualifying run. Remember that you’ll have three laps for qualifying. Save the engine until your last lap. When you round turn four on your second qualifying lap wait until your in the restart zone to drop the hammer. Don’t let up until you’re all the way back around. After that I want you to cut the engine on the exit for turn two. Let the car coast back around to pit road.” I listen to mom’s instructions on the way she wanted me to run my qualifier. At first, I wasn’t exactly happy but understood what she wanted from me.

“Understood mom. Stay as close to the middle line as possible. Hold back on the power until my last qualifier lap. Cross the start/finish and drop the hammer. Stay like that until I cross start/finish then shutdown on the exit to turn two. Coast back to pit road letting gravity and speed do the work.” I basically repeated back her instructions. “Anything else mom?”

“Just be careful. The track maybe still in basic race conditions from last week. But it is still tricky as hell out there. Three other drivers have already come close to eating the turn four wall.” I didn’t need a building to drop on top of me. I could hear the worry in mom’s voice. We both knew that more drivers died during practice, testing, and qualifying than at any other time at Daytona International Speedway.

“Yes ma’am. I know better than to get cocky out there.” I said as I stood up and gave her a hug. “I know that the Devil’s Bounty Hunter is just waiting for his chance to collect on my ass.”

Mom returned the hug. “Bobbie for the last five years I’ve watched as you take the cars that your father and I build and do amazing things. Unlike your sister who drives with a machine-like intensity. You are a purely instinctual driver. You’ve always found a way to bring out the most of any design. Your sister is a purely cerebral driver. She has to analyze each and every step of her race. You just drive in search of more speed and the fastest line. The way you drive is unlike any other driver out there.”

“Mom, I can’t tell you how I know what I know when I drive. It’s like when I get out there everything else just falls away.” I sighed as we went over old ground whenever mom was worried about my driving. In the past I’ve always been able to steer her away from this conversation. Today though I know that won’t be the case. I can see it in her eyes.

“Tell me something Roberta. Who are you really racing out there? This time I want the truth.” Mom demanded with enough force to get her point across.

“Mom what is the one thing the one person that every driver fears the most?” I asked her cryptically hoping to divert her questioning. I decided to answer for her. “The Grim Reaper, Thanatos, Freya, Devil’s Bounty Hunter, the Ghost Rider, the Phantom, and the Black Racer, he has a hundred other names, but they all mean the same person mom, Death.”

“You still haven’t given up on the fact that you survived and so many others haven’t, have you?” Mom asked me quietly.

“I know that it is irrational mom.” I sighed. “But I can’t help asking why me and not them. Sharron has gone over and over this with me. I know that cancer attacks everyone equally. I lost count of how many kids died while I’ll laid sick as a dog on that ward. I won’t even go into the number of nightmares I had during that time of dying in my sleep. I can still feel that bastard’s bony fingers wrapping around my heart at times.”

“I hope you’ve shared these feelings with Kelly and Sharron?” Mom questioned.

“Don’t worry mom I have.” I told her with a friendly grin.

“That still doesn’t explain the way you drive.” Mom saw the change in topic for what it was and forced me back on the original. “Why do you drive the way that you do, Roberta. This time I want the real truth.”

“It’s the only time that I actually feel alive mom. When I’m out there on any track pushing my car to its limits. I can feel that bastard sitting right next to me in another car. As surely as I can any other car and driver out there. I’ve never raced the track or the other drivers. I’ve always raced the Devil’s Bounty Hunter. I know that sooner or later I’ll lose but until then I’ll give that mother fucker the race of my life.” I snarled.

“And that’s what worries your father and me Bobbie. You keep pushing the limits of our cars. Sooner or later you’ll drive right past them.” I could hear the worry in mom’s voice. It was thick and heavy.

“I know my limits mom.” Told her as I turned for the exit to the trailer. “Now I just need to find the limits to the cars that you build.”

“Before you step out there Bobbie. Tell me something. Do you still drive the way you do just to feel alive?” Mom asked the one question I was hoping she never did just then. I sighed before turning to answer.

“No mom. I know that I’m alive and living the dream. I know every time I look into the eyes of little Robby or see Casey smiling up at me. The day that Kelly said yes is as fresh in my mind as yesterday. My first win in Formula One reminds me that I’m a real professional race car driver. I don’t need to race to feel alive anymore.” I gave mom my best sunny smile. “I do it because it is all I know how to do. Look mom, you know that I’m not like Beth or the others. She’s always had her education as a Nurse to fall back on. Tony is a World Class Mixed Marshal Artist. Kelly is on her way to having her degree in Business Management. You and dad have taken Joey and Stephany under your wing. Just like all the other guys and gals on the teams. Mom, I know that I’ve beaten the odds. Unlike the rest of MRI though. I only know how to drive at high speeds and keep a cool head doing just that.”

“Roberta Lee McGuire, you’re more than just a driver.” Mom began.

“Wrong mom. I know exactly who and what I am.” I grinned.

“And just who is that dear?” Mom questioned me with her head cocked.

“I’m the professional driver that is about to break the record for qualifying at Daytona. I’m the driver that is going to set more records at Daytona in one weekend than any other in the history of this track. Because unlike everyone else. I only do one thing. I drive.” I grinned even wider. “I drive the same way that I always have. Like the Devil Lucifer himself has come to collect my soul. Only it’ll be a long time before he gets the chance.”

“Make sure that he doesn’t get that chance dear.” Mom ordered me. “Because a parent shouldn’t have to bury their child.”

“Don’t worry mom. I don’t plan on that happening any time soon.” I told her with a smile as I headed outside to my car. “Right now, I got a date to sit the first of three new records.”

“What three records?!” Mom called out to my fast disappearing back.

I didn’t answer just waved my hand over my head. As I approached the garage area, I spotted Toto going over his car. As much as I wanted to explain to the moron that he really needed to disappear like I told him to, I let it drop for now. I needed to focus my attention on what I was about to do. I looked up at the leader’s pole to see who was in the top spot. I wasn’t surprised by what I saw. The top 2 drivers so far were Jim and Sam. With Beth rolling off the line 21st and me rolling out 22nd that would soon change.

“Okay Speedy, listen up kiddo.” Chief Hailee said as I walked up to the car. “When you first fire over the engine you’ll find that the revs are going to be lower than you’re used to. By eighteen-hundred than usual.”

“Wait a second. Would did you do to my engine Chief?” I almost snarled.

“It’s the new engine Bobbie. It revs a whole lot higher than your old engine. You’ll find that you have way more power than the old one. We weren’t going to use the new engines until we hit the UK. But with what happened we’ve been forced to go with one in your car.” Chief Hailee explained.

I put the information that Chief Hailee just gave into context fast. “Where is the power-ban Chief? I don’t want to blow the engine out there. Not if it is the last one, we can use.”

“The power-ban is just over eleven-thousand Bobbie. So long as you shift between eleven and twelve-thousand you’ll be safe.” My mind was boggled at the sheer power hidden under the hood of my car. “Bobbie that engine can rev higher and longer than every other engine here.”

“Are we legal?” I asked wanting to know if I had an illegal engine under the hood. Everyone knew how I felt about cheating. The only place for that was on the backroads in an illegal street race.

“Don’t worry we’re legal Bobbie. In the gray, but legal.” Hailee told me with a knowing and sly smile. One that I’ve seen before.

“Just gray or gray with hints of black Chief?” I snarked.

“We’re using the ‘experimental’ clause to cover the new engine. It’s still within ISA regulations just an experimental engine.” Chief Hailee explained.

“Okay Chief. I believe and trust you. Let’s get me strapped in and pushed out to pit road.” I told him as I climbed in through the window of my car.

As I strapped myself in Danny, Joseph, Greg, and Steve pushed me out of my garage then towards pit road. I quickly finished getting ready by putting in my earbuds, pulling on my Nomex balaclava, HANS device, then helmet, with my gloves and their lines last. I waited until we were on pit road before firing over the engine. I noticed right away what Chief Hailee was walking about.

I hadn’t felt the rumble of an engine in the driver’s seat like this sense I climbed into a Stockcar. The last time was when behind the wheel of a Formula One car. This engine wasn’t a normal V-8. It was a demon built for pure speed chained to my will. And I was bout to take it out for its trail run. What the fuck was dad and Chief Hailee thinking? I know that if they could see the grin, I was wearing they would have thought twice about putting this engine in my car.

I key the radio. “Chief, you told me that this new engine is experimental. Why didn’t you tell it was Godzilla with a stick up his ass?”

“We thought we would give you a little surprise, Speedy.” Dad chuckled over the radio. “Now get out there and show us what you can do with it.”

“Dad, mom said to take it easy.” I quickly answered back.

“Screw that. I want you to try and blow that engine. If you can, I’ll buy you that Walker you want for the farm.” Was dad’s reply. “Don’t worry if you do, we got another backup waiting to go in.”

“Okay dad. This is all on you.” I told him as I waited for the green to roll out. When it came, I eased my way down pit road. As I pulled out onto the raceway, I knew that I would have a fight on my hands. There was more power under the hood than I ever had before. For the first three laps I let the tires warm up slowly building my speed.

I get the signal to start my 3 qualifying laps and drop the hammer. As I shift into fourth gear, I realize that I was only tapping into a small portion of the engine’s power. I quickly shift back down to 3rd gear. I hold my foot down on the throttle until the tachometer reads 11500rmps. I was just entering turn 1 when upshift into 4th gear. I watch as the revs drop to just over 8000 revs as I round turn 1.

Still I stay out of the throttle. I keep at least a quarter of all that power under wraps. I hit the exit to turn 2 and power down the back straightaway. I let up on the throttle and pad the breaks to keep my car in the center of the track. At the end of the straightaway I drop low into turn 3 and let the g-forces pull the car up the track. I come off exit to turn 4 I quickly realize that I had more power than I was used too. Even as I cross over the tri-oval area I know that I’ll set a new record.

A record that will stand for a long time to come. With the new restrictor plate regs it won’t matter what’s under my hood. I have a beast that is only controlled by me. I take my time on the next lap. I don’t push the car the way that I want too. I do exactly what mom told me to.

As I come out of the exit for turn 4 Kathy starts calling out the track. “Go low for turn one Bobbie.”

I don’t even think about what she’s telling me to do as I put my foot down. “That’s it hold that line, girlfriend. When you hit the turn drift up towards the center. Good now hold that line. Drop back down to the inside Bobbie.”

I follow her instructions as I power around the track at full throttle. The only time I let up is in the turns. I know that Kathy has seen something out here that I haven’t. I know without a doubt that she and her mom have become two of the best spotters in the business. I know that most people believe that only a driver can see the line to drive on a racetrack. That’s not true. Drivers and spotters are a team. If it wasn’t for Kathy, I know that I wouldn’t have the winning record in Formula One I did have. I also know that she’ll guide me to a pole winning run.

“That’s it, Bobbie. Hold that line. Now go low for turn three. Good let the car slide up for the exit off turn four and you got the pole.” Kathy called out over the radio as I entered turn 3.

I exited turn 4 and blasted down the front straightaway towards the tri oval. I crossed the start/finish line Kathy called out. “Go ahead and shut her down Bobbie. Let yourself coast back around to pit road.”

I did exactly what Kathy told me. I didn’t bother with contradicting her. I knew better. I learned to trust Kathy with my life during my first season in Formula One. I heard my radio crackle as dad came up on the net.

“I got good news and bad news, baby girl.”

“What’s the good news daddy?” I snipped.

“Well for starters. You just set a new qualifying record. Two-hundred-and-fourteen miles per hour. Just under forty-two-seconds kiddo.” Dad crowed.

“Holy shit! You’ve got to be kidding me.” I cried. I couldn’t believe what dad just told. I know that I said I would set a new record. But come on. How many times does something like that actually happen. Then I remembered the bad news. “So, what is the bad news?”

“You won’t be getting that Tennessee Walker you wanted for the farm.” I just laugh at dad’s reply. As I wanted that horse, I wanted the record more.

As I pulled onto pit road, I see Toto pulling out for his qualifying run. I pull to stop at the entrance to the garage area. I wait for Chief Hailee and my pit crew come push me the rest of the way back. As I’m pulling off my helmet and gloves. I hear the roar of Toto’s engine as he powers around the track. I know that he is pushing the limits of his car’s engine from the sound. I know that he wants to take the pole position away from me. The problem is he doesn’t know the track.

As my crew pushes me into me garage, I hear the one thing that no driver wants to hear. The sounds of crumpling metal at high speed. I yank down the window net and climb out of my car even as my pit crew are pushing. I drop to the pavement and turn towards where the sound is coming. There before my eyes in turn 3 I see my worst nightmare.

“Oh God! He lost it!” I cry out.

We all stop and watch as Toto tumbles around the far turns of 3 and 4. I can tell that his car had slammed into the outer wall before spinning out of control down towards the infield. I watched as his car flipped end over end five time before coming to a stop on its roof. The emergency crews were moving before the car had come to a stop. I ran to my trailer and climbed up the ladder at the rear. I turned to see if Toto had his window net down.

When I saw the emergency crews fighting to flip Toto’s car. I knew that it was bad. After ten minutes and the crews still hadn’t gotten Toto out of his car. I knew that it was really bad. My fears were raised when the medivac helicopter started its engines. Dad’s voice grabbed my attention.

“What do you see Bobbie?” He was like all the others in the garage area. They wanted to know if the driver was okay.

“They’re trying to get to Toto now. The Life Flight is reading for takeoff.” I called out. “Yeah, they got the net down. The rescue crew has the cutters out. Looks like they’ll get him out with no problems.”

“Is he alive?” Someone called out.

“Don’t know. Looks like it.” I call back down.

“Bobbie can you tell if the ambulance and EMTs are working on him?” Chief Marks called out to me.

“No luck Chief. The rescue crews are still trying to get Toto out of the car.” I call back down just as the heavy rescue truck pulled to a stop next to Toto’s car. “Oh, shit the heavy rescue crew is on the scene now.”

I looked towards the flag stand. It doesn’t take me long to grasp the meaning behind the bright red flag that was being wave. “All qualifying has been stopped dad. They’re waving the red flag.”

I climb down from my improvised spotter’s nest. Dad meets me at the foot of the trailer. I turn as he wraps me in a hug. “He maybe a fucking asshole, but I didn’t want this dad.”

“Not your fault baby girl. Toto was warned last week about his attitude by his owners.” Dad sighed. “You didn’t know this, but they told him that if he didn’t win the pole today. He was done. Out of the ISA. No questions asked. Gone over and done with. He did this to himself.”

“So, what I said last night had nothing to do with what happened?” I asked in a quite voice of a young girl.

“Some but not all baby girl.” Dad sighed. “Toto’s sponsors were already looking to replace him because of the complaints. The man is his worse enemy. He just isn’t as good as he thinks he is. He came out here this morning swearing that he would do what you just did.”

“What do you mean daddy?” Once again, I couldn’t stop the child like quiver.

“He let his alligator mouth overload his jaybird ass.” Was all dad said.

-----tbc-----