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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 13
Brooklands Superspeedway, United Kingdom, Saturday
Garage/Pit area

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as I stood on top of the transport trailer. In two years, this place went from 2.75miles of abandoned concrete trioval track with 30ft banking turns to 3miles of concrete with 4 turns superspeedway stadium oval track for stockcars. Even the grandstands had been upgraded or built from the ground up in some cases. Every time I see one of these new ISA tracks, I’m amazed. The way the construction companies have been able to just either renovate existing or abandoned tracks to building some of them from the ground up is a true testament to the human spirit. That or an example for the power of greed.

I’m still trying to decide the score on that point. Not that it matters really in the long run. Places like this are going to exist no matter what the tree huggers want. The one place that I’m looking to test my skills at the most is still Moscow. A massive tri-oval superspeedway built on a scale never seen before. Then again, this place is no slouch either. This baby though is a totally deferent story. It is nothing less than a massive 3mile Bristol Speedway. Whoever thought of supersizing Bristol is a maniac. I love it.

The Bullring is surfaced with concrete, just like this place. Then there is the track designs. Bristol’s length is 0.533 mi, with 4 turns and contentious banking. The banking in the turns is between 26–30° while the Straights have a banking of 6–10°. That same style of banking has been brought to Brooklands. Only the length of the track has really been changed. Everything else though is the same.

“The Bullring on steroids. Each and every inch of her.” I breath out heavily.

“That might be why Brooklands has already earned a nickname, Speedy. This place really is an Aerodrome.” Chief Hailee said from behind me.

“More like the Last Great Circus Maximus.” I joked. At Chief Hailee’s blank stare, I just chuckle. “Think about it Chief. With the exception of the banking this place is laid out perfectly for chariot racing.”

“Okay I can see that. That’s one thing I have always admired about your Bobbie. You never stop studying racing.” Hailee chuckled. “Even those ancient types of racing.”

“Just the stuff that revolves around one man against another. Anything that requires a team to race ain’t for me.” I chuckle. “Before you say that it takes a team to race racecars that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Okay then what are you saying?” Chief Marks asked as he joined us on top of the trailer. “Of all the drivers out here, I would never have thought I would hear something like that coming out of your mouth.”

“Times and things may change Chief Marks, but not this. Once we’re out there on that track it’s all down to one thing. Man, verse man. Sure, the pit crews keep us going. No one can truly race without some kind of support for as long as we do. Hell, there are times when we win or lose in the pits.” I told them both then grinned as I knew that what I was about say would drive the point home as to what I mean. “But the one thing that you and the crews cannot do is drive that car across the finish. When all is said and done it comes down to the man or woman behind the wheel and just how far they are willing to push their car to the edge.”

“I hate to say this Marks but Speedy is right. We may bust our asses in he pits but it all comes down to the driver in the end.” Chief Hailee chuckled as he packed his tin of snuff. After putting a pinch between his cheek and gums He pointed down towards pit road. “That is where we rule. Out there on the track is the home of the drivers. We got one of the best.”

“Speaking of your driver. Bobbie have you seen the standings in the drivers’ points race or the Team race?” Chief Marks asks with this knowing smile. When I shake my head no, he hands over the sports section for the London Times. “It seems you; Beth, Sam, Jim, and Violet Knight are locked in a five-way tie for first place.”

“What? How the hell is that possible? I shouldn’t be any where near the top spot.” I know that the three-race layoff should have driven my standings towards the bottom. It just didn’t make sense.

“Well, that’s what one would be lead to believe. The truth of the matter is before your wreck in Chiba you had such a massive point lead on everyone else it was stupidly ridicules. Thanks to all those laps that you led you earned some major bonus points. Even after Motegi, in Japan, Calder Park Thunderdome, in Melbourne, and the Northern Territory Superspeedway in Darwin, Australia. No one has led as many laps as you have. You lead just ten laps here tomorrow you’ll be right back on top. If you should win tomorrow no one will be able to touch your run for the championship.” Chief Marks explained as he pulled out a sheet of paper from his hip pocket. “Here just take a look at this printout.”

I took the printout from him. There it was in black and white. The 50 points for the win plus the bonus points for leading at least ten laps. It would place me back on top. I hadn’t realized that Beth, Sam, and Jim had done so poorly in the last few races. I expected them to have placed higher. Then I remembered the conversation I had with Mac on top of the tower at Motegi. The gap was shrinking and shrinking fast. There was no way that I could change the learning curve. No matter how hard I tried. The other teams were relying on their more experienced stockcar drivers now. They were actually listening to them and learning what it takes to drive a stockcar. It won’t be long now before I’m facing off against a field of nothing but stockcar drivers. I got two may be three races before that happens though. At least I fucking hope so. Because if I don’t then things are going to get interesting.

The sounds of a V-8 firing over draws my attention to pit road. I watch as Ben Baldwin for Thomas Horn pulls out for his morning practice run. The steady thrum of his engine lets me know that he has mastered his car as he enters turn one. There is no whine or growl as he shifts gears. I smile as I lift the field glasses hanging around my neck to my eyes. He’s got five laps to work out any possible final adjustments to his Vanquish. I have to give it to the man. He knows his car.

“Damn it! He’s gotten better.” I swear as Baldwin rounds the exit for turn 2. “He’s no longer lagging on the exits like he did at Daytona.”

“He’s not the only one to improve Bobbie. They all have.” Chief Hailee grunted.

“They’re a deferent animal Bobbie. None of these teams are the rookies you faced at Pocono or Daytona. Don’t go thinking you have an edge on them.” Chief Marks told me. “Those days are gone. It’ll take everything you have to beat these drivers now. Don’t make the mistake that the F-one drivers did with you and your sister.”

“Don’t worry about that Chief Marks. I’ll never make the mistake of underestimating any driver.” I told him with a grin that slowly turned nasty. “But that doesn’t mean I have to play fair behind the wheel. After all I’m one of the McGuire Furies.”

“Ah yes. Our HBIC is back. May the gods of speed shower mercy upon the poor unenlightened fools that would challenge her.” Chief Hailee said as he crossed himself in the traditional manner of Catholic Priests. “Sadly, I doubt that the gods of speed shall be that merciful.”

“They can stay the hell out of my races Chief. As far as I am concerned the gods of speed are greedy fucking bastards that play games of chance with Fate’s dice.” I told them both as I finally lower my field glasses. “Every one of these drivers are going to find that I’m not the easy target that I was before the Chiba wreck.”

“Um… Bobbie sense when were you ever an easy target?” Chief Hailee asked in confusion

“I’m with Hailee on this one Bobbie. In the two and half years that you’ve been racing professionally. No one has ever thought of you or sister as being ‘easy targets. If they did you had a habit of putting them in their place.” Chief Marks chuckled. “The only fucking idiot that didn’t get that message was that Euro trash Romeo Caldaria. Even then he only made the mistake once, twice at most.”

“He made the mistake more than twice, Marks. Caldaria made the girls his personal Moby dick. The man was a real egomaniac.” Chief Hailee chuckled.

“It was more than that for Caldaria guys.” I sighed as I thought about the one man in Formula One racing that never believed me or Beth belonged on a racing track. “To him it was some kind of Holy mission to put us in our place. Which in his mind is fucking bare foot, pregnant, and in the kitchen. Like all women.”

“You know something Bobbie. You may not have been born a woman, but you sure as hell think like one.” Chief Hailee chuckled. “Not all the time though. Thank god.”

“It’s nothing like that Chief Hailee. I just hate it when people take one look at me and pass judgement.” I sighed then chuckled. “If you want to really get a person’s point of view on women’s equal rights talk to Beth.”

The sound of another V-8 firing over drew our attention back to pit road. “Damn is that Alexa Peters? I thought she would still be recovering from her wreck at Darwin. Didn’t she break her arm?”

“It’s her alright. Alexa walked away with a few burses and nothing more.” Chief Stone said as he climbed up onto the trailer. “The new safety features have really cut down on the number of injuries.”

“You can say that again. All the safety changes to the cars sense Chiba have really redesigned the cars in general.” Beth said as she, Jim, and Sam joined us. Like me the other drivers were carrying field glasses. “They’re totally new animals.”

“That they are, Beth. I think the only person who really understands that is maybe Bobbie and Koychev Fyodorovich from the Red Stars.” Jim said as he used his glasses to watch Alexa round turn 2. “Maybe Alexa as well.”

“I thought you three would have figured out the trick to driving the redesigned cars already.” I chuckled as I lift my glasses. “The only deference in these new cars and our old ones is the center of gravity. We drive them like our rat racers.”

“Wait! WHAT?” All three asked at the same time.

“When you get behind the wheel of your cars just drive like you’re in a rat race back home. You’ll find the balance of your cars is just like the street racers you drive back home. The only thing you can’t do with them really is drift.” I explained with a sneaky smile. Then I thought that I needed to clarify my last statement. “Let me take that last part back. You can drift these cars. You just don’t want to. They won’t recover as fast as your street racers.”

They stood there looking at me with their mouths hanging open for a few seconds before the laughter started. It was soft low chuckles at first then full-blown belly laughs with tears. They all understood what I was telling. It took a little time, but they got the double meanings behind my words. Of all the drivers out here now only the drift racers and rally drivers understood the nuances of a street racer the way we did. For the next two races we had the advantage again.

“Is that what you were talking about earlier Bobbie?” Chief Marks asked in wonder.

“Yup. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Chief Marks.” I giggled. “I test drove the new setup on the Lady before I left home.”

“AH SHIT!” Chief Hailee yelled just before he and the other Crew Chiefs busted out laughing at the situation. He turned to look at the others. “She’s BBAACCKK!”

“In more ways than one Chief Hailee.” Beth told him with an evil smirk on her face. “While my little sister was at home on sick leave, she did more than just test drive our cars. She put the new wannabe drift king in his place on the Knight.”

“Hey guys it looks like the Prototype Outcasts are getting ready to start their practice runs.” Jim said as he pointed towards pit road. “I got to say this about those Maserati Gran Turismos. The production model handles like a dream.”

“That may be true Jim, but these ISA models handle for shit.” Beth grunted.

“Yeah, that’s what I cant figure out. How can the production model handle so much better than the costume-built racers?” Jim wondered.

“Because the production model is designed so that anyone can get behind the wheel and drive her.” Chief Stone explained for Jim and the other what I knew deep in my heart already. “Each car out here is built to set standards, but the teams tailor fit each car for their individual driver. The fact that the Commission even went so far as to make changes to the safety standards this soon in the season speaks to their concern over the safety of the drivers.”

“You can say that again. I can believe they’re still using real cops for Security.” Beth said as she looked over at the North entrance gate. “I thought I was going to get strip searched when I showed here this morning for my run.”

“You’re not the only one sister.” I chuckled as Jim and Sam both nodded their heads. “Then again, I doubt they were expecting a professional racer to run laps around a track like we do. I still cannot believe that one guard over at the East gate.”

“What happened?” Chief Stone snarled as he popped his knuckles.

“Nothing to worry about Chief Stone.” I chuckled. “The poor guy was caught off guard and most of it was kind of my fault.”

“I said what happened.” Slow Jack Stone demanded of me.

“Well, when I showed up for my morning run on Wednesday, I was wearing one of those new tracksuits Issy got for me. You knew the ones that are very body conscious.” I said as I waved my hands to show what I meant. Only to get a chuckle out of everyone. “Any way the poor guy had problems with looking me in the eye.”

At that point, the laugh fest started and didn’t end until the next V-8 roar came from pit road. I have to admit that over the last few years all of us girls on the teams have gained real runway model bodies. While any of the guys can give those Venice beach mussel heads a run for their money. It’s all thanks to Coach Hall and her loving daughter Kathy. Our High Priestesses of Physical Fitness. It won’t have been so bad if Issy our High Priestess of Fashion hadn’t gotten the idea for workout wear for our teams. The woman turned the girls’ fashion plates for physical fitness. With custom made workout gear. Not to mention the guys. Thanks to her it didn’t matter where we were at the time. We were part of the ‘beautiful people’. That always brought out the looky-lues and paparazzi assholes.

The sound of a Les Ailes de Justice, Peugeot, 508 firing over drew our attention back to pit road. I couldn’t help it. I started to evaluate the car and driver before they ever left pit road. “Something is off with Picard.”

“You’re right. He barely passed his last physical. Peugeot is talking about dropping him from their roster if he doesn’t deliver a win in the next three races.” Slow Jack told me with a harsh grinding tone in his voice. “It’s not like the man can’t drive for fucks sack. He just doesn’t have the needed experience to compete head on with the other stockcar drivers yet. He isn’t the only driver on the edge of losing their rides. More than half the field is in the hotseat.”

“Um… I think I know why Chief.” I sighed. “And to be honest. I’m pretty sure that you’re not going to like the reason.”

“What is going on Bobbie? What do you know that we don’t?” Chief Hailee demanded.

“It’s the bookies.” At their blank looks I sighed. “Every bookie from Monti Carlo to Vegas is taking bets on our races. There is some major money riding on our races now. Ever sense Daytona the bookies have been taking bets on everything from who wins, number of wrecks, down to the number of pitstop mistakes. It is like the wild, wild west in the casinos for our races. Mainly because there is no regulations concerning the types of bets that can be place on our races right now. The only places where there are any regulations for betting on Stockcars in the States.”

“Bobbie just how crazy are the wagers getting Bobbie?” Beth asked with real concern.

“Chiba was nothing compared to what is going on now.” I tell her honestly.

“Oh shit. That explains the added security and continuous presence of the cops.” Sam grunted as he pulled a tin of Copenhagen Southern blend from the inner chest pocket of his race leathers. “We’re talking major money now.”

“You can say that again, Sam. Until the rest of the world catches up with the guys stateside it’s not going to change.” Beth said with a heavy sigh and thoughtful frown on her face. “The mobs of the world want a piece of the action.”

“That means they’re the ones behind the real money for our new sport.” Jim told us.

“There you have it people. That is why there is extra security and all of them are cops. Not just the local yocals either, but National level pork and beans.” Sam grunted as he watched the third member of the all French team roll off pit road. “Any idea about the odds the bookies are placing on us Chief Stone?”

“Let’s just say that your four and a few others are odds on favorites for the next four races to win. Everything changes after Paris and we’re back stateside.” Slow Jack snarked as he pointed out at the Peugeot 508. “By the time we hit Texas the other teams will have worked out the kinks in their cars.”

“Why Texas, Jack?” Jim asked of his friend and mentor.

“Think about the Texas Motor Speedway, Jim. It’s a one-point-five mile asphalt surfaced oval with four turns. The banking in those turns varies from one end to the other. In turns one and two the banking is twenty degrees. In turns three and four that banking jumps to twenty-four degrees.” I told him as I remembered the specs for the Texas Speedway. “It is the perfect middle ground track between the short tracks and the superspeedways. By the time we get there our advantage of track knowledge will be gone. Everyone and I do mean everyone will have raced on both a superspeedway and speedway by then. Our only advantage will be at a short track and we won’t be facing those until next year.”

“So, the rumor has been confirmed. The ISA Commission will be adding in a few short tracks races next year.” Beth asked with a mile-wide grin.

“Yup. Next year we’ll be racing at Bristol, Richmond, and Martinsville. Along with two new short tracks in Europe. Both are in Normandy, France.” I said as I looked towards the east for some reason. “One of which is less than five miles from the Omaha and Utah Beaches.”

“Oh damn. I hope that they’ve given the track a special nickname.” Jim breathed as her thought about his great grandfather who was with the landing troops at Omaha.

“La piste des héros.” I told him honestly with a small smile then translated. “The track of heroes. Kind of befitting really.”

“Yeah, it is.” Beth said nodding her head.

“Okay you four time to head down to the pits. This will be our last practice run before qualifying this afternoon.” Chief Hailee said as he turned towards the trailer ladder. “And people I don’t want to see any showboating out there.”

“Yes, Chief Hailee!” We all shouted as one.

The spotters’ nest.

Kathy, Coach Hall, Joey, and Davey had been in the spotters nest all morning watching the other teams’ drivers. Studying their driving styles. Hunting for that one weakness that would give their teams the edge for a win. They weren’t alone as the two senior members of MRI stood next to them. Bob and Jewels McGuire had shown up just before MRI took to the track for their last practice run before qualifying. Bob stood quietly watching the other drivers clear the track. His ever-present cup of black coffee in his hand. Jewels stood so still that one would have thought she was a statue carved from flesh colored stone and painted. Only Coach Hall could tell that the woman standing next to her was worried.

“Relax Jewels, Bobbie will be fine. Those daughters of yours have high octane fuel for blood and V-eight engines for hearts.” Coach Hall said aloud before dropping her voice to just over a whisper. “But Bobbie has something that Beth lacks. Something that no other driver out there has.”

“What is that Catline? What makes my youngest daughter special?” Jewels asked.

“Roberta has a mind and passion that is unmatched by the other drivers. The other drivers race each other. Roberta only races the track. It doesn’t matter where we go. Bobbie will always race the track first and the other drivers second. That is her greatest strength and only weakness.” Catline told her friend and employer.

“How so, Cat?” Jewels asked as she slowly raised the field glasses to her eyes to watch the last driver for Les Ailes de Justice clear the track.

“Bobbie becomes blind when it comes to the other drivers once she is out there racing. Kathy is constantly having to warn Bobbie about the other drivers on the track.” At the blank look on Jewels face Catline sighed. “Bobbie is one of the best there is Jewels, but once she is behind the wheel of a racecar all bets are off. She just drops into this mindset that allows her to read, no feel, what the track is going to do that other racers just can’t reach. Not even Beth can match her once Bobbie reaches that mindset.”

“Mom’s not lying, Ms. Jewels. Once Bobbie reaches that point all I can do is tell her where the other drivers are on the track. Because the race is hers and there is nothing that anyone else can do to stop her.” Kathy said as she lowered her field glasses and turned to face Jewels. “Just ask Joey or Davey. They’ll tell you the exact same thing. Bobbie becomes this, oh I don’t know, unstoppable Demon of Speed and Fury when she reaches that mindset.”

“I don’t know Kathy. That wreck in Chiba really threw her for a loop. I know that she had a rat race on the Knight, but I doubt that would be enough to pull her out of the tailspin.” Jewels told the young woman who spotted for Bobbie.

“Oh, she is out of her tailspin, Ms. Jewels. If she ever entered one to begin with. That wreck may have scared her, but not as much as the cancer did.” Kathy chuckled. “Honestly, I think that only a return of her cancer would scare her anymore.”

“How sure of that are you Kathrine?” Jewels asked her bluntly.

“Enough to put next week’s paycheck on the line.” Kathy answered smugly as she pointed down towards pit road where the MRI cars were lining up. “You’ll see what I mean the second Bobbie rolls out onto the track for her last practice run. Turn three has the sharpest entrance of all the turns but it also the one place everyone plays things safe. Bobbie won’t do that. She’ll attack turn three going full tilt bogie holding nothing back.”

“It’s not like the young lady has been holding back in the other practices, Miss Hall. We’ve all seen Bobbie out there running her practice runs like she was racing the Devil himself.” Detrick Houser said for the Thunder Valley team.

Jewels lowered her field glasses as she turned to face the young man chuckling softly to herself. She has seen Bobbie perform magic behind the wheel of a car. In more races than she cared to comment on Julianna McGuire had seen what her daughters were able to accomplish firsthand. The chuckle grew to a full laugh as she saw the deadly serious looks on the faces of the other teams’ spotters. Thankfully, Kathy and her mother were there to explain the inside joke.

“Detrick, if you think that is Bobbie racing against the Devil then you really need to go back to the classroom. Trust me, when we tell you all that you haven’t seen nothing yet, you haven’t. Bobbie McGuire is in a class of driver all to herself. When the gods of speed made her, they destroyed the mold.” Catline grinned in the way that a cat does just before it pounces. “The driver your teams faced before Chiba is gone, true. The driver you face now. Well, lets just say good luck and god speed you on your way. Because you’ll need it if you’re stupid enough to let your driver get in her way.”

“What do you mean Mademoiselle Hall?” Xavier Brian of Les Ailes de Justice asked. “Surely such a beautiful mademoiselle as Roberta McGuire wouldn’t stoop to using unfair tactics. Her honor is well known.”

“You really have no idea of how Bobbie thinks Xavier. That crazy assed redneck gal has high octane fuel in her blood. In her mind there is only one thing that matters. If you ain’t first, you’re last.” Kathy told the Frenchman with a light giggle. “If any thing Bobbie McGuire is a true daughter of NASCAR.”

“And just what does that mean, Chérie?” Xavier asked of Kathy sweetly.

“Simple, when the time comes, she’ll turn her car into a three-thousand-pound, V-eight powered, sledgehammer and drive her way to the front. Of all the drivers out there on the ISA circuit only the other drivers that came over from NASCAR are willing to trade paint with Bobbie. Then there is the one scarry fact about Bobbie McGuire that stands out above the rest.” Joey said stepping into the conversation. “My sister has more than a few screws missing if you catch my meaning.”

“That is an awful thing to say about your sister, Joey. True but still awful.” Jewels said with a chuckle.

“Mein Gott! If her own calls her insane. I fear what the doctors would say.” Detrick wise cracked causing the other spotters to laugh.

The sound of four V-8 engines firing over at the same time drew everyone’s attention in the spotters’ nest to pit road. Slowly one at a time team MRI rolled off pit road. The last one to pullout was Bobbie. Jewels spotted something about the way her youngest daughter rolled onto the track. There was no hesitation, no halting glimpses, no fear in the way Bobbie headed for turn 1. It was clear as day, and just as Kathy had told her. There was no fear in her daughter.

“By the gods of speed. Bobbie what did you do?” Jewels whispered to herself.

By the time, the four cars had made their first lap Bobbie was already chomping on Beth’s rear bumper. At the end of their second lap Bobbie had pulled away from the others. Bobbie was in a world of her own. Kathy just stood there with her field glasses watching her driver. After a few more minutes Kathy started to bob her head to the sound of music that only she and Bobbie heard. Jewels reached down to her radio/headset receiver and changed the channel over to Bobbie and Kathy’s. The sounds of Metallica’s Enter Sandman blasted over the headset.

“Oh shit. She’s in a mood today.” Jewels chuckled. “Kathy don’t let her go all out. Not now anyway. Have Bobbie hold something back for qualifying.”

“Um… Ms. Jewels, she is already holding back. Before you ask, Bobbie is only running at seventy-five percent. The same for Beth and the others.” Davey said as he watch Jim power his way around turn 3.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jewels asked harshly.

“None of them are pushing their cars, Jewels. Hailee ordered them all to hold back until tomorrow’s race.” Coach Hall giggled out. “It seems the old codger actually has a real battleplan for the race and qualifying.”

“For some reason I don’t doubt that Cat. All I have to do is look at the way the cars are handling on the track to know that much.” Robert McGuire said right before he spit out a massive wade of tobacco juice. “The problem is Beth, Jim, and Sam may be holding back, Bobbie isn’t. If Bobbie is holding back, then not even our own team will be able to help her in the draft.”

“I hope you’re wrong Bob. Because if that is the case. Bobbie is going to paint a massive target on her ass again.” Catline Hall sighed as the thunder of Bobbie’s engine drowned out any other words she had to say.

“The target has been there sense they left Daytona, Cat. There is nothing we can do to remove it. All we can do is make that target as small and as hard to hit as possible.” Bob McGuire spit out another mouthful then grinned savagely. “The real problem is going to be getting my youngest daughter to see her one flaw.”

“Excuse me Herr McGuire, but what flaw? I have watched your daughters, especially Fräulien Roberta, they’re the two most technically proficient drivers I have ever seen. De har ingen feil.” Are Stava from the Northern Alliance team point out.

“Trust me, Are. My drivers are far from prefect. Especially my daughter Roberta.” Bob chuckled as he thought about his spitfire daughter known to the world as Roberta ‘Bobbie’ McGuire. “That young lady has a screw loose. In more ways than one.”

“Gode Herre! Even her own father calls her crazy! I fear for her husband.” Stava’s wisecrack had the desired effect as even Bob and Jewels McGuire chuckled. The thunder of four V-8 engines passing below on the track drew their attention as one of them sounded deferent to the others. Stava was the first to spot the change. “Is Bobbie speeding up or are the others slowing down?”

“Both.” Was Kathy’s cryptic answer. Unlike everyone else she exactly knew what was going on in the mind of her driver. In a voice that only she could hear. “The Hunter isn’t out there Bobbie, but you’ll drive that way regardless.”

The hand on her should drew her attention as Jewels stepped close enough to whisper in her ear. “She’ll always race the Bounty Hunter first, Kathy. That fear. It has been there from the day that she first slipped behind the wheel of a racecar.”

“And it is what pushes her to be the driver that she is today.” Kathy summed up for her boss. “Though from what I’m seeing down there right now. That fear no longer rules the way she drives. Something in her has changed.”

“You’re right, about that Kathy. The question now is not about what scares her, but is there anything or anyone that can frighten my daughter now?” Jewels whispered.

“The only race that she hasn’t master. Parenthood.” Kathy answered.

Inside Bobbie’s stockcar.

I don’t believe what I’m feeling out here. Back on Thursday when I ran my first practice laps the track was slicker than cat piss on a tile flooring. Today with all the rubber buildup it has gone from lose to tight in a very dangerous way. Yet there is something about the rubber build up near the outer wall. Something that is pulling me to run along the top of the track. Especially in the turns. I’ve got five more laps to figure it out. Thank god, Chief Hailee kept our practice laps down to the bare minimum on Thursday and Friday. These extra five laps are going to make all the deference when it comes to qualifying today.

From the moment I fired over the powerplant I knew this run was going to be deferent. That monster engine rumbled with 750hp of pure unrestricted fury as I rounded the first turn. When Chief Hailee first told me that we would not be running restrictor plates at this track I grinned. Now I’m not so sure about that change to the engines for the race. Even with holding back on the throttle I could tell that going full throttle on this track was going to be crazy. The banking plus the surfacing was going to give speeds over the 200mph mark. Not good.

I know most of the other drivers are experienced racers, but a good many of them are still learning the finer points of pack and draft racing. When you put that many drivers new to that still of racing and you add in speeds over 200mph. Things are going to get fucking hairy. I enter turn 3 like the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels. I go high to the outside of the turn. I’m just hitting the apex of turns 3 and 4 when I get my first indication of what is bugging me. I have to fight to keep the car turning left. I knew then and there what was happening with the rubber buildup on the track. The more rubber that got laid down the tighter the track was going to get. With the ruff concrete surfacing of the track, it didn’t matter if it rained tonight or not. By the end of the first 50 laps the track would be right back to where it is today.

Tomorrow’s inaugural run of the British Airways 450 is going to be a massively fun time for everyone. If nothing else it’ll be 150 laps of bone breaking, nerve racking, gut twisting, tension for the drivers. It is going to be a race that separates the men from the boys and the bitches from the princesses. In short, my kind of race. God! I eat this shit up!

“Bobbie, we need you to bring her in, girlfriend. Chief Hailee wants to go over the suspension one more time.” Kathy told me over the radio.

“Copy that Kathy. Let Chief Hailee know that he needs to adjust the sway bar some and add a quarter wedge in the right front.” I told her as I started backing down for the entrance to pit road off the turn 4 exit.

“Okay Bobbie. Your dad wants to know which way you want to go with the sway bar.”

“We need to come up on the bar. I’m to loose in the turns and too tight on the straightaways. Between the wedge and a half turn on the sway bar it should loosen me up in the straightaways and tighten me up in the turns.” I explained as I rolled through turn 3 into 4. I had already killed the engine on the back straightaway and have been costing ever sense. I still cannot believe the steer amount of speed I am carrying through the turns. I hit the breaks to slow me down even more. “Guys I got a bad feeling about the race tomorrow.”

“What’s on your mind kiddo?” Dad asks over the radio. I can hear the worry in his voice. He must have spotted what I already figured out.

“Tell you in the pits.” I answer him not wanting to say what’s on my mind over the radio. “Once everyone is together at the transporters.”

“See you in ten then Speedy. But I believe your dad already knows what you’re going say.” Mom answered for everybody else.

As I roll to a stop at the entrance to the garage area on pit road my pit crew swarm my car and start pushing. I shift to neutral and just steer the car. In short order I’m in my garage area. I quickly climb out of the car pulling off my helmet and gloves. Danny hands me a towel to wipe the sweat off my face. I look around and smile at my gathered team. All four pit crews, their Crew Chiefs, the other drivers, and best of all my family. These is what I get out of bed for in the mornings. The respect in their eyes for my skill.

“Okay kiddo. What’s got your tail in a twist?” Dad asks with a knowing smile.

“First I need to know something. Was I the only one out there holding back on the throttle?” I asked Beth, Sam, and Jim bluntly. When all three nod their heads yes, I sigh. “I was afraid of that. If it doesn’t rain tonight, then tomorrow’s race is going to be one massive cockfight. Let me rephrase that. Chief Hailee do you remember what I called this place?”

“You said something about the Last Great Circus Maximus and chariot racing. Why?” Chief Hailee asked with real concern.

“A lot like our stockcar racing. Chariot racing was dangerous to both drivers and horses they often suffered serious injury and even death. The Circus Maximus was built along the same lines as our stadium style racetracks. Like this place. The only differences between the two is the Circus has a sand surfacing and no banking. With all that rubber buildup we might as well be racing on sand or dirt. We’ll be sliding all the way around this monster.” I pointed out the garage towards turns 1 and 2. “The faster we go out there the more we’re going to get sideways in the turns. This place is going to be like exactly Tally.”

“Not if but when. Shit not good.” Mom bitched as she looked down at the hood of my car in thought. “Bobbie when you were running your laps did you find any spots where we could possibly slip passed the rest of the field as a team?”

“Not happening, mom. Unless we can lineup nose to tail the field will keep us spread out and separated. Not to mention boxed in on every turn.” I told her as I shook my head at her question. “The real kick in the ass is going to be during the race. The other drivers have caught on to the idea of pack racing. They know what the draft can do for them in the long run now. That is the danger here.”

“Higher than normal speeds, congested field, and just enough knowledge to be deadly.” Slow Jack grunt as his bother nodded his head.

“Why do I have this feeling the only safe place is going to be out in front of the pack or all the way at the back?” Jim asked as he scratched his chin.

“Because you’re not stupid, Jim.” Chief Bill Stone snarked. “Despite how you look.”

“Up yours Billy. At least Jack doesn’t have to worry about someone changing out the letters in his shoes.” Jim wisecracked. The byplay between the two friends was enough to left my depressing thoughts and get a chuckle out of the rest of us gathered in my garage. Then Jim showed his professionalism. “How do we breakup the field and keep the big one from happening?”

“We don’t. There’s not enough of us to keep that from happening.” Dad answered bluntly. “Give me what you know Bobbie.”

“The best we can hope for is a heavy rain tonight and a clean track come morning. Even then the track is going to become like glass by lap fifty to sixty. We’ll be chasing the handling of our cars through the day sure. But that will be better than starting off with a setup that is going to become tighter with every lap. As it is now our cars are going to be tight as fuck on the straightaway and looser then shit through a tin horn in the turns if the track stays dry. Qualifying is going to be a crapshoot at best.” I answered dad honestly. “That is for everybody.”

“Is that why you asked for the changes to the car before you came in?” Chief Hailee asked with a cross look on his face.

“You got it one Chief. I’m hoping that the changes I asked for will loosen me up on the straightaways and tighten me up in the turns. Why?” I asked him.

“You went the wrong way with the sway bar and placed the wedge in the wrong spring. We need to go down on the bar and put a half wedge in the left-hand spring.” Chief Hailee grunted then turned to his son. “Danny get with the other jackmen and get your teams on making the needed changes to the other cars. When you’re done come see me. I got a mission for the four of you.”

“Got dad. Okay guys let’s get to work.” Danny ordered the gathered pit crews.

Dad looked at me and the other drivers. “You four need to come with me.”

“Where we going dad?” Beth asked him.

“To have a little chat with the other teams.” Dad answered as he led the way through the garage area. “Let’s pray that the other teams listen to our warning.”

“If they don’t sir?” Jim asked.

“Then pray for fucking rain, Jim. Pray for a thunderstorm like no other.” Was all dad said with a heavy sigh. For some reason I found myself actually hoping for rain. Not just a gentle shower but a hurricane.

-----tbc-----