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Total number of drivers 40. Number of company teams 10. Number of tracks 20. Number of countries 12. Time frame in months 6. Number of Fallen Angels hooked on speed 2. The McGuire sisters are back and they’re out for blood in the newly founded International Stockcar Racing Association. After two years driving the Formula One circuit Professional Drivers Roberta Bobbie McGuire and her sister Elisabeth ‘Beth’ McGuire have made real names for themselves. The two young ladies took the world by storm in their first year by placing 3rd and 4th in the Championship points race. Now their plans and dreams of starting in the International Stockcar Association have come to fruition. The Fury twins plan to prove to the world they belong in Stockcar Racing. And they don’t care who they have to put into the wall to bring home the inaugural championship.

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Chapter 1
Darlington, South Carolina

The sounds of the 5.86 L V-8 engine rumbled throughout the speedway. On most days this would be nothing new, but today was special. Today the car thundering around the Lady in Black was experimental and the driver behind the wheel was out to break it. To the naked eye one would think that the racecar was a Mercedes-Benz ‘S’ class C217 coupé. It was one of four new regulation NASCAR stockcars that were at the track that day.

Down in the pits four full pit crews waited for the driver to finish her test run of the newest car. As had become their habit the members of the pit crew members were taking bets. There was also the usual trash talk among the four team. Though it was all done good fun. Mostly because of the backgrounds for the four teams. On one side was the NASCAR teams that had until recently only race in the United States. On the other was the former Formula One teams. Not that it matter in the long run. They were now all members of McGuire Racing Designs Incorporated LLC newest and brightest division McGuire International Racing. A onetime small but well respected racing design firm.

Now one of the fastest growing automotive racing firms in the world. All thanks to the driver that was currently wringing out the car on the track. For most the locals the driver was a hero in more ways than one. She was one of the local girls that made it big in Formula One racing. Now that she back home and getting back to her roots they were even prouder. Even though the young lady would be still be taking her driving skills around the world it would now be behind the wheel of a NASCAR spec stockcar.

I rounded turn 4 of the Lady in Black and head for the start/finish on the front straightway. I could tell that this totally new setup was perfect for intermediate speedways, like Darlington. I know that these cars will have more than a few eyes on them over the next six months. Even the cars that were setup for Superspeedways were of a totally new design. I go down low to take turn 1 at speed. The unusually warm spring afternoon had turned the track into a nasty piece of work. As usual I only race the track and nothing else. I learned that deadly lesson before I ever took part in my first real race in a Formula One racer.

My radio crackles. “Okay Bobbie, back her down and bring her in. we’re done for the day.”

“Copy that mom. Is Beth going run another few laps?” I quickly ask mom.

“Not today kiddo. Your dad and the rest of the mechanics are going to be working overtime tonight. It seems that her transmission will need to be broken down completely. You were right about those gears we got from Hess.” Mom told me as I started breaking for turn 3.

“I take it that I wasn’t the only one that was having problems with fourth gear slipping?” I asked her.

“You could say that kiddo. She’s been raising hell with Chief Hailee from the time she pulled to a stop.” Sighed mom over the radio.

I geared down for the pit road exit and braked even harder. I also hit the kill switch for the engine and let car free roll. As I come to a stop in my pit my pit crew are already coming over the wall. My jack man, Danny Hailee was dropping my window net. I took off my helmet and handed it to the young man who has been such a vital part of my team with a smile.

“Take it easy there Bobbie. We don’t need you hurting yourself climbing out of a proper racecar.” Danny joked as I struggled to climb out of the car.

“Oh, stuff it Danny. It’s not my fault that I got used to open cockpit cars.” I grumbled as I finally stood up straight. “It’s not like I’ve had much practice with stockcars these last two years.”

“We know Bobbie. It’s just too much fun giving you a hard over it to pass it up.” Steve chuckled as he and the other members of my pit crew gathered around. “Though you’re not the only one who has had to learn new skills.”

I looked at the six members that make up my pit crew. Of the original twenty person team that made up my Formula One pit crew only these six still worked on my car during a race. Danny Hailee is the jack man. He raises each side of the car so that the tires can be replaced. He is, also, responsible for pulling the old right rear tire from the car after the rear tire changer loosens the lug nuts.

Cassy, his wife, of five months now is the front tire changer. She only changes the front tires. Her job is to remove the lug nuts, then she removes the old tire, and tightens the new tire's lug nuts.

The rear tire changer is Sherry Smoke. She changes only the rear tires. She removes the lug nuts first, then removes the old tire, and tightens the new tire's lug nuts. Her husband is the gas man. Greg Smokes is my gas man he fills the car with gasoline with a specially designed gas can.

Joseph Chamberlin is my front tire carrier. He brings the new front tires over the pit wall and guides them onto the studs. He also rolls the old front tires to the pit wall after the front tire changer pulls them from the car. My rear tire carrier is Will Hackney and he is responsible for bringing new rear tires over the pit wall.

I know that having two women on my pit crew will get us a lot of grief, but I really don’t give a shit. Beth has the same setup in here pit crew that I do but we won’t abandon people who’ve proven themselves to us. We didn’t get ride of the other members of our old pit crew. They just moved on to other positions within the company. Mom and dad have even sent some to that engineering school up north to learn more about engines, transmissions, fabrication, car design, everything under the sun when it comes to racecars. Only the original core of fourteen are left as our pit crew members. Two Crew Chiefs, and twelve crew members.

“I know what you mean Danny. I just can’t get use to the feeling of climbing in and out of a window.” I chuckled. “It’s so much easier climbing out of a seat with no roof over my head.”

“Hay, well, you’ll be thanking whatever god of speed you pray to the first time you rollover at Tally or Pocono, Bobby.” Jim Fields one of our team’s regular NASCAR divers from last year. He and Sam Hurley had spent the last year as rookies in the Sprint cup series.

“He’s not shitting you Bobbie. I thought I was going to buy the farm last year in the wreck. You’ll come to appreciate that roll cage as well the first time someone slams into you at one-eighty.” Sam told me honestly.

I just chuckled. “Trust me guys. I already do appreciate that roll cage. You forget I’ve had a few nasty wrecks in Formula One. Ones where is wished that I had more than just the crush points and reinforced cockpit to save my ass. I thought that I was going to buy it during my wreck at Silverstone last season. If it hadn’t been for those crush points, I know I wouldn’t have walked away with only a broken arm and bruised ribs.”

“Speaking of that wreck. How’s McNair doing?” Jim asked with real concern for a fellow driver. Even if he was a Formula One driver.

“He’s back at it and giving the younger drivers on his team grief.” I chuckled as I thought about the English gentleman. “I swear that they’ll have to pry his cold dead fingers from the steering wheel.”

“Damn girl. You make it sound like he’s the only driver that ever gave you any real competition on the circuit.” Sam joked.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that Sam. It’s just that he was one of the first drivers to show me and Beth any real respect.” I told Sam with a smile. “Trust me guys. When we start racing those monkey nuts that came over from Formula One, you’ll see what I mean. None them showed me and Beth an ounce of respect when we first started out. It took us beating their happy asses on the tracks and tying for Rookie of the year to earn their respect.”

“She's not kidding, boys. You’ll see what she’s talking about next weekend at Talladega.” Jake Slone told them about as he walked up. He held out a sheet of paper to the three of us smiling. “Bobbie, we got the final schedule in this morning. Looks like my guys will be starting off the season with an edge. Think you’re up to taking them on?”

I just smirked. As I took my copy of the schedule from his hand. “I’m not the one you need to be asking that question of Chief Stone. My question is can your two numb nuts act like gentlemen in front of the Corporate Sponsors next Friday night at the meet and greet?”

As if to underscore my point Sam spit a wade of tobacco juice on the ground. At my exasperated look Cassy, Sherry, Lisa, and Shelly giggled. The guys on my pit crew chuckled. Slow Jake Slone just chuckled while Chief Hailee and Marks snickered. Sam and Jim just gave me a WTF look.

Sighing I gave them both a piece of advice. “Look guys, next Friday night is the meet and greet. Unlike in NASCAR this is going to be a real Black Tie affair. I’m talking about champagne, caviar, and high-heels. I know what you’re thinking but understand that this is part of the world you’ve joined. The people you’ll be meeting are millionaires, no let me correct that, billionaires. They’re the real jet setting crowd. They’re also the ones that put the bucks in our Buck Rogers.”

“Damn, you make it sound like we’re racing in the Formula One circuit or something, Bobbie.” Jim bitched. “We’re Stockcar racers. We bump and grind. Trade paint, going three wide into turn three, at one-eighty. We don’t do the whole road course thing that often.”

“Listen up you two shit birds. The International Stockcar Association is NASCAR in a tuxedo and cocktail dress with high heels. The days of the good old boys hanging out in the pits are over. And with the France family out of the way those rich cocksuckers in the jet setting crowd are our bread and butter. They get their noses bent out of joint at the sign of a redneck attitude.” I told them both harshly. “I learned my lesson in my first year on the Formula One circuit. Take the advice and lose the country boy mentality when off the track. When you’re racing all bets are off. Got it?”

Sam and Jim looked at each other, then over at Slow Jack who just nodded his head. Taking a deep breath Jim asked. “Um… Bobbie, do you think you can teach me and Sam how to not make fools of ourselves?”

“You’re asking the wrong person Jim. I’ll get a hold of Issy, Bobbie.” Mom said as she walked up to our small group pulling out her cell phone. Within minutes she was dialing the number from memory. “Issy I got a code ten. Yeah you heard me right, code ten. No, not for the girls. I need social etiquette classes for two drivers and their pit crews. Yes, I know this is short notice, Issy. Yes, I’ll pay the damned surcharge for emergency services. Of course. Yes, complete style makeover for the drivers as well. When can you get here? Yes, that’ll be fine. Thank you Issy.”

After she hung up, I had to ask. “When is the Mad Frenchwoman landing mom?”

“She’ll be here tomorrow.” Looking over at Jim and Sam mom got an evil grin on her face. “You two need to tell you’re girlfriends to be at the shop on Tuesday at nine. You’ll both be getting style makeovers curtesy of our sponsors and Madame Isabella La Fayette. Oh, and you’ll also be receiving training in etiquette from her as well. Before you ask because your girlfriends will be accompanying you to the races and social events. They’ll also be receiving makeovers and lesson from the Madam. Understood? I’ll not have you or your girlfriends make fools of yourselves in front of those uppity snobs that pay the bills.”

I chuckled at how mom cowed our newest drivers. Then she turned her number 1 ‘I’m disappoint in you’ mom look on me. “Don’t worry mom. I promise not to lose my cool like I did last year.”

“What did she do that was bad, Mrs. Jewels?” Sam asked.

“Oh, she went and dropped kicked another driver in the nuts at a Sponsor party.” Mom sighed. “It would have been so bad if she hadn’t been wearing high heels and a cocktail dress at the time.”

“Oh man I remember that one. Though you got to admit Jewels that Caldaria had it coming after what he pulled. If it had been me, I would have ripped the fucker’s head off after I had bet the shit out of him with his own arm.” Tony snarled as he walked with Beth. “Guys, one more piece of advice. If your girlfriends are with you at these functions stay with them. Some of these Euro trash Romeos think that any girl at one of these parties is a pro if they’re being escorted by someone. And therefore, fair game.”

“Is that what happened with Bobbie? One of them get too friendly?” Jim chuckled as he thought about how that went down with me.

“Nope. He went after Kelly. Right in front of Beth and me. Bobbie had gone to get them something to drink and the guy wasn’t taking the hint to back off.” Tony explained for Sam and Jim.

I just sighed as I thought about that night and the hell my actions raised with the Marshals. Caldaria was rookie and thought he was God’s gift to women. He had pissed off more than a few of the other drivers with his constant flirting. More than a few of the wives had gone to the Marshals to do something about the man. The problem was outside of the racetrack they really couldn’t do much. So, when he didn’t take the hint to leave Kelly alone, I took matters into my own hands. Both at the party and on the track during the race on Sunday. He still hasn’t found a new ride. Team Owners and Sponsors aren’t willing to back a driver that can’t behave themselves and wreck million dollar cars.

“Enough about that shithead. Have you seen this schedule mom?” I asked her.

“You mean the twenty races in twelve countries, in six months on three continents? Yes, I’ve seen it. I’m actually surprised that we were able to get that many overseas tracks ready in time. A few of those tracks had to be rebuilt, extended, resurfaced, or just flat-out built from scratch. Especially those superspeedways were an unexpected surprise.” Mom smiled.

As I looked down the list, I was surprised at the way we were bouncing around for the next six months. Then I thought about all the logistics that went into an international auto racing circuit. Jim and Sam must have been thinking the same thing as Jim cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss Jewels, but why are we holding some races on back to back weekends. While with others there’s a two week break between races?”

“I got this one mom.” I said with a slight chuckle. “Jim, Sam, I know that you guys aren’t use to the massive logistic headache that comes with running international racing. So, this is what I want you two to think about. If we race in Darlington on Sunday how long does it take to get to Charlotte? What a few hours by eighteen wheeler? Now, how long does it take that same eighteen wheeler to go from here to Fontana? Three days with team drivers. Now you just can’t transport a thirty-four-hundred pound car like it was nothing. These Stockcars are totally deferent than the Formula One cars the team normally transports for overseas races. They don’t breakdown the way that the F-One cars do. We can’t put two of them into a normal cargo plane like we can the F-One cars. We would be going good to just get one loaded.”

“So, you’re saying that we ship two cars ahead to the next race. We always have at least one pair of cars moving towards the race on the schedule. Just so we stay current with the schedule. Is that it?” Jim asked.

“Yup, got it one Jimbo.” I said proudly. I knew that the slow dumb redneck act he always put on was just that, an act.

“Well, speaking of air transport, Roberta. That is no longer a problem. It seems that the IRA was been able to secure forty Lockheed L-100J Super Hercules. They’re the civilian version of the military C-130 style cargo aircraft. They have all been purchased from various governments around the world. We’ll be able to airlift our cars and equipment as usual. Like we did when you girls were racing Formula One.” Mom told me proudly.

“Wow! The folks in charge are really going all out to get this new racing league going with a bang. What’s driving them so hard Miss Jewels?” Sam asked my mom with more than a surprise. Truth to tell he wasn’t the only one who want to know the answer to that question.

“You boys haven’t been exposed to the International racing scene the way that Bobbie and Beth have I’m not surprised by that question. While Formula One has been the dominant racing force internationally. There has always been an obsession with Stockcar racing in the other countries of the world. Only in the United States has it ever been the premier automotive sport. Basically because of its roots in the old bootlegger and moonshine runners communities. Our nation has always been the underdogs, the unwanted mutts in the pound, the junkyard dogs no wants to take home. It was natural for a society like ours to fall in love with such outlaws when they came out to race. To the rest of the international racing community NASCAR has always been this band of rowdy drunken country bumkins.” Mom chuckled as she described how the rest of the world felt about NASCAR drivers. “It’s not until they try their hand at places like Talladega, Daytona, or Bristol that they realize just how hard it is to push a thirty-five-hundred pound stockcar to limits and still keep it under control.”

“Which is something that you’ll have over half the other drivers in this new league, guys. Even if last season was kind of screwy. You’re still not going into the new league as rookie Stockcar drivers.” I pointed out then chuckled. “Unlike me. I get to wear that yellow warning stripe on my bumper.”

When the guys and gals of my team heard me make the comment about wearing the rookie stripe, they all laughed. They knew that I had been testing my mom and dad’s designs for years. I’ve driven every type of racecar there is around Darlington Speedway in the last six years, with one exception, a top fuel dragster. The quarter mile just has no appeal for me.

“Roberta Lee McGuire, of all the drivers that are coming over from the Formula One, Indy, Drift, Touring, Rally, and INDRO. You and Beth are the last ones that should be sporting those yellow bands.” Tony said with a smile and chuckle. “The two of you can out drive nine out of ten NASCAR drivers on the track today, and I’m not just blowing smoke.”

“Tony’s only telling the truth Bobbie. Me and Sam kept getting asked when the two McGuire sisters were get their acts together and return home to NASCAR.” Jim said a snarky smile. “More than a few of them wanted a shot at you two on a ‘real’ race track.”

I could almost see the air quotation marks around ‘real race track’. I just had to chuckle right along with Beth and the rest of the former F-1 crew. We had been putting chuckleheads in their places for the last two years. We had heard more than once that we needed to go back to where we belong from other F-1 drivers in our first year. Last year we weren’t exactly welcomed with open arms, but we were respected as equals. It might have been for the fact that we had beaten most of them more than once the year before.

Before I could say anything, mom’s radio crackled. “Mrs. McGuire, your daughter-in-law is here. Should we send her on in?”

I looked at Chief Hailee and grabbed his left arm looking at his wristwatch. “Ah, shit! She’s going to kill!”

“Send in her Bill. Tell her to come straight to the pit area please.” Mom said into the radio as she gave me the ‘I’m disappointed in you’ mom look. “Were you supposed to pick up my grandchildren from daycare, dear?”

I just bowed my head. “Yes ma’am.”

The smack to the back of the head came fast and furious. “How the hell could you forget something like?!”

“Damn it mom! It’s not my fault you had to have another run this afternoon.” I bitched as I rubbed the back of my head.

“Don’t go placing the blame on me, young lady. Those twins may be my grandchildren, but they’re your children and responsibility.” Mom snapped.

“Give the girl a break Jewels. She would have been on time to pick up the babies if you hadn’t had to have that last run.” Dad said coming to my defense. “Bobbie you’re not in trouble with you lovely wife. I called Kelly and let her know to pick the girls up when your mother called for the additional test run. She had her mother pick them up and bring over to the office on her break.”

“Thanks dad.” I said blushing. My greatest achievement in the last two years wasn’t tying with my sister for rookie of the year. It wasn’t graduating from high school early with top honors. It wasn’t winning a Formula One racing contract at only eighteen. It wasn’t even placing fourth in the driver’s championship. It wasn’t marrying my high school sweetheart either. It was the twin baby girls she graced me with last year. They’re be two by the end of the new racing season.

“Have you kids looked into getting a Nanny for when you’re out of the country?” Mom asked rather pointedly.

“Looked and rejected. Kelly won’t be going to any of the overseas races.” I raised my hand. “It was her decision mom. I had no input on her choice. She said something about not exposing the girls to foreign germs until they’re old enough to handle the changes in air pressure during flight.”

“She has a point Jewels. A damned good one. I agree with the girls keeping the twins here at home for another two or three years.” Dad said honestly.

“Oh, I agree Bob, I’m just surprised that we didn’t need to pond it in to the concrete block that is our child’s head.” Mom said with a nasty grin. I just blow her a razzberry and stick my nose in the air. “Go get changed honey. I know that you and Kelly have plans tonight.”

Needless to say, that got the team laughing again. Of all those that are a part of MIR few of us aren’t married to another member of the team. I know that every one of the girls on the pit crews are married to one of the guys on the same crew. In any other sport this might be a problem but with us it works. The marriages seem to have pulled the pit crews tighter together. In a matter of months, mine and Beth’s pit crews have gone from two of the best pit crews in Formula One to crews that can compete with the best in NASCAR.

I think about how much the teams have changed over the last year as I head for the team trailer to change. In a matter of months, they had gotten their pit time averages down to 14.3 seconds. That is four tires, and gas in less time than it takes most people to make a cup of coffee. It also places them in the top 17 pit crew times. I know that it nothing like the 2 second spots they were pulling off in Formula One, but that was a totally deferent style of pit spot. For starter in F1 they could be standing ready in the pit area waiting for me to pull to a stop. In NASCAR they have to come over the pit row wall first. Then only after I’ve pulled into the pit box.

Sure, the time doesn’t start until I’ve come to a full stop but that doesn’t matter. This is a totally deferent style of racing and the pit stops reflect that. I got 5 people doing what used to be done by 14 people. I also wasn’t having to worry about someone dumping 10 to 12 gallons of fuel into the car at the same time. Then there is the fact that unlike in F1 the Stockcar races take anywhere between 3 to 4 to run with an average of 400 to 500 laps on tracks that average around 2 miles in length. Stockcar races are a matter of endurance, skill, and a lot of luck.

Most people believe that Stockcar races are won solely on the track. Some people believe that the races are solely won in the pits. That’s not true. They’re won on both the track and in the pits. One bad pit stop, and you lose the race just as surely as if you put your car into the wall on one of the turns. A blown tire can ruin your day in a hurry at 180mph.

I had just gotten my NOMEX off and was down to my panties and bar when I hear Kelly’s voice calling. “Hi mom. Guys.”

I quickly wipe off the sweat from wearing the heavy personal protection clothing, pull on a pair of riding socks and my trademark tan breeches. I pair them with a light pink polo blouse, and my usual lace-up paddock boots. I quickly run a brush through my now mid-back length hair and pull it into a ponytail at the top of my head. I don’t put on much makeup, just enough to let people know that I’m a grown woman. I double check to make sure my secret is hidden and head outside to find Kelly.

“I know that Bobbie would love to have us with her at every race, mom. I just can’t endanger the girls by exposing them to all those deferent diseases around the world at such a young age.” I heard Kelly say as I stepped out the trailer. “I know that I’m just being overprotective but with everything that has happened over the last year. I’m not taking any chances.”

“We understand dear. Bob and I totally agree with your decision. Are you going to be at any of the races dear?” Mom asked her as I walked up.

“Oh, sure mom. I’ll be at all of the races here stateside. My mom and dad have already made plans to take time off for those weekends. I just need a copy of the finalized schedule for them.” Kelly answered brightly. “They’re going to take the babies for those weekends.”

“Yeah, love.” I said right before kissing her check and giving her a hug. “Sorry about not picking up the girls.”

Kelly just chuckled. “Don’t worry love. I had made arrangements with my mom and dad when I saw the schedule in the office this morning. So, when your dad called to tell me that your mother had you making an additional test run, I just went ahead and called mom. The girls are asleep in their seats.”

I looked over at her Jeep Gladiator sitting next to my Dodge Viper. Of the two, her Gladiator was our ‘family car’. We used it for more than just making grocery store and errands around town. It was the real work horse for our farm as well. Sure, I also have a F-350 dually for work around the farm but we use the Gladiator most often because Kelly has the child car safety seats. It’s way too big of a hassle moving them between the two trucks.

“Thanks, babe. I’m still sorry about letting time get away from me like that.” I sighed as I apologized.

Mom and Kelly both chuckled. “Roberta Lee McGuire, I love you with all my heart. You only have one real fault.”

“Oh, what’s that? I would have thought that I have more than one.” I countered with a cock of my head to one side.

Kelly chuckled before answering. “When you get behind the wheel of a high performance racecar you get tunnel vision. You see the track and the track only. It’s not a bad thing in a racecar driver of your caliber and puts the roof over our little family’s heads. But it’s a royal pain in the ass in a husband. Especially when you lose all track of time. Like today.”

“She’s right love. The intensity and focus that you bring to your driving is unlike any driver that I’ve seen in years. I think that only your sister can match it when you two go head to head.” Mom looked out at the track smiling. “And after two years in Formula One you girls will show the world your skill and focus on speedways like our Lady here.”

“Right now, mom, all I want to do is race. I’ll take each track one at a time. We both know that no two speedways are the same. They may be laid out in similar manners, but that is where the similarities end.” I told her as I thought about the tracks we would be racing on.

“That’s true, mom.” Beth said as she and Tony walked up. She had already changed clothes the way I had. “Have you seen the layout for that new tri-oval outside Mosco? It’s almost as bad as Pocono.”

“Yes, dear I have. To think that the world now has not one but three true tricky triangles. Until now, Stockcar teams have only had to worry about Pocono. Not that is not the case with the ISA. We have to deal with Mosco, Lausitzring, and Pocono. All three tricky triangles.” Mom sighed then grinned. “And we get to kick off the inaugural season on the nastiest of the Superspeedway triangles, Pocono.”

“Have we gotten any word on the other new tracks, Kelly?” I asked my wife.

“Sadly, no. The only tracks that we any real solid data on is the ones here in the States.” Kelly answered me shaking her head. “As far as the ones overseas go. Well, let’s just say that we’ve got only bits and pieces. Nothing we can use to build a comprehensive race strategy with.”

That was Kelly’s new job. She was the team’s strategist. It was her job to find out as much as she can about the other teams, the tracks, and put together a plan for racing them. She’s done a fantastic job so far. We know about the other 36 drivers and where they came from. Of those 36 drivers only 12 were coming over from NASCAR. The rest was made up of 10 F1 drivers, 6 Indy drivers, 5 Rally drivers, and 3 IROC drivers. The Indy, IROC, and NASCAR, are the only ones that are being considered veteran drivers by the new league. And by Stockcar rules they are.

That’s the other kicker when it comes to the new league. They’re actually using NASCAR rules and regulations. I look back over at four of the cars that make our team. I had to giggle at the sponsors displayed there. When word got out that the Furies of Formula One were switching over to the ISA. We had offers from fast-food chains, toy companies, Outdoor Outfitters, boot manufacturers, clothing lines especially those for young women and teenage girls. The one that I’m sporting is for Horze Equestrian wear. Ever sense I started to dress as a girl their clothing line have been my go to supplier for just about everything I wear.

I was brought out of my daydreaming by a Kelly’s next words. “I do have some news on the Reynolds team. They had to replace three of their drivers over the weekend. At least for the first five races.”

“What the hell happened?” I asked in shock.

“Roy Shatner, Stephon Garcia, and Taras Krupin wiped out on turn four of Tally.” At my look of pure dismay Kelly explained what happened. “They had the whole team out practicing drafting and running in a pack when Shatner blew his right front tire and lost control. With the exception of Lars Brant, they all plowed in on the front straightway. It was bad Bobbie. Shatner, Garcia, and Krupin were air flighted out to the nearest hospital. From the reports that I’m getting are half true they won’t be back until Australia.”

“Damn. I really like those guys. For a bunch of Rally racers there not bad guys.” I sighed as I was really looking forward to racing against them. “Kelly find out which hospital they’re in. Send them something nice please.”

“Sure love, I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning. Now do you want the shitty news?” Kelly asked with a grin. One that I have come to know as a warning sign that I’m not about to like what I’m about to hear. “They got your old playmates Fontana, Caldera, and Hershel to fill in.”

The second I heard who Reynolds Racing Corp got to be their replacement drivers Beth and I started laughing. Even mom joined in laughing with Kelly. It was true poetic justice. Those three monkey nuts had caused me and Beth no end in problems during our first year in F1. I even remember how I challenged them to try racing on one of MASCAR’s speedways. Now, after two years those three morons are going to come after me on my home turf.

Dad walked up just then with Chiefs Hailee, Marks, Jack, and Bill Stone. Dad asked politely. “What’s got your funny bones going people?”

“It’s nothing special dad. We just found out who we’ll be racing against on Sunday. Would you believe that Fontana, Caldera, and Hershel are going to race us at the tricky triangle?” Beth asked between breaths.

“Oh, good Lord. Not those three again.” Chief Marks grumbled.

“Damn it I thought we were done dealing with those asshats two years ago.” Chief Hailee bitched out right.

“Okay, I’ll ask for Bill and me. Who are these shit sticks in question?” Slow Jake asked as he wiped some grease from his hands with a rag.

“Yah, no joke. Who are they? The way Beth and Bobbie are laughing and the way those two are talking about them there must be some story here.” Bill Stone asked with more than a little curiosity.

“Two years ago, our darlings of the raceway got into a heated debate with those three drivers before their first race. Our favorite two trouble makers went and throw down a challenge to every last driver at the first meet and greet. They asked all those veteran Formula One drivers to take on Darlington, Talladega, Dayton, or any of the superspeedways in a Stockcar.” Dad chuckled as he remembered that party and the events that brought about my outburst. “If I remember right Bobbie actually said something about dancing three wide at one-eighty going into turn three at Talladega.”

“Bob if I remember it correctly your youngest daughter did more than challenge those three chuckleheads. If I’m not mistaken, she also threatened to put their happy asses into the wall in the same breath.” Chief Hailee chuckled as he talked about that party.

“Damn. Now we know where their ‘bad girl’ reps came from. If they were making those types of comments to the other drivers. It’s a bloody fucking miracle they did all gang up on their asses.” Bad Billy chuckled. “Though with the way they drove last year and the year before it won’t have mattered.”

“Little brother, you should’ve spent more time around Bobbie when she came by our shop. She could teach you and the rest of our old club a thing or two about rat racing. She’s no ordinary driver.” Slow Jake confirmed. “And her older sister is just as hot behind the wheel. The McGuire sisters have an unbroken record of wins on the roads of this county. The only competition they have is each other.”

“And you can take that to the bank Chief Billy. Ever last member of the Darlington Knights have tried to beat them and failed. The same goes for just about every last club for the surrounding six counties.” Tony told the newest Crew Chief to join our small racing firm.

“His telling it straight, Billy. The girls got skills they’ve yet to tap.” Mom said with a sly smile. “Until now.”

“As much as I would love to stand around here and toot my own horn. Me and Kelly need to be going. We’ve still got a stop to make.” I told them all.

“What’s up Bobbie?” Tony asked.

“We’ve an appointment with Sharron this afternoon.” I told them only to get a strange look from mom and dad. I had been to see Doctor Sharron Kelly in over a year. For me to just suddenly have an appointment took them by surprise. “Don’t worry mom. Sharron just wants to talk to us about something for the kids in USMC.”

“GO! Take your Viper.” Dad ordered. “We’ll take care of the kids.”

I just smiled and Kelly snickered. Dad had just told me to burn up the road between here and Doc Sharron’s office. I give them both a kiss goodbye and Kelly does the same before handing mom her keys. It would take us about 30 minutes to reach Doc Sharron’s at this time of day. Not that it would matter. Once I was behind the wheel of my Viper I would have us there in 20.

As I pull out the sounds of Judas Priests’ Freewheel Burning sound from my car’s speakers. Kelly automatically grabbed her five point harness and strapped herself in tight. She knew that I would be pulling more than a few drifts on my way to Doc Sharron. I just can’t help myself any more. After going 90mph plus on some of the fastest road course of the world I just have to push my Viper to her limits.

As I pull my first drift exiting the Speedway grounds Kelly starts calling out the turns. She knows that I would never drive this way with the kids in the car. Well, I should say when we’re in her car. Whenever we take mine and it’s only us then she gets just as excited as I do. Kelly is one of the best Spotters there is anywhere. She can call a race almost as fast as anyone.

I know of only two Spotters that are better Kathy Hall and her mom. Those two women can spot the slightest change in track conditions and relay that information to me and Beth with such clarity that it’s scary. I don’t know how many times they’ve saved either me or Beth from running head long into a wreck. The way they can guide us to the perfect line is unbelievable. It doesn’t matter what else is going on, on the track. They always found us a clear line through traffic. I know that part of it was the way they were out there running the tracks every chance they got. It didn’t matter what the weather was at the time. Rain or shine they ran those tracks.

Their dedication to their morning runs gave our team a major advantage that none of the other teams’ Spotters could dream of having. It still amazes me the way those two can read a track. Even here on our home track they’ve been able to spot new lines. Lines that are so clean it’s not even funny.

Kelly spots the local police cruiser in time. I slow down to the posted speed limit as I curse pass him. “Thanks for the warning love.”

“No problem. That’s what I’m here for. Got any idea what Doc Sharron wants us to do for the kids?” Kelly never liked talking about the children on the cancer ward of USMC. For her it brought unwelcomed fears.

“If I were to hazard a guess. She wants to ask me to visit the HOSPIC ward.” I told her honestly. I had had more than one request form the Make Wish and Dreamweaver foundations over the last year.

“Oh.” Kelly got really quiet. “Do you think you might know who the kid is?”

This time I sighed heavily. “I probably do.”

“Roberta, I don’t ask a lot of you. You give so much of yourself as it is.” I knew where Kelly was going with this the moment, she used my first name instead of Bobbie. “I know you do these visit for the kids. But you have a race in three days. Those visits always screw with your head for a week at least afterwards. You can’t have something like that screwing with your head going into a race like. It’ll.”

I interrupt her right there. “Kelly, I love you with all my heart, but this is one time that if Sharron asks, I’ll do it. As for the race this weekend, I’ll be fine.”

Kelly just sighed and did dropped the topic for now. I knew that she would be climbing up my ass once our visit with Sharron was over. After parking in front of her office I double checked my look in the mirror. I know that I’ve gotten a bit vain in the last two years. The problem is thanks to my profession I’ve become a real public figure. I made the mistake one time of not wearing makeup or having my hair brushed out. I had been working on the farm’s tractor and needed a part. Not think I just pulled on a baseball cap and jumped into the truck.

Any way some jackass took a picture of my grease and oil smudged face while I was at the parts store and posted it. Talk about grabbing headlines for bullshit. The tabloids had a field with that one photo for a month. It got my sponsors on my ass big time. There are times when having Mercedes-Benz as a sponsor can be a royal fucking pain. Especially when I have to deal with the granddames of the company. The result of that one incident is I now always double check my appearance before leaving my car.

We hadn’t gotten through the door good before Maggie waved to us from the reception desk. “Bobbie, Kelly, head on back. I already called Sharron to let her know you’re here.”

“Okay, Maggie this is one time that I got to know how you do it?” Kelly asked. “I know that you can’t the parking lot from this desk.”

Maggie just giggled and pointed to her computer secondary monitor. “I get the video feeds for the security cameras thanks to our tech guys.”

“You know that’s cheating.” Kelly snarked.

“Like your lovely wife is so fond of saying. If you ain’t cheating.” Maggie start off with Kelly and me joining in. “You ain’t trying hard enough.”

About that Doctor Sharron Kelly walked out into the lobby. “It sounds like my favorite trouble makers are here. Come on back girls.”

Kelly and I follow Sharron back to her office. As usual Sharron is dressed nicely in a skirt and blouse combo with modest heel pumps. As we enter her office, I’m brought up short by the newest poster on her wall of fame. It was one of me and Beth standing in front of new Stockcars. Those posters haven’t been out for more than two weeks. I had to know how she got her hands on one them already.

“Okay Sharron. How did you get that one?” I said pointing at the poster.

“Your mother had the first one-hundred sent to me. That one is number one of a hundred.” Sharron reached behind her desk and pulled out a one inch thick flat box. “I got the next ninety-nine in this.”

“Holy Shit!” Kelly exclaimed. “I hope that you don’t Bobbie to sign all of those?! We’ll be here all night.”

Sharron chuckled before putting the box back behind her desk. “No, Kelly that is not why I asked you here.” Sharron took a deep breath and sighed. “Bobbie, do you remember Lee O’Neil?”

It took me a minute to remember the boy’s face. The last time I had seen him was in the lobby 14 months ago and he was in remission. He was the picture of health for someone who had just battle back from a third round of chemo therapy. “What happened Sharron?”

“His cancer has returned. This time his doctors are afraid of giving him another round of chemo.” At my look of confusion Sharron sighed. “It’s his immune system Bobbie. It hasn’t had time to fully recover. Another round of chemo will most likely kill the boy.”

“Ah shit.” I knew exactly what Sharron was getting at now. “All they can do for him now is pain management. How long does he have?”

“Six to seven months at the most.” I knew that Sharron was being honest. She never bullshits one of her patients. I may not be one of her regular patients any more but she still took the occasional call or visit from me. “He was visited by the Make a Wish foundation last week.”

“Let me guess he asked for a visit from the pretty Formula One driver he met in your office. Am I right?” I asked already knowing the answer.

“Dead on the money. I know that you make occasional visits to the ward, but you have been there in the last four or five months. I know that you’ve been busy with gearing up for the new league.” I stopped Sharron there.

“I’ll do it. I’ll make the visit tomorrow.” Sharron smiled at hearing this.

“Thank you, Bobbie. I didn’t want to ask you as you’re more a of friend than patent anymore. I didn’t want to abuse that friendship.” Sharron told me honestly. “Whatever you want in return just ask.”

“Sharron, how many of the kids currently on the ward can travel?” I asked quickly as a thought came to me. “I’m even talking about the ones that would need medical attention to travel.”

“Roberta Lee McGuire, you’re up to something.” Kelly smiled already knowing my shift in attitude. “Spill already.”

“For the opening inaugural race each team has been offered a set number of seats in the grandstands. I know that between Beth and me I can get a hold of twenty seats. If I ask Sam and Jim, I might be able to get another ten seats. That’ll give me a total of thirty seats.” I explained with a smile. Kelly just took out her phone then started dialing as she got up and walked out of the office smiling the whole way.

“Bobbie what are you offering to do?” Sharron asked.

“Those kids are cooped up on that hospital ward twenty-four-seven. I think that a little fresh air and seeing forty Stockcars going all out at Pocono will do them all some good.” I said with a mile wide grin. “I’m willing to bet that the Make a Wish people never thought I’ll pull something this?”

Sharron sat there for all of two minutes open mouthed before busting out laughing. It took her a few minutes to get herself under control. “My god! Bobbie you never stop amazing me with your selflessness.”

“Yes, that would be perfect, sir. A whole section on the front straightaway close to the start/finish is more than I expected. Are you sure that this won’t cause problems? If you’re sure, then thank you so much. I’ll be sure to pass on the information to the necessary parties. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. No, I’m sure that will be fine with the drivers. No, I don’t see that as problem. Do you think that the other drivers will go along with the request? If you say so, sir. Once again thank you so much. Have a good day, sir.” Kelly came back in smiling. She end her call and looked over at Sharron. “You’ll never guess who I was just talking to?”

“I don’t need to guess. I can tell by the look on your face that you just pulled off a Publicity coup of the first order.” I chuckled.

“Sharron exactly how many children are on the cancer ward of USMC and the other hospitals in South Carolina?” Kelly asked with a smile.

“Let me think.” Sharron got a thoughtful look on her face then turned to her desktop. After a few key strokes she had her answer. “Right now, between them all there is a total of eighty some children. Why?”

“I need a list of all the ones that can travel even with nurses.” Kelly answered quickly.

“Those are the ones that can travel, Kelly. The others are just too sick for traveling or undergoing treatments that won’t let them travel.” Sharron said sadly. I knew that more than a few of her cases got to her at times. “Are you going to tell me what you’re to now?”

“Just make arrangements for those children to be at the nearest airports on Saturday. As for what I just got done arranging that’s simple.” Kelly grinned. “A whole section at Pocono for child cancer patients at the inaugural race of the International Stockcar Association.”

“Hold on here girls. Who’s going to pay for all this? I mean the airfare alone is going to be in the thousands.” Sharron stuttered.

Kelly just smiled as she answer. “Send the bill to the Commissioner for the ISA, Herr Wilfried Herwig.” Kelly took out a pen and notepaper. “Here’s his information. Just get the names to him. He’ll take care of the rest.”

Sharron just sat there looking at the two us. “As usual I ask for one thing, something simple, easy. A no muss, no fuss, favor. And what do you two do? Take it and flip it on its head coming up with something totally out of the park. Where do you come up with these ideas?”

“What can I say?” I asked. “We’re just that awesome.”

-----tbc-----

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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 2
Pocono Speedway, Long Pond, Pennsylvania, Sunday

I’ve been in Long Pond, Pa, with the rest of the team since Wednesday. As usual we’ve been out on this track every morning running laps. Coach Hall may have come to our outfit as a compromise with the Schoolboard but that is no longer the case. She and Kathy have totally taken over the physical training for all of the race teams. Those two have become our High Priestesses to the Gods of physical fitness. And we are their poor mortal sacrifices to their Gods. Thanks to their daily torture regime Beth, Jim, Sam, and I know every inch of this superspeedway.

As I wait for the green flag to drop, I think about that Sponsor party on Friday night. I know that I don’t have a lot of room to talk, but Jim and Sam really showed their short tempers. It all started when Jim went to get a drink for Caroline his fiancée. I know that I warned the guys to not leave their better halves alone at the party, but even so Laurentino Toto really should have taken Caroline’s hint to leave her alone. It would have avoided ensuing trouble. I’m still wondering how in the name of hell that man will be able to drive for even half the race with that black eye.

Then again, I really can’t blame Caroline for cold cocking the asshole. Though I think I’ll need to arrange for lessons in social etiquette for her and Missy with Issy. There had to be a better way of handling an asshole with wandering hands than a kick to the nuts and right cross to the face. I do have to admit that Missy and Caroline looked absolutely beautiful in their gowns. They made me look like a tomboy who raided her mother’s closet. And I’ve been going to those damned meet and greet sponsor parties for two years now. For Missy and Caroline, it was their first time so they could be excused for wanting to put on their best.

I know that I should be paying more attention to the upcoming race, but I have to chuckle as I thought about that night. I can honestly say that in more than eighty some parties for our Sponsors and other dignitaries for Formula One. None of them have ever ended in a bar brawl. Then again, that was most likely the first time that there was 14 NASCAR drivers in a room with 26 drivers from other motorsports. Of course, there was going to be friction. I just surprised that the Stockcar drivers are getting along with their non-Stockcar driver teammates.

I look out at Pocono one more time. I know that most people consider this track a tri-oval, but the turns are much more severe than those of a more typical tri-oval such as Daytona and other such speedways. Then there’s additional complication that the three turns are in no way the same, nor are any of the three straightaways identical in length. The banking of each turn is considerably less than on many other long superspeedways. Turn 1 is a nice 14° banking and modeled after Trenton Speedway. Turn 2 has 9° banking also known as the ‘Tunnel Turn’ was modeled after the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Then there is Turn 3 at 6° of banking it is the shallowest turn and modeled after the Milwaukee Mile.

Although the track is long at 2.5 miles, the sharp nature of the turns and the low banking tend to make the average speeds lower than at other tracks of similar lengths. Because of its unique characteristics, Pocono is sometimes referred to as a ‘roval’, an oval track that behaves like a road course. Others refer to Pocono as a modified road course, due to the use of shifting gears to handle the range between the slowest turn and the fastest straightaway. Just the type of oval track that Beth and I can shine at. I swear the unique design makes the setup of the car and the crew’s ability to make chassis adjustments more crucial than at many other tracks. Often it is the difference between a winning performance and a piss poor performance.

Today’s 500mi race is going to be a monster. It’ll take 200 laps to complete the race. The good thing is that those laps have been broken down into four 50 lap segments. Not taking in to account a yellow flag laps, and segment stops, that’s still doesn’t take in the green flag pit stops. This race is going to come down to who can manage their fuel and tires the best.

The driver introduction and parade is behind us. The national anthem was sung; all I have left to do is climb into my car. I take one last look around at the stands and a smile comes to my face. I can see the seventy-nine kids from the children’s wards in the grandstands. Herr Herwig really came through for those kids. From what I understand he didn’t even flinch when presented with the bill for all those airplane tickets. Hell, I had to laugh my ass off when I heard that he sent his personal 707 for one group of kids in Columbia. That has to be one of the biggest planes to ever land there.

“HAY SPEEDY! Get your head in the game kid.” Chief Marks snapped at me.

“Sorry Chief. I’ll be fine. I was just thinking about something.” I said as I took one last look at the grandstands where the kids were.

Chief Marks looked to where I was and chuckled. “You did something beautiful, Bobbie. No matter what else happens here today. That is something you can be proud of. Now, remember you got two-hundred laps to work your way through the pack. No need to burnout the engine in the first stage.”

“Got it Chief. Keep a cool head and let the car and track come to me.” I said as I climbed into the driver’s seat. I quickly put in my earbuds then pulled on my NOMEX balaclava. Once they were on, I settled my helmet in place then hooked up the HANS device. Next came my gloves as Chief Marks hooked up my iPod to the radio. I know that I’m crazy, but I drive better with music. I connected the steering wheel to the shaft and smiled. Chief Marks pats me on the head then pulls up the window-net. As he steps away, I hear the four most famous words in racing. “DRIVERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!”

I flip the two battery switches, then mash the starter button. The steady rumble of the monster V-8 coming to life settles my nerves. Until now I had butterflies in my stomach. Now, they’re gone. All my fears vanish into nothingness. As we roll off pit road and fall in behind the pace car I fight to keep from bitching at my position. The fact that Sam is in the pole position really is a sting to my pride. Then again Jim is on the second row in fourth position. I’m all the way back on the eighth row in the sixteenth position next to Beth in fifteenth. Our team is spread out at the start of the race and this isn’t good.

We take four warm up laps behind the pace car. I spend that time weaving back and forth trying to build up the heat in my tires. I think every driver that has any experience on a superspeedway is doing the same thing. I know that Beth and I are considered rookies to the sport of Stockcar racing by the rules. But we’ve been test driving mom’s designs for years now on some of the meanest tracks in all of NASCAR. We may be new to Stockcar racing but we’re no rookies by any stretch. Today we’re going to prove it.

We round turn 3 and I get a laugh at the ‘What Turn 4?’ sign that is painted there. Pocono is known as the tricky triangle for a reason. Unlike most triovals this track doesn’t have a Turn 4.

I’m brought out of my thoughts by the pace car turning off his lights. We’re lined up and it’s almost time to go racing. We round turn 3 and the pace car drops off the track onto pit road. I hit play on my iPod. The flagman waves the green flag in the air. I down shift to second gear and drop the hammer. As one the pack surges forward towards top speed and turn 1.

As we cross the starting line the opening notes for Rammstein’s Engel blast in my ears. The hard driving bass pounds in time with my heartbeat. The screaming lead guitar boils my blood. The thump of the drums brings me a peace of mind. We come out of the high banking turn 1 onto the Long Pound straightaway. I’m only inches away from Beth’s car as we race down the straightaway. The side draft is unbelievable. Fuck the whole draft is unlike anything I’ve experienced in Formula One. This is where I’m meant to be. Going 170mph with my hair on fire into a highspeed turn.

We fly into turn 2. I have to fight the sideways g-forces that are brought on by the banking and our speeds. This is the style of racing I’ve been dreaming about for years. The roar of the engines is almost load enough to drowned out my music. We exit turn 2 and hit the North straightaway at full speed. I see my first opening and dive down around the 23rd car. Beth goes to the outside of him. The guy never knew what happened. One second, we were in his rear view the next we were passing him on each side. This was something we had perfected in Formula One. We called the move the uneven splits. Here it’s just side drafting at its finest.

We dive into turn 3 and go three wide. This is racing at its best. I once told a Formula One driver that there was nothing like going three wide in turn 3 doing over 180mph at Pocono. Yesterday during Qualifying we set an average speed for the field of 175.98mph. Thankfully ISA isn’t forcing restrictor plates down our throats. I can see using them on the short tracks but not on the standard speedways and superspeedways.

The ability to hold something back in reserve for the pass on straightaways has changed the game. The only problem is at the speeds we’re running we can’t hold nothing back. We come off turn 3 and head for the start/finish line. We cross the line and lap one is in the bag. The inaugural race of the International Stockcar Association is on the way.

Over the next fifteen laps the field shakes out into two separate packs. Beth, and me are in the middle of the lead pack with Jim leading. Sam is right on his ass. The front pack is made up of thirteen cars running single file and we’re steadily pulling away from the rest of the field. At this pace I realize it’s not going to a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’. Sooner or later, there will be a nasty wreck somewhere on the track. I got a feeling that for the ISA Pocono is going to be more than a historical inaugural race. It’s going to go down in history for a record breaking ‘big one’. My only question is in which stage and what part of the track.

We round turn 2 on lap twenty-one when the yellow flag comes out. Kathy Hall came over the radio before the caution lights even began to flash. “Back it down Bobbie. Metz blew his right front tire and rode the wall in turn one.”

“How bad did he go in Kathy?” I asked as I geared down.

“Not bad enough for the wrecker but his race is done. He’s limping it around on the apron as we speak. Though it does look like the cleanup crew is going to be busy for the next few minutes. Yup. That blown tire is tearing up his front end with each yard.”

That was not good. If that front tire was coming apart like Kathy was saying. Then it would be throwing rubber and sheet metal all over the track. That much trash on the track and the officials could ‘red flag’ the race. I doubt it though. The track crews all came over from NASCAR. They’re used to fast cleanup of wrecks much bigger than this one.

“Bobbie, everyone is coming in for fresh tires and gas the next go around. Chief Marks and Hailee are calling for four tires each.” Kathy told me.

“Sounds good. I’ve been sliding around out here in the turns like crazy. I swear it’s like I’m driving on marbles.” I bitched to my Spotter.

“Take it easy Bobbie. You’ve got a hundred and seventy-seven more laps in this race. Plenty of time for us to work on the car. You’re in seventh place. Beth is right behind you in eighth.” Once again Kathy pointed out something I had forgotten. When me and Beth team up during a race, nothing can stop us. We were a winning combination for two years in Formula One. We can do it here. We just need time to get into the grove. And we got 177 laps do it.

On lap 22 Jim leads us down onto pit row. I hit my pit box dead on. My pit crew fly over the wall going into action the way they were trained. Danny has the right side off the ground before I know what’s happening. I hear the twin air guns of Cassy and Sherry scream as they remove the lug nuts on those tires. I feel Greg jam the fuel into the fuel intake. I watch as Joseph and Will carry the old tires back around to the pit wall to grab a set of left side tires. Danny has already dropped the car and is raising the right side as Cassy and Sherry remove the right side lug nuts. Greg is on his second can of fuel already. Chief Marks is really packing the fuel in. I watch as Cassy and Sherry tighten the lugs on the new tires. Danny drops the car.

That’s my signal to pull out. Kathy comes over the radio as I pass cars still sitting in their pit boxes. “Slow it down Bobbie. We don’t need a penalty for speeding on pit road this early in the race.”

“Gotcha, Kathy. I’m watching the tachometer. I’m just under the posted pit road speed. How was the time?” I reassure Kathy.

“Let’s just say, that our boys and girls are showing their skills. Both teams pulled down ten point eight, eight second stops.” When Kathy told me how fast our pit crews had become, I almost ran into another driver coming out of his pit bow. I missed him by inches. As we exit pit row, I’m shocked to find that I’ve moved up four places.

I didn’t realize that my mike was open. “Holy crap! We’ve jumped four places!”

“OPEN MIKE BOBBIE!” Kathy screamed. I double checked and let go of the mike button. If anyone could have seen my face just then they would have seen a blush going from the top of my head clear down to my nipples. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. Holding a mike open is a rookie mistake. One that I haven’t made in almost two years, not since my first Formula One race in Melbourne, Australia. I just hope that no one else heard my potty mouth. I really don’t need a fine from ISA officials over something as stupid as cursing over the radio.

As we pull in behind the pace car I smile. I went from 7th to 3rd. Beth is right behind me now in 4th place. Jim is still in 1st and Sam has moved back up to 2nd. MIR is now running one, two, three, four with more than half the race to go. For the first time our small racing firm is showing their muscle on a NASCAR track. For some reason, this sight feels like an omen of things to come. I key my radio for Chief Marks.

“Chief patch me through to the other cars.” I ordered the man.

“Give me a few seconds, Bobbie. What are you up to?” Marks asks while doing as I requested him.

“Time to step out and shine, Chief. Let’s see what we can do with everyone on the same sheet of music.” I answered between giggles.

Beth was the first to answer. “PUMP UP THE VOLUME SIS!”

Jim was right behind her. “TIME TO DANCE THREE WIDE AT ONE-EIGHTY GUYS!”

Sam may have been the last to answer but he put all our feelings into words. “LETS ROCK THIS JOINT! CRACK OUT THE TUNES! DJ SPEEDY IN DA’ HOUSE!”

I waited until the green flag waves again two laps later before hitting the play button for my iPod. The first song out of it is AC/DC’s Highway to Hell. Needless to say, our team rocketed away from the rest of the pack. By the time we were entering turn 3 the four of us had shaken out into single file. Our running order was Jim, Sam, me, then Beth. By the second lap after the restart we had a two second lead on the rest of the field and were walking away with each passing second. By lap 40 we had a full six second lead on the nearest cars. At lap 47 though that six second lead disappeared.

Back towards the end of the second pack a car spun out on the inside and took three other cars with him. The rest of the field had to scramble to keep from hitting them. I could just see the wreck happening from my position on the Long Pond straightaway. The ISA officials threw the yellow flag for the second time this day. Jim was already backing down and going to the outside to avoid the wreck. The rest of us followed behind him as the pace car pulled out onto the track. For the next three laps we waited for pit road to open while doing everything we could just to save fuel. We finished the 1st stage under yellow and the ISA officials finally opened pit road.

Jim may have won the 1st stage but there were three more to go. As we roll onto pit road I start counting down to the beginning of my stop. Once again, I hit my marks dead on. Danny, Cassy, Sherry, Greg, Will, and Joseph are over the wall in a flash. Danny has the left side up in record time. Before I can count to three, I feel the left side slam down. By the time I reach five I feel the right bounce into the air. The scream of the air guns is almost nonstop as the girls pull the lug nuts off then slam them back on. Greg has again packed two cans of fuel into the tank.

Danny drops the jack and I’m off. I pass Sam before he can get out of his box. Beth pulls in right behind me cutting him off before he has a chance to make up for his missed cue. As we near the end of pit road I come along side Jim’s pit box just as he is coming down off the jack. The race to the end of pit road and first place is on. I edge out Beth by inches and Jim is right behind her with Sam coming in fourth off pit road.

Holy shit I couldn’t believe it. I was in first place. I knew that the only reason that I was in first place was through luck and skill. Mostly luck. To be honest all of it bad luck on the part of my friends and fellow competitors. Well, a little good luck on my part and a lot of skill. We fell in behind the pace car for another three laps. I held off on hitting the play button again until the pace car turned off its warning lights. When he pulled off the track onto pit road, I turned my attention to the flag stand. I hit the play button just as we entered the restart zone. The green flag dropped to the opening notes of Steve Earle’s Copperhead Road.

I was shifting gears as I crossed the starting line. I dove into turn 1 as if the hounds of hell were hot on my heels. In a way they were. Beth, Jim, and Sam wanted first place as badly as I do. The only problem is I’m not going to give it up that easily. I wasn’t the meanest rat racer in all of Darlington county for nothing. Today I was going to remind my sister and our friends exactly why I’ve never been beaten in a rat race.

I may not have won the Formula One championship, but I had set more than a few records in that sport for reason. Out here is where I truly come alive. I spent more time in the company of the Devil’s Bounty Hunter than I care to admit to in my younger years. I’ve played chess with the Grim Reaper more than once and beat the bastard. Today, I can outrun even Him and his Black Dog. As I come out of turn 1, I drop the hammer.

It doesn’t take long before I’m the one setting the pace for the 2nd stage. I never let up as I enter turn 2. Most people at least brake going into the turn. I don’t. I let up on the gas just enough to keep control as I round the turn. I step down hard on the exit shooting for turn 3 at full throttle. Beth is right behind me with Jim and Sam doing their best to keep up. Once their out front leading the pack like me most drivers would be driving with one eye in their review.

Not me. I left that to Kathy. She learned that I would concentrate only the track and race if I left it up to her to tell me where the other drivers were. Kathy and her mom weren’t some of the best Spotters for nothing. I know that Beth and I are lucky to have them as our Spotters. They can call a race in microseconds where it takes other Spotters minutes to do the same thing. They learned all of mine and Beth’s little quirks when we’re driving over the last two years.

Kathy radioed in as I exited turn 3. “Bobbie go high on turn one. The thirty-two has dropped off the pace big time. Yup there’s the smoke. Looks like your old buddy Fontana just blew his engine. Yah the smoke is a real nice blue-gray. He dropped a cylinder alright. The RRI team owners aren’t going to like this one bit.”

“Got it Kathy. Where’s the rest of RRI?” I asked her.

“Depends on where you’re sitting in the stadium.” Kathy chuckled. “For you they’re so far back in the second pack they’re not even on the radar.”

“Good. They having problems with the track?” I asked.

“Bobbie those monkey nuts have no business being out there. The only one that has shown any skill at Stockcar racing is Lars Brant.” Chief Marks said over the radio with a chuckle. “Now get your head back in the game. You still have a hundred and forty laps to go.”

I got my head back in the game. For the next thirty laps I kept the hammer down. I was feeling great. The race had gone green for longer than I thought and knew that I would need to pit soon. The handling of my car was slowly going to hell. I could tell that I was starting to get rubber buildup on the tires, and I was getting light in the tank. I started planning for a green flag pit stop and praying for a yellow flag.

At lap ninety my prayers were answered. I saw the wreck in turn 2 long before Kathy could call it. I knew that I would be in the middle of it long before the yellow could be thrown. “GO HIGH! BOBBIE GET TO THE OUTSIDE AND STAY THERE!” Kathy screamed.

I didn’t think twice and followed her advice. I don’t know how many cars were involved. I just know that once I was up by the wall, I did my damnedest to hug that outer line. As I drove through the smoke and flying car pieces I prayed once more to the gods of speed. By the time I cleared the wreck the yellow flag was out, and the pace car was on the track. By the time we came back around to the start/finish line the officials threw the red flag. We came to a stop on the Long Pond straightaway and shutdown our cars.

I keyed the radio. “Talk to me Kathy. How many?”

“It’s bad Bobbie, really bad. I’m still counting but so far. I can tell that at least fifteen of the thirty-eight that were running at the start of the second stage are out of the race for good. I’m seeing window nets down on thirteen of them already. No make that all of them. Yes, they’re all down now.” Kathy told me with a sigh of relief.

She wasn’t the only one to breathe a sigh of relief. I knew that there would be a big one. I just wasn’t expecting it to happen this early in the race. Normally the big wreck doesn’t happen until the last fifty are so laps of the race here. Something must have really gone pear-shaped for the wreck to happen at this time in the race. “Can you tell me what happened Kathy?”

“We’re still working that out Bobbie.” Kathy told me.

“Jacob Teller hand grenaded his engine entering turn two Bobbie. From there it was a nonstop cluster fuck. Daniel Szylling hit Teller in the rear end before Teller could clear the track. Szylling lost control then spun out to the left sideswiping Theo Kaur and Philip Cunningham. From there on out it was like a pinball machine. Cars bouncing everywhere and nowhere.” Coach Hall said over the team channel. The more she described the way the wreck went down the more I realized just how fucking lucky I was by going high to the outside and staying there.

It may have been the only open line through the wreck, but that was a line that could have close without notice. There was no way that Kathy should have been able to call that line with such confidence. The more that I think about her call the more that her ability to call a race had to be supernatural in nature. She and her mom were just too good at times.

“Bobbie, we got the final count for wrecked cars. It’s bad, Speedy. Eighteen cars bound for the scrapyard. I got a break down of the cars involved if you want it?” Kathy told me.

“Give it to me Kathy. It can’t be good either way.” I told her. I was right.

“Here’s what mom and I have been able to figure out. Reynolds is totally out of the race now. Along with King Night Racing, and Red Star Racing. Horn Thomas Racing, Bisbee Snider Racing, and Northern Alliance Racing all lost two cars a piece. Only Thunder Valley lost one car.” The more Kathy list off the teams that were involved the more I realized that they were the teams made up of mostly non-Stockcar drivers. Only Red Star Racing, the Russian owned company, had more than one Stockcar driver on their team.

“Damn it! Not good.” My words must have gotten mom’s attention as she came up on the radio next.

“What are you thinking Bobbie?” Mom asked.

“Those four teams that were taken out are made of almost nothing but drivers from the other Sports. Think about it mom. The regular Stockcar drivers can point to those teams and say ‘See. This won’t have happened if they were using real Stockcar drivers.’ The publicity fallout from this wreck is going to be a Super Hurricane Shit storm making landfall.” I explained.

“Damn. I hadn’t thought about that. As much as I hate to say this, I need to do some damage control fast.” Mom dropped off the radio before I could ask her what she was talking about.

“What the hell was that all about?” I wondered out loud to no one as I waited for the ISA officials to give the signal to restart our engines.

Ten minutes later Kathy came up on the radio. “Okay we’ll be restarting shortly. The pace car will make two laps around the track. On the third pass pit road will be open. This will be a four tire stop. Got that?”

“Load and clear, Kathy. Two laps then hit the pits. Four tires and gas.” I was more than ready to get this race restarted. After ten more minutes the last car was finally loaded onto a wrecker. When the signal came to restart engines, I couldn’t have been happier. The reports coming in from the infield care center were all good. None of the drivers were injured, and all were walking around laughing at the first ‘real’ wreck of the season. Even the three drivers that came over from NASCAR.

The pace car started off slow to give all of us a chance to get rolling before lining up. It took us reaching turn 3 before finally coming into line. We exited turn 3 and pit road was still closed. There were more than a few of us out here that were running on fumes by the time we came back around on the third lap following the restart. I had a feeling that I was one of those running on fumes as my engine was cutting out in the turns.

When the ISA Officials opened pit road there was not one driver who stayed out. I know that when I hit my pit box I was on fumes. The second I stopped Greg was over the wall and slamming a full fuel can into the fuel port. Within seconds the sounds of my engine changed. I now knew that I had been on the edge as I pulled into the pits. Danny drops the right side of the car. Even before he has the left side off the ground Cassy and Sherry have the lug nuts off. I swear my pit crew have gotten faster with each stop. Danny grabs the windshield tear off and pulls it clear giving me a clean view out the windshield.

The car slams down and I floor the throttle. I’m out of my pit and heading for pit road exit. I pass Beth and Sam before they get the chance to leave their pits. When I reach the number one pit stall Jim’s right side is still in the air. I exit pit road with Beth and Sam hot on my heels. Jim was still in his box being worked on. He finally came down off the jack. But by that time the damage was done. Jim lost six places. He is now running 10th.

I don’t know if Jim can work his way back to the front. What I do know is this. Jim is a diehard rat racer. There are six drivers between him and us. He has the hottest hotrod out here. He’ll be back long before the end of the race and he’ll be hungry for the win. Before the red flag stop Jim was a threat that I had to take seriously. His pride has now been hurt by a bad pit stop. That makes him twice as dangerous than before. Damn that’s all I need now. Especially after Friday night’s fiasco. I still can’t believe that shit went down.

At lap 139 Kathy calls me over the radio with a warning. “Heads up Bobbie. Bowman, Toto, O’Brian, and Szopinski are lined up tight. Looks like they’re looking to make a run on you guys.”

“Where’s Jim?” I was more worried about my pissed off teammate then those four clowns. I’ve face them all on the F1 circuit and knew how they drove.

“He's currently sitting right behind Patrick McEvoy, in sixth place. Wait make that fifth place behind Seán Donohoe. He just completed a pass to the inside. At this rate Jim will be behind Sam at the end of this lap.”

“Thanks Kathy. What’s the time difference between the lead pack and the rest of the field?” I really needed to know.

“You guys have about a seven second split going back to the second half of the field. If my math is right, and this race goes green for another ten to twelve laps you’ll have a twelve to fourteen second lead. More than enough time to make a green flag pit stop.” I couldn’t believe what Kathy was saying I knew that she had to be wrong.

“Kathy’s right on the money Bobbie. Though I would put the split at closer to seventeen to nineteen seconds in ten laps.” Chief Marks told me.

“Damn. Are you sure? Have you doubled checked the math?” I was still having trouble believing we would have that big of a lead.

“Bobbie, I had Chief Hailee, and both of the Stones go over the math. After nine more laps the split will be seventeen seconds.” Chief Marks told me.

“I hope like hell that you’re right. Because the way things are going, we’ll be hitting a bunch of green flag stops. How do you want to handle them?” I asked already thinking away.

“IF it comes to that it’ll be four tires and gas, Bobbie. You and the others will be back in the lead once everyone else cycles through.” Chief Marks answered with more than a little confidence.

For the next ten laps we kept running all-out. Just like Chief Marks told me we had a seventeen second lead on the rest of the field. At lap 128 I drop down off the track and lead the first five cars onto pit road. I hit my marks dead on, and my pit crew cleared the wall. Once again, they were at work faster than the eye could follow. By the time, the first of the second pack cleared turn 2 they were on right side of the car changing those tires. When Danny dropped the jack, I had four new tires and two cans of fuel.

I cleared the pit box heading for the exit of pit road. By the time I rolled off pit the first of the second pack were just entering pit road. It took two laps to cycle through the field and for me to get back into first place. As I rounded turn 3 at lap 150, I spot the green/white checkered flag waving for the end of the 3rd stage. I lead the field across the start/finish line winning the stage. So far out of the 4 stages I’ve won two, and Jim has one.

MRI has swept the stages so far. I know that with 22 laps on these tires Chief Marks will call for four tires and two cans of fuel. At lap 151 I lead the field once more down onto pit road. I hit my marks in the pit box a little off but not so much that my pit crew couldn’t do their jobs. I wasn’t out of my box. Four tires and two cans of fuel later Danny is dropping the jack and I’m off. I pass Beth and Sam before I get to the end of pit road. I should win the race off pit road, but Jim is in the first pit box and his pit crew are just as good as mine. He comes down off his jack as I’m pulling alongside. I want to pound the steering wheel as Jim beats me off pit road by inches.

Kathy must have ESP. “Chill out Bobby. You can still win the race. Jim is good but you’re better.”

“Okay, Kathy. How has he been doing against the side draft?” I asked her.

“Bobbie, you’re not going to like this, but you’ll have to drag race Jim off the start/finish line if you want first place. Jim is good enough to drive with you in his rearview mirror.” I didn’t like what Kathy was telling me. I hate drag racing. If the only chance I had was to get in front of Jim, then that’s what I needed to do.

We line open behind the pace car for the start of the final stage. As we exit turn 3 at lap 152 the pace car turns off its lights and drops down off the track. Jim had taken the outside line. I know what he was thinking. Hell, if I had the choice, I would have taken the outside. It has been the fastest line all day long. He may have the faster car, but I have the skills and drive. The green/white checkered flag drops. We barrel down the track heading for turn 1. As we enter the turn we’re side by side. Close enough to trade paint if we get any closer. The side draft, between our two cars, is incredible. I’m having to fight to stay in my line.

We exit turn 1 with Van Halen’s ‘Running with the Devil’ pounding in my ears. It was just the song I needed to put me in the mood to overtake Jim and secure first place. Once more I’m out here racing not my fellow drivers, but the Devil’s Bounty Hunter. They say you can only outrun the bastard for so long. Well, I’ve been out running his ass for the last seven years. I’m not about to give up that race just yet. Not while I have a fast car strapped to my ass. As we enter turn 2 off the Long Pond straightaway, I slide in front of Jim taking first place.

Beth drops in behind Jim for third place. Sam brings up the rear in fourth place. I grin to myself. McGuire Racing International is once again running one, two, three, four, at the head of the pack. Within two laps we’ve stretched out our lead to the point that it is only our four cars racing for the win. The rest of the field see nothing but our taillights.

The race is ours. All we have to do is stay out front and out of trouble. With 45 laps to go that is going to be a tall order. I also know that at the pace we’re setting we’ll have to pit one last time. I start doing the calculations in my head and praying that I was wrong. At this pace I would be ten laps short on fuel. “Damnation. How the hell could this happen?”

My radio crackled. “Bobbie, I need you to ease up on the throttle.”

“I ease up and Jim takes the lead dad. If I’m running short, then so is he.” I figured that I might as well point out what I had already figured out.

“Then you better start praying for a yellow flag, Speedy. Because that is the only way you’ll be able to go the distance on that tank of fuel.” Dad snapped over the radio. “We’ve been lucky so far, Bobbie. Use your head.”

“I am using my head. We either roll the dice or lose the race. This is no time for playing safe.” I countered. I knew that I was gambling. But this is Stockcar racing. You trade paint, going three wide into a turn at 180mph.

“Okay Speedy it’s your call. Keep your head on a swivel.” Dad said before dropping of the radio.

At lap 168 I started to feel the handling of my car going away. I knew that my tires were wearing out and the tank was getting empty. I didn’t even get the chance to radio in. chief Marks was all over my ass. “Bobbie, you’re starting to slide all over the track. Either back it down or bring her in.”

“Don’t worry Chief, I’m still in control. This is my kind of racing. It’s time to get a little sideways.” I told him smiling. “I’ll be bringing her in after two more laps. Jim has to be in the same condition as me.”

“Then you better pray that those tires hold kid. Because you go into the wall now. There’ll be no recovery from a wreck this late in the game.” Chief Marks stated the obvious.

“No shit, Chief. Just pray for a yellow flag before I have to come in on the green.” I had no sooner finished than my prayers were answered. I had just exited turn 3 when Kathy radioed.

“Bobbie go to the bottom and stay there. Horner just went into the wall on turn three. She blew her right front tire. She’s riding the wall around. Yup she’s come to a stop next to the outer wall. There’s pace car and the yellow.”

Sure, enough I hadn’t even cleared Rachele Horn’s car than I spotted the pace car pulling onto the track. I knew that pit road wasn’t going to be open just yet. The officials won’t open up the pits for at least one more lap. As the field closed in behind MRI, I knew that this would be my last chance to take home the win. We rounded the track two more times before pit road finally opened. I came down off the track and onto pit road.

I hit the button for my radio calling Chief Marks. “Four tires and gas Chief. Don’t miss your marks people. This is for all the marbles.”

I slide to a stop inside my pit box hard. I wasn’t even stopped good before Greg was slamming a fuel car into my car’s intake. Cassy and Sherry had their air guns screaming as Danny was jacking the right side off the ground. I had started counting the second I came to a stop. By the time I reached five Danny was dropping the jack. As I continued to count, I reached seven and Danny had the left side in the air. The girls’ air guns sounded like the scream of eagles as they dove on their pray. Greg was already trying to stuff a second full can of fuel into my tank. I knew that he would stuff as much fuel into my car until the last second. Danny drops the jack.

I take off for all I was worth trying to stay under pit road speed while weaving my way through traffic. I need to beat Jim off pit road if I’m to have a chance at beating him. I pass Beth just as she is coming down off the jack. She falls in right behind me. We both cut off Sam before he has a chance to pull out forcing him to come in behind Beth. As we pass Jim, I see something that upsets me. His pit crew have the hood up for some reason. “Chief Marks is something wrong with Jim’s car?”

“I just found out Bobbie. Jim lost one of his fan belts. Looks like he’s out of the race.” Chief Marks answered.

“Damn. I wanted to beat him on the track. I didn’t want to win this way.” I bitched. I really did want to beat Jim on the track. Winning this way went against everything it meant to be a racer at least in my eyes.

“That’s racing kiddo. Sometimes you’re the cat. Other times you’re the mouse. Today you’re cat and Jim was the mouse.” Mom’s words barely soothed my wounded pride. I prefer to win a race on my skills not luck.

As we line up behind the pace car, we’re running one, two, three. With Beth right behind me, followed by Sam. As we exit turn 3 under yellow Jim finally pulls out of his pit box. I hope and pray that he makes it off it road before we cross the start/finish line. I smile as he makes it in time. Jim may be at the back of the pack, but he’ll have half the track to get up to full speed, while we’ll still be trying to get up to speed. The pace car drops of the track we hit the restart zone and the green/white flags waves.

I drop the hammer, hit the play button, and start shifting gears. As the sounds of Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train blast in my ears I realize that I need to get ahead of Beth before she pulls a slide job on me. Sam is right on her bumper, pushing. Sam and Beth have decided to gang up on the youngest member of our team, ME. If that’s the way the want to play I have no problems. I can play their game. After all, I’ve beat them more than once on the back roads of Darlington County. This may be oval track racing, but its bump and grind at its finest.

I drive down hard on turn 1 forcing Beth and Sam to check up. I giggle as I clear turn 1 leaving them eating my dust as I barrel down the Long Pond straightaway. By the time Beth and Sam fully recover I have a two second lead on them and the field. Kathy calls me over the radio.

“Bobbie you do know that you just pissed off your sister and teammate?”

“I hope so. I hope that they get even madder.” I chuckled.

“Okay, tell me why you want them mad?” Kathy asked.

“Because neither Sam nor Beth are emotional drivers. They’re technical drivers. They lose their cool and let their emotions take over their driving suffers. The more emotional they get the worse they drive. The worse they drive the better for me.” I explained.

“Ah, shit. You’re doing it, again aren’t you? Head games at a hundred plus.” Kathy groaned just before signing off. I just chuckled.

“Please tell me that you’re not trying to piss off your sister, Roberta?” Mom asked over the radio.

“I cannot tell a lie. Of course, I’m trying to piss her off.” I chuckled.

Even though I couldn’t see it. I knew that mom just face palmed. “Didn’t you learn your lesson two years ago?”

“Of course, I did. I just don’t care, mom. This is Stockcar!” I told her in my best King Leonidas impersonation.

I hit the front straightaway and open up my lead even more. Beth and Sam are having to fight off the rest of the field. I got the whole track to myself. There is no way I’m going to give up my lead now. Only a late race wreck or some other yellow flag event will stop me from winning.

At lap 189 Beth and Sam have finally been able to shake the rest of the field. They’re now nipping at my heels and pissed off at the world with me. for the first time I’m actually driving in my rearview mirror. Those two have enough skill between them to bump draft my ass all the way around this track. At this late in the game we’re all tired. The exhaustion is starting to take its toll on us both physically and mentally. After 470 miles, running at 180mhp, for 3 ½ hours, anyone will be close to the edge.

So, you can imagine my surprise to see a very familiar car moving into fourth place. I didn’t even bother with keying my mike as I asked thin air. “Where the HELL did, he come from?”

“Heads up Bobbie. Jim’s back. And he’s back with a vengeance.” Kathy told me the obvious over the radio.

I had eleven laps to go. A total of 27.5 miles and three very pissed off teammates snapping at my heels. Yup, I’m screwed. Time to get serious. For the next 9 laps I push my car for all it’s worth. I never take my eyes off the track in front of me. “Kathy tell what the others are doing, girl.”

“Beth, Sam, and Jim have teamed up. They’re bump drafting like there no tomorrow. You got maybe a car and half on them, but that won’t last for long. Put the hammer down Bobbie. Drive it like you stole it.”

I have to laugh at Kathy’s last comment. “That’s the only way I know sister.”

As I exit turn 2 The Who’s Baba O'riley begins to play. My smile grows with each note. My speed picks up with the first verse. I go high into the turn towards the wall pouring on the gas. I see the white flag waving as I barrel down the front straightaway slowly pulling away from Beth, Jim, and Sam. I don’t know how fast I was going when I crossed under the white flag, but I do know that I was pulling away from the rest of MRI.

I hit turn 1 and never looked back again. The last I saw of Beth, Sam, and Jim was in my rearview mirror entering turn 1. I was now on a mission. I was out to set a new final lap track record for Pocono. I wanted the inaugural win for the International Stockcar Association. I wanted it more than anything else in the world just then. And come Hell or high water I would have the win for the inaugural race.

I powered through turn 2 over the Tunnel turn and down the North Straightaway. I never let up of the throttle. I know that it was reckless but didn’t care. I was going to set a new lap record if it was the last thing I did. I enter turn 3, the Big Bend at just under full throttle. I fight the g-forces that pull on the car. I was not going into the wall. Not now, not this late in the race. I exit turn 3 and stand on the throttle, only to have the yellow flag come out with the black/white checkered flag. Something had happened further back in the field. I crossed the finish line with more than a little disappointment. The track lap record would stand for another season.

“Kathy what happened?” I demanded of my Spotter.

“Shella England spun out in the Tunnel turn. The good part is she only hit two other cars. The bad part is she flipped and rolled. I’m still waiting for her to drop her window net.” Kathy told me as I rolled around turn 1. I got a good look down Long Pond straightaway. I could see the emergency crews were already rolling to the wreck area. “Okay, her net is down. Thank the Goddess for small blessings.”

“Would that be the Goddess Aly Raisman? I know that your moto is ‘No pain, no gain.” I chuckled.

“Nope. We had to abandon our previous Goddess for a new. Mom figured that with this bunch we should find a proper Goddess. We now worship the Goddess Danica. The Patron Goddess of Speedways.”

-----tbc-----

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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 3
Thursday, Daytona International Speedway, Daytona Beach, Florida: 0830

I looked out the door of the team trailer at the ‘Granddaddy’ of all NASCAR speedways, Daytona. We arrived here yesterday with our individual teams’ tractor-trailers hot on our heels. I know that I should feel something more but I’m still running the high from last week’s win. I mean how times does a person get the chance to not only drive the inaugural race in a new sport. But win that same inaugural race. I won’t even go into the party after the race. I think I’m still suffering from the hangover.

It was my first time at being able to drink legally at a victory party after winning a race. I will admit to overdoing things just a tad bite. Okay more than just a little bit. Alright already, I overdid it big time. I do know that I’ll never touch Champagne again. Beer is one thing, but that stuff is deadly in its sweet and innocent deceptiveness. I do know that Mercedes-Benz was over the moon with our performance not to mention our individual sponsors response. The odds of one manufacturing race team coming in 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th in the inaugural were something I had no desire to calculate. I mean they had to be worse than the odds are for winning the Powerball lottery.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts of that victory party I head for the garage area. As I walk in the first thing, I see is my car with its hood up. Dad and Chief Hailee are both under it discussing something. What I don’t know, nor do I want to know just then. I still haven’t had my morning coffee. All of my pit crew see me walk in and just stay away. After two years they’ve all learned that until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee or a morning workout to leave the fuck alone. Yes, I know that I’m not a morning person. To me the words ‘morning’ and ‘chipper’ do not belong together in the same sentence. Not if you want to keep your head on your shoulders.

“Here, you need this more than I do.” I looked up from the hand holding the cup of coffee under my nose to find Jim standing there with a grin. “Three sugars, cream, and extra caffeine.”

I just grunted and took the offered cup of coffee knowing that it would be wrong. As I take my first sip, I am surprised to find that Jim actually got the way I like my coffee correct. I quickly take larger drink of the sweet, sweet nectar of the goddess. Before I released it, I had drunk half the cup and never thanked Jim. “Thank you, Jim. I really need this.”

He just chuckled. “Forget about it, Bobbie. Kelly warned Sam and me about your early morning moods back in November.”

“I’d say that she was pulling your leg, but I know myself all too well.” I grumbled. “I know that I’m a real bitch in the mornings.”

I took another drink of my coffee as I looked over at my car. “Any idea of why my dad and Chief Hailee have the hood up on my car?”

“You’re not going to like it, Bobbie.” Jim sighed. “When they offloaded your car yesterday. Danny spotted a small patch of oil where your car sat.”

“Shit. Not good. Transmission or engine?” I asked not liking what I was told.

“That’s what they’re trying to figure out.” Jim took a drink of his coffee. “Either way your dad is already talking about pulling the whole powerplant.”

“Damn. If they pull the whole powerplant I’ll lose the whole day.” I bitched.

“More than that, Bobbie.” I looked over at Jim in confusion. “Remember, we’re running a modification of the NASCAR rules. There’s only one day of practice before we qualify. Without the test runs today. If they pull the engine or transmission for your car.”

“I lose my chance at figuring out the best line for racing on this track.” I finished what Jim left unsaid and just sighed. Taking a drink of my coffee I looked around the garage area. There was only one team not present and setup. The sounds of four semitrucks passing through the tunnel let me know that the last team was arriving. “Well at least Red Star was able to replace their cars. Any word on that change in the schedule we heard about at the party, Jim?”

“Just came in this morning. You’re going to like the new line up, Bobbie.” Sam said as he walked up smiling. He held out a fax sheet for me. “Take a look for yourself. Though why the ISA big wigs dropped the two races in South America is fucking beyond me.”

I looked down at the new list of races and smiled. With Rafaela and Buenos Aires Speedways in Argentina now off the list that opens a one-month window for the two Speedways Japan. Not that I mind in any way. Especially when there’s the chance to race on an island is solely devoted to a Superspeedway Stadium fascinated me. I could hardly believe that the Mitsubishi Motors Island was manmade. I mean who goes out and builds a 500-acre square island just to turn around then put a 2.5ml stadium style racetrack on top of it. I reread the official notice for a second time.

To All Drivers and Teams,
Do to circumstances outside of our control there has been a change in the scheduled races. The ISA has already taken measures to secure any cars or other equipment already shipped to Argentina. Thanks to measures already in place the 3rd and 4th races will still be held. Please note the changes listed below. The ISA will not be held hostage by political parties in any nation.
Sincerely,
Irina Stumpfegger
Irina Stumpfegger
Chairwoman
International Stockcar Association

1. Pocono Superspeedway, Pa, USA
2. Daytona Superspeedway, Fl, USA
3. Mitsubishi Island Speedway, Chiba, Japan
4. Motegi Twin Ring Speedway, Motegi, Japan
5. Calder Park Thunderdome, Melbourne, Australia.
6. Northern Territory Superspeedway, Darwin, Australia
7. Brooklands Superspeedway, United Kingdom
8. Rockingham Speedway, United Kingdom
9. Rome Speedway, Rome, Italy
10. Paris Superspeed, Paris, France
11. Texas Motor Speedway, Texas, USA
12. Indianapolis Motor Speedway, In, USA
13. Berlin superspeedway, Berlin, Germany
14. Lausitzring Superspeedway, Lusitzring, Germany
15. Mosco Superspeedway, Mosco, Russia
16. Warszawa Speedway, Warszawa, Poland
17. Castelo Superspeedway, Toledo, Spain
18. Talladega Superspeedway, Al, USA
19. Atlanta speedway, Ga, USA
20. Darlington Speedway, SC, USA

“You know that we’ll have our hands full when we get to Tokyo, right guys?” At their blank looks I sighed. “Mitsubishi Island Speedway is a one of a kind superspeedway. None of the others are sitting in the middle of the damned ocean on an island. It may be a stadium track but we’re going to be facing similar weather conditions to what we face here. Only it’ll be a lot worse as there won’t be anything to cut to ocean breeze.”

“Damn. I hadn’t thought about that.” Jim said as he looked in the direction of turn 3 and the world-famous beach. “How bad do you think it’ll get Bobbie?”

“If it doesn’t rain and the winds stay relatively calm. No worse than here on a bad day in February.” I told them both with a slight frown. “But the second it rains, or the winds pick up. All bets are off.”

“Shit. Do you know anything about the layout of the Tokyo track?” Sam asked.

“It’s a two-and half-mile stadium paperclip, guys.” Beth said walking up to us. “It was built on the same lines of Martinsville, only longer. Total length is two point five miles. Maximum banking is twelve degrees in the four turns covering one-thousand-three-hundred-twenty feet. The front and backstretch are five-thousand-two-hundred-sixty feet long with a five-degree inward slant. The grandstand seating for a hundred-twenty-five thousand. The only way to the stadium is by three six lane road bridges.”

“Thank you for the coffee.” I gave Beth a dirty look as she snagged the refill from my hand. As I fixed a new cup of coffee for myself, she gave me her usual number 4 ‘big sister’ look before continuing. “Where was I? Oh yes. Mitsubishi Island may sit in Tokyo Bay, it is not in Tokyo Prefecture, but the Chiba Prefecture. The island is at the end far end of the Tokyo bay.”

“Okay sis, give it a break for now will you.” I bitched as she just grinned. “What I want to know is how you got the intel on the track already?”

“I googled it when I heard about the change in the schedule.” Beth smirked as she grabbed a muffin off the table. “But what I want to know is why dad and Chief Hailee have the hood up on your car? Did you blow the engine or something last week at Pocono? If you did it would serve you right.”

“All I know is what Sam and Jim have told. My car has an oil leak of some kind. From the looks of things, dad is going to pull the whole powerplant.” I bitched as I looked over at my car. My fears were confirmed by dad and Chief Hailee standing up straight.

“Pull the whole powerplant Chief. Breakout both the replacement engine and transmission. We’ll break this pair down and find out where that leak is once we have them on the rack.” Dad ordered then looked over at the rest of the crews. “I want every car gone over with a fine-tooth comb. We’ll forgo today’s practice runs for safety.”

“Are you sure, Bob? I mean the other cars are in good shape.” Chief Hailee asked my dad in confusion. “Shouldn’t you check with Jewels first?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. As for dealing with my wife. She might be the boss, but I run these fucking teams. If she has a bitch about me putting the safety of our drivers first over a few practice, runs. Then she can find a new Senior Mechanic while finding out exactly what it’s like sleeping in the doghouse.” Dad grunted. That’s my dad for you. Safety first, last, and always.

“Okay, Bob. I’ll get the guys going on the swap out. Any word on the restrictor plates?” Chief Hailee asked as I walked up.

“We finally got word on those last night. We’ll be using them only at Tally and here.” Dad answered much to my relief. “We’re still waiting on word about the overseas tracks. Though I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing at three maybe four more restrictor plate races before the season is over.”

“Which tracks do you think the ISA will saddle us with plates dad?” I asked.

“Going off the new list alone.” Dad turned thoughtful. “I would have to say both the tracks in Australia, just because of their size and configuration. After that Berlin and Mosco. Only with Berlin because of the sheer length of the straightaways. Mosco is a the one that worries me the most. Of all the new tracks, Mosco is the world’s largest tri-oval at five miles.”

“Wait a minute, dad. Did you just say that the Mosco speedway is almost twice the length of Talladega?” I couldn’t believe my ears. There is no way that someone would build a track that big. “You got to be shitting me.”

“I’m not joking Bobbie. You know that guy who made it big in oil and ethanol futures a few years ago, Ayushiyev Rollan Vladislavovich.” Dad asked me with a smile. I just nodded my head as I knew exactly who he was talking about. “Well he wanted a showcase for our new sport as well as alternative fuels like ethanol. As well as bring the sport of Stockcar racing to his homeland.”

“Um… Mister McGuire how many of the tracks are going to be alternative fuel tracks?” Sam asked as he walked over with Jim and Beth right behind him.

“Sam, how many times have I asked you boys to call me Bob?” Dad sighed.

“At least once per day for the last two years sir.” Jim cracked with a smile. “And our mothers would snatch us bald if they heard us call by your first name. We kind of like having a full head of hair sir.”

“They’ve got you there, dad.” Beth giggled.

“Damned smart assed kids.” Dad grumbled good naturally. He gave the two guys a friendly smile. “To answer your question Sam. Of the twenty racetracks that we’ll visit over the season ten of them will be alternative fuel races.”

“Damn. That means two deferent types of engines.” I bitched. “At least.”

“Just be thankful that we’re only having to deal with Hydrous ethanol and high-octane gasoline. We could be stuck dealing with LPA and diesel as well.” Dad pointed out bluntly as he looked over at the fuel trucks. “I won’t even go into all the other stupid ideas that proposed for fuel usage.”

I looked down at the changed list and the note that accompanied it. “Why do I get the feeling that the two Argentina tracks were trying to force the use of some other alternative fuel on us?”

“Yup. In the last few Argentina has fast become one of the biggest exploiters of Bio-diesel, HCNG, H2CNG, and Ammonia based fuels for automobiles.” Dad explained with a nasty smile. “All good fuels sure, but they suck for raw horsepower. For our needs, methanol, Hydrous ethanol, gasohol, and good old high-octane gasoline are preferable.”

“Well, see as how our cars are down for the day. What can you tell us about this monster? I mean come on here dad. Daytona is the ‘Granddaddy’ of all superspeedways. I know that you and mom have had more than one of your designs run here.” I pointedly asked changing the topic.

To answer my question, he walked over to his personal tool chest. Opening the top draw of the bottom half dad pulled out a stack of printouts. We all followed him over to the worktop table. There he dropped the printouts on the table. There had to be at least 100 aerial printouts of deferent racetracks from around the world. I noticed that they were broken down by types and sport. He had sections for F1, Indy, F2, F3, NASCAR, and now ISA. I watched as he pulled out the printout for Daytona.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I give you 1801 West International Speedway Blvd, Daytona Beach, Florida 32114. Better known to the world as the Daytona International Speedway. Since opening in 1959, it has been the home of the Daytona 500, the most prestigious race in NASCAR. In addition to NASCAR, the track also hosts races of ARCA, AMA Superbike, IMSA, SCCA, and Motocross. The track features multiple layouts including the primary 2.5-mile high-speed tri-oval, a 3.56-mile sports car course, a 2.95-mile motorcycle course, and a 1,320-foot karting and motorcycle flat-track. The track's 180-acre infield includes the 29-acre Lake Lloyd, which has hosted powerboat racing.” I started to chuckle at dad’s impromptu presentation.

“Okay dad we get it already. We don’t need a history lesson. I think we’ve all dreamed of racing here. Although Sam and Jim have already raced here.” Beth huffed as she crossed her arms. I can tell that she was still pissed about not being able to race NASCAR last year. “What we need are the exact details of the track?”

“Fine.” Dad grunted. “Spoilsport. Ruin my fun.”

“Dad enough already give Beth a break. She’s not the only one that is still pissed over what went down last year. I mean we should have been racing NASCAR last year. Not bouncing around the world in Formula One for one last season.” I looked over Beth. “And you. Enough with the attitude already. It’s not his fault that we got stuck running another season in Formula One. No need to be a fucking raging bitch about things. Got it?”

“Fine. I’m sorry guys.” Beth said as she bowed her head. “It’s just that of all the speedways this one holds something special for me.”

I pulled Beth into a quick hug. “I know sis, I know. Just don’t let your emotions get the better of you. Let dad give us the breakdown on the track.”

Dad pulled Beth into a hug the second I let her go. “Don’t worry kiddo. I’ve got everything you need to beat this track.”

“I hope you do.” She answered smiling wickedly at me. “Because this time, I am going to beat a certain someone’s ass to the finish line.”

“Give it your best shot sister dear. Your good, but I’m better.” I snarked.

“Only if we don’t get there first, Bobbie.” Sam grinned.

“Okay you four enough. Time for the breakdown.” Dad chuckled. “While Daytona has a road course we’re only concerned with the tri-oval. The racing surface is asphalt. It’s total length two point five miles. With four main turns in a tri-oval. Turns one through four all have a banking of thirty-one degrees. While the tri-oval has a banking of eighteen degrees. Like a lot of superspeedways, the back straightaway has a slight banking of two degrees.”

Dad took the cup of coffee from mom as she walked up to the table. “Thank you dear. As I was saying. The trick to winning here is going to be both fuel and tire management. That and a good deal of luck.”

“The good thing for us this weekend’s race it’s only four-hundred miles. Not quite as grueling as last week’s race.” Mom said before taking a drink of coffee. “The race will be run in four segments of forty laps each.”

“Any word on the forecast, Ma’am?” Jim asked.

“If the talking heads are to be believed. We’ll have clear skies from tomorrow until Sunday. With daytime highs in the mid-eighties.” Mom got a thoughtful expression on her face. “That’ll put the track temp around ninety-five to one-hundred at the start of qualifying tomorrow. With Saturday’s race time start temp being even higher.”

“About the qualifying mom. Any word on how the officials are going to play, things?” Beth asked.

“It’ll be by positioning from the last race.” Mom turned and grinned at me. “That means you’re in the hot seat Bobbie.”

“Great. Anybody what to take my place in line?” I asked.

“Nope.” Jim said while popping the ‘p’. “You’re on your own.”

“Ditto Bobbie. I’m happy with my third place. This is one track that has a nasty streak that will pop up out of nowhere and bite you in the ass.” Sam snarked as he took a drink of coffee.

“Yeah well you two would know. You’ve both raced here before.” I bitched. “As it is you and the other NASCAR regulars all have an advantage over the rest of us when it comes to the US tracks.”

“Not by much Bobbie. How many tracks have you and Beth been sent to just to test out new designs for your parents? What five, ten?” Sam asked.

“If we add in the short tracks seven.” Beth answered for us. “Eleven if we count the dirt and road tracks.”

“And when you add in two years off Formula One racing. You both have as much experience as any of the regular Stockcar drivers.” Sam sighed. “With one exception. J.J. Sims for Red Star Racing.”

“You just had to mention the biggest outlaw in Stockcar racing in the last ten years. How many teams has he drove for? I’ve kind of lost count.” I grumbled and looked towards the Red Star garage area.

“At last count seven. Then again he’s never had a full season ride until now.” Mom told me with a faint smile. “He’s always been one hell of a test and substitute driver for any builder. I wish we had him six years ago.”

“Why ma’am?” Jim asked.

“We were trying out a new alternative fuel engine for Indy. That engine was a total failure. That worthless slug Tommy hand grenaded the engine in turn three at the Brickyard. Six months of hard back breaking work down the drain. That’s why.” Dad bitched. I could tell that he was still pissed at our former test driver. Then again Tommy was high on my list of favorite people either.

“Damn. I thought that only the Big Three were experimenting with alternative fuels back then. Was any of the other automotive sports experimenting them? I mean I know that we are dealing with alternative fuels in our sport. But we are the new kids on the block as it were. And we can kind be expected to be a bunch of mavericks in our sport.” Sam told us.

“I’m surprised at you Samuel.” Mom snarked giving him a funny look. “NASCAR has always been a testbed for new technologies. Especially for engine and transmission designs. We’re always pushing the technological edge.”

“Sure, I knew all about that ma’am.” Sam said as he scratched the back of his head. “I just never thought that what we do with our cars as being used by the actual automotive manufacturers.”

“You would be surprised by the amount our of research that goes into the new designs coming off the assembly lines.” Mom was interrupted by the arrival an ISA messenger. “How can I help you Mister Heinz?”

“Update on one of the teams for the race this weekend, Mrs. McGuire.” Heinz said and hand mom a printout. “Seeing as how you were the one to insure their participation. The committee felt that you should be notified directly.”

Mom took the printout from Heinz and began to read as he walked away. “Well, it looks like Reynolds will be running a full team. Thank goodness.”

“Okay mom. What do you know that we don’t?” I asked.

“After last week’s wreck the ISA committee were talking about sanctions against RRI. They felt that that the wreck was all their fault and could have been prevented.” Mom and dad both sighed. “It took your father, me, plus all Crew Chiefs explaining to that august body that wrecks like that happen and no one is at fault.”

“Um… okay I’m a little confused here ma’am. Everybody knows that when you get out there and pack race like we do. Sooner or later the big one happens. It’s not a case of if but more like when.” Jim complained.

“Jim, Sam, you boys need to understand that most of the ISA commission are former Formula One commissioners and owners. Most of these men have never seen a wreck on the scale of last week’s wreck. To them there has to be a reason for such uncontrolled destruction. Be it illegal equipment, driver fault or misconduct, even just outright cheating.” I quickly explained. “Trust me on this, guys. They’ll come around to the way that Stockcars race. It’ll just take them time.”

“You sound like you’ve already dealt with this problem Bobbie.” Sam remarked.

“Yup. And all of you former NASCAR drivers will face the same problems over the coming season. Your old ways of ‘work hard, play harder,’ need to be tuned down some. Remember that the International Stockcar Association is a combination of two philosophies.” Warned them.

“What are you talking about Bobbie? Stockcar racing is Stockcar racing. It’s down and dirty, bumping and grinding. Trading paint at one-seventy and dancing three wide in a turn.” Sam grunted. “It’s beer, hotdogs, country music, and rock-n-roll. You know good old Southern hospitality.”

“Guys I hate to tell you this, but Bobbie is right. The ISA maybe all about Stockcar style racing but it is also an International Racing association like Formula One. That means Champagne, caviar, cocktail dresses, and tuxedoes. Most of our fellow drivers have come over from what is considered by many to by a gentleman’s sport. Therefor they’re more than expected to act accordingly. It’s almost demanded of us.” Beth explained. She looked over at the other garages. Then she grinned. “That’s why we had Issy come in and give you country boys lessons in etiquette.”

The gathered pit crews who overheard Beth’s cutting remark chuckled as Jim and Sam both blushed. I just grinned and looked over dad. He was the only one who was not laughing. Something was bothering him. “Dad what’s wrong?”

He looked down at the map of Daytona. “Nothing Bobbie. Just a feeling.”

If there was one thing, I’ve come to respect was my father’s hunches. “You got a plan for winning. Don’t you?”

“Yes, and no Bobbie.” He looked back up at the three of us. “It’ll all depend on where you all qualify tomorrow.”

“Do you want us to hold back during our runs sir?” Sam asked first

“Yes and no, Sam. This is one time we’ll need to play things by ear.” We all watched as dad ran his finger around the track layout. “The problem is the sheer number of manufacturers represented.”

“What do you mean sir?” Jim asked for us confused drivers.

“Okay let me break it down for you all. We have ten teams of four drivers each. We represent Mercedes-Benz and the good old USA. Up next is Reynolds Racing representing the United Kingdom and Bentley. Next is King Night for Japan and Lexus. From Mother Russia we have Red Star and Lada. Then there is the second UK Horn Thomas driving for our friends at Aston Martin. Our odd duck team our Europe is Bisbee Snider from Australia driving the Holden Commodores. Our friends over at Northern Alliance from Norway went with Audi. The Thunder Valley crew with all their ties to Switzerland naturally pick KOENIGSEGG.” Dad chuckled as he talked about the next team. “I love the sense of humor the next team has. I mean come on. Who names their racecar Prototype Outcasts? Any way they’re out of Italy and using Maserati. The last team out of France les Ailes de Justice are using Peugeot. Do you see where I’m going here boys? Ten team, ten manufacturers, one Manufacturer’s Championship.”

“Ah shit. The ISA is more about the Manufacturer’s Championship than the driver’s championship. This well all come down to which manufacturer team has the most wins over the season. The drivers’ championship will be more like a sideshow.” Sam bitched to switch Beth and I only nodded our heads.

“Look boys. We know that you’re not used to being second to the manufacturer’s cup race, but this the way the ISA is setup.” Mom told them gently. “Don’t worry you’re not the only ones having a hard time grasping this change.”

Dad just chuckled and looked over another former NASCAR driver. “Don’t believe us, just go ask Dave Reese. He’s dealt with it before.”

“What do mean sir?” Jim asked not knowing Reese’s past.

“Reese started out in Indy. He drove for three seasons before making the jump to NASCAR. It took him a few seasons to get the idea of team driving worked out of his system. Now, he’s having to get back to that concept. For me and Beth the idea of racing as a team is still part of our racing style.” Then I chuckled. “That is until the last lap. Then all bets are off and it’s every man for themselves in a race for the finish line.”

“Man, this is going to take some getting used to.” Jim chuckled. “But I’ll give it a chance.”

“Okay already. Just let me race and I’ll do my best.” Sam grumbled. “But if I can’t have a cold beer at the end of the race. All bets are off.”

We chuckled at Sam’s complaint about not being able to have a cold beer at the end of a 400 to 500 miles race. Not that I blame him. Last week I had to wait until the camera crews were pointed somewhere else to wash the taste of burned rubber, and 500 miles out of my mouth. Sam and Jim were able to sneak off to grab a few beers after the race. I got stuck with cheap ass Champagne and dealing with the C.O.W.s. I felt Beth nudge my side and looked to where she was pointing. “Ah shit! Cab this day get any more FUBAR?”

“Roberta!” Mom scolded me then looked to where I was. “Okay. I’ll forgive you this time. Wonder what they want this time?”

“Da bist du Juwelen!” Mrs. Mercedes called out as she led Mrs. Maybach, Mrs. Jellinek, and Mrs. Benz into the garage. “Roberta Schatz, wo ist diese schöne Braut von Ihnen und Kindern?”

It’s taken me the last two years to master enough German to carry on a conversation with the four Crazy Old White Women when they get going like this. The fact that Bertha was asking about Kelly and the twins first was a good sign. So long as those four were talking about family I was safe. The second they started in on the cars I knew to get out of the area. Sadly, I couldn’t do that right now. Sam and Jim haven’t been exposed to the COWWs in one of their ‘management moods’ yet.

“Kelly ist bei den Mädchen zu Hause. Einer von ihnen hat eine Erkältung.” I explained to Bertha that Kelly was at home with the twins and that one of them had a cold. I was sure that even she would understand not traveling with a sick baby. I switched over to English for Sam and Jim. “Guys why don’t you go get changed. With the way things are going I doubt that we’ll get any practice runs in today.”

“Sorry Bobbie, but you’re the only one that won’t get the chance at a practice run. Beth, Sam, and Jim have cars that are in good shape.” Dad said and pointed to the other three team cars. “Let’s get them out on the track people. I want at least twenty laps on each car.”

Beth gave me a look of sympathy then headed for her car. I knew that I was on my own. While I still had mom to back me up. “I’m sorry ladies, but I really must help Chief Hailee figure out where that oil leak is coming from.”

With that mom left me to the mercies of the Granddams of Mercedes-Benz. I’ve been betrayed by my team, and my family. With no clear path to escape the COWWs. This is what Khan must have mean about the Klingon proverb that tells us revenge is a dish that is best served cold. It can be very cold in a Stockcar garage area as I just found out.

“So, what can I do for you ladies? I know that you’re not just hanging around the garage area for no reason.” I asked grinning.

“It concerns this evening’s sponsor party Roberta.” Maybach answered honestly. “We were wondering if we could impose on you and your teammates. You see there is a certain VIP that we need to impress.”

“Who?” I asked.

“She’s a possible candidate for the new plant manager in Gastonia North Carolina.” Mrs. Jellinek explained with a friendly shrug of her shoulders. “You might have heard of her, Julie Manner.”

“Julie Manner former CEFO for DEI. Businesswoman of some reputation. Known as being a grade A bitch in the boardroom. Only weakness is kids.” I answered. “Please tell me that she’s not the VIP in question.”

“In a word Schätzchen. Yes.” Bertha said grinning as I groaned.

“Let me guess. You need me or one of the others to put on the charm for her?” I asked and then groaned again as Bertha nodded smiling. “You do know that we’re all in steady relationships?”

“Liebling, das ist nur eine kleine Unannehmlichkeit. Jeder weiß, dass Rennfahrer berüchtigte Flirts und Womanizing Schlampen sind.” Snickered that old bat Benz.

I almost lost my cool when she called racecar drivers flirts and womanizing sluts. The problem was there are a few of that fit that description. “Why is it that there are always a few bad apples in every sport?”

“I apologize for Frau Benz’s attitude Roberta.” Bertha said glaring at her fellow Grandam. “Entschuldigung jetzt Greta!”

Greta Benz actually blushed before saying. “I am sorry Roberta. I know that you are not that type of person or athlete. You maybe a demon by the wheel of your car, but you are always a Lady off the track.”

“Forget about it, Frau Benz. I know that there are more than a few drivers out there that think they’re God’s gift to women.” Said waving away the apology. Then I gave her a nasty grin. “I’ve done my best to correct a few of those attitudes over the last two years. For some reason they never understood my ‘love taps’ as being behavioral correction therapy.”

All four of the older ladies chuckled at how I described putting a few of the male drivers into the wall. I got nailed for ‘unsportsmanlike conducts’ last year, but I really didn’t care. I had earned enough money to pay off any fines out of my own pocket. I know that Fontana and Caldera didn’t get the hint. They’re both still horn dogs. Though I doubt that they’ll be chasing after any of the wives and girlfriends of the Stockcar drivers again. Not after last week’s little altercation.

“Ja. That is true. You did have a way with getting your point across.” Bertha chuckled. “Though if last week is any indication. More than a few of your countrymen will not tolerate the amorist ways of the signal drivers.”

“Yah we rednecks do get kind of pissed off when someone makes a pass at our better halves.” I snarked letting my South Carolina accent show. It had the desired effected on the four women who all laughed.

“At least our Fury has given up her habit of using snuff.” Maybach chuckled. “I only wish that we could get the rest of her team to give up the habit.”

“Who says I’ve given up my snuff?” To prove my point. I reached into my leather’s breast pocket pulling out a can Copenhagen Snuff. “I don’t always dip, ma’am, but when I do. I only use the best.”

“You do know that stuff causes cancer, Roberta?” Bertha commented. They all knew that I was a survivor. More than once over the last few years these four women have cornered me over my health.

I just sighed. “Mrs. Mercedes, I have very few vices and snuff is one of them. I know that tobacco use can cause cancer. I also know that I’m more likely to suffer a relapse than most survivors.”

“That is not the point Roberta.” Bertha huffed. “You have a Frau und Kinder, to think of now. You are part of our Angehörigen now. Verstehe?”

“Yes ma’am.” I sighed. I put the snuff tin back in my breast pocket. “I’ll deo my best to quick.”

“Thank you, dear. We know that you’re still a tomboy at heart.” Bertha said with a smile. “You couldn’t drive the way that you do with out that important part of your personality.”

“Und we love you for it, Roberta.” Maybach jumped in with smiling. “We know that you tolerate having to dress up for the parties.”

“We also know that you and your Schwester can be Ladies in such situations. That is way we are asking this favor of you.” Bertha said taking control of the conversation again and bring us back on topic.

“Okay, I’ll do what I can Mrs. Mercedes. On one condition. Tell me why?”

“Our current manager in North Carolina is wanting to retire after thirty years. He along with his family was there when we opened the planet and more than earned his right to retire. He now wishes to return to Germany to spend his final years brewing beer.” Bertha explained. “We’ve been interviewing potential candidates for the last few months. We’re down to the final three.”

“And Julie Manner is one of them. Who are the other two?” I asked.

“Richard Castle from your Falcon Motorsports. David Graffelman general planet manager for Hennessey Performance Engineering. Both are fine planet managers, but well.” Bertha sighed and I knew what was coming. “They’re our husbands’ choices. As you know we want to make changes in the business world. We would like to see a few more women in charge of our manufacturing planets.”

I wanted to sigh but knew better to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. I’ve known these four women for two and half years now. I knew their attitudes towards the male dominated business world. In my first year of driving for Mercedes in Formula One I learned the fast way that they were the real power in the company. No one, and I mean, no one crossed these four women. Not and got away with it once they found out about it. If they wanted to put a woman in charge of the North Carolina planet. Then you can bet your ass there would be a woman in charge of that planet.

“Okay ladies. I’ll do what I can to swing the deal for you.” I gave them all a smile. “Just don’t go pinning all your hopes on a backwoods country girl who loves to drive fast for a living.”

The four women just chuckled and wished me a good day. Once I was alone, I grabbed a pair of field glasses, radio, and climbed on top of my car hauler’s trailer. I spent the rest of the morning helping Beth, Jim, and Sam to find better lines during their test runs. I may not have been able to get in a test run myself, but I could still see the others reacted to the changing track conditions. Shortly after noon dad called me down from my preach.

“Okay Speedy. Your car is ready. Get out there and give me five warm up laps then crank it up to race speed for the next ten. After that bring her back in. Understood?” I paid close attention to what dad was telling me. I knew that he had his reasons for wanting only fifteen laps out of the new power planet. I nodded my head and started climbing into my car. “Oh, and Speedy one more thing. Turns three and four are starting to get a buildup of rubber on the outside line. Stay down low.”

That was all I needed to hear. “Gotcha pop. Stay low, five laps for warmup then ten laps at race speed. After that bring her back in.”

“Good girl. Now get out there and show those three what you can do.” Dad told me as me handed me my helmet.

After strapping in I pulled on my gloves then helmet. I reached over flipped the two battery switches and mashed the starter button. The sounds of the massive V-8 engine coming to life brought a smile to my face. With the help of my pit crew I rolled out of my garage space. I shifted into 1st gear and headed for pit road. As I pull onto pit road, I noticed that the other teams were calling in their drivers. They were clearing the track for me.

I decided to ignore the insult or compliment. I just wanted to test out my new engine. I hit the play button for my iPod, then headed for the exit of pit road. Even as I pulled out onto the track’s inside caution lane. I could already tell that the new engine had more power than the one I used at Pocono. I worked my way through the gears as I drove through turns 1 and 2 then down the back straightaway. God how I love the feel of a stick-shifter, four on the floor transmission. I will give Formula One their due with their pedal shift transmissions, they give you a lot more gears. But in the end, you lose that visceral feel of controlling the car’s unbridled power.

I hold back on the throttle for the first five laps like dad ordered. It takes me close too ten minutes just to make those first five laps. As I come out of turn 4 on the 5th lap I down shift to third gear. As I cross the start finish line, I finally open up the massive V-8 engine and unleash its power.

For the first of those next ten laps I barely tap into all of that power. I just wanted to get a true feel for all that power under the hood. When I pass through the tri-oval section of the track the next time I really open up the engine and go for broke. For the next ten minutes I crank out the tones and pour on the speed as I knockdown the laps one after another. The enter time Kathy keeps up a steady conversation in my ears.

She never once let me go too high into the turns or too low. She must have been watching the others way closer than I was to have figured out the prefect line the way she has. Then again, I’ve said it before. Kathy and her mom can read a track and call a race better than anyone I know. Now, that they’re not having to watch a track filled with more twists and turns than a drunk snake. They’ve only gotten better. On the last lap Kathy calls a warning. “Heads up Bobbie. You’re about to have company. Yup it’s your old friend Caldera. Looks like he wants to prove that he’s better, again.”

“Oh, for the love of little green apples. Forget this crap. I’m bringing her in now. I the entrance to pit road clear Kathy?” I asked as I started to down shift coming off turn 2 onto the back straightaway.

“All clear Bobbie. Don’t down shift too far. That fool is still trying to figure out how to drive with a continuous banking Bobbie.”

Once I heard that I got my ass off the track as fast as I could. I know that I should be more sportive of the other drivers. It’s something about Fontana, and Caldera that rub me the wrong way. As far as I was concerned those two could eat the wall in every race until they lost their rides. I had just pulled to a stop and shutdown the engine in the pit box we were using for testing when Kathy screamed over the all-hands network.

“CRASH TEAMS TO TURN THREE! I REPETE ALL CRASH TEAMS TO TURN THREE!” I dropped the window net and disconnected my helmet. Scrambling out of the car I looked towards turn 3 in horror. There sat Caldera’s car on its roof.

“What the hell happened? He couldn’t have been up to race speed that soon.” I demanded of Danny my jackman.

“He left pit road and dropped the hammer Bobbie. The dumbass was pushing full throttle before he even exited turn two. He went high on the back straightaway into all that loss rubber. He lost control the second he tried to go low to get some control in turn three.” Danny just shook his head. “He lost control went into the infield grass and rolled it.”

We all watched as the emergency crews rushed to the overturned and wrecked car. It didn’t take them long to get Caldera out of the car. I could tell that he was fine just by the way he was walking. “Thank god. He’s alright.”

“I would have thought that you would want to see the man out of racing any way you could Bobbie. I mean don’t you hate the guy?” Danny asked.

“I do want to see him out of the sport Danny. But I don’t hate him. I won’t waste that strong of an emotion on the slug. He’s an egotistical son of a bitch that is going to get himself killed one of these days trying to prove to the world he’s the greatest. I just hope that he doesn’t take some poor unfortunates with him when he does. Especially me.” I grounded out. “Come on let’s put my baby to bed. I need to head back to the hotel and get cleaned up for tonight. I’m sure Beth and the others have already left for the day.”

“About that Bobbie. Do you mind if the rest of us skip the sponsor party? We’re thinking about spending the night taking in some of the Daytona Beach Nightlife. You know hit one of the seafood houses, then have a few drinks, followed by some dancing.” Danny grinned as he wiggled his eyebrows.

I chuckled and nodded my head. “Sure. Have fun and stay out of trouble.”

“Will do boss.” Danny grinned as he tossed me the Boy scout’s three finger salute. “But I doubt we’ll be getting into any trouble as the wives will be with us. the girls have a tendency to keep us out of trouble.”

I had to give it to him there. The women in the pit crews tend to mellow out the more aggressive nature of the men. The problem is the women are more devious in their revenge schemes. That old saying about angelic faces hiding devilish hearts is all too true. Then there is also the fact that most of the girls on our pit crews can handle a firearm better than most men is not common knowledge. They’re more than happy to jump in swing during a fist fight as the next man in line. They can all be real hellcats when pissed off. I remember the last time my pit crew got into it with another team. The girls were right there next to the guys slugging it out.

“Bobbie, I need a word with you before you head back to the hotel.” Dad waved me towards the trailer grinning. Once there, dad turned serious. “Listen up kiddo. I don’t want to worry you, but your mother found where that oil leak was coming from. It’s not good Speedy.”

“How bad is it dad?” I sighed.

“Well there is good news and bad news. The good news is this is not sabotage. The head gasket ruptured. It could have happened anywhere and anytime. My beat is during last weeks race. Seeing as how we were using the same engine from Pocono. The bad news is it’ll take us all night to repair the old engine.” Dad sighed heavily. “If at all possible.”

“Damn. Not good. That means we only have three engines that are ready to go if we blow one between now and Saturday’s race. Not good at all.” I said thoughtfully. I crossed my arms under my breasts and though the situation over. “Dad can we even repair my old engine?”

“Honestly?” He asked then answered as I nodded my head. “Doubtful. I’ll be honest. I got a feeling that there is even more wrong with that engine. Shit that I can’t find until I have completely broken down.”

“Can we get a replacement for it before race time, dad?” I wondered.

“Maybe. Don’t really know. Why?” he asked me.

“Keep the other three backup engines for the others. Call home and have Joey dropship us a replacement overnight. I’ll hold back on the power during qualifying tomorrow as best as I can. That way we’ll still have a replacement engine for me. If push comes to shove.” I explained.

“Okay, Bobbie we’ll go with your plan.” Dad said with a grin. “You know it does a father’s heart good to see their child come into their full potential.”

He pulled me into a tight hug. “You’ve done me proud Bobbie.”

“Thanks dad.” I sniffled as I let him hold me tight.

He pulled back turned me towards my bus and swatted me on the ass. “Now get. You got a party to get ready for tonight. As for the COWWs ignore whatever they wanted you to do. Have some fun and relax. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a good time for all.”

-----tbc-----

---

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.

---

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-----

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Chapter 5
ISA Dayton Thunder Rolls 400, Inaugural Race, Saturday

I woke to the sounds of the most disgusting thing on earth. The American Alarm clock by Big Ben clockworks. I slap my hand down across the button to silence the offending time piece. “One of these I’ll get me a real alarm clock. One that plays music maybe.”

I roll out of my lonely bed wishing that Kelly were here. I know that she’s at home taking care of the twins. I know that our agreement was that she would stay home until the kids were old enough to travel better. I also know that, that time was a long way off. At least for all of the races in the countries outside of the Continental United States. The kids will be 5 to 6 years old before they’re ready to travel with me to the overseas tracks.

I swipe the hair out of my face and head for the bathroom. After taking care of my swollen bladder. I dress and head down to the hotel gym for a quick workout. I chuckle as I walk into the gym. As usual I find my pit crew along with everyone else from MRI working out. And as usual I’m the last one down. Not that I really care. Coach Hall knowns that I push myself harder than anyone else on the race teams. Only two people for the all of the teams match my daily workout. Coach Hall and Kathy Hall, the teams’ two senior spotters.

My brother Joey and his partner in crime David “Specs” Worth are the other two spotters for the team. The two have been pushing themselves to catch up with the rest of the guys on the teams. Not that I’m surprised by this. Both my brother and Specs are members of the Blue Devils. There’s no way in hell they’re going to let down their club. Especially not when Joey is dating the founder of the Blue Devils, Stephany Stone. Slow Jake Stone’s daughter.

Joey and Specs may not be able to match that Kathy and her mom. But they don’t have too. They’re on par with the rest of the spotters in the ISA. If not better than most of them. The only spotters that are better than them is Kathy and her mom, Coach Hall. As I head for the bench press station, I see Coach Hall and Kathy working the leg press station. I swear those two have legs muscles made of steel cables. Kathy maybe one of the smaller girls on the team but she is one of the strongest. Then again when you have a mother who is former professional Cheerleader you don’t have a chance to slack off. Not in your physical fitness anyway.

“Bobbie you owe me two extra miles for being late.” Coach Hall called out.

“Yes, Coach!” I yelled back. “Can I give them to you on Monday?”

“I except to see at the garage first thing Monday morning, young lady.”

“I’ll be there Coach.” I grunt out as I left the weight bar off the rack.

“Beth don’t overdo it on those leg lefts. I don’t need you pulling another just before a race damn it. Tony how many times do I have to get after you about sparring on the day of a race. That’s an extra fifty pushups for the both of you. Steve, Jim, I know that you’re not used to our race day routine yet. But if you two don’t quite trying to outdo each other. I’ll personally beat the crap out of you.” Coach Hall was in full on Valkyrie mood again. Maybe I should say as usual. The woman becomes a tyrant in the gym. I just concentrate on my workout as the Coach chews out individuals around the gym. Even she goes through her own workout.

After forty-five minutes Coach Hall yells out to me and the other drivers. “All drivers clear the gym. I want you four showered, dressed, and down at the track in two hours for race briefing.”

Jim, Sam, both yelled out. “Yes, ma’am.”

“On the way Coach.” Beth called back.

When I gave my answer of almost done Coach Hall corrected me with her usual commanding authoritative method. “I SAID NOW! BOBBIE!”

I knew the command for what it was and headed for my room. I knew better than to argue with Coach Hall. Not when she is using that tone of voice. I reached up and shut down the treadmill I was on. Like Sam, Jim, and Beth, I headed for my room while the pit crews finished with their workouts. As I entered my room, I saw the time. Damn, we were going to be pushing it. With just two and a half hours to get ready and hold the race briefing. We would just be on time for the drivers’ briefing, then introductions.

Needless to say, I hit the shower and got dressed in my Nomex plus leathers in record time. I catch a ride down to the track with Beth. The nice thing about staying at a hotel with a helo-pad we don’t have to worry about traffic. At least not on the way to and from the track. Now, during the race that is another matter entirely. The good thing about having the pole position for a good portion of the race I should be out in front of the traffic. The bad thing about having the pole position is I’ll be out in front. With a great fucking big target painted on my ass.

A target that every racer out there will be looking to put holes in. To include my own sister and teammates. The kick in the ass until they can work their way through the pack. I’ll be all out there on my own. I got one driver from all the other teams between me and my next teammate, Sam back in 11th place on the 6th row. Beth and Jim have the 13th and 14th pole positions in row 7. Still all things considered I’m reminded of the words from a great man. “I want to be up front racing.”.

Beth placed her hand on my left knee as we crossed over the grandstands to come in for a landing. Even after all the times we have taken helicopter flights from hotels to racetracks around the world. Beth still can’t stand to ride in a helicopter. She’ll take the inner most seat for every ride. As Tony is normally with us, she is the one in the middle. I reach down and pat her hand smiling. “We’re almost down, sis. The ride is just about over.”

“Thanks for taking the outside seat, Bobbie.” Beth whispered. “I don’t know why but I can drive at two-hundred plus without a problem. The minute I have to fly in damned helicopter I get the shacks. Doc Shelly has been able to figure out why either.”

“Forget about it, Beth. We all understand.” I told her as the helicopter sit down. “Now do me a favor. Go to your trailer and get your head in the game.”

“Now that we’re down, I’ll be fine sis.” Beth sighed. “Just let me get out before I leave my morning tea on the floor.”

I popped the side door and jumped to the ground. I watched as Tony helped Beth out his side of the helicopter. Once we were clear the helicopter headed back to the hotel for his next batch of drivers. I have to give it to the ISA. They have gone out of their way to treat us drivers like superstars. I kind of wish that they would let up on the security though. It makes going for my morning runs a real bitch. Unless I have at least four of the guys from my pit crew with me. The security goons won’t let me out the door.

When I bitched about this back at Pocono I got laughed at by the male drivers. Only the six other female drivers and my sister gave me any sympathy. It was until later that I found out that the ISA Officials had stuck all female drivers with slightly heavy security concerns. More than a few of us female drivers have been threaten by upset fans of other male drivers. Fans that believe their drivers were cheated because of political correctness among the ISA officials and Regulations Committee.

I know that neither Beth nor I have received any threats. Then again, we’re a known quantity in the world of Stockcars thanks to our parents. A lot of the other female drivers are just starting out in the Stockcar field. They’re all rookies to stockcar racing. Most of them have never been behind the wheel of a Stockcar racer until eight months ago. Not that they can’t drive. Of those eight women, six of them are former Indy drivers, one is a Sports car driver, and the last one is a Turning car driver. These women are some of the best in their fields. Three of them even have championships trophies on their mantels in their offices.

Not that it matters with this crowd of drivers. Around here it truly is a battle of the sexes at times. When one quarter of your star athletes are beautiful young women, between 20 and 35, in great shape, you have a primetime draw on your hands. Last week’s race put the sport on the TV ratings map with the male Stockcar fans because of the wreck. But it was the ten female drivers that drew in the female fans of the sport. Having so many female drivers also drew in some real sickos as well.

Sadly, stalkers have become a real threat in this day and age of the World Wide Web for female sports celebrities. Beth and I have both dealt with a few stalkers in our careers over the last two years. The worse one was a guy from Pamplona, Spain. That was last year at the Barcelona race. The bastard had snuck into my trailer. The guys in my pit crew beat the crap out of him. When Track Security searched the man, they found a pair of my panties in one of his pockets. The beating he got from my pit crew was nothing compared to what the Security and Police did to him.

I won’t even go into what happened to Beth’s little stalking problem. I’ll only say that if a woman has a former Mixed Marshal Arts Champion for a husband or boyfriend who now bends wrenches for their living. Stay away from her. Far away from her. People like Tony tend to break bones and dislocate joints when they get upset. When they get pissed off let’s just say they like to beat you to within an inch of their lives. Because it will take longer. I will say that after word got out about what happened to Beth’s stalker, she hasn’t had a similar problem sense.

“G’day, Bobbie!” I turned smiling at the sound of the thick Aussie accent that belongs to only female Australian driver, Violet ‘Tiger snake’ Knight. “Where’s that bloody legless shark biscuit you call a brother?”

I could tell by the none too subtle smile on her face that Joey had done something to get under the Aussie’s skin. I just sighed. “What did that ignorant redneck little brother of mine do this time Violet?”

“The little bugger put a barbie in-a-box with a esky of shrimp in my pit box. That’s what he did.” Violet chuckled. “He could have at least left me some coal for the barbie.”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to laugh. I know that it wasn’t cool, but this was one of Joey’s best pranks yet. For some reason Violet was his favorite target for his practical jokes. “Sorry, about that Violet. I’ll get you the coal for your grill. I hope you got that shrimp on ice?”

“Of course! No reason to waist good tiger tails over a laugh. You know for a rowdy bunch of bogans your mates are right clever.” Violet chuckled then smiled as Joey entered the pit area. “Though your little bru is a right beauty for a Bruce. Any chance for a Shella like me self with him?”

“Sorry, Violet. But he already has a girlfriend back home.” I told her with as bright a smile I could gave her trying to lessen the blow to her ego. “You’d like her. She’s a nice young lady with a love for classic cars. We’re all hoping that Joey puts a ring on her finger before the end of the year.”

“Fuck Me Dead! That little wanker! Then what’s with all the pranks?” Violet asked me with more than a little confusion.

This time I sighed before answering her. “Violet, you remember back during the practices leading up to the race last week?” The Aussie woman nodded her head. “Do you remember how you gave Joey that wet-willie?” Again, Violet nodded. “Well, you fired the first shoot in a prank war. Against an enemy that has been well tutored in the art of the prank.”

“Oh shit! He’s not going to stop until I wave the white flag is, he?” Violet grinned. “How bad will it get?”

“Let’s just say that I learned long ago to not prank my little brother.” I told her with a grin. “Beat the shit out of him in a fist fight sure, but not go head to head with him in prank war.”

“Why?” Violet asked me warily.

“Because my little brother’s mind is so twisted that I doubt only one man can match him.” I grinned evilly then closed my eyes and bowed with my hands clasped. “Our father, Grand Master in ways of the Prank he is.”

Beth just groaned as she walked up next to us. “Argh! You just did not Yoda her, Bobbie. Especially on race day.”

“She did.” Violet laughed. “Good on ya’ Bobbie. I’ll be seeing you on the track. Today should be fun.”

As the tall Aussie red head walked a way, I turn to go find Joey. I needed to have a word with my little brother. Even if it meant using a 2x4 to get the point across with him. “JOEY! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”

At the sound of anger in my voice Joey showed the better part of valor. He took off as if his ass were on fire. Beth, Sam, and Jim busted out laughing at the sight of me getting ready to chase him down. The only thing that stopped the inevitable chase and beatdown, was the one person that gave me more pause than mom and dad, Coach Hall. “Don’t do it Bobbie!”

“Yes coach.” I grumbled knowing full well that I would be the one to pay for Joey’s latest prank. No matter what my reasons for giving Joey a life altering beating. Now was not the time for that. I needed to get my head in the game. “Let’s go guys. I can tell the Coach wants to go over the track before we have our drivers’ meeting. Not that we really need it. I think all of us have dreamed of racing here at least once in our lives.”

“THAT is beside the point, Roberta.” Coach Hall snapped as we neared her table. “You may have set the record yesterday during Qualifying but all that changes today. Yesterday’s Qualifying was held during the morning and afternoon. Today’s race starts under the early afternoon sun and ends in the late afternoon sun. Trust me boys and girls the track conditions will be changing throughout the race. If you don’t stay on top of the changes. Your parents will kill my ass.”

“Trust us Coach. We know.” Sam said coming to my rescue. “The area that will give us the most problems is going to be Turn Three going into Turn Four. The later in the race we get the more the sun’s glair will come into play during the exit. Then there is the shadow from the Sprint tower and front straightaway grandstands will also screw with the track temp in the trioval.”

“Very good Sam. Now, what can you tell me about the super stretch?” Coach hall asked with shit eating grin.

“Well, for starters it would help if we had a map, Coach.” Sam complained.

Coach Hall just smirked and rolled out a printed color map of the Daytona International Speedway. “Does this help?”

“It does Coach.” Sam ran his finger along turn 2, to turn 3 covering the super stretch. “The nice thing about this whole stretch of the track is one thing. The track temp stays the same. The track temp doesn’t start to fall off until well after sunset. The only real problem we’ll face out there today is a buildup of rubber up near the outer wall.”

“What about down on the apron?” Coach Hall asked quickly.

“That depends on what the race officials declare out of bounds. If they say anything below the yellow line is a no-go unless for emergencies. Then sure we could probably make a pass using the apron with ease.” Jim answered for Sam. “The problem though isn’t going to be where we race on the track, Coach. The problem is going to be who we race with.”

“Explain.” Coach Hall asked of Jim.

“This track it is all about the draft and pack racing. Aerodynamics may have played a big part in last week’s race. But they’re doubly important here.” Jim explained. “This is one time when who you’re running with will play a major part in where you finish. Because once the field starts running side-by-side and more than six deep. It won’t matter how fast your car is or how big your lead. The pack will real you back in. It’s not a matter of how long it takes. They will be chomping on your ass sooner or later.”

“Very good James. Now which one of you two Stockcar drivers can tell me how you plan to work your way through the pack?” Coach Hall looked expectantly at Sam and Jim. “Remember gentlemen, the main goal for ISA race teams is the Manufacturers Championship Cup. Just like it is in Formula One.”

“Oh, man. I totally forgot about that aspect.” Sam bitched then looked over at Beth and me. “Sorry about that girls.”

I just waved it away, while Beth grinned. “Forget about it Sam. It took us a while to get used to the Manufacturer’s Cup being more important than the Driver’s Cup. Sure, we all got a deferent sponsor on our cars, but we all represent the same manufacturer Mercedes-Benz. They expect us to win as a team at the end of the season. To do that we need as many top five finishes as we can get our hands on.”

“Beth is right guys. Until the last lap out there we race as a team. Doing our best to get everyone into the top five positions.” I explained for them. Then gave them all an evil grin. “That is until the white flag. Then all bets are off and it’s every man or woman for themselves.”

Coach Hall chuckled than began to go over the specs of the track. “Okay you jokers. Listen up. Daytona’s tri-oval is two point five miles long with thirty-one degrees banking in the turns and eighteen degrees banking at the start/finish line. The front straight is thirty-eight-hundred feet long and the super stretch is three-thousand feet long. Now the tri-oval shape was designed with the fans in mind. It is also one of the two tracks in the NASCAR Cup Series circuit that uses restrictor plates to slow the cars down due to the high speeds. Average lap time for most stockcars during a race is less than a minute.”

“Damn, Coach Hall! You really know a lot about Daytona. I thought you were a professional Football Cheerleader. Not a track groupie.” Beth smirked.

“I’ll have you know that I was no ordinary Football Cheerleader Beth. I was a Dallas Cowgirl.” Coach Hall sniffed airily. Then giggled. “But Kathy’s father on the other hand was the original Daytona Beachcomber or maybe bum would be a better word for him. He’s also a bigger adrenaline junkie than all four of you put together. He flies civilian Hurricane Hunters for NOAH.”

“He’s not a junkie, he’s crazy.” I corrected her. “Coach I may drive my racecar at one-ninety plus. But I’m not crazy enough to do it in a hurricane.”

“That’s debatable.” Jim stage whispered as he turned his head to the side.

Our little briefing was interrupted by the call for the drivers’ meeting. “All drivers report to the Officials’ tent. All drivers report for briefing.”

“Got to go Coach. We’ll be back later.” Beth told her.

“No, you won’t. Remember you got the driver introductions, then the fan meet and greet. All that is followed by the opening ceremonies. During which I got to get my happy ass up to the spotters’ nest.” Coach Hall corrected us. “Just remember what I told you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” We all called out and headed for the drivers’ briefing.

The drivers’ meeting took the better part of thirty minutes. They went over the standard Fueling procedures, Fire caution, extinguisher requirement. Spill cleanup procedures. The Flags and Control, Flag drills. Emergency Procedures. What to do for a Rollover. What to if you’re injured. Pit road speeds, Pitting procedures. At the end of the meeting the Officials had every driver sign the track race release forms.

I found out during the meeting that Toto would not only not be returning for today’s race but her wouldn’t be returning to racing at all. The man was lucky that he was still a live, but his lower spine was severed. It’ll take time but with hard work he’ll be able to walk again sometime in the future. It didn’t matter. His racing carrier was over.

His team owners called in a replacement driver for today’s race from the NASCAR Xfinity series for a one-time race. From what the other drivers on his team were saying their owners were going after a driver on the Super GT circuit. I hope they can get either Yoshiie Erika or Yuuma Arei. Their team is the only one without a female driver.

After the meeting we all went straight to the driver introductions. After another thirty minutes all forty drivers have walked across the stage to thunderous applause from our fans. The stands were filled with more than just the fans that followed us from our old sports. There were just as many NASCAR fans here as well. It seems that last weekend’s race had brought a good number of the diehard Stockcar fans over to our side.

A lot of these fans were surprised at the number of female drivers in our sport. I had one mother and daughter pair asking me where I was from. When they found out that I was born and raised in Darlington their heads spun. They really got a kick when I told that I had raced for two seasons in Formula One and that I had already seen a good deal of the world. They were surprised to learn that our next two race were in Japan.

Like a lot of the other drivers I had a stack of fifty pamphlets with the racing schedule. I signed two of them for the mother and daughter. They weren’t the only ones to learn that the ISA would be racing at tracks around the world. I must have signed more than forty of the fifty pamphlets and passed them out to fans. I gave one pamphlet to each group of fans that I signed autographs for. I must have signed everything from t-shirts, hats, cups, even diecast models of my car. I didn’t know those were out yet and I wanted one of them for my own collection dang it. When the time came to start the race, I was sad to see the fans go.

Unlike the fans of Formula One racing who were from around the world. These people were my countrymen. They were Americans that were accepting a new sport with open minds. It didn’t matter to them that most of us drivers were from another country. We were Stockcar racers in their eyes. That’s all that mattered to them in the long run. They had come out to see a race at one of the most famous NASCAR Tracks in all the world. That is what we’re going to give them today. One that they’ll never forget.

The fans here today will be able to tell their grandchildren of the first ever, Thunder Rolls 400. A 400-mile race broken down into 4 stages of 40 laps each for a total of 160 laps. I barely pay attention to the invocation by Reverend Zachary Greene. I do pay attention for the national anthem and the flyover by the F-15 Eagles.

Once the flyover and national anthem were over with, we climbed into our cars. Each driver eagerly pulled their safety harness tight. I cued up my race mix on my iPod. Ear plugs were put in and radios synced up. Helmets, gloves, were pulled on. Window Safety nets were raised and secured. Final safety and radio checks were made. Once again 40 drivers and over 150,000 fans waited for those four words. “Drivers! Start! Your! Engines!”

I flipped the dual battery switches and push the starter button. I send up a prayer for my engine to start. When it does, I give out a sigh of relief. I know that it sounds crazy, but the fear of my engine failing to start is a real one. Last year in Formula One I had one DNF due to an engine failing to start at the signal. Talk about embarrassing. I have one last thing to do before the race starts as we roll off pit road. I hit the play button for my iPod. The sounds of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song fill my ears as we pull onto the track. I chuckle as it is the prefect song to get me in the mood to drive the wheels of my car.

We lined up behind the pace car. For the next five laps I sit there riding around the track staring at those flashing yellow lights. The whole time I get more and more worked up. Then as we drop down onto the super stretch the pace car’s caution lights go off. I spot the Honorary Flag Marshal taking the stand. It is time to go racing. As we exit turn 4 the pace car drops down pit road. I down shift and wait for the green flag to fly. When it does, I drop the hammer and power down the front straightaway heading for turn 1. I up shift into fourth gear just before entering turn 1.

As I round turn 1 into turn 2 the opening notes of Richard Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries blares in my ears. The first thought that crosses my mind is what the fuck. Then I remember that I had let Joey hold my iPod while I went to the drivers’ meeting. I don’t know why but I just busted out laughing and powered down the super stretch pulling away from the pack. For the next 5 minutes I do nothing but pull away from the pack.

By the time we’ve put 6 laps in the books my lead is more than three and a half car lengths while steadily growing. As I exit turn 4 headed for the tri-oval front straightaway I’m greeted AC/DC’s Highway to Hell. I have to give it to Joey. His little joke of playing around with my race mix was one of his best. The only problem was it backfired on him. All it did was motivate me even more. Because after 10 laps I was so far out in front that I was remind of a YouTube video of the 1985 Daytona 500 and Bill Elliot’s victory in a Ford Thunderbird that day. The ’85 Ford Thunderbirds were damned near unstoppable. That was the way that I felt today.

A feeling that continued to grow with each passing green flag lap. Right alone with my lead. By lap 30 I had a 7-car length lead. I also knew that I would need to pit soon. The performance of my car was starting to slip. That meant two things. First, my tires were worn and losing grip. Second, I was running out of fuel. Both of which could cost me the race. I hated it, but I pulled down off the track onto pit road on lap 31.

As I entered my pit box the guys and gals of my pit crew cleared the wall in record time. I could tell by the way they were moving that this was going to be one of their fast pit stops. If not a record breaker. I felt the right side of my car bounce into the air as Dan jacks up that side of the car. Greg slams the first gas can into the intake before the car is even off the ground. I can hear Chief Hailee shouting over the screams of Casey and Sherry’s air guns. “GO! GO! MOVE IT PEOPLE!”

Before I know it, the left side is in the air and Greg was stuffing a second can of fuel into the tank. Casey and Sherry have their air guns screaming before the tires are even off the ground. Joseph and Will are moving like there is no tomorrow. They have the old tires over the wall and the new tires in place before I realize what’s going on. Before Danny drops the jack, Will rips off the first tearaway giving me a clear view. The second that the left side of my car hits the ground Chief Hailee is already screaming in my ear. “GO! GO! GO!”

Even as I pullout of the first pit box Kathy is all over the radio. “Stand on it Bobbie. Half the field followed you in for green flag pit stops. The rest stay out for now. The other teams are bringing in only half their drivers on this lap. The rest will have their pit stops on the next lap.”

“Damn. Sounds like the other teams are playing the fuel game.” I bitched over the radio. “Not good. Kathy keep an eye on those cars that stayed out. If any of them run out of fuel give me a shout.”

“What are you thinking Bobbie?”

“That someone out here is going to be running on fumes deliberately. Remember a lot of these drivers and Crew Chiefs came over from Formula One and Indy where the manufacturer’s race is more important.” I explained my thoughts. “I wouldn’t put it pass them to deliberately run one of their cars dry. Just to get a better handle on fuel management.”

“You really don’t think they’ll try something like that?” Kathy asked before continuing. “Never mind. Dumb question on my part.”

I didn’t bother with answering as I powered round the track. It didn’t take long for the rest of the field to cycle through their green flag stops. We stayed green for the rest of the first stage. I took the green/white checkered flag signaling the end of the stage. It also signaled my win for the stage. The pack gathered up behind the pace car on lap 41. On lap 42 the whole field was once more on pit road for fuel and tires. My pit crew turned in a prefect pit stop in record time. I pulled out just as Beth pulled up to the rear of my pit box. It was a race to the exit. I beat her off pit road by inches. As we lined up the pace car, I took the inside position with Beth on my right door. I keyed my mike.

“Okay Kathy, give me a breakdown on the field. Who’s on first?”

“On the Front Row we have the McGuire Ice Cold Furies. In the Second Row we have the Flying Dutchman with the Gal from down under. Followed up by everyone’s favorite Rednecks from Darlington.” I wanted to laugh at the descriptions Kathy was giving for the drivers. By the time she got done I was short of breath. I swear the girl has been spending way too much time watching old horserace videos. Some of her descriptions sounded like racehorse names. I mean come on, who in their right mind would give a race car driver a nickname like the Leaping Frog, Italian Sausage, or English Butler. Then again Kathy always did have a twisted sense of humor.

We followed the pace car for one more lap before they turned off their flashing yellows. Once again, the pace car pulled off onto the pit road the green flag signaled the restart of the race. It was a drag race between me and Beth to see who would lead coming out of turns 1 and 2. It stayed that way for the rest of the lap until we exited turn 4.

I was finally able to pull ahead of Beth enough to block her. From there out Beth stayed tucked in tight to my rear bumper. I thought that I had speed before. Now it’s taking all of my skills to control the monster under me. Thanks to Beth splitting the draft with me the performance of my car has gone through the roof.

The tighter she hugged my bumper that faster we went. After 4 laps we were 8 cars lengths in front of the pack. The race for the stage win was between the two of us. Everyone else was racing for third place. Then at lap 68 all that went away. We had our first wreck of the race.

It was a single car wreck. Sadly, it was one of my guys. Jim blew his right front tire going into turn 3. He hit the retaining wall at just the right angle to ride it around and come to a stop on the exit to turn 4. The yellow flag comes out just as I pull onto the super stretch. I start backing down on the throttle just as the pace car pulls onto the track.

As I pass Jim, I see him climbing out of his car. I can tell by his body langue that he’s pissed. “Kathy let Slow Jack know that he is pissed.”

“Jim has every right to be pissed Bobbie. That worthless piece of shit Hartman cut down his right front tire during the pass. It’s damned miracle that only Jim wrecked. Oh hell! Jim just threw his helmet at Hartman.”

Oh man! Not fucking good. The Marshals are going to slap Jim with a heavy fine, suspension, or both. Then again, they might do nothing. This is Stockcar racing after all. It takes a shit load more than a thrown helmet to damage one of these cars or hurt a driver. From the reactions of the fans. I think that the Marshals will do nothing.

I can tell that Jim is going to be a fan favorite after that little stunt. All we need now is a cat fight in the pits or in the infield after a wreck. I just don’t want it to be me in that wreck. The fight now that is another story. I won’t mind getting into a nice knock down drag out brawl with one of the other drivers if it reinforced my bad girl reputation.

The Officials open pit road on lap 70 and I lead the field down off the track. I roll all the way to the first pit box. As I came to a stop my pit crew were over the wall, and 12.8 seconds later I had 4 fresh tires, and a full tank of fuel. Once again as I came down of the jack it was a drag race between Beth and me for the exit. Only this time we had company. In the form of Violet ‘Tiger snake’ Knight. It was a three wide drag race.

I just barely beat out Violet by inches. While we both beat Beth by a car door. I couldn’t figure out how Violet had jumped more than 8 positions. I keyed my mike. “Kathy how in the name of all nine hells. Did the Tiger snake jump eight positions?”

“That’s simple. Two tires instead of four. Only one can of fuel. That’s how. She isn’t the only one to short pit Bobbie. Only the top ten drivers took four tires and two cans of fuel. If it hadn’t been for your pit box positions. You and Beth would have been shuffled back like the rest.”

“Damn. The other teams have figured out the fuel and tire window. Not good Kathy. Pass the word to Beth and Sam. We need to hook up as soon as possible.” I couldn’t believe what happened. The other teams had figured out a way to beat us by using the fuel and tire window. “Dad, we got a problem.”

“What’s up kiddo?” Dad answered over the radio.

“They’ve figured out the window. That’s what is up.” I told him.

“No, they haven’t Bobbie.” Mom chuckled. “They’re rolling the dice on track position over fuel economy and tire ware.”

“You sure about that mom?” I normally don’t question mom like this, but this was Daytona. A track that was known for being unpredictable.

“Trust me Bobbie. I’m sure. The end of this stage is less than twenty laps away. We got two more stages to go. I give them five to seven laps before they’re swallowed up by the pack. You just run your race.” Mom told me.

“Okay if you’re sure. Where’s Sam? How far back did he get shuffled?” This was something that worried me. I didn’t want to leave my teammate hanging out there on his own.

“Bobbie this is one time that Sam is on his own. At least until the next stage or there’s a wreck.” Dad answered for me. “Whichever comes first.”

I didn’t like the sounds of that. If mom and dad were telling me to not worry about Sam. Then I had to follow their directions. I may not like it, but that was the name of the game. I could only hope that Sam can work his way back up through the field. As we round turn 4 the pace car dropped off the track. The green flag waved, and we were racing once again.

I was expecting Violet to falloff long before we reached the exit to turn 4. Yet she was still there knocking on the right-side door panel. Even with Beth pushing me as hard as she could. It didn’t make any sense. Then it hit me. Violet was using the side draft off my car to stay alongside. The sneaky bitch was using one of the oldest tricks in the book. I forgot that Violet got her start on the IROC circuit.

We battled for the lead for another 2 laps before things got interesting. It was on lap 84 when it started. Halfway back in the pack two cars tangled and went into the wall. By the time the last car got mixed up in the wreck seven car were out of the race and four others were damaged. The yellow flag came out and 2 laps later the cars that only two tires were pitting again. Mom made the call for us to stay out. I chuckled as I watch Violet led those cars down onto pit road. Their gamble may have paid off in the short run, but it came back on them in the long run.

On lap 93 the green flag waved again, and we were back to racing. Beth didn’t even bother with racing me for turn 1. She just dropped in behind me and started pushing. I don’t know where he came from, but Sam was right behind Beth by the time we entered turn 4 heading for the tri oval. Kathy radioed in letting me know that Panos Kontotis for Prototype Outcasts was right behind Sam. As we took the green/white checkered flag on lap 100 I knew that the race was half over and so far, I had led almost every lap.

If I kept up this pace, then I would be joining a every elite group of drivers. Pole position winners at Daytona. Of which there are only 7. I would be joining the ranks of Fireball Roberts, Richard Petty, Cale Yarborough, Buddy Baker, Bill Elliott, Jeff Gordon, and Dale Jarrett. This is one time I really hope Murphy stays home.

I hit pit road for 4 fresh tires and 2 cans of fuel. I’m surprised when everyone came down for a pit stop. Even the teams that had come in back on lap 93. The race off pit road was won by Beth and then Sam by half a car length. Halfway through my pit stop Sherry’s air gun jammed. Thank God we keep spares just on the other side of the wall. It still cost my pit crew 2 seconds on the stop. Just enough time for Beth and Sam to clear me.

As we lined up for the restart, I was in third place. With Violet in fourth place. This next stage was going to be a bitch. With Sam and Beth both in front and Violet next to me. There was no way I could just power away pass them. I was going be fighting for the lead. There went my chance at setting the most laps led in a race at Dayton record. I still had a chance to join the Pole Position Winners. As I waited for the green flag to drop on stage 3, I planned my return to the front. It was risky. It wasn’t something that I would do on old tires. It was also something that I had warned a Formula One driver about two years ago.

The pace car turned off its caution lights halfway down the super stretch. As we exited off turn 4 on lap 102 the green flag waved again. As the pack powered down the front straightaway across the tri oval I dropped to the inside of Beth. I took Beth and Sam three wide into turn 1 at full throttle. We hit the turn at over 190mph to the sounds of Metallica’s Metal Gods.

I pushed my car to its limits as I powered way past my sister and Sam. When we exit turn 2 onto the super stretch Sam and Beth lineup on my bumper with Violet right behind Sam. Our 4-car train slowly starts to pull away from the rest of the field. By the time we exit turn 4 we have a 3-car lead on the rest of the field. As we cross the tri oval on the front straightaway our lead is almost 5 car lengths. It didn’t take me long to figure out what was going on. While Beth, Sam, and Violet were pushing me around the track. I was pulling them along behind me.

Over the next 18 laps the race stayed green. At lap 120 I took the green/white checkered flag winning stage 3. I led our little group down pit road. Violet was the first one to hit her pit box. Next was Sam, then Beth. I was the last one to hit their pit box. When I rolled out 13.4 seconds later it was with 4 fresh tires and 2 cans of fuel stuffed into my tank. I led the other three back out onto the track in the order we came in. My race mixed had gone from classical music to hard rock to techno to classical rock. Each song felt right for some reason.

With 39 laps to go I rolled down pit road hopefully for the last time. I had been running the math in my head. I had a plan for winning. I just needed Chief Hailee to confirm my numbers. I keyed my radio. “Chief can we make this last stage on one stop?”

“Forget it Bobbie. We’ve run all the numbers five times. You’ve been pushing the car flat out. You, Beth, and Sam will be six to seven laps short of a full stage. Even with two or three yellow flags with four laps each. You’ll still fall short two to three laps short.”

How could my calculations be off by so much. “Chief are you sure?”

“Trust me Bobbie. The fuel mileage isn’t there. No one is can make it with this as their last stop.” Chief Hailee confirmed my worse fear. “I figure around lap one-forty to one-forty-five we’ll start seeing green flag stops.”

“Then let’s pray for at least five yellow flags. If not, I’ll see you around lap one-forty-five.” I radioed back as we lined up behind the pace car on lap 122. As we entered turn 3 the pace car turned off its lights and dropped down for the entrance to pit road. With 38 laps to go the green flag waved and we were back to racing.

Again, I had Beth, Sam, and Violet riding my ass. Just like the last time we pulled away from the field. For the next 10 laps our 4-car train led the field by 7 ½ car lengths. All that disappeared on lap 137. Kathy was warning me about the wreck before we even cleared the midway point on the super stretch, or the yellow flag came out.

“Brake Bobbie! Four car wreck in turn four! Back of the pack. Stijn Bargboer for Northern Alliance spun out in the middle of turn three. He clipped Mori Unkei from King Night and Nazarova Grigorievna of Red Star during his spin. Taking all three out. Siegmund Kühne for Thunder Valley had the bad luck of plowing into them when he tried to avoid the wreck by going to the outside.”

The pace car quickly pulled out to gather up the field. I began to wonder if I can really pull this off. Of 138 laps I’ve led 127. The pace car leds us around for 2 laps before pit road opens. At lap 140 I led the pack down off the track for our last pit stop. My crew was over the wall and has me heading back out in record time. And I mean a record time 13.94 seconds for 4 tires and 2 cans of fuel. It was another race off pit road.

Only this time it was between Sam and me. Beth’s crew turned in a slightly slower pit stop because of a bad jack. Violet was nowhere to be seen. Kathy told me that her engine stalled out and she had to restart.

I swear Murphy has been playing marry hell with the pit crews today. There had been 6 jammed air guns, 3 jack failures for deferent reasons, 9 dropped lug nuts, and 1 ruptured air hose. Out of 40 pit crews that is a total of 19 equipment failures. Now if I were a suspicious person, I would believe that someone was sabotaging the teams. But this is racing, and shit happens.

I had 20 laps to the checkered flag and 28 drivers still gunning for my ass. As we round turn 4 on lap 142 the green flag waves and were back to racing. I felt Beth hit my rear bumper and start pushing. I know I’ve got the race, but Sam is still glued to my door.

“Bobbie drop the hammer girl. Sam is being pushed by two drivers from Horn Thomas Racing, Ben Baldwin and Ronan Bain. They got the power to drive past you in turn three if you and Beth don’t get out front now.”

Hearing this I do the only thing I can. I drop as low as I can on the track. I take Beth with me. We hit the super stretch finally pulling away from Sam and the two HTR cars. As we pass Sam, he drops down onto Beth’s rear bumper. Over the next 2 laps the three of us pull away from the rest of the field. I don’t let up on the throttle. The next 16 laps we run nose to tail. When we exit turn 4 on lap 159, I spot the white flag signaling the final lap.

We cross the start/finish line and all hell breaks loose. Beth goes low to the inside and Sam went high to the outside. We take turn 1 three wide at full throttle. We exit turn 2 still going three wide and pushing the 200mph mark. We stay three wide down the super stretch. Then as we enter turn 3, I finally pull ahead of them both. But not by much. This is Stockcar racing at its finest. We come off turn 4 heading for the start/finish trading door paint as we cross the line. We’re so close together that I have no freaking idea of who’s won as we pass under the checkered flag.

“Bobbie, the officials want you, Beth, and Sam to hold on the super stretch.”

“Okay, what’s going on Kathy?” I asked.

“They’re trying to figure out who won.”

“What the hell do you mean?” I asked in confusion. “They just need to pull up the video of the finish.”

“Um… Bobbie. They already have. They’re still trying to figure things out.”

After 10 minutes Grégory Van Den Houte Chief Commissioner for the ISA finally announced the winner over the racetrack’s loudspeakers. “Ladies and Gentlemen the winner of the Thunder Rolls four-hundred is Mrs. Roberta McGuire by one-one-thousandth of a second.”

Holy shit I did it. I actually pulled it off. My name will be added to the names of such greats as Gordon, Ellet, Roberts, and Petty. I won a Daytona International Speedway race from the pole. One of only 7 now 8 people to have such a feat. When I didn’t rollout for Victory Lane, Kathy came up on the radio. “Bobbie, you alright? Is there something wrong with the car?”

I had to shack my head. “I’m on the way, Kathy. I just need a moment.”

“Do that later girlfriend. You’ve got a burnout to perform. Then got your second ISA trophy to pick up in Victory Lane.” Kathy chuckled. “That’s two in a row, girlfriend. Where to next?”

I could only give her a hopeful answer. “The record books, Kathy.”

-----tbc-----

Special thanks go to the newest member of my pack for this chapter, Karen Wolf for all of her hard work in both editing and story line dialog.

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Total number of drivers 40. Number of company teams 10. Number of tracks 20. Number of countries 12. Time frame 6 months. Number of Fallen Angels hooked on speed 2. The McGuire sisters are back and they’re out for blood in the newly founded International Stockcar Racing Association. After two years driving the Formula One circuit Professional Drivers Roberta Bobbie McGuire and her sister Elisabeth ‘Beth’ McGuire have made real names for themselves. The two young ladies took the world by storm in their first year by placing 3rd and 4th in the Championship points race. Now their plans and dreams of starting in the International Stockcar Association have come to fruition. The Fury twins plan to prove to the world they belong in Stockcar Racing. And they don’t care who they have to put into the wall to bring home the inaugural championship.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” Bill asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why did you?” Sally snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One-forty-two.” I giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Last night I got a full breakdown on Mitsubishi Island Speedway. “It’s a two-and half-mile stadium paperclip.” Beth said as she pulled onto the Interstate heading for the airport. “It was built on the same lines of Martinsville, only longer. Total length is two point five miles. Maximum banking is twelve degrees in the four turns covering one-thousand-three-hundred-twenty feet. The front and backstretch are five-thousand-two-hundred-sixty feet long with a five-degree inward slant. The grandstand seating for a hundred-twenty-five thousand. They’re tall enough to act like a massive windbreak and surround the enter track. The only way to the stadium is by three six lane road bridges.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----tbc-----

---

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.

---

Chapter 7
Early Friday morning, Mitsubishi Island Speedway, Chiba, Japan

As I stood on top of the car hauler looking around the track, I still can’t believe that less than three years ago that none of this was even here including the island. I have to give it to the people of Japan. When they set their minds to something. They get the job done. Usually in spectacular fashion. This track attests to that fact. Everywhere I look all I can see is top quality workmanship. Even the grandstands have padded seats for the general fans. The true jewel of this island though is the 2.5-mile-long concrete track itself. I can’t wait to get out there and lay down a few highspeed laps. I was right about it being the bastard child of Martinsville and Drove Speedways. The Miles the Monster and the Paperclip went out for a one-night stand of wild drunken sex and had a baby.

“What do ya see Speedy?” I turn to face my dad as he climbed on top of the trailer next to me. “What does your gut tell you about this track?”

“This bad boy is going to eat tires like a cop at an all you can eat donut shop.” I tell him as I turn back to facing the concrete track. “I figure that for about five to ten laps after a pitstop we’ll have great traction.”

“What about fuel mileage? How do you think the track conditions will affect the cars when it comes to mileage?” Dad questioned me.

“That is the one question that I don’t have an answer for dad.” I told him honestly. “I need to put down ten to fifteen practice laps before I can tell you. The banking in the turns and down the straightaways is going to play a major part in fuel consumption.”

“What about the speeds Bobbie? Do you think you’ll be able to push the red line on this track?” Dad asked me with a smile in his voice.

“Maybe, maybe not. Once again it’ll all come down to the banking.” I told him honestly. “I do wish that we had marked this track down as one of our test tracks. I’d be able to give you better answers.”

“It was mine and your mother’s decision to skip testing on this track for our team.” Dad said as he stepped up next to me.

“Why did we skip testing on this track dad?” I asked him.

“We knew that Mitsubishi was the love child of Martinsville and Drove. To that end your mother had your cars setup for a loose run at Drove. It should give you kids more than enough room out there to play. Though there is one problem that we haven’t been able to figure out.” Dad explained. “Fuel mileage. That is the one thing no one has been able to figure out.”

“What you mean dad?” I asked him.

“Of the six teams that came here to test their cars. None of them have been able to get a lock on the mileage game line yet.” Dad explained.

“Speaking of teams dad. Has the final listing reach us yet?” I asked him.

“Yup. It came in yesterday while you were still clearing customs.” Dad handed me a sheet of paper with the full listings of all the teams and their drivers. I quickly started reading the official notice from the Commission.

To: All ISA Drivers and Owners
From: Irina Stumpfegger Chairwoman

Drivers and owners please be aware that as of the Mitsubishi Top Ramen Noddle 400 that unless there is a medical or contractual reason the field of drivers is now fixed. The listed replacement drivers are the only drivers that can be called upon for a medical replacement. These replacement drivers shall be paid by the ISA to be on standby at each event. If they are requested to drive for one of the teams it is the team’s responsibility to pay that replacement for their time on the track. If the replacement driver should have the misfortune to wreck, they cannot be held responsible for the damages to the team car until a full investigation has been completed into the wreck. Please refer to the table below for a full listing of all drivers and teams.
Sincerely,

Irina Stumpfegger
Irina Stumpfegger
Chairwoman
International Stockcar Association

Team listings

McGuire Racing

1. Bobbie McGuire (f)
2. Beth McGuire Towers (f)
3. Sam Hurley- driver
4. James ‘Jim’ Fields- Driver

Reynolds Racing

1. George Baker
2. Bobby Parker
3. Oscar Johnson
4. Rosie John (f)

King Night

1. Hitarashi Sukejuro
2. Kuno Junzo
3. Sakurazaki Mashai
4. Mori Unkei (f)

Red Star

1. Nazarova Grigorievna
2. Koychev Fyodorovich
3. Abdulov Germanovich
4. Rokossovsky Aleskeevich (f)

Horn Thomas

1. Ben Baldwin
2. Ronan Bain
3. Nathan Watson
4. Alexa Peters (f)

Bisbee Snider

1. Caleb McLean
2. Joseph Lachman
3. Seth Fisher
4. Violet Knight (f)

Northern Alliance

1. Stijn Bargboer
2. Louwrens Hartman
3. Elco Schrijvers
4. Elle Harbert (f)

Thunder Valley

1. Siegmund Kühne
2. Marc Wimmer
3. Joel Franz
4. Larissa Andris (f)

Prototype Outcast

1. Raniero Accomando
2. Gerino Rosetta
3. Panos Kontotis
4. Sabina Altimari (f)

Les Ailes de Justice

1. Jules Grinda
2. Léonard Carrell
3. Lilian Picard
4. Christen Dior (f)

Replacement Drivers

1. Wit Zoladz (Poland)
2. Florentyn Zoladz (Poland)
3. Julia Stencil (Poland) (f)
4. Robert Morgan (USA)
5. Rufus Graham (USA)
6. Helen Alexander (USA) (f)
7. Temperance Dickson (UK)(f)
8. Ted Mitchell (UK)
9. Marshall Morgan (UK)
10. Diamante Rosa (Italy) (f)
11. Debora Rosa (Italy) (f)
12. Sicuro Catalano (Italy)
13. Björn Künstler (Germany)
14. Simon Gutenberg (Germany)
15. Angelika Schellscheidt (Germany) (f)

“Damn. The Chairwoman must have her tits over the fire if the Commission has fifteen backup drivers just waiting to jump into a car. What the hell is going on here dad?” I asked after reading the memo.

“You’re right Irina Stumpfegger’s tits are over the fire. And you’re not to repeat this to anyone. The ISA is in deep trouble already Bobbie.” Dad told me with a harshness I haven’t heard in a long time.

“What’s going on dad?”

“You know that the ISA backers are pushing for more races. What you don’t know is where they’re pushing for those races to happen.” I could already tell that what dad was about to tell me didn’t sit well with a lot of the other team owners. “I will tell you that we don’t have a horse in this race. To your mother and me we’ll race anywhere any time.”

“Let me guess dad. The backers are wanting more races in the US and on the short tracks. Am I right?” I asked as I cooked my head to the side.

“Not even close. What the backers want are more Superspeedways. There are tracks in Germany, Italy, France, Poland, Russia, and Austria that can be classified as Superspeedways. It will add an additional six races to the season. The problem is the other three US backers and four sponsors want those six races to be held on short tracks in the US. Namely the backers and sponsors for the NASCAR short tracks like Bristol, Dover, and Martinsville.” Dad left the threat that the other NASCAR backers were making unsaid.

“Let me guess. The US backers are all threatening to pull out. Am I right?”

“In a nutshell. Our team sponsors are fine with the additional races in Europe.” Dad sighed then grinned. “That little radio interview you and Beth gave two weeks ago has really drawn a lot of attention too our fledgling sport among the Diehard NASCAR fans back home.”

“That and the wrecks, plus the fights on pit road. Can’t forget about those. Not after the way Hitarashi Sukejuro and Bobby Parker got into at Daytona. What was it the announcer said, ‘shades of Cale Yarborough and the Allison's’.” I got a chuckle out of that fight. “Though I have to say it remind me more of that nasty fight between Jeff Gordon and Brad Keselowski, you know the one that I’m talking about. The one involving their crews after the two crashed in the Texas night race of two-thousand-fourteen. Especially when their pit crews got involved.”

Dad chuckled at my comparison of the Hitarashi-Parker fight. “I thought it was more like the Logano-Busch feud of twenty-seventeen. Though we won’t know until this afternoon. Not until those two get out there and run their test laps. If they let the wreck and fight from Daytona go then we’ll go with the Yarborough-Allison fight of seventy-nine. If they go at each other out on the track. Then we go with the Gordon-Keselowski fight of fourteen. If it goes for the full season, then it’s got to be the Logano-Bush feud of seventeen. Are we in agreement?”

I thought about what dad was saying and smiled. “Deal. Now what does my interview have to do with the US backers pushing for more races on the US short tracks? It’s not like NASCAR is just going to let us race on those tracks. Hell, it took more than three years of negotiations just to get the speedways and superspeedways that we do have.”

“That is the problem. Because the first two races were held at superspeedways in the US the sports small fan base has jumped through the roof. Not just in the US. Around the world in every country we’re scheduled to race.” I gave dad a disbelieving look. “I’m not kidding Bobbie. The broadcasts of those two races were number ten in the market for Pocono, and number four for Daytona. The broadcast producer for tomorrow’s race is predicting that we be number two for the market word wide. The ISA is taking off like a rocket.”

“Damn. I would never have expected that can of acceptance so soon. What the hell is driving the fan based? It has to be more than just the wrecks and fights. I know that we’re turning in some of massive speed records for the tracks. So far anyway.” I told him.

“Those are just part of the draw Bobbie.” Dad looked around to make sure we were alone. “The biggest draw is you and the other female drivers.”

“WHAT? Come on dad you have got to be pulling my leg.” I countered.

“I’m not Bobbie. I want you to think about something. You got eleven full time female drivers and six part time female drivers all of whom are good looking, in their twenties, and most are single. Most of whom can walk any runaway in the world. On the other side of the line you got twenty-nine full-time and nine part time male drivers. Of which only half are in their twenties good looking and single. While the rest of the male drivers have a face that only a mother could love. Who do you think is the bigger draw?” Dad smirked then snorted at my look of disgust. “I hate to say this but sex sales. It doesn’t matter the venue kiddo. To the world at large you and the other women drivers are the face of our sport. You more so than the others.”

“Okay dad I’m calling bullshit on that one. How the hell can I be some sex symbol to the world? Everyone knows that I’m married.” I countered.

“That may be the case Bobbie. But did you know that your licensed sportswear, sports memorabilia, and other merchandise, is the fastest selling of all the other drivers with one exception. Your sister is tied with you on that front.” Dad chuckled at the look of total disbelief on my face. “You look like a big mouth bass kiddo. Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

“Well I knew that my royalty checks have been larger lately dad. I just didn’t put two and two together. I just thought that I had an upswing from the old Formula One stuff. Now that I’m no longer racing that circuit it has become kind of like collector material.” I countered. “I know that Tamiya and Revell have requested another twenty-four-thousand unites of both Beth and mine’s Formula One racers from last year.”

“More than just those kiddo. You need to talk to your wife about the flood of requests for t-shirts, ballcaps, travel cups, and a whole slew of other shit. Issy has been after Kelly to get you and your sister to sign off a shirt and shorts combo for the both of you.” Dad said with a chuckle. “I swear Kelly has made more work for herself with every deal she works for you and the other drivers. What I want to know is where she learned to wheel and deal like she does? There hasn’t been one of those suit monkeys that she hasn’t cowed in under thirty seconds.”

“Dad, remember who she’s married too.” Beth said as she climbed onto the roof of the car hauler smiling. “Kelly honed her skills against the most pigheaded person in our family.”

Dad chuckled and I just stuck my tongue out at my sister. I love Beth with all my heart. But like all siblings we do fight. Especially out on the track during a race on the last lap. Never let it be said that either of us let the other win. Doesn’t matter what track we’re on. “Bite my ass.”

“Sorry sister dear, you’re cute and all but sadly I’m not into the whole incest thing.” Beth counter quickly with a smile.

“One of these days pow! To the moon sister dear.” I snarled.

“Okay girls give it a rest.” Dad scolded the two of us before turning to Beth. “So, what brings you up here?”

“Mom said that you and Bobbie were up here studying the track. I thought that I might be able to give Bobbie and you both my insight into the track.” Beth answered with no hostility.

“What’d ya figure out sis?” I asked.

“That this race is going to be more than just a fuel management race. We were all out there this morning running the track. The only ones that might have a better grasp on it is Kathy and Coach Hall.” Beth looked out at the track with grim determination. “This track is a monster with something to prove. There are going to be a lot of cars heading for the scrapyard by the end of the race tomorrow night.”

“How do you figure that Beth?” I asked her.

“It’s the banking. The concrete will eat away at the tires sure, but the banking is going to eat away at our fuel mileage. We’ll have to carry a whole lot more speed down the straightaways just to hold our line. All that speed will force us further out towards the far edge of the track. We can basically forget about the bottom line for the first quarter of the race. The fastest away around is going to be on the outside. It may have been inspired by Martinsville, but this beast is what the Monster Mile would become if it had the room to grow. It’ll test more than just our cars.” Beth said just before taking a deep breath. “It’ll test not only our physical endurance but our mental endurance as well.”

“The only upside to this race is the length. I won’t want to do five hundred miles on this fucker. Four hundred is going to be bad enough.” I bitched.

“Okay kids, what are you two talking about? Give it to me from an engineer’s point of view.” Dad snapped.

“Beth this is your field. You’re the engineering student.” I grunted.

“Think about it dad. The banking is nonstop all the way around the track. Even the straightaways have a decent banking to them. We’ll be getting hit with the side g-forces all the way around. Even under yellow flag conditions we’ll still have to do fifty plus to stay out of the infield in the corners. That banking is brutal going into the turns. One slip of concentration and you’re out of the grove plowing up grass at either end of the track. You lose your concentration on the straightaways your banging into the inside retaining walls. It doesn’t matter where you lose your concentration on this beast. You’re going to eat either retaining wall or grass.” Beth explained for dad. “The real danger is going to be after the yellows.”

“Let me guess. Yellow flags are going to breed more yellow flags. Is that what you’re saying, sweetheart?” Dad asked of Beth. She just nodded her head yes. “Damn. I thought that we had gotten away from that for a while.”

“Dad, I think that situation will be haunting this sport at every track we go to. Before you say it won’t I want you to think about something.” I said as I held up my hand. “The majority of our drivers have come over from the other auto-sports. That means the majority of them will fall into the trap of the yellow flag viper.”

“Damn it! I hadn’t thought about how the non-Stockcar drivers would be affected by the deferent rules for yellow flags. Do you have any idea of how they react to the Big One?” Dad asked us both.

“After what I’ve seen over the last two races. I think that is one fear we don’t have to worry about. Most of the drivers are new to pack racing sure.” I answered dad after a few seconds of thought. “But they’re getting the hang of the idea now. Most have realized that the only real advantage they have out there is the draft and their teammates.”

“What do you think Beth?” Dad asked her quickly.

“It’s not the Big One that we have to worry about dad. So, far we’re the only team that hasn’t gotten caught up in the Big One. Sure, Sam and Jim have had some bad luck but nothing too crazy.” Beth looked over at turn 4 turning cold and analytical. Pointing towards outer wall of turn 4. “The first wreck of the race will come right there. Someone is going to push their car coming off turn three into turn four. The moment that happens this monster is going to reach out and grab them by the ass.”

Dad sighed and finished Beth’s sentence for her. “Then it will be all over except for the cleanup. Any idea of when the Big One will come?”

“To tell you the truth dad, no. It’s like Beth said. This race is going to be the true test of our skills. This track is like no other in the world.” I turned to look over at the back straightaway. “The straightaways are just as dangerous as the turns with their banking. It’s not going to matter where the Big One will happen. It’ll only be a matter of time.”

Dad just sighed and looked down at his watch. “Okay girls we got two hours before you can start your practice runs. When you get out there, I want you both to take it easy for the first five laps. For the next five slowly build up your speed until lap ten. After that you can open them up for the next ten. If you figure something during your runs don’t think twice about bringing in your cars. We’ll make the needed adjustments as we go.”

“Are we going to get those twenty laps?” Beth asked harshly.

“The ISA officials have promised every team that didn’t come here last week twenty practice laps today. Of the ten teams only three teams didn’t show last week. US, King Night, and Prototype Outcasts.” Dad sighed heavily. “King Night didn’t need to practice because this is one of their two home tracks. The Outcasts are saving their tests runs for Berlin, Warsaw, and Mosco.”

“Which tracks did you and mom schedule for our testing?” Beth asked. “I know that we get three of the International tracks to choose from.”

“Your mother thought is would be best if we used Rockingham, in the UK. Rome, in Italy, and keep our third choice open.” Dad explained with a grin.

The moment I heard we were keeping our third choice open I knew that dad had something up his sleeve. “Okay dad. Give. What’s the plan?”

“Sooner or later one of the other teams is going to need a practice at the tracks in the US. We keep that practice until they come to us. Then we trade for one of their overseas practices.” Dad grinned evilly. “And it won’t cost us our normal advantage on the tracks that we know better than them.”

I thought about what dad was saying. It made perfect sense to me. Of the 20 tracks that we would race on over the season 7 were in the US. All 7 were tracks that me, Beth, Sam, and Jim have either raced or ran test runs at. That was the biggest advantage MRI had over the other teams. We had firsthand knowledge of one third of the tracks we will race on beforehand. I finally busted out laughing. Beth was right behind me.

When I finally regained my composure, I gave dad a nasty look. “That is downright sneaky dad. Do you think the other teams have tipped to your plan?”

“I highly doubt it. Even if they do it’s too late.” Dad grinned that evil smile of his when he is up to something nasty. “Our plan is already in motion and there is nothing the Commissioners can do to stop it.”

When dad let out his Evil Villain Laugh number four, I knew that the other teams were in for a nasty wakeup call. His next words just confirmed my fears. “You got to remember something kids. Most of the crew chiefs and senior mechanics for the other teams came over from the other motorsports.”

“Okay pop. What do you mean by that? It’s not like they don’t understand oval track racing. Especially the ones that came over from Indy.” Beth grunted. Her words hit me between the eyes though. I knew exactly what dad was getting at the moment she said oval track racing.

“Um… Beth I think you need to take a step back in your reasoning.” Beth gave me a funny look. I looked over at dad and knew that I would have to explain it to her. “Beth how many of the other crew chiefs are from Indy teams?”

“I think three. No wait. Only two are from Indy. So?” Beth answered quickly.

“Now. How many are from NASCAR?” I asked her.

“Well let me think.” Beth stared over at turn 2 thinking. “Not counting dad and those on our teams. I think six in total.”

“Nope. Wrong answer. There are only four other NASCAR trained crew chiefs. They’re all on the same team, Thunder Valley.” I corrected her. I took a deep breath. “Of the ten teams we have the most experience crew chiefs in the field of Stockcar racing. Thunder Valley’s crew chiefs only have two years as crew chiefs for Stockcar. KOENIGSEGG hired them and their pit crews away from different NASCAR teams last year.”

“Wait! You mean to say that of the forty individual teams only eight have Stockcar trained crew chiefs for their pit crews.” I just nodded my head in answer to her unspoken question.

“That’s right Beth. The biggest reason we’ve won the last two races is because MRI has three main advantages. One is our drivers. All four of you have experience behind the wheel of a Stockcar. Two all of our crew chiefs have years of experience working on and with Stockcars. And three our biggest advantage. All, and I repeat all, of our cars are designed from the ground up with the driver in mind.” At the strange looks on mine and Beth’s faces dad sighed. “Listen up girls. The other drivers are all driving factory run offs redesigned for track racing. None of them are custom built for their individual drivers. Not like the way your cars have been built.”

“Okay hold on here dad. We both know that Stockcars really aren’t Stockcars.” I said then shock my head. “Wait that didn’t come out right.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart I know what you’re trying to say.” Dad chuckled. “There hasn’t been a dealer purchased car on a NASCAR track in more than thirty years. The same can’t be said for the ISA.”

“Wwwhhhaaa?” Beth and I said at the same time.

“Okay kids, news flash. The following teams have taken their cars straight off the assembly line. Reynolds Racing, King Night, Red Star, Horn Thomas, Bisbee Snider, Northern Alliance, and Les Ailes de Justice. Only us, Thunder Valley, and Prototype Outcasts actually costume build their cars.” Dad told us with a straight face. It let us know that he was being deadly serious. This was the engineer Robert McGuire talking not dad. “Because they have to modify the shit out of their cars to meet the ISA requirements. Instead of costume building their cars like we have the advantage is ours.”

Dad stretched his arms over his head before continuing. “Speaking of cars and advantages. It’s time you two got dressed out and ready for your practice runs.” Looking over at me snarling. “And Bobbie, you damned well better my instructions this time. I don’t care what you’re feeling out there. You hold back until those last ten laps.”

“Yes sir. Hold back until the last ten laps then turn it loose.” I told him in all honesty I didn’t want to try my luck out there on this track. I looked out at turns 3 and 4. “Though I doubt that will be a problem. I got a funny feeling that someone is going to need the wagon today.”

“Seeing the Bounty Hunter again, Speedy?” Mom asked as she climbed over the edge of the car hauler.

“More like feeling his hot breath on the back of my neck, mom.” I told her honestly. In the last two years I’ve become more open about these premonitions with my family. At first, they worried about me. Now they just give me a small smile and accept my feelings.

“What’re you thinking kiddo?” Mom asked.

“That’s just it mom. I can’t pin it down. I just know that something is way wrong.” I told her honestly. “Something with the track I think.”

“Keep your eyes open and trust your gut Bobbie. Beth when your sister is making her practice runs. I want you up here watching her as she covers every inch of the track.” Mom held up her hand to stop Beth from saying anything. “Yes, I know that is Kathy’s job, but I need a driver’s point of view.”

“Gotcha mom.” We answered together then turned to head down to our individual trailers. As we’re heading for our trailers, I hear the sounds of an engine firing over for the first time this morning. I can tell by the guttural rumble that is one of the Peugeot 508’s for Les Ailes de Justice. As I head inside my trail I stop and take one last look at the 508 as it rounds turn 2. I can tell by the way it’s fishtailing the car wasn’t expecting the steep banking of the turns. “Not good. I hope like hell he holds back for the straightaway. If he doesn’t, he’ll end up eating the wall in turn three.”

I don’t stick around to watch the rest of the man’s run. I got to my headspace right if I’m going to survive this track. After getting dressed in my NOMEX and leathers I set down with my music. I let my mind go for now and just drift as the opening notes for Fiddler on the Roof play. Ever sense Kelly and I got married she’s been playing around with iPod relaxation mix. I think she’s been loading the musicals and classical tunes to help me with letting the world fall away. Just so I can get my head in the game.

I know that I push things out on the track. But it’s the only way I know to drive. Out there on the ragged edge. Even back when I was racing illegally on the streets back home. I’ve always pushed my car and myself to the limits. I’ve always had to find the absolute edge. Once there I’ve danced to the tune of the piper. Loving every last minute of it. That is when I used to feel the most alive. Not anymore. Now I feel the most alive when I’m holding one of my kids. It doesn’t matter which, just holding them let’s me know that I’m alive. I may be a professional racecar driver, but that’s not all that I am any more. I’ve come to realize this over the last year.

“Shit where did the time go?” the knock on my trailer door had drawn my attention to the clock. Standing up I quickly stretch out smiling with grim determination. “Time to clock in and go to work.”

As I step outside Danny is waiting for me with my helmet, gloves, and a smile. “Ready to go to work boss?”

“Is she gassed up and ready to go, Danny boy?” I asked grinning.

“Punch the clock boss. We’re all waiting on you.” He said pointing to the busted clock hanging off the side of the hauler. “And you’re burning daylight. The rest of the crew is ready to rock.”

I just smiled and punched the clock. It had become a ritual for my team to bring us good luck. I wasn’t going to bitch or buck the tradition now. Not after two back to back wins. Danny gives me a hand climbing into the car once we get down to pit road. After I’ve strapped in and put in my earbuds he hands me my helmet and gloves. With these final pieces dawned I flip the switches for the batteries and hit the starter button as Danny does up the window safety netting. Key my mike for a radio check.

“Okay Kathy we ready to play?” I ask my spotter.

“All set here Bobbie. Christen Dior just completed her last practice lap and is coming in off turn four as we speak. You can go ahead and rollout.”

“Thanks Kathy. What can you tell me about the last four runs?” I ask her knowing full well that she has been watching the French drivers like a hungry hawk eyeing a field mouse.

“It’s a mixed bag, Bobbie. Of the four only Dior had a truly clean run. Her average speed was around one-ninety-five with a lap time of around a minute eighteen. The others put up some decent times but were all over the track. Especially that butthead Lilian Picard. He went sideways twice during his first five laps. Jules Grinda was the closest to Dior in both speed and time; but he had problems staying low in the three and four turns. It was like he couldn’t hold the line for those two turns. As for Léonard Carrell he may have been the slowest, but he had the best line of the four. Can’t tell you why. He just had the smoothest run and was able to stay down low on the inside. If you’re asking me where to run out there. Then you need to go high and stand on the throttle never letting up. It may be the long way around the track, but you’ll be able to carry more speed into the turns and then down the straightaways. That’s what it looks like from up here.”

I thought about what Kathy just told me. Over the last two years I’ve come to trust her with my life when out on the track. It doesn’t matter if I’m laying down test laps or driving for the win. Kathy has been able to read a track in a matter of microseconds from the first time that she ever acted as my spotter. I trust her judgement with my life.

“Okay Kathy. Drive it like I stole it.” I tell her as I pull out onto the track for the first time.

“I said stand on the throttle and stay on the outside. Not drive it like you stole it dumbass.” Kathy chuckled over the radio. “We need that car for the race tomorrow and next weekend.”

“HEY! I’m not that bad!” I bitched over the radio. Then chuckled as I entered turn 1 at just over 90mhp. “Okay Kathy here we go. I’m going to hold back for the first five laps. I’ve got a bad feeling about this track.”

“Don’t worry Bobbie. You’re the only one out there right now. Just feel out your own line for the first five.” Kathy told me as I rounded turn 2. On the exit to the back straightaway Kathy noticed something in the way I was driving. “Bobbie, listen up. You’re going to need to carry more speed through the turns. You stay below the one-fifty mark and you'll have trouble controlling the car in those high banking turns.”

“Copy that.” I told her as I stepped down a little harder on the throttle. As I enter turn 3 at just over 165mph I noticed that I had more control over the car. I thought about this fact for the next 4 laps. “Kathy tell me something. If I need to pull at least one-fifty to control this beast going around the track. What do you figure the pit road speed to be?”

“The way I figure it Bobbie. The slowest any car is going to be able to go out there is around sixty-five for yellow laps and a pit road speed of around forty to forty-five. But that is a best guess Bobbie. You’re right about this track though. There is something about it that is unsettling.”

I got to thinking about what she just said. I powered my way through turns 3 and 4 at just under 180mph. I noticed that the more speed I carried through the turns the tighter the car became and the more control I had over it. This feeling continued down the front straightaway into turn 1. I wanted to go faster but stuck with dad’s for this practice run. For the next 4 laps I hold my speed to right around 180mph. As I round turn 4 Kathy calls out.

“Bobbie, your dad wants you to bring it in on the next lap.”

“Understood, Kathy.” I didn’t know why dad wanted me to bring the car in but knew that he had his reasons. “Does he want me to head for the garage or just hit the pit box?”

“Hit the pit box. He said something about wanting to check the tire wear after five laps under speed.”

It hit me like a Mac truck with a full load doing 80 plus. Until now I dad had no way of knowing how the concrete of this track would wear the tires. Dad was using me as his test bed for the race. I kept my speed at around 180 for the rest of the lap until I hit turn 3. I started backing down hard so I could enter pit road without overshooting the entrance. I bleed off speed at a fantastic rate. Thanks in part to the heavy banking of the turns. Before I know it, I’m barely doing 45mph. Talk about breaking and downforce effecting a car in the turns. If I could use those qualities during the race, I could get a jump on the other drivers during green flag stops.

Hell, I could use it during yellow flag stops. The problem is going to be controlling the car at such slow speeds going around this track. I knew the banking was steep to begin with but now that I’ve got a few laps under my tires I realized something. I didn’t know jack shit about this track. Keying my radio as I pull into my pit box. “Give me two turns up on the sway bar. Three pounds more in the right-side tires.”

“Are you sure Bobbie?” Chief Hailee called back.

“Yeah. I’m sure. It should offset the right-side drag going into the turns.” I called back. I know that I’m right about the changes.

Only to have dad come up on the radio. “Negative Speedy. Hold those changes for now Chief. I need another set of tires with this setup. Bobbie when you get back out there forget what I said earlier. Go for broke.”

“Okay dad. If that’s what you want. That’s what you’ll get.” I chuckled.

“Thanks for understanding Speedy. I can already tell by this set that the track is going to raise hell with our tires management.” I was already down, gone, and pulling back out onto the track and building my speed by the time he finished his bitching. “Do you think those changes you suggested will make any deference during the race?”

“Don’t know dad. Let me run these next five laps flat out first. Have the next set of tires set up the way I suggested. After I make my next pit stop, we’ll have a solid baseline for tire wear. Then we can start playing around with the set up.” I radioed back. I knew that I was on to something. What that was I wasn’t sure. I just knew that I had 20 total laps to play around with out here today. I was going to use every last one to find the right balance for qualifying and the race on Sunday.

As I round turn 1 the 12% banking throws me sideways in my seat thanks to the g-forces. As I exit turn 2 covering 1320 feet in under 10 seconds, I realize that the new tires are giving me far more grip than the old set. Dropping down onto the back straightaway I feel the 5% inward slant for the first time as I rocket down the 5260 feet of concrete straightaway at over 195 mph. That 5% banking is pushing harder on the side of the car the faster I go. I don’t bother with letting up on the throttle though. Dad said he want a balls out run. He’ll get his balls out run. I push the throttle further down towards the floorboard. At the apex of turns 3 and 4 I’m forced to let up off the throttle. I felt the ass end start to drift out from under me even with the new tires.

Something is very, very wrong with this track. Something that I just found the hard way. I was right about this track being a monster in hiding. I quickly back off the throttle and key my radio. “DAD! I FOUND THE PROBLEM! THE EXITS ARE A BOOBIE TRAP!”

“What do you got Bobbie? Talk to me here kiddo!” Dad radioed back.

“It’s the sudden change in banking between the turns and the straightaways dad. We need a higher set sway bar load and at least two more degrees inward camber on the right-side tires.” I was doing my best to figure out how to get the most out of our cars as I powered down the front straightaway.

“Are you lose on exit because of the new tires?”

It took me a few seconds to realize what dad was asking. “I might be dad. Let you know on the exit of turn two.”

As I enter turn 1, I let up on the throttle and start braking for the higher banking of the turns. As I enter the middle of turn 1 and 2, I realize something nasty about this track. Nobody it going to be taking these turns at speed. The banking and track surface is going to prevent that. I also notice that without a drafting partner nobody is going to be breaking any speedway speed records during qualifying. During the race maybe. During qualifying the best anyone is going to reach is 195 mph. As I hit the exit of turn 2, I feel the ass end shimmy a little. I make up mind about the turns as I power down the back straightaway.

Keying my mike. “Dad the problem is the transition between the turn banking and the straightaways. Tire wear isn’t going to be that major of a factor for the first half of a run. The longer we go the more tire wear will become a factor for sure though. I really hate to say this, but we’ll be fighting for grip from the time the green flag drops all the way to the checkered.”

Dad radio’s back as I enter turn 3. “Damn. I was hoping that wasn’t the case. Are you sure?”

“AS sure as I can be. This track may have been shaped like Martinsville, but it is Dover on steroids. In more ways than one. How does that first set of tires look?” Asked as I powered down the front straightaway for turn 1.

“Let’s just say that I’m happier than a pig in slop that we DON’T have a limit on tires. I figure that every chance we get tomorrow. We’ll be giving you four new tires. Just to keep you kids safe out there.”

I didn’t like what dad was saying as I let off the throttle and hit the brakes entering turn 1 for my 8th practice lap. I hit the apex and start applying the throttle. As I power down through the exit of turn 2 I realize that the way to attack this track is going to be through throttle control. I knew that I could shift all the way into 4th gear and stay there for the race. The problem is going to be staying in 4th gear. As I exit turn 2 I key my radio. I know that dad is going to need this newest realization.

“Dad I got some more insight to the track. Let the others know that they’ll need to race the track not the pack for starters. Another thing is they’re going to have to keep their eyes on throttle. This is one track that is going to be all about braking and throttle control.” As I wait for his answer, I power down the back straightaway for all I’m worth. Just as I enter turn 3 and start braking dad gets back to me.

“I noticed that you’ve more control in the turns these two laps. What gave you the idea for throttle control?”

“Like I said earlier daddy. The transition in banking out here is nasty.” I told him snidely. “It maybe the Monster Mile’s bigger little brother. But there’re shades of the Lady in Black as well.”

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?!” Beth asked coming up on the radio.

She was fallowed by Sam. “YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”

“TELL ME YOU’RE PULLING OUR LEGS BOBBIE!” Jim snapped.

“Listen up people. Screw what we learned at Martinsville. Race the track the way we would race at Dover or Darlington. Bobbie has been giving us good feedback so far. Do as she tells you. Bobbie what can you tell us about the turns themselves?” Dad asked after chewing out Beth, Sam, and Jim.

“The entrances to turns one and three are smooth as a baby’s bottom. Hold the inside line as best as possible. Get out of the gas and hit the brakes the second you feel the banking. Let the car roll through the apex as much as you can before getting back into the gas. Don’t go for the firewall until you’re all the way down on the straightaway after the turn exit. To soon and you’re in the wall. Because your rear end will come around on you. It won’t matter how new or old your tires are, people. I doubt that even with a good buildup of rubber the traction will improve.” I kept up a running commentary as I enter turn 3 on my 10th lap. I start backing down the car so I can enter pit road. I really hope that Chief Hailee is ready for the adjustments I called for during my last pit stop. “Bringing her in Chief.”

“We’re all set to give you the changes you already asked for Bobbie. Do you think they’ll have any effect on the way the car is handling?” Chief Hailee asked as I entered pit road.

“I hope so Chief. Because if they don’t, then we’re royally screwed no matter what we do.” I told him bluntly.

“Damn.” I heard him say just before he dropped off the radio as I pulled to a stop in the it box. Danny, Cassy, Sherry, Will, Joseph, and Greg all over the wall and swarming my car like the will oiled team that they are. The second Danny had the left side off the ground Chief Hailee tosses him the wrench for the sway bar. He slams it in then it two full cranks raising the rear sway bar two full turns. He leaves in place as he drops the right-hand side of the car. As he pulls the jack around to the left-hand side of the car, he grabs the wrench. I can hear the steady screams of Cassy and Sherry’s air guns as they remove and then tighten the lug nuts for the tires. Greg has already dumped a full can of fuel into the tank. I’m surprised that Greg doesn’t try to stuff a second can of fuel into the tank.

“Chief Hailee what gives? Why only one can?” I radio in.

“Because your tank won’t hold any more. I hate to say this Bobbie, but you just didn’t burn off enough fuel to give us a good idea for the gas mileage game. Give me ten solid race trim laps if you can when you get back out there.” I can understand what Chief Hailee is getting at. I mean I’ve only put down 10 laps in total. Even then those laps weren’t under real race speeds. I didn’t really put in any effort at racing for half of them. He needed me to go out there and give him 10 full racing laps.

That is exactly what I did once I was down off the jack. For the next 10 laps I pushed my car as hard as I dared. I turned in faster and faster laps the more laps I turned. I also noticed that the lighter I got in the fuel tank the easier the car was to handle. It didn’t matter that my tires were steadily wearing down with each mile I put on them. Even with all the rubber that had built up from the other teams’ practices runs. The track surface was still slick as snot on a brass doorknob. For the first time in my life I was actually wondering if a good rainstorm would improve race conditions.

As I rounded turn 2 on my last lap, I spotted Jim rolling off pit road for the first of his practice laps. I could tell that he was following the same advice that dad had given me and Beth. As I pulled off the track onto pit road Jim blasted pasted me on the front straightaway. I could tell that he was doing exactly as dad had asked. As I neared the entrance for the garage area Chief Hailee signaled me to cut my engine. I didn’t know what was up but, did as my Crew Chief ordered and cut the engine. Then shifted into neutral as Danny, Greg, Will, and Joseph began pushing my car before it had a chance to come to a stop. As much as I wanted out of the seat, I knew that they needed me to steer the car.

Once back in the garage Chief Hailee was dropping the window safety net. “Nice run Bobbie. You gave us some great feedback. We’ve already made the same changes to the other team cars.”

“I hope that they’ll help Chief.” I said as he helped me out of the car. Once down on the ground I chuckled. “You know something Chief. There are times when I miss the open cockpits of Formula One.”

Chief Hailee just chuckled. “I can see that Bobbie. They do have their advantages, but out there going one-ninety-eight to two-ten in a thirty-five-hundred-pound car open cockpits are a death sentence.”

“True. I just hope like hell we don’t have to test the safety features this season. I really have no desire to cross the finish line upside down.” I chuckled at the very black humor of our talk.

“Bobbie you made a comment about having to treat this track like the Lady. How close is that assessment?” Chief Hailee asked me dryly.

“Chief all I can say is this. This track maybe shaped like the paperclip. It may feel like the Monster Mile.” I turned to look towards turn 4. “But this concrete bitch is the fucking long lost half-sister of the Lady in Black. That is the cold hard truth about this track, Chief.”

“Fuck me. The only thing this bitch is missing is Bristol’s nasty attitude.” Chief Hailee grunted then looked over at turn 4. “Though I have a nasty feeling that once we get under full race conditions that may well appear.”

I took a deep breath. “I hope not, Chief. Because if this becomes a Bristol stomp. No one will be safe out there.”

Chief Hailee got a thoughtful look on his face as Jim flew through turns 3 and 4. Jim was just inches off the outside retraining wall going balls out. He was taking the long away around the track were’s I had stayed down low on the inside line. “Bobbie, I got a question for you.”

“What do you want to know Chief?” I asked him.

“I know this is going to sound nuts, but do you think that you could use that outer wall as a rail?”

“You mean like the old timers did at Darlington when the outside wall was nothing more than a guard rail?” I asked in shock.

“Exactly. Can you do it? If you can what do you need done to the car to make it work?” Chief Hailee was already grinning. And I liked where his crazy idea was going. This was going to be one fun filled race.

-----tbc-----

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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 8
Saturday, Mitsubishi Speedway, Chiba, Japan 1650

I stood next to my car signing the last few autographs before pit road was cleared of spectators. My hope for rain the night before had been flushed down the drain. I woke to clear skies and still calm winds. Not a cloud in the sky or even on the radar. The Dragon had already reared her head today during qualifying. I had to laugh when I first heard that nickname last night at dinner. Yet it seems that the Japanese drivers were the ones to name the track after hearing compare it to Dover speedway, the Monster Mile.

As I was signing my name in kanji for a young girl about 14 or 15 Danny waved to get my attention. “Enjoy the race little one.”

The girl smiled and thanked me while bowing. She and her older brother hurried off to find their seats in the grandstands. I couldn’t help but smile as she talked her brother’s ear off as they walked away. I may know enough Japanese to order a taxi, get something to eat, and a beer at the local bar. But I was nowhere near proficient enough to even guess at what they were talking about. Not that it mattered. I could tell by the way they were talking that she was excited about the first ISA racing in Japan.

“Okay boss, enough sucking up to the fans. It’s almost time to mount up.” Danny told me as he handed me my helmet. Danny leaned in close so that only I could hear him. “Bobby, I think you should know. You and others have been targeted by a few of the other teams.”

“Nothing new, Danny. When haven’t I pissed off some jackass?” I whispered back. “By the way. How did you find about the new shitheads?”

“The pit crews were down here early as usual. So, we eat over at the track in field canteen. We ran into two of the teams from Bisbee Snider and one the Prototype Outcast teams. We got to talking. The guys from Bisbee Snider let it drop that Bobby Parker from Reynolds and Ben Baldwin from Horn Thomas are gunning for you. They’re blaming you guys for their shitty luck in the last two races. Said something about not letting any of you finish the race today.” Danny told me honestly.

“Any idea if there are others gunning for us?” I asked my jackman.

“If I had to place money on someone else wanting to get in on the action. I would say Bargboer, Hartman from Northern Alliance along with Grigorievna, Fyodorovich from Red Star.” Danny told me bluntly.

“Any chances of those fuck bunnies teaming up to come after us?” I asked.

“Doubtful. Their egos are too damned big for them to work with other teams. If it someone from Thunder valley or King Night that would be another story. Those two teams don’t let egotistical ass wipes on their teams.” Danny grunted before he started to chuckle. “They also don’t allow for personal grudges with other teams. By the way I got my money on Sukejuro and Parker picking up where they left off at Daytona. Only this time they’ll be trading paint on the track before the tenth lap.”

“Where are they in the starting grid?” I asked quickly.

“Sukejuro has the fourteenth position in row seven. Parker is in seventeenth position on row nine.” Danny said with a sly smile. “The long money says they’ll let things go and forget about Daytona.”

“Put me down for twenty that they’ll get into on lap twenty-one.” As I told Danny where to place my bet in the pool. I thought about the two men. Sukejuro may not have a massive ego, but he was the descendant of a samurai. As for Parker he is your typical good-old boy from Atlanta Georgia. “Trust me Danny those two are going to tangle again before this day is done.”

“You’re preaching to the choir Bobbie. That redneck isn’t going to let last week go and neither is that crazy sake driver.” Danny chuckled. “You know something Bobbie. Even when you were racing against those nutjobs in Formula One. None of them were anywhere near as hardcore as this bunch.”

“I have to disagree with you Danny. It’s just a different kind of hardcore.” I corrected him. “The drivers in Formula One are frowned upon if they go trading paint. Here we’re kind of expected to bump, and grind.”

“I get it boss. Different styles of racing. Different expectations.” Danny said as he looked down the starting lineup. “Looks like its time Bobbie.”

I looked to where he was starring. More than a few of the drivers were climbing into their cars. “Give me a hand here Danny.”

“You know something Bobbie, one of these days you need to learn how to do climb into these cars on your own.” Danny chuckled as he helped me slide in through the driver side widow. There are times like now that I hate being the shortest person on the team with the exception of my spotter Kathy.

“You can bite my ass Danny. I can get out the damned car just fine. Hell, I can even beat the time requirement.” I snarled as I slide in through the window. “That is all that matters.”

As Danny chuckled at my bitching, I knew I had been punked. I just sighed. “You know something Danny. One of these days I’m going to strap your ass in behind this steering wheel.”

“Not on your life Bobbie.” Danny turned deadly serious. “I can drive a normal car just fine. I have no desire to drive at more than the posted speed limits. That takes a special kind of guts that few have. You, and the other drivers out here are a rare breed. Never forget that. Now get your head in the game. The Dragon is waiting for someone to get careless.”

With that Danny pulled up the window safety net. I just chuckled as I put in my earbuds and finish getting ready for the race. Of all the people on my team, Danny Hailee is the most down to earth. He was also one of the five people that could call me on my bullshit and get away with it come race time. If he even thought my head wasn’t in the game. He would pull my ass out of the car and have no problems doing it.

Once I was ready, I waited for those four words that have fueled my every waking moments on days like this. “DRIVERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!”

I flip the two battery switches and push the starter button. The sound of the massive V-8 engine as it fired over fueled my soul. I knew that I would soon be rolling down pit road. I have to admit that I’m not happy with my position in the starting lineup. I on row 15 in the 29th pole position. Beth was two rows behind me on row 17 in the 34th pole position. Sam and Jim did better in qualifying. They’re holding down the 23rd and 24th pole position on row 12. My team is spread out in the field with no way to support each other. Our worst-case scenario for a race. All of our whole race strategy is based on a team dynamic.

As we round turn 2 onto the back straightaway Kathy radios in. “Bobbie, I know you don’t want to hear this, but the race officials have leveled a last-minute penalty against you. You have to drop back to the end of the pack.”

“What the hell? What penalty?” I demanded.

“All I know is that it was a last-minute decision. Something about a competition handicap petition filed by one of the other teams. Who did you go pissing off this time?”

“Nobody. At least I don’t think so.” I admitted then thought about what Danny had told me just before the race. “I got a feeling that our friends over at Bisbee Snider have been twisting the facts.”

“I wouldn’t put it passed them to try something Bobby. BS has been the number one bitcher about your success on the last two tracks.” Kathy warned me. “They’ve also got more reasons than most to file a competition handicap.”

“Damn. That has to be what’s going on. I swear. This is one rule that I wish they would have thrown out. Now that the Commissioners have agreed to the first competition handicap every team will be using them.” I bitched.

“I doubt it Bobbie. Before you go bitching just fall out of line and drop back to the end of the outside line then listen to me.” I did as Kathy told me. I didn’t want to piss off the ISA Commissioners. The one and only rule that I fought against is now being used to kick me in the ass. “They may have thought that they’re putting you at a disadvantage, but they’ve actually helped you out. Trust me.”

“How?” I had to hear this as the rest of the field pulled pass me.

“The field is going to break down into three packs by the end of the seventh lap. The breakaway pack is going to consist of the first six positions. The second and main pack will be seventh down through twenty to twenty-fifth positions. The trail pack will be everybody else and will be the safest place for the first two stages of the race.”

That is when it hit me. Kathy has spotted something already. “Where and when is it going to happen Kathy?”

“It’ll happen twice Bobbie. Halfway through the first stage, then again about the same time in the second stage. By stage three more than half the field is going to be either out of the race totally or down by at least ten laps.”

“How do you figure that Kathy?” I know that she must have figured out what all four of our Chiefs, dad, and mom hadn’t.

“I watched the other teams during their practices and qualifying runs. None of them understand the idea of throttle management. Sometime around lap thirteen to fourteen someone is going to push their worn-out tires to the edge and bang. Tire blows out, car goes sideways taking with them one or two other cars. Next thing you’ll see is the pinball effect.”

Damn. Kathy was right. Some of these drivers are still figuring out pack racing. Someone will make those mistakes. Push their car too hard on worn-out tires at the wrong time and place. Sadly, there’ll be more than one driver out here that will make those mistakes. A feeling of deep dread filled me down to my bones. “Kathy, have you passed on your thoughts to your mother and the other spotters?”

“Already have, Bobbie. I did that this morning during our racing brief before you guys got down to the track. I noticed the way that the other teams were pushing their cars and brought it to the attention of my mom, and the other spotters. One way or another the best thing that you and the others can do is drop to the back of the pack for the first two stages of the race.”

“That may be true Kathy, but we’ll never win from the back of the field. Sooner or later we’ll need to move to the front.” I figured that I needed to point out the biggest hole in her strategy.

“Trust me, Bobbie. That won’t be a problem. The yellow flags will come and give you the opening you’ll all need. Especially late in the last stage.” Kathy assured me.

“Okay Kathy I’ll play the waiting game.” I told her then put in my own qualifier. “But if I see an opening.”

“Then take it and don’t hold back. Because if you get out front all bets are off. Bobbie no one is going to be happy with you winning a third in a row. They’ve already use that damned competition handicap against you. Heads up Bobbie. They’re going to drop the green flag next time around.”

“Thanks Kathy. I really want to get this race over with. I hate these late afternoon starts.” I know that I was bitching but I had good reason. The track is going to go through a transition halfway through the race. If what Kathy was telling was even halfway true, not only will I be fighting my way through the pack during the race. I would also be fighting for grip throughout the race well into the night.

“We’ll deal with the changes as they come, Bobbie. For now, get your head in the game because the pace car has turned off its lights. Yup he’s dropped down onto the apron. This is it. You’ll be racing before you come off turn four. Get ready, Bobbie it’s time to go racing. On my count. Three, two, one, stand on it Bobbie!”

The field was already pulling away from me when Kathy gave me the word to go. I started up shifting even as I was exiting turn 4. I wanted to stand on it and work my way through the field. But I held back and followed Kathy’s advice. I knew that she would led me wrong. In the last two years she has found answers to tracks that most people couldn’t. By lap 7 the field had shaken out just the way that Kathy predicted. I swear that girl has gotten to be one of the best spotters in the industry.

Even though I was trying to hold back. I was forced to pass 6 cars by lap 13. I had moved from 40th to 34th. Kathy kept telling me to hold back. I kept telling her I was, and it wasn’t my fault the other cars were falling off the pace. On lap 20 just as I was getting ready to pull off for a pit stop. Kathy’s prediction or the first wreck came true. It happened in turn 2.

The wreck was a bad one. Ronan Bain from Horn Thomas racing blew his right front tire coming out of turn 1 into turn 2. His car slammed into the retaining wall at a weird angle flipping it onto its roof. Jules Grinda, Léonard Carrell both from Les Ailes de Justice slammed into the right side of Bain’s car at full speed. The three cars careened down the track onto the back straightaway. They collected two more cars on their way down to the inside apron. Kathy made only one mistake in her prediction. The wreck happened in the main pack not the breakaway and lead group.

I stay high and to the outside as I passed the still sliding and tumbling cars. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it was still a nasty wreck. By the time the pace car had collected up the field the wreckers were already rolling. Along with the rescue crews.

“Kathy have any of them dropped their window nets yet?” I asked her as we rounded turn 4 one lap later.

“The only net still up is Bain’s. The rescue crews are still trying to get the car onto its wheels. His spotter says he’s alive but hurt. How bad we don’t know yet. His car must have rolled six times after he was hit by Grinda, and Carrell. The other two drivers are Gerino Rosetta, Panos Kontotis both from Prototype Outcasts.”

“Damn all good drivers. Are any of them hurt?” I meant what I said.

“They all got of their cars unaided. Only Bain is still inside his car.” Kathy quickly reassured me. She knew that the death of Robert Campbell still haunted me at times. Usually whenever I see a fellow driver’s car upside down following a wreck. “Bobbie, pit road will be open this time around. Chief Hailee wants to know how the car is handling.”

“Tell the Chief I need four new tires, two cans of fuel, and half a round up on the sway bar.” I already knew what I needed for the rest of this stage.

“How is the rear end holding the track Bobbie?” Chief Hailee asked coming up on the radio. “Is the rear end swinging out on you?”

“Keep the pressure where it’s at Chief. Just give me that half round of sway and we’ll be good.” I started to chuckle. “This is one time Chief where being lose in the rear end is going to help.”

“You have got to be kidding me?!” Chief Hailee chuckled over the radio as I followed the field down onto pit road. “How?”

As I pulled to a stop in my pit box. My crew were already clearing the wall. I felt the right-side bounce into the air. The scream of the air guns almost deafening over the roar of the engine. I felt the second can of fuel slam home as Danny dropped the right-side of the car. Seconds later I felt the left side bounce into the air. As the left side tires were slammed home. I spotted Beth, Sam, and Jim pulling out of their boxes. Before I could say something, the car slammed down, and Chief Hailee was yelling for me to go.

I pulled out and never looked back. As I exited pit road Kathy was on the radio. “Way to go guys! That was a record-breaking NASCAR pit spot. Fourteen seconds flat for a four-tire stop.”

Holy shit. I don’t believe it. A 14 second flat 4-tire pit stop. I knew that my pit crew were fast and some of the best in Formula One. Yet that time beats every teams’ in NASCAR. Their hard work had given me 15 positions. From 33rd to 12th in one pit stop. This was going to get hairy.

“Okay Bobbie, I got good, bad, and horrible news. The good news is you’re now in twelfth place. The bad news is you’re in twelfth place with a massive target on your back. The horrible news is no one around you is a friend. Beth, Sam, and Jim are all in the top five.”

“In other words, I got to work my way up to them. How many laps until the stage competition pit stops?” I had lost count of laps.

“Twenty-five until the competition yellow and the end of stage one.” I heard Kathy take a deep breath. “Bobbie, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to hold off the rest of the field. You got to give Beth and the others a chance to reel in that breakaway group.”

Kathy was right. I didn’t like what I was hearing. I hate playing defense. Yet if it is the only way to curtail the breakaway. Then I had to do it. “Okay Kathy I hear you. You’re right I don’t like. I’ll do it.”

“Keep your head on a swivel Bobbie. The green flag is about to drop. I’ve got some great news for you. Bain is going to be alright. He won’t be racing any time soon, but he’s alive.”

“How bad are his injuries Kathy? Any idea.” I asked her as we rounded turn 2 for the back straightaway.

“Bad enough that they’re taking him by air-ambulance to the nearest hospital. Let me get with his spotter. I should be able to tell you more later.”

“Thanks Kathy.” I really did mean that. The pace car turned off its lights and moved to the apron. “You’ll have to excuse me Kathy. I need to clock in. it looks like the race is going green and I have to play blocker.”

The green flag dropped, and the race was on. It took us 3 laps to spread out enough to really get down to racing. As we exit turn 2 onto the back straightaway the yellow flag came back out. I pounded on my steering wheel. “Kathy what the hell?”

“Chill out Bobbie. Getting bent out of shape this early in the race won’t help. Besides, I doubt this will be a long yellow. Kuno Junzo blew his left rear tire and caught it in time.”

“I got a feeling that this won’t be the only yellow between now and the end of the stage. You know the old saying about yellows Kathy.” I told her as we rounded turn 4 behind the pace car.

“Yellows breed yellows. You might be right about that, Bobbie.”

“I wish that I wasn’t.” I radioed back then released the mike key. “But it looks like I was right again. Not that it matters.”

On lap 32 the green flag dropped, and we were back to racing. I slide into the middle lane to block the rest of the pack. I watched as the first 10 cars pulled away. I knew that I could run them down, but I had been ordered to play defense for Sam, Jim, and Beth. I wish that either Jim or Sam was back here in this position. They have the experience in blocking on an oval track. I’ll just have to do my best.

I make my car as wide as I can. I let the ass end swing wide in the turns. I weave back and forth on the straightaways. I know that I’m pissing off the majority of the field. Not that I care. They would do the something to me if they had the chance. On lap 41 I realize that Beth, Sam, and Jim aren’t having any luck in reeling in the led pack. I also realize that I won’t be able to hold off the main pack for much longer. My tires are losing grip faster with each lap we run.

“Kathy I can’t keep this up much longer. I either chase down the lead pack or let the others go by.” I radioed.

“Chase down the lead pack Bobbie. Don’t hold back. Drive it like you really did steal it. GO! SPEEDY! GO!”

I down shifted coming off turn 4 to third and dropped the hammer. I crossed over the start/finish line at full speed. I have known from the start of the race that I had more power under the hood than I was using. I knew that I had the best handling car on the track. Now I was going to show them all what I had brought to race with.

Within 2 laps I had chased down the led pack and was nipping at Beth’s rear end. There was no way she was going to get away. Then the next thing I know on lap 48 the yellow flag is flying. Kathy is on the radio before I even have to ask. “Bobbie back it down. Wreck on the front straightaway.”

“How did it happen?” I asked her.

“Louwrens Hartman ran over a piece of debris off one of the other cars. It punched a big hole through the radiator and from the looks of thing his oil pan. He’s down on the apron but there is oil covering half the straightaway.”

Damn not good. If there is oil on the track, then there is a good chance that a red flag will be thrown. “Bobbie heads up! They’re going to hold off on the red flag. That’s the good news. The bad news is when you come in at the end of the stage for the competition pit stop, they plan on holding the field until the track is clear.”

“Not good. Are they planning on hold us in the pits or on the back straightaway?” I asked her planning my next move.

“In the pits after everyone has completed their stops.”

“Damn. If they’re planning on holding us in the pits, then there is no way for me to move up. They might as well throw the red flag.” I sighed as the pace car lead us down off the track and onto pit road. My crew was over the wall and servicing my car like the professionals they are. Only this time they were taking their time. I looked down the other pits boxes and I could tell that every team was doing the same. Once Danny dropped the left-side of the car Chief Hailee radioed over to me. “Shut her down Bobbie. The red flag is now flying. The track crews are having a hard time cleaning up the oil.”

“It’s the concrete Chief. It’s still too new.” I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I just wasn’t expecting it to happen this soon.

“Doesn’t matter Bobbie. It’s not the track but the tracking cleaning crew. They put down too much Speedy Dry and now they’re having to breakout the track vacs, to clean up their mess. This time it is a case of inexperienced crews working for the first time under real race conditions.” As I sat there listening to Chief Hailee’s explanation, I knew he was right. “You can bet that next year they’ll have their act together.”

“How long do you think before the track is cleared for racing?” I asked.

“Ten to fifteen minutes, Bobbie.” Chief Hailee chuckled. “Relax kiddo we got another hundred and ten laps to go.”

A thought occurred to me that I didn’t want to even think about. “Chief what’s the weather forecast look like?”

“Why?” he asked quickly not realizing what I was worried about.

“This area is known for a sudden shifts in the weather come evening, Chief. What are the chances for an early even rain?” I pointed out.

It took him a few minutes on his laptop to find what I want to know. “Ah hell, Bobbie. You’re right. The chances are real, good for a late evening rainstorm. There is a storm forming at the mouth of the bay as we speak. How did you know?”

“Chief give me your best guess on when or if it will hit.” I really needed to know now that I knew there was a storm brewing.

“If it hits. It’ll hit between laps eighty to ninety. From the looks of the radar it’ll washout the race.” Chief Hailee was still calculating. “You thinking what I’m thinking. Going for the halfway win?”

“If that rain hits like I think it will. Then that will be my best bet. The downside is if we go this route, we’ll blow any chance at a win if the race goes the full four-hundred.” I had to be honest with Chief Hailee. “We’ll burn through tires and fuel long before we reach the four-hundred miles.”

“Are you sure about that Bobbie?” Chief Hailee asked me.

“Nope. Just guessing.” I answered honestly. “And no that is not a SWAG.”

“Then how did you know about the brewing storm?” Chief Hailee demanded.

“Logic Chief. This is a racetrack on an island at the end of a historical bay. It stands to reason this area gets hit with a lot of sea born storms late in the day.” I told him then chuckled. “And I also looked it up on the net last night before bed.”

“Smart ass.” Chief Hailee chuckled.

“Okay Bobbie fire it up. The Commissioners just gave the signal to restart engines.” Kathy told me as she interrupted my talk with Chief Hailee.

I flipped the battery switches and pushed the starter button. Nothing happened. I flipped the backup battery switch and pressed the starter button again this time the engine fired over. I breathed a sigh of relief. Of all the things I feared the most after a red flag stop was my engine failing to restart. With a sponsor paying more than a million dollars just to have their name on the side of your car. You want the damned to at least start.

As we pulled out onto the track and lined up Kathy gave me some good news. “Okay, Bobbie. Listen up. I listened to your conversation with Chief Hailee. When the race goes green don’t screw around. Drop down to the inside lane and hug the apron. It’s the fastest way around the track.”

That piece of advice did not fill me with confidence. If the fastest way around the track was hugging the inside apron. Then I’m screwed. “Kathy I’m in the outside. There’s no way I can get down to the inside apron.”

“Bobbie look to your left. Tell me who you see.”

I took a quick look to the left and smiled inside my helmet. “Seth Fisher.”

“That’s right. Choke artist supreme. The man has been missing his up shifts on every start. Bobbie, I think he’s afraid of the entrance to turn one.”

That was all I needed to hear. Seth maybe fast once he’s rolling but it is that spilt second just as he shifts into forth gear that will be my opening. I just need to force my way down past him. The squeeze will be tight.

“Time to go to work Bobbie. The pace car just turned off its warning lights. You got this lap and you’re back to racing.” Kathy warned me.

“Thanks Kathy. I know that I don’t say this often enough. But I couldn’t do this job with you.” I told her over the radio.

“Forget about it, Bobbie. I know who is the brains of this outfit.” Kathy giggled. “Me.”

I just laughed and pulled my harness down tight one more time. Just as Kathy warned me. We made one more lap and the green flag dropped. Just as Kathy said would happen Seth missed his up shift. The opening was small, but it was there. I forced my way in front of Seth squeezing between him and the 8th place car diving for the inside apron. My sudden dive for the inside forced the rest of the field to check up. Giving me more room to reach the apron. As we enter turn 1, I was three wide with the cars in 9th and 10th places. This was Stockcar racing at its best. Dancing 3 wide going into a high banked turn at 195mph.

My sudden move must have thrown more than one race plan out the window. Because the next thing I know. I’m fighting my way towards the front with Beth pounding on my bumper. Let me correct that. Beth was pushing me, she was being pushed by Jim, who was being pushing Sam. I hit my radio. “WHAT THE HELL KATHY?! Where did they come from?”

“You opened the door Bobbie. Whatever you did when you dropped down to the inside forced the rest of the field to check up. Beth, and the other just took advantage of the opening you made. In short, they came along for the train ride, Bobbie. The way you four are going you’ll have the inside lane tied up within the next lap and a half.”

“Thanks Kathy. Give me a rundown on the track.” I radioed back.

“The track has gotten tight from the rubber build up. The outside lane in the turns is going to be like riding on marbles. The only clean line is where you and the others are running. Down next to the apron.”

If what Kathy was telling me is true. Then the shortest way around the track may not be the fastest way around but it will be the safest. That’s so long as nobody in the outside lane spinouts and comes down into my lane of travel. I pushed my hardest to clear the field. I needed to be well out in front with plenty of room if something should happen. It took me another 7 laps to pull far enough a way to relax a little.

For the next 10 laps we steadily increased our led on the rest of the field. Going back from me to 13th place we’re running single file. From 14th on back the field is running two wide. For some reason, the field isn’t spreading out or splitting up like it had during the first stage. We should have the same three groups that we did. Yet something has changed with the way the track is running to allow the field to still mostly intact.

I knew that by lap 62 we should have been spread out more. Yet, we were still running in basically one solid pack. “Kathy has something changed?”

“The track temp has been dropping Bobbie. The other teams anticipated the change better than we did. We’re still basically running with the setups we had at the beginning of the race. I hate to say this Bobbie, but it’s my fault. I should have given you and the Chief a better report on track conditions. I should have anticipated the greater temp drop.”

“Kathy, you’re one of the best at anticipating changes in track conditions. You’ve never missed anticipating a track change in the last two years. If anything, the screwup was on my part. You can’t make accurate calls if I don’t give up the information needed to make your predictions.” I meant what I said. I knew that it was my fault for not telling Kathy was going on with the track. And now the team is paying for my mistake.

Then on lap 64 the rest of the field reeled us in. By the end of lap 65 we were once again running two wide all the way back through the field. I started pushing my engine for all it was worth. Then on lap 69 it happened. At first, I smelled burning oil. I thought is was coming from me. Yet when the smoke started rolling in from outside the car. I knew that it was the car in the outside lane. I just knew that the driver was going to blow his engine. I tried to pull away before that happened but was too late.

At the entrance to turn 3 his engine finally blew, and flames leapt from the engine compartment. He spun out slamming into the left side of my car. The force of the impact turn us both sideways. Beth slammed into the driver’s side door panel of my car. Sam was right behind her slamming into the rear panel. Jim didn’t fare any better as he went head on into their rear ends. The car that was in the second outside position went into the outside wall before spinning sideways. The two cars behind him slammed into his left side. The was the next thing I knew my right-side tires blew out and I began to tumble. I felt my car raise off the track and into the air. I saw Beth and Sam disappear from view as I flipped through the air.

I quickly lost count of how many times I rolled around turns 3 and 4 down onto the apron. I had already let go of the steering wheel and pulled my arms across my chest. I braced myself as best as I could to prevent injury. I lost count of how many times I rolled. When I finally came to a stop I was on my wheels, thankfully. I pulled the steering wheel off the shaft and dropped the safety netting to let the Commissioners know that I was alright. Once that was taken care of quickly unstrapped and began to climb out of the car. I had no desire to still be in the car if the fuel should catch fire.

As I drop to the ground, I knew that I had made a mistake. I would be spending the net few hours in the in-field medical center. It took me a few minutes to get my helmet and gloves off while trying to stand on my right leg. Every time I put my left foot down to hold my weight I wanted to scream. When the rescue crews got me. I didn’t even bother with trying to butch things up.

“I think that I broke something in my left leg.” I told them honestly. “I can’t hold my weight on that leg.”

“We look at it. You come now to medical center. We no take chance.” At first the medics broken English unsettled me. I put the feeling down to the fact that most of the rescue crews had only learned English in the pass few months. I ruthlessly crushed this feeling as I knew the members of the rescue crews were all professionals. Along with the fear that was rising at having to face a doctor. “You ride on stretcher. No argue.”

“Yes sir. Just give me a second to collect my things.” I asked.

“Tow truck crew bring your things to you in medical center. We go now.” The medic ordered me bluntly. I did as ordered. In the last two years I had learned to not argue with the rescue crews. They get mean if you do.

I looked around and counted the other cars pilled up around the exit of turn 4. What I saw made me want to throw up. All of MRI was out of the race along with at least one car from the other teams. For a total of 15 cars. I looked over towards the front straightaway where the rest of the field was stopped. I did a fast count and realized that only 19 cars remained. Out of a field of 40 cars. A little more than half were out of the race. I knew that this track would collect a bounty for its first race. I just wasn’t expecting that price to be so damn high. Mitsubishi Speedway had earned its nickname and reputation as the Dragon today.

At the in field medical center the docs took half a dozen x-rays of my left leg. They didn’t both with trying to help me out of my leathers. They just cut my shoes off then sliced my pant leg and Nomex up the outside of my leg. The docs must have looked at my x-rays for the better part of 15 minutes before finally make their decision. I was on my way to the mainland and a hospital. They wanted me seen by a specialist.

Beth stuck her head into the room where is was waiting to be transported. “Hi sis. What did the docs say?”

“I get to visit the mainland hospital. They’re afraid I might have cracked my femur, tibia, and fibula along with pulling a few of the ligaments in the ankle.” I pouted and looked down at the brace that covered my leg from the hip down to my toes. “They believe the hit that I took to the driver’s door panel did most of the damage.”

“About that Bobbie.” Beth started off only to blush and look down at the floor. “I’m really sorry about that. Sam is still dealing with the docs. He got banged up pretty bad, but he’ll be okay.”

“I hope so. As it is, I’ll most likely be out of the next few races.” I bitched. “Beth, I know that it no one’s fault. This is just one of the risks of racing. It could have been worse. We both know that.”

“Yah, but I still feel bad about slamming into you like that.” Beth sighed. “Any idea of what the fuck went wrong?”

“Outside of that joker on the outside blowing his engine then spinning out. Not a clue. You were behind me. What did you see?” I admitted honestly.

“All I saw was a cloud of smoke then the side of your car as I plowed into it. Then you were flipping over like a top lifting my front end into the air. After that I slammed down and spun towards the infield.” Beth admitted as she looked down the hallway. “Here comes Jim. He might know more.”

“Yeh Bobbie. I heard you’ll be taking a trip to the mainland curtesy of Nazarova Grigorievna and team Red Star.” Jim said with a smile as he entered the room. Then he saw the splint on my leg. “Oh shit! I’m sorry Bobbie. I heard you were hurt, but I didn’t think it was that bad. Sorry man.”

“Forget about Jim. You couldn’t have known. This” I said as I waved down at my leg. “is nothing more than the cost of racing two-wide on the Dragon.” Beth and Jim both chuckled at my comment about racing at Mitsubishi Speedway. “Jim can you tell me what you saw just before the wreck?”

“Bobbie all I saw was a cloud of black rolling over the tops of Beth, and Sam. Then bang I was getting hit in the ass end sending me into the outside lane and into the side of Grigorievna. I think we slide along the outer wall for most of turn four, but you’ll have to ask Joey or one of the other spotters. They were the only ones with a decent view of the track and the wreck.” Jim said as he walked further into the room to stand by the exam table. One he was next to my table he dropped his voice so that only the three of us could hear what he said next. “Bobbie, I don’t think Grigorievna’s engine blowing was an accident.”

“What are you thinking Jim?” I asked just as quietly.

“We’re not the only ones with a target on our backs. Teams Red Star and King Night are right behind us in the team points race.” Jim said as he looked out the door. “Everyone else is at least twenty to thirty points behind. With us and most of King Night and Red Star out of the race. The rest of the teams will be able to cut our lead down to almost nothing.”

“With most of the teams looking at us with a hard lock. No one would expect one of the other teams from slipping into a nearby garage stall. Loosen a drain plug or hose line just enough. And bang! Sixty, seventy laps of hard racing you blow an engine.” I said with a snarl in my voice. “Damn. Almost anyone from any of the teams could have pulled something like that off.”

“Hey Bobbie! Where they keeping you?” Sam called out.

Beth stuck her head out the door. “In here Sam. What did the docs say?”

“Got a clean bill of health. They told me that Bobbie is going to be headed for the mainland.” Sam said as he walked into the room. “Oh shit!”

“Let’s just say that I won’t be making the next few races.” I bitched then smiled up at him. “Could have been worse.”

“Fuck. It looks bad enough as it is. That’s five drivers out for the next four to six races.” Sam said without preamble.

“What do you mean five drivers out for the next five races?” Beth demanded.

“What didn’t you hear?” Sam asked us all. He sighed. “Between Bobbie, Bain, Mori Unkei, Nazarova Grigorievna and Rokossovsky Aleskeevich there will be five drivers in the mainland hospital. Mori Unkei is out for the rest of this season. From what the docs told me she’s going to need surgery to fix her left arm. They took her out ten minutes ago. Grigorievna and Aleskeevich both have concussions that will put them out of next week’s race. As for Bain he’s out for the game for good. I overheard one of the docs saying his back is broken in three places.”

I had a nasty thought. One that I really didn’t want to ask. “Guys do any of you know how the replacement drivers are picked?”

“By country of origin. If a we need a replacement, we get one of the US drivers. If Red Star needs a replacement driver, they get to pick one of the Polish drivers. The same goes for all the teams. Why?” Beth answered.

“Well think about it. Those fifteen drivers have free access to all of our garages and pit areas. They need that access so that they can familiarize themselves with our cars. We’ve all seen them in the garage areas. Nobody would even think twice about one of them looking at our cars.” I didn’t have to go further for the others to see where I was going.

“They would know what to do to sabotage a car. It would also get them off the beach and into the game.” Jim said aloud finishing what we were all thinking. “I think we need to go to the commission with this.”

“There is no need for that Jim.” Mom said as she walked into the room with dad right behind her. “We would have been here sooner, but your father was already looking into the possibility of sabotage. When Joseph Lachman lost the brake pad that Louwrens Hartman ran over. He and a few of the other Senior Engineers got together to look at the wrecked cars. Each one had signs of tampering. It’s a good thing that you’re all such damned fine drivers. It seems that we have been hit as well.”

“Which car did they fuck with?” I snarled.

“Only yours and Beth’s. When the tow trucks pulled your car into the garage, I took a look at the battery box. If you hadn’t wrecked when you did. You would have blown both batteries some time around lap eighty-five to ninety.” Dad told us with a real snarl in his voice. One that I have heard only a few times in my life. I could tell that dad was beyond pissed off. He was ready to kill someone. “Bain’s car had the tie rod on the right front tie loosened to the point that it won’t have matter either way if he blew that tire. Sooner or later his car was going to tumble.”

“Any idea of who could have gotten to all of the cars like that dad?” Beth asked with real concern.

“Only two of the replacement drivers can work for any of the teams. They were also the only ones that had access to all the garage areas. Ted Mitchell, and Marshall Morgan, both from the UK and masters of multiple languages.” Mom told us all with a sneer.

“Excuse please. Is time for Bobbie-sama to go to hospital.” The nurse said as she entered the exam room. She was followed by two men dressed in the uniforms for an ambulance crew. “You in good care Bobbie-sama. These men very reliable. Best in all of Chiba.”

My family and I just chuckled at the way the medical staff were treating us drivers. I had never had such respectful care givers at a racetrack. Then again, we were in a nation that respect is first and foremost in their society. I gave mom and dad a quick hug. “See you guys down at the hospital. Let me know how the race ends will you.”

“Will do kiddo. You just get yourself taken care of.” Dad said as he kissed me on top of the head. “And don’t worry about our two problem children.”

“Why do you say that dad?” Beth asked as the ambulance crew was shifting me to a rolling litter.

“What is the one thing you don’t screw with when it comes to Crew Chief’s? Dad asked of us all then grinned. “Never screw with their cars.”

As I was being rolled out of the infield medical center I was chuckling. I knew that somewhere out there right now. There was thirty-nine Crew Chiefs hunting down two wanted replacement drivers for a little talk and attitude adjustments with their favorite torque wrenches, prybars, and hammers. I should feel sorry for the two drivers. Though they did put me in the infield med-center so I just can’t bring myself to worry about what those two deserve.

-----tbc-----

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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 9
Motegi twin ring Speedway, Motegi, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan, Friday morning.

I hobbled along on my crutches around the pit area of the track. I was still pissed that I would be off for Sunday’s race. It’s bad enough that I placed 21st in last week’s race even with the DNR. I wasn’t the only one who was pissed off at the way last week’s race ended. The Commission ended the race at the 10 laps later after the restart as the heavy evening rains rolled in off Tokyo Bay. Violet Knight good the win and the trophy for the race but she’s been bitching about how she won.

Not that I blame her. No driver likes to win under those conditions. I mean I would have been pissed myself winning with half the field out of the race, and then getting a rain cancel win. Sure, I was planning on the rain cancel win myself, but not with half the field taken out because of a wreck. A wreck that is still being investigated. My suspicion of the being sabotage has been confirmed by the Crew Chiefs of every car that caused a wreck.

“Yo Bobbie! Got a sec?” Jim yelled at me from over by his car.

“Sure. What do you need Jim?” I asked him as I hobbled over to his car.

“I know that you haven’t been able to drive the course, but you are the best driver we have at reading a track without setting foot on it. What can you tell me about this track?” I could tell that something about the twin ring was bugging Jim.

“Okay tell me what you’re feeling out there?” I asked him.

“That’s just it Bobbie. On the straightaways it’s like driving at Homestead. Right up until I enter the turns. Then it’s like driving at Sparta, with a loose as fuck truck.” Jim bitched. I could tell that this track really has him unsettled by the description he was giving me.

“What about Sam and Beth? They get the same feeling?” I asked hoping that they were. If they were then I knew it was the track itself.

“Nope. For them it’s like a Sunday drive out there.” Jim told me honestly.

“Have Chief Stone drop your sway bar two turns and put in a half wedge in the left front spring. That should tighten you up but not too tight for the turns. It’ll also let you power off the exits and give you greater control on the entry to the turns.” I knew that is what I would do.

“Thanks Bobbie.” Jim said with a smile. “By the way how’s the leg doing?”

I looked down at the brace that covered my left leg from the hip down to my toes. “The docs say I got to wear this damned thing for another three weeks. That means Melbourne and Darwin are out. The only good thing is I didn’t break any bones. Only bruised muscle and stretched tendons. I got lucky. Mori will be out until Berlin. Grigorievna and Aleskeevich will be back by Melbourne, but Bain is out of racing for good.”

“Damn. I actually liked the guy. Any word on the prognose?” Sam said as he and Beth joined us at Jim’s car.

“They say he’ll regain feeling in his legs but will need braces, with a cane or crutches to walk for the rest of life.” I told them. “Look guys I’ve been thinking about putting a collection together for Bain. I know that his home isn’t setup for handicap use. I thought that.”

“Already taken care of Bobbie. I got with the other teams while you were still laid up in the hospital. The only team that didn’t chip in was those three assholes over with Les Ailes de Justice. Though Christin Dior did give.” Beth told me with a nasty smile that sad more than words.

“I take it that you let the drivers of the other teams know who gave and who didn’t sister dear?” I asked with a smirk.

“Now why would I do something like? Just because the triple asshole gang needs to be reminded that they’re human too is no reason for me to go putting a target on their ass ends. Why that could be considered putting a bounty on a fellow driver. Highly unsportsman like.” Beth said as she sniffed at the air with all the class of an aristocrat.

We all chuckled at her little antics. “Okay sis. I’ll never accuse you of putting a target on someone else’s ass.”

“Damn straight! Your sorry ass is another story though little sister. I would happily paint a target on your ass.” Beth sneered. “Especially after that stunt you pulled last year in Spain.”

“Now wait one damned minute. All I did was spilt the rail with Mac then pull a slide job on your ass to take the win.” I bitched. Then giggled. “It’s not my fault that you got pissed and lost your chance at regaining the led.”

“Oh man. You did not piss off your sister in the middle of a Formula One race?” Sam asked after he picked his jaw up off the asphalt.

“The little shit sure did. It was the most humiliating thing I’ve ever seen.” Joey said as he joined us. “I was there. It was totally crazy.”

“He’s pulled that stunt more than once.” Kathy told Sam and the others as she walked up with a hot cup of tea. “Bobbie, your mom and dad want you up in the spotter’s nest with the rest of us for today’s practice, tomorrow’s qualifiers, and for the race on Sunday.”

“Don’t know what good I’ll be but if that’s what they want I’ll be there.” I said and began to think about why mom would want me up there. Then it hit me. It has rained here every night for the last week. Each rain has cleaned the track. Then we had the track drier crews blowing the track clear of clear in for the morning practice runs. Between the two the track is greener than the bamboo forests of Japan. I gave Beth, Sam and Jim a hard look. “Listen up guys. That track is going to be lean, mean, and green. At least for the first forty to fifty laps. I want you talking to us all the way around the track. This is one race where you’ll have to talk with the spotters.”

“Okay no big deal Bobbie. What do you want us to tell you?” Sam said as my replacement driver walked up to our little get together. Sam didn’t bother with being civil towards the woman. “We start our pre-race and practice briefings three hours before we take to the course, Alexander.”

“Whatever. You may need to give each other a pep talk before a race, but I don’t need one. I’ve been racing longer than all of you put together.” I wanted to smack the bitch silly but was saved the trouble by Kathy.

The round house smack damned near dropped Helen to her knees. “Listen up bitch. Because I’m only going to tell you this once. You ignore me just once while you’re in that car and it’ll be the last car you ever drive. Because unlike everyone else around here. I will beat your ass fucking stupid.”

“You want to try that again little girl?” Helen Alexander snarled as she regained her footing. “As for listening to some worthless spotter. You just keep your yap shut and leave the driving to me. A real professional.”

I started to chuckle then laughed out right at the woman’s arrogance. Beth then Sam and finally Jim joined in with their own laughter. Joey and Specs stepped up on each of side Kathy, while her mom stood behind Helen. The snarl that escaped Coach Hall’s lips was almost feral.

“The only reason your still on the circuit bitch is because the surveillance footage cleared your fucking ass of any wrongdoing. I don’t know how you’re used to doing shit back in Rally Racing but here at McGuire Racing International we work as a fucking team. Everyone from the drivers, to the spotters, all the way down to the fucking kid we pay to wash the shop rags.” Coach Hall was beyond pissed off. She was ready to throw down to get her point across to my replacement driver. “You don’t like the way we do business then take a fucking hike. I’m sure that those fuck sticks over at Reynolds Racing will give you a chance to bend over for them.”

“Don’t bother Coach Hall the bitch isn’t getting anywhere near my fucking car. Take a walk bitch.” I snarled and looked over at Chief Jake Stone. “Chief Stone, whose up next in the batter’s box?”

“Temperance Dickson, I’ll get her down here. Alexander get the fuck out of our pits. If I catch you still hanging around here in five minutes. I’ll be turning your ass over to those nice gentlemen in the blue uniforms.” I could tell that Slow Jake Stone wasn’t playing around. Ever sense last week the ISA have had the Security Officers replaced with actual Police. At least in the garage and pit areas. I think that it has something to do with the laundry list of charges that have been filed against the seven security guards that were responsible for the sabotage.

Between the seven of them they were looking at a long time behind bars. I thought about the list of charges against those seven knuckleheads as Alexander walked out of our garage areas. It started off with Assault with intent to cause Bodily Harm, Grievous Bodily Harm, Attempted Murder, Conspiracy to commit Murder, Child endangerment, race fixing, attempt to manipulate odds, illegal bookmaking, and end with Corporate Espionage. Personally, I had been rooting for the Crew Chiefs to get a hold of the assholes first. I just want five minutes with those cocksuckers in a locked room and my favorite torque wrench. I know that Mori wants to use their nut-sacks for coin purses.

As we watched Alexander leaving the garage area Danny puts two tires next to a stool and points saying. “Park it McGuire! You know what the doc said.”

“I’ve been sitting so much that my ass has gone numb.” I grumbled under my breath as sat down on the stool and propped my leg on the tires. “At least I don’t have to put up with a damned cast.”

“Keep ignoring the doctor’s orders and I’ll get the infield medical team to cast that leg.” Mom warned as she walked into the garage area. Dad was right on her heels. He had a cardboard tube in his hands. I knew that he had the layout for the track in that tube. “Did Kathy pass along my instructions for you to join her and the other spotters in the nest?”

“Yes ma’am. I figured out that you would want a driver’s point of view on how the race is running. Though I don’t think that it’ll matter come Sunday afternoon.” I told her.

“Why?” Dad asked as he opened the tube.

“With all the rain we’ve had this last week plus with the rain that is coming along with the track driers. That track is going to stay green for at least the first stage. Beth and the others will be fighting for grip the whole time. After lap sixty-five or sixty-six there will be enough rubber laid down that the track conditions will change. It’ll get tight. Really tight, dad. Every team out here is going to be chasing the track all day long. The only thing we have going for us is this track is laid out really close to what we have at Darlington.” I answered honestly with what I had already seen and figured out.

“You’re right about it being similar to Darlington.” Dad said as he rolled out two sperate maps on the worktable. One of Darlington the other of Motegi twin ring. At first, I couldn’t tell the difference between the two track layouts. It wasn’t until I noticed that road course underlaying the second egg shaped oval track that I spotted the differences. The second layout map was that of Motegi. I spotted the biggest difference between the two egg-shaped oval tracks first. Unlike Darlington, Motegi has two additional tunnels. One at the entrance to turn 3 and the other at the apex of turns 1 and 2.

Another thing I noticed about the two tracks. The spotters’ nest was on top of the infield Control Tower at Motegi. Where at Darlington the nest is on top of Taylor Tower behind the Walker Grandstands. That control tower practically sits right on top the entrance to pit road. You couldn’t find a better position to place a control tower or spotters’ nest in my book. You can see both the superspeedway and the road course with ease from there.

The other major difference between the two is the layout for the viewing grandstands. At Motegi the grandstands are all along the front straightaway going into turn 1 with a break for the tunnel and picking up in turn 2 where they end. At Darlington, the grandstands are on both the front and back straightaway with additional view towers in turns 3 and 4. As I studied the layout map, I spotted one other glaring difference. Motegi has half of the road course running through the infield. There was something about that road course that made me wish that I were still racing Formula One.

“God what I wouldn’t give to race that road course in our old Formula One cars. I can feel the GeForces of those turns and smell the power of the straights.” I must have said that louder than I expected to because Beth giggled. “Uh… did I say something funny?”

“No dear. No matter how much parenthood has changed you. You’ve just showed all of us here that at your core. You’re still a racer’s racer is all.” Mom said as she placed her arm over my shoulders. I blushed clear down to my breasts in embarrassment. “That is another reason why we want you up there in the nest. This track is too much like home for us to take it lightly. Unlike at home this track lacks the SAFER barrier on the outside turn walls that we have at home.”

“There’s a few other things they need to take into account mom.” I said as I sat forward on the stool to get a better look at the map. I trace the track from turn 1 to turn 3 stopping at each tunnel. “There are some very nasty hidden factors for this race. The tunnels are the first. No matter how long we race on Sunday those two points are going to be cooler than the rest of the track. Those spots will be slicker than anywhere else on the track.”

“What are the other ones Bobbie?” Jim asked before anyone else could. He had been studying the map as hard as I was. Then he snapped his fingers. “The wind. That’s the other hidden factor. Right?”

“Oh, shit just like last week. The wind is going to play a major part in how we run this race.” Beth said picking up on what Jim had faster than Sam. “Okay Bobbie when, where, and how do you expect the wind to come into play?”

“It’ll be late in the race as the mountain side cools down. The air will cool then start to fall. The wind will come straight down the valley and right across turns three and four. That is how and when it will come. The where will come into play will be on the straightaways. On the front it’ll push you hard into turn one and cooling off the tunnel even more. Coming off turn two you’ll be driving head on into those same winds. They’ll give you more down force making your car tighter going into turn three. The good thing is you’ll have better control going over that back straightaway tunnel.” I leaned back and crossed my arms in thought. Beth and the others said nothing as I thought about how the track will change throughout the day and especially during the race. “The later it gets in the race the more we’ll have to watch the wear and tear of the tires.”

“Excuse me, but is this the McGuire Racing International briefing?” Asked a young woman in her mid to late twenties from behind me with a light Yorkshire accent. I looked over my shoulder and smiled. She was dressed in all red racing leathers carrying her helmet and gloves. She was about 5’9 or 5’10 with brunette hair and blue eyes. I had seen her around the track for the last few days. I never caught her name though. “I’m Temperance Dickson. I was told to report here by the commissioner.”

“Welcome to MRI Miss Dickson. Grab a cup of tea and please join us at the table.” Mom said without batting an eye. She must have heard me throw that bitch Helen Alexander out of the garage. I held the rest of the briefing until she joined us with her tea. “Before we get you up to speed. Allow me to make introductions.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. McGuire, but the Four Horsemen of MRI need no introduction.” Temperance said with a smile as she held out her hand to me. “Just call me Corky, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Corky? Corky! How in the hell did you get tagged with a nickname like that?” I asked bluntly of the tall brunette.

“My uncle’s Crew Chief gave me the name because of the way that I drive.” Temperance chuckled. “He said that I could turn my car into a cork that would bottleneck any racetrack.”

“I take it that you know how to block?” Mom asked her.

“Yes ma’am. I learned from one of the best in Formula One.” She turned to look me in the eye. “I believe that you know him. Sir Robert McNair.”

“Wow talk about a small world.” Beth said in surprise. “Wait did you say Sir Robert McNair? As in a knight of the realm Sir Robert McNair?”

“Yup sure did. He was Knighted last month after winning his ninetieth race. Tying with Louis Hamilton.” Temperance answered with pride in her uncle. “He told me once that if I ever got the chance to race against the McGuire Furies to watch my ass. Because if I didn’t you would leave me in the dust wondering what the hell just happened.”

“What did he tell about racing for us?” Dad asked her with a wary eye.

“To shut up and do as I’m told. If my spotter tells me to go to the outside, I was to hug the wall. If my spotter says to take the inside, I was to ride the apron. If I was told to block turn my car into a moving brick wall that covered both lanes. If I was told to take the lead. Drive the car like I stole the damned thing and not look back.” Temperance answered honestly. “I don’t have much time behind the wheel of a stockcar, but I’ll do my best.”

Dad turned to me. “Bobbie, I want you talking to Corky the whole time she’s on the track. Kathy you keep your eyes on the whole field and watch for changes in the track conditions. Joey, Specs, you guys can take of your normal spotter duties.”

“Um… excuse me but did I just say something wrong?” Temperance asked me.

“Nope. You just do what I tell you Corky and you’ll be just fine. Come on I’ll give you the rundown on my car while Chief Hailee is sitting up your seat.” I stopped as I was getting up off my stool. “You do have your own seat with you, don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am. All of us replacement drivers have our own seats. The ISA Commission made that one of the requirements before we could be listed as a replacement. We had to pay for them upfront but after the last three races everyone was able to pay off any debts as far as safety equipment goes.” Temperance told me with more honesty than I expected.

“First Corky. My name is Bobbie. I’m just another driver.” I looked down at my left leg and grinned at her. “An out of work driver for right now.”

Temperance got the joke and chuckled at my gallows hummer. “You’re just like Uncle Rob said you would be. Thanks for this chance, Bobbie.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank that bitch Helen Alexander.” I told her smiling.

“Oh god! What did Helen do this time?” Temperance asked with a sigh.

“I take it that you know the young lady rather well?” I asked her.

“We drove Rally and Drift cars for the same team for two years. She is very talented by hind the wheel, but socially. Well Helen is not the most social of people and has a very acidic personality.” Temperance said with a heavy put-upon sigh of resignation. “One of these days her sharp tongue will get her into fight that she cannot back out of.”

“Well, it got her ass slapped silly today.” Kathy grunted.

“Oh god! If she gets into another car, she’ll be gunning for the whole team now.” Temperance moaned. “Helen never lets something like that go.”

“Let her come. We’ll put the bitch into the wall and keep on driving.” I chuckled at the look of surprise on Temperance’s face. “We have an unconventional attitude here at MRI, Temperance. We don’t going looking for a fights, but we don’t back down for them. You try to put one of us into the wall. We’ll take your happy no good ass with us. There is not one driver on this team that hasn’t faced the Devil’s Bounty Hunter at one time or another. If you have problems with this attitude, please let me know now.”

“No Bobbie, I don’t. I understand that way of thinking better than most.” There was a note of sadness in Temperance’s voice that grabbed at my heart. “I wish I had been there when Robert Campbell died. I was driving the Holjes Mototstadion in Sweden at the time.”

“Robert was more than just a friend, wasn’t he?” I asked as I placed my hand on her shoulder. Temperance just nodded her head yes. I could tell she didn’t trust her voice just then. “He was a damned fine man. A real racer’s racer. I respected him as both a competitor and friend.”

“I know that he respected you as well. He said that you and your sister were two of the finest drivers he ever met.” Temperance’s voice was starting to crack. “He always liked racing against the Furies. He said that you brought out the best in all those you raced against.”

“I don’t know about that, Temperance. I just do my best to run clean and honest races. Always have, always will.” I said as we approached my car. “I will tell you this much. You give us your best. You’ll get our best.”

“Are you kidding me? When I get behind the wheel, I’m always professional. You’ll get my best. You can take that to the bank.” Temperance almost snarled.

“Good. Now let me give a rundown on the quirks of my car.” I told her smiling. “The first thing you need to know is she isn’t setup like a normal Stockcar.”

“Let me guess. It’s not even set up like a Formula car either.” Temperance smirked as she looked inside the driver’s window. “If I were to guess I would said that this little beauty is setup closer to what you Yanks call a street racer. If I’m right just nod.”

I busted out laughing as I nodded my head. “She’ll handle a lot like a cross between your Drift and your Rally cars. The major difference will be the way it handles the turns. The rear end won’t slide out from under you like it does for the drift car but won’t be nearly as tight the Rally.”

“Why do I have the feeling that if I forget that for one second this little beauty will eat me alive?” Temperance asked with a chuckle. I just smiled in response to her question. “Damn. Then it’s a bloody good thing that Helen pissed you off. Because you would be down a second car.”

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“To Helen it is all about the driver. Fuck the setup or type of the car. She would have gone out there and pushed the car to the limits. Not caring how it handled. She wouldn’t have cared where the rest of your team was in the field. When she wrecked, and she would’ve, she’d blamed everyone but herself. I’ve seen it happen more than once.” Temperance sighed.

“Then how come she keeps getting picked up by teams?” I asked her.

“Because when she wins. She wins big and often. I’m talking about back to back wins on some of the nastiest tracks in the world.” Temperance chuckled.

“I get it. Teams in trouble of losing their sponsors hire her on for three or four races. She comes in gets a few wins and the sponsors stick around.” I said. Temperance just point her finger to nose letting me know I was on the money. “Just fucking wonderful. No wonder she has chip on her shoulder and is here as a replacement driver.”

“There’s more to it than that, Bobbie. Helen is looking for a full-time ride. She believes that if she can just show the ISA teams that she can win in any car. Then someone will hire her on permanently.” Temperance told me honestly.

“Then she’s in for verry rude and nasty awakening. Because the only open slot on any team has already been filled. Horn Thomas brought in a full-time replacement for Bain from home.” I chuckled. “They used the driver contract replacement clause. Your countryman Hayden Macdonald flew in on Wednesday.”

“Damn. He would have to have the backup contract for Horn Thomas. I knew that I should have pushed harder for that contract.” Temperance bitched. “Oh well good for Hayden. He deserves it after all the shit he went through.”

“What do you mean Temperance?” I asked her. I didn’t know the whole deal with the replacement drivers or the ones that held the replacement contracts.

“There are ten contracts one for each team that fall under the full-time replacement driver clause. Those contracts are open to any driver that was originally asked to join the ISA. Like the other part timers. I wasn’t offered one of those contracts. We’re paid by the ISA to be on standby incase we’re needed for one or two races.” Temperance explained for me. “Or like in your case for as long as the doctors say that you’re unable to race. Now, if a driver is out for the rest of the season the full-time replacement drivers are offered the contract. To get one of those contracts you can’t race for one of the other teams even as a part time replacement. That means in any sport. There are still nine drivers out there waiting for a full time slot.”

“Are you telling me that there are nine professional drivers just sitting at home waiting for one of us to wipe out like Bain?” I asked in shock.

“As you Yanks say. You bet your ass. Even the bookies are in on the action.” Temperance told me a smile. “I understand that the odds are twenty to one that the next full-time contract goes to Red Star.”

“How do you figure that? It could very well go to MRI.” I smirked. Only to get a full bellied laugh from the woman. “Okay what am I missing?”

“Of all the teams, only MRI doesn’t have a contract replacement driver in the wings. If you did need one, your parents would just put someone from your hometown in the car. There are what five, six, maybe seven, drivers in Darlington with professional tickets now?” Temperance asked with a smile.

“Nine at last count. With another four in line to pick up their tickets by the end of this year.” I told her as I thought about what she said. “You’re right we could have a full-time replacement driver anywhere in the world in twelve to fourteen hours with just one phone call.”

“There is also something else that no other team can do, Bobbie. If MRI wanted too you can field two more full teams. Using nothing more than the talent from your hometown. To compete with MRI the other teams have to have fully trained Stockcar drivers waiting in the wings. Just in case they need a driver to finish off the season.” Temperance ran her hand over the hood of my car. “I don’t know if you know this Bobbie. One of the catches for every team in the ISA was that they have enough drivers to complete the season.”

“I heard something about that clause.” I said and shrugged my shoulders. “Didn’t really pay it much attention. That’s a business thing. My wife and parents handle all those things.”

“You know you’re not your typical cocksure Yank that I’m used to dealing with. You’re smarter than you look.” Temperance answered with a smirk. “I can see why my uncle respects you and your sister so much.”

“You know something I’ve been meaning to ask. Why didn’t you follow your uncle into Formula One? Surely you had plenty of offers.” I asked her.

“Too many offers. But only if I drove the way they wanted me to drive. Nobody was willing to give me a chance to drive my way. Though things are changing just not fast enough for some of us.” Temperance told me honestly before snarling. “The major teams only see women as sex objects in supporting roles for the more acceptable male drivers.”

“I know what you mean Temperance. I don’t know how many sexiest blockheads I have had to deal with over the last three years. Most of whom believe that women have no place in auto racing.” I grumbled.

“Those are the same blockheads that think they’re God’s gift to the sport.” Temperance sneered. “I love putting those types of assholes in their places.”

I had to chuckle at her attitude when it comes to some of our fellow drivers. Not to mention some of the sponsors that still believe a woman’s place in the home. “I’ve found the best way to put them in their place is just to win the only way I know how. By giving it my best out there all the time every time. I leave the bullshit in the pits. Whatever happens out there on the track I’ve listen to Kathy. Trust me she wouldn’t lead you wrong. The gal can read a track faster and better than anyone I know except for maybe her mother. She is one of the best spotters in the game bare none. That is what you’ll need to do on Sunday.”

“I hear you Bobbie.” Temperance said as she looked out at the track. “The Twin ring is no place for personal grudges or issues. It’s an unforgiving beast with a hunger for sheet metal and high-octan engines.”

“Good.” I was already liking her attitude. I could tell that Temperance was wasted as a replacement driver. I needed to talk to mom, dad, and the COWS. Tonight, would be the perfect time. “Okay Temperance, time to climb in and get some track time. Remember what I said about listening to your spotter. I know you don’t know her that well but just trust her.”

“Okay Bobbie I hear you. What I want to know is how do they know the tracks so damned well? What is their secret?” Temperance asked me in confusion.

“Unlike the other spotters there is something that you have to understand about our spotters. All four of them are dedicated worshippers at the Temple for the Dark Goddess of physical fitness. With Coach Hall as their High Priestess leading the way.” I chuckled at the blank look on Temperance’s face. “There is not one track where we’ve race at that they haven’t run between twenty to thirty laps around before the green flag drops on race day. As hard as those four push us in our physical fitness training, they push themselves even harder. They gain a unique perspective of the tracks that other spotters lack.”

“Is that why you and the other drivers place so much confidence in your teams’ spotters? They know the track as well as the drivers.” Temperance asked with a sly smile.

“It’s more than just that Temperance. Coach Hall learned how to call a race before any of us drivers were even born. Kathy, her daughter and my spotter, learned at her side. Joey and Specs learn on one of the meanest tracks in the world, Darlington Speedway. Not to mention all the time those four spend at the other local track, the Darlington Knight’s road course, spotting for other drivers. They train themselves at every chance they get to spot for different drivers. I don’t know how many different drivers that each one has spotted for over the last year and a half.” I couldn’t keep the note of pride that I felt for our spotters out of my voice. “Trust in our spotters Temperance. They’re our greatest secret weapon.”

“Aye lassie, I spent two years racing against the Furies.” The voice was one that I hadn’t heard in eight months and shouldn’t be anywhere the Twin rings. I turn to smile at the owner of the voice. A man who should be in another country getting ready to race on a F1 track. “There’s more than one race we piggybacked their spotters signals to get an edge on the rest of the field.”

“Good afternoon Mac or is that Sir Robert.” I said with a smile as I faced him. “I would favor you with a curtsy but as you can see, I have a minor problem that prevents such niceties.”

“Bobbie the day you go all courtly mannered is the day that I carry an umbrella for those flying pigs.” McNair said with a polite smile as he pointed towards my leg. “How long do the doctors have you sidelined?”

“I’m out until at least Brooklands Superspeedway. Nothing major just a bunch of bruised muscles and pulled tendons.” I explained then gave him a sideways glance. “Shouldn’t you be in Shanghai?”

“Aye, we should be, but a breakout of Fisherman's Aching Feet, Beer Decay, Devil's Stomach, or whatever they’re calling this newest bug put the kibosh on those plans.” McNair bitched bluntly getting a laugh out me and his niece. “With our race canceled me and a few of the other drivers decided to catch the first flight this way. Thought we would drop in an give the newest sport in the field our support.”

“And showing up to root for your niece had nothing to do with it?” I asked smiling up at the big man.

“Now that would be a wonderful thing. Though I thought that Alexander was driving as your replacement.” McNair asked looking over at Temperance.

“Let’s just say that she didn’t fit in with our team dynamic Mac.” I snarked.

“She went and pissed someone off. Who was it?” McNair sighed.

“Bobbie’s spotter, Kathy.” Temperance answered before I could say anything. “This is one time it was best that it happened now.”

“Oh! Why’s that lassie?” McNair asked with a sideways glance at me.

“Because Kathy would have slapped the dog piss out of the bitch during a race for her attitude.” I answered grinning. “That is after she pulled her out of the car on pit road.”

“I take it Helen is being her usual bitch loving self?” McNair smirked.

“You just made the understatement of the year uncle. She still pushing that ‘the driver is all that matters’ attitude of hers.” Temperance explained then sighed. “I think she really believes that this is a solo sport.”

“Sadly, Corky you’re probably not far off the mark. I swear that worthless da’ of hers is to blame for her attitude.” McNair grunted causing me to give him a look of confusion. “Her da’ is Allen Alexander three time Le Mans driver’s grand champion. The man is a right prick.”

“So, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree?” I asked sweetly.

“More like fell off the branch and grabbed the next one down.” Temperance smirked then started to laugh. “If it ever let go in the first place.”

“I would say didn’t let go of the branch. The few times I’ve had the pleasure of being in her company. The lady, and I use that term loosely with her, left a bad taste in my mouth. One so bad it took six fingers of good Scotch to waste it away.” McNair chuckled. “Now I know why you’re down here in the MRI garage area. What can you tell me about Bobbie’s car?”

“Only that her setup is more like an American street racer. Other than that, not jack shit. I haven’t had a chance to take it around the track yet.” Temperance told her uncle bluntly. Only to get a laugh out of McNair. “Why do I have a feeling that even her Formula One cars were setup the same way?”

“Because they were, Corky. Remember what I said about racing against the McGuire Furies. This maybe ah oval track, but they’ll still come at it with the same attitude. I think that even their two teammates set their cars up the same damned way.” McNair explained for his niece kindly. “Of all the teams that you’ll face in this new sport. MRI has at its roots the very soul of NASCAR. They are all to their very core moonshine runners and outlaws.”

Temperance got a thoughtful look on her face as she looked at my car. “Uncle Rob this has been fun, but I need to get to work. If I’m going to have even half a chance of controlling this monster. I need to put some laps under my belt before Qualifying tomorrow.”

“Go ahead and get strapped in Corky. I’ll head for the spotter’s nest. I’ll be on channel one. Chief Hailee will be on channel three.” I told her as I turned to see that Chief Hailee already had her seat secured in the car. I looked over at where Chief Hailee was going over a few things with my pit crew. “Hey Chief Hailee. When did you start changing out Alexander’s seat for Temperance’s seat?”

“We never even got Alexander’s seat in the car when the word came down about the change. I sent Greg after Miss Dickson’s seat the second we got the word.” Chief Hailee yelled back. “The car is pretty much set as close to neutral as I can get it for her. She heading out for a practice run?”

“As soon as you can get the car pushed out to the pits. Why?” I yelled back.

“Give me and the crew ten more minutes. I have to get a few things sorted in the pit box. You heading for the nest?” Chief Hailee asked me as he walked up and shook McNair’s hand. “Nice to see again you Sir. Here to watch your niece play with the new boys and girls on the block?”

“That I am Chief. You’ll be sure to take good care of my favorite niece.” McNair answered as he shook Chief Hailee’s hand.

“I’m your only niece, Uncle Robert.” Temperance bitched. Only to kiss him on the cheek. “But that’s still nice to know you care.”

“I know love. Now you do as Chief Hailee tells you and take care of his baby. You don’t and you’ll be the one pounding out the dents.” McNair said smiling.

“Don’t worry, Mac. I have full confidence in her. Now, let’s get our asses out of the area and let her get her head in the game.” I led the big Englishman out of the garage area. As we made our way to the control tower McNair asked about Kelly and the kids. He understood why she was staying at home with the babies. In this uncertain world were new diseases are popping up out of nowhere a simple cold could turn deadly for babies and small children in no time. COVID-19 had shown the world just how deadly a new disease could be in a short time.

He looked down at my leg. “You got lucky Bobbie. I reviewed the footage of that wreck. It could have been a fuck load worse.”

“Don’t I know it, Mac. I’m just happy that I’m only out of the game until Brooklands. Mori is out at least until Berlin, and Bain is out for good.” I told him as we rode the elevator up to the roof and the spotter’s nest. “I just wish that I could get my hands on those fucking security guards.”

“Then the reports about sabotage were true?” McNair asked me only to get a nod from me. “Damn. It’s bad enough that we put our asses on the line, but to actually have someone fucking around with our cars is beyond ignorant. The fact that it was someone we’re supposed to trust is even more of a blow to the trust we place in the rest of the support people. Have the coppers even said why they did it?”

“This is just between you and me, Robert. It goes nowhere else. Not even my parents know what I’m about to tell you.” McNair nodded his head in understanding and crossed his heart. “Those seven security guards were being paid to fix the outcome of the race by the Yakuza. When they couldn’t get to the drivers they went after the cars. Especially the ones belonging to teams that they wanted out of the race.”

“Bloody hell! No wonder there’s coppers all over the place. Just how bad did they fuck with the cars?” McNair asked with an animalistic snarl.

“Enough that if the police hadn’t arrested those fuckheads before the Crew Chiefs got a hold of them. There would have been seven unmarked graves in the Mitsubishi Speedway infield right now.” I chuckled. “A long with a new legend similar to Jimmy Hoffa and Giants Stadium.”

“Who? And where?” McNair asked with real confusion on his face.

“Jimmy Hoffa was an American labor union leader, the president of the Teamsters Union, and organized crime figurehead from fifty-seven to seventy-one. He disappeared in seventy-five. It’s rumored that he was murdered to keep him from regaining control of the Teamsters by his old enemies in the mob. After that they supposedly they buried his body in one of three places in the old Giants Stadium.” I chuckled. “But like most myths concerning the mob it proved to be nothing more than a bunch of bullshit.”

“Though this is one time that I doubt the myth concerning those security guards being buried in the infield Mitsubishi Speedway would have been bullshit. I know my Crew Chief and Senior Mechanic would have done that at the least. Those two would have chopped their asses into piece and used them for shark bait in the Tokyo bay.” McNair chuckled as he talked about his team. “After they beat the dog shit out of them.”

The elevator doors opened, and we head for the rest of the spotters. I was chuckling right along with McNair as we walked over to join them. As I took the headset and binoculars from Kathy, I heard the engine of my car fire over. Its deep throated rumble reach my ears and brought a smile to my face. It was a smile that grew over the next two hours as Temperance Dickson drove my car as if she had stolen it. She made three pit stops to get her timing down with my pit crew. The first stop was sloppy as a wet dream. The second stop was cleaner, and she knew how to handle the car pulling onto pit road. The third and final stop was dead on the marks. My smile never left my face.

I have to give it to the woman. She listens to advice and gives great feedback. If she was able to sign a full-time contract, I would push mom and dad to sign her in an instant. She was that good behind the wheel of a car. I turned to McNair who was wearing a mile-wide smile.

“I take it you were the one to train her, Mac?” I asked as he nodded his head like a proud poppa. “I got to say that you did one hell of a job Mac. Do you know who her business manager is?”

“She’s a free agent after this year Bobbie. Her contract with the ISA is for this year only. What are you thinking?” He asked me with more than curiosity.

“How good is she behind the wheel of a Formula One car?” Already thinking about the four cars setting back in the garage. I knew that mom and the granddames have been hunting for a pair of drivers to take over those cars. They still wanted to dominate the Formula One circuit.

“Bobbie if you want to put my niece into one of your Formula One cars, I’ll pay her the buyout for her contract out of my own pocket. I can even get you a second driver for that other car. She hasn’t a lot of experience in open-wheel cars, but she knows her way around a road course.” McNair must have picked up on what I was thinking and ran with it.

“Then get your checkbook ready, Mac. Because once Darwin is out of the way she’s heading for Darlington. Along with whoever you can get for Beth’s car.” I told him honestly.

“Are you sure your ma’ and da’ will go for that Bobbie? And what about pit crews? Where you going to get them?” McNair asked in even more confusion.

“Don’t worry about the pit crews. I know for a fact that there are a bunch of guys and gals with passports just waiting for a chance like this to come along. They, maybe young but they’ve all trained their assed off in the hopes of becoming the next MRI Formula One pit crews. They also have more time on their hands than is good for them.” I told him with a chuckle as I thought about the guys and gals of the Blue Devils. “You give them a chance and they’ll do you proud. By the way how much longer do you have on your contract? They’ll be needing a Coordinator for the teams.”

“I’ve been a free agent sense the beginning of the season. I can walk away with no notice, Bobbie. McLaren has known from the start that I’ve been thinking about retiring for a year now. They didn’t renew my contract last year. The only reason why I’ve been driving for them is out of loyalty to my team. McLaren has been dragging their heels in finding my replacement.” McNair told me honestly. “To be honest I’m getting tired of their games.”

“Then escort your niece to the meet and greet tonight. I got a few people for you to meet. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine, Sir Robert McNair, Knight of the realm.” I told him smiling.

-----tbc-----

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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 10
Motegi twin ring Speedway, Japan, Sunday late afternoon

I smiled as I walk through the garage area even though I wasn’t feeling very happy right now. Sure, Friday night’s meet and greet with the sponsors went perfectly. I got more done than I expected to happen. I’ll never forget the looks on the faces of the COWWs when I told them I had a line on a team coordinator for the Formula One team. I don’t know who they were looking for, but it sure as fuck wasn’t Sir Robert McNair.

I think Bertha Benz swallowed her false teeth, and Mercedes Jellinek had to adjust her hearing aid. I laughed to myself the whole night as Robert twisted the COWWs every which way but loose. I all most fell flat on my ass when he told them that he could have two full teams together in two weeks’ time for the next F1 race. I had prepped Robert with the need information before the party in the hotel dining room. I just didn’t expect him to use it the way that he did while negotiating his contract.

We had also spent the day talking about how he could form the teams from the guys back in Darlington. He laughed his ass off when I told that most of the pit crews are Blue Devils and members other of the local car clubs. He really laughed when I told him about the nine drivers with full tickets just waiting for a chance at the big leagues. Needless to Bertha and Mercedes jumped at the chance to hire McNair. They didn’t even argue about his demands.

I had to laugh yesterday when the COWWs cornered Temperance in the garage as she climbed out my car after qualifying. They never gave the poor girl a chance to talk. I had to run interference long enough for Temperance so she could run use the restroom. She must have really had to go after her qualifying run. Not that I blame her. I watched her the enter time around the track. She may have put up the fastest qualifying time, but she had also come close to losing control going over the tunnel at the entrance to turn 3. She did one hell of a job driving my car.

I know that today’s race is going to be a killer. For more than just her. It’s going to challenge every driver out there today. Not only because of the length of the race but the nature of the race itself. I start going over the specs for the track in my head. Length 1.549 mi, 4 turns with a banking of 10°, 3 tunnel overpasses. Race length a just over 500 miles for 323 laps. Number of stages, 4. Each stage 80 laps except for stage 4 with 83 laps. The kick in the head is no one has gotten a handle on the gas mileage yet. I’ve talked with every team and gotten the same answer. I depends on the lap times and speeds. Both of which has been varying from car to car, and driver to driver. Hell, even with our four drivers we gotten four deferent figures.

Between Beth, James, Sam, and Temperance none of them have turned in the same times or fuel consumption. It hasn’t matter when they’ve run their laps nothing has stayed the same. Though Sam and James got more time behind the wheel of a Stock car they still turned in erratic lap times and gas mileage. Beth wasn’t much better. I could understand Temperance turning in shitty lap times and gas mileage numbers. Yet even her numbers were like a damned yo-yo. Great one run, shitty the next. It was that way for all four the drivers.

Then there was the problem with tire ware. Some teams were getting between 40-45 laps before having to pit for a set of tires. A few teams were getting 50-55 laps before having to pit. Then there were the teams that were barely getting 35-40 laps before having to pit. Sadly, we were in the average with 40-45 laps. No matter how I’ve come at the problem I still haven’t figured out a solution. At least not one that will work realistically.

Then there is the other nasty problem that I have no way of controlling. The later it gets in the day the more the wind will pick up. I had stopped and looked at the flags flying from the tower when I first arrived at the track. Back then they were already whipping around pointed towards the south. It wasn’t even 10am when I arrived. Now, they’re almost standing straight out. I had already taken more than one look at the wind gages. They were showing a steady 14 mile an hour wind. The wind is going to play a bigger part in today’s race than I predicted.

The only good thing about the track today was it hadn’t rained last night. It still had a nice layer of rubber build up out there in the turns and down the straightaways. That’ll help a lot with the grip. It also might make the track too tight. That might change as the sun goes down the track really starts to cool down. With the race due to start in two hours before sunset I can see the track conditions going through multiple changes. I sigh as I realize that the drivers and pit crews are going to be chasing the handling of the cars for the whole race.

“What’s on your mind Speedy?” Chief Hailee asks from behind me. “Trying to figure out a winning strategy?”

“Yup. Got it in one Chief. I just can’t get a handle on this track.” I bitched as I looked out at the apex of turn 1 and 2. “Those dammed tunnels are going to be a nonstop fuck you throughout the race.”

“Tell me something I don’t know kid.” Chief Hailee snorted. “What else do you see? I know that you’ve seen something to give us an edge.”

“That’s just it Chief. I have no real feel for the track. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” I grumbled and looked down at the splint on my leg. “If I could only drive two or three laps.”

“Forget it! You’re lucky your mom isn’t here to hear you even think that crazy idea. Let alone speaking it aloud.” Tommy said as he walked up us. “Beth sent me over here to put a stop to any of your crazy ideas.”

“If anybody would know what I was thinking it would be her.” I grunted then chuckled. “She could be my twin sister instead being two years older with the way she can read my mind at times.”

“Bobbie it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what you’re thinking at times.” Tommy chuckled. “You’re more of a racer than any of our drivers. It has been bugging the crap out of you not being able to drive this track. You’ve had no real way of getting a feel for the track sitting on the sidelines. Normally you’re out there running laps or making test runs long before the race. You have always shown up on race day with a feel for the track and a plan for attacking it. Something most drivers can’t get from watching yet you can. You always do. You just have to get out of your head.”

“That’s just it Tommy I shouldn’t have to drive or run laps to come up with a plan for attack a track, Tommy. I know I’m not like Beth, or the others. I can usually look at a layout map of a track or watch a video of from the driver’s camera and just know how to attack a track. I’ve done all that this time. I don’t know how many times I’ve gone over the practice videos from Beth, James, Sam, and Temperance. This track has almost the same layout as Darlington but from what I’ve seen you can’t attack it the same way.” I sigh once more in true frustration. “It just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Roberta McGuire, I have known you sense you were in diapers.” Chief Hailee started in on me softly. “I watched as you first learned to walk, then ride your bike. I was forced to sit back and do nothing while you battled your way through cancer. I watched as you sat beside the grave of one too many friends as they lost their own battles. I saw each of those deaths would take a little more of the light from your eyes. Yet you never gave up on your own fight. You never gave up on your DREAM. Then four years ago you achieved that dream. Two years ago, you kept a promise made to a young girl. You’ve achieved more in your young life than any other person that I know. You only have one flaw kiddo. You believe there is nothing you cannot do behind the wheel of a car. That maybe true to a point but that is not what makes you the best damned driver I’ve seen in all my years in the pits.”

“Then what is it? Because right now I feel like a fifth wheel around here.” I grumbled as I looked back out at the track.

“The answer is simple Bobbie. It is your uncanny ability to see the way a track or road will change minute to minute. Just from watching a video or studying a printed map layout. This is something most drivers never learn. You’ve done it from the first time you strapped into a racer car. You understand racetracks the way I understand a chassis.” Chief Hailee explain for me kindly as he pointed down at the splint. “You’re letting that, and last week’s race get into your head.”

“What are you saying Chief?” I demanded. “That what I’m feeling is all in my head. That I just need to get out of my own way or something?”

“Exactly Bobbie. For the past few days, I’ve seen you second guessing yourself over every decision you’ve made for this team. I know that you’re afraid that you’ll make the wrong choice.” Chief Hailee said as he placed his hand on my shoulder. “Look kiddo, that wreck wasn’t your fault. Nobody ever thought that our cars could or would be sabotaged like that. Trust your instincts. Your parents do. Your sister and the other drivers do. I do. The crews do. Even the other teams listening in on our radio chatter do.”

“Wait! What? Other teams are listening in on our radio chatter? How long has this been going on? And why haven’t we done something about it?” I demanded.

“Bobbie, we’ve known about that the other teams have been eavesdropping on our radio chatter for almost two years now.” Tommy chuckled. “Not that it has done them any good. None of them can do what you kids can.”

“Not that we haven’t tried, ya’ buggers.” I turned to see McNair standing there with a mile-wide grin. “Like I told Corky on Friday. My Crew Chiefs and spotters went out of their way to try and piggyback off your calls. Not your sister’s calls but yours.”

“Why my radio and not my sister’s?” I asked the big Englishman. “Oh, how did you get down here anyway? They’re restricting access to team personnel only.”

“I just showed them my MRI Formula One credentials.” McNair chuckled as he held up the laminated pit and garage team pass. “It’s nice to be working for a proper team again. Even if I have to catch the red eye flight back to the States after the race. Any suggestions for a decent hotel in Darlington?”

“Forget staying at a hotel Mac. Just head for Slow Jack’s Garage. Tell them that you’re there on MRI business and you need a place to stay.” Tommy told him with a grin. “Somebody will get you a bed and breakfast faster than the roadrunner escaping Willie E. Coyote in a Saturday morning cartoon.”

“If not faster if they realize who you are and why you’re there.” I chuckled. “Then again more that is most likely going to happen anyway. Most of the Blue Devils are diehard Formula One fans.”

“Don’t forget Joey’s fiancée Bobbie. Stephany is still running the family garage along with the Darlington Knights road track and Blue Devils. If she hears Mac here is in her garage and looking for pit crews. She’ll put him up at her own place.” Chief Hailee put in with his own grin.

“Damn. Just how many potential pit crews am I looking at?” McNair asked.

“There’s four fulltime car clubs in Darlington right now Mac. Each club with between twenty to thirty standing members. That doesn’t count the Blue Devils and the rest of the Knights. Though admittedly most of the Knights are now part of our pit crews and team mechanics. There isn’t one member of those car clubs that can’t turn a wrench on their own cars. Sure, some of them are girls but just look at how well that has worked out for MRI.” I answered. “Trust me when I say that if you want the best people on the crews, you’ll need to hold tryouts for the pit crews Mac.”

“Not that you’ll find a bad one in the batch Mac. It’s just that those boys and girls have been training themselves in the hopes of becoming a member of our pit crews.” Chief Hailee grunted then chuckled. “The only ones that aren’t training for the pit crews are the ones busting their asses to become the next Bobbie or Beth McGuire.”

“Bloody hell! Just how big is that talent pool I can draw on Bobbie?” McNair asked me realizing that for the first time how big of a major asset he had to draw on in the car clubs back in Darlington.

“If we include the other five smaller clubs, nonaffiliated drivers and independent mechanics close to three-hundred people deep, sir.” Joey said as he walked up to join us. “Though I wouldn’t place too much stock in that number. Some of the nonaffiliates just hit the track to have a good time and race for fun on the weekends. For the real diehards only look at the clubs. Those are the ones that will give it their all for you.”

“Other than these Blue Devils Joseph. Who should I be looking at?” McNair asked my little brother with his head cocked to the side.

“For starters, the Blue Devils are good for your over the wall pit crews. Up next are the guys over in the Midnight Ridge Runners they’re your best choice for your all-around mechanics. The Beach Bums will be the best for your go to crew for scroungers. You need parts they can find them on short notice or fabricate them out of thin air. For all-round utility crew members your best choice is going to be the Firebirds. Those gals maybe the smallest club but they have the best universal skillset.” Joey told McNair with an answering grin that will earned. He was proud of Stephany and all she has accomplished.

“You wouldn’t mind me using your lovely fiancée as a sounding board and reference, Joseph?” McNair asked my little brother with a sly grin. “From the sounds of things your Stephany has her thumb on the pulse of the clubs.”

“She has more than her finger on the pulse, Mac. Steph is the heartbeat of those clubs. If not for her most of those clubs would have never formed.” Chief Hailee butted in. “Talk to her and listen to what she has to say. Trust me she won’t steer you wrong.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. I only have one question. If she is so good at organizing crews. Why aren’t you using her?” McNair asked us.

“Simple. She runs her family’s garage back home while her dad and uncle travel the world with two of our teams.” I chuckled.

“Bloody hell! What does she have for blood? Mobil One Ten-W-thirty?” McNair asked jokingly as he gave Joey a quirky smile.

Only to have Joey grin even wider. “Nope. She bleeds only the best. Royal Purple’s twenty-W-fifty XPR Synthetic Racing Oil.”

Joey got us all laughing with that wise crack. He always was a major smartass. Though he never took things too far. Yet he always has had a great sense of time. Always knowing exactly when to throw out a true zinger. He then turned deadly serious as he gave me the look. You know the one that says it is time to get your shit together.

“Bobbie, I know that you want to be out there on the track behind the wheel of your car. You won’t be you if you didn’t. That doesn’t mean you don’t know how to help out the teams from the spotters’ nest. You know the fucking track. You don’t need to drive or run laps around it. You never have.” He pulled me into a hug then whispered in my ear. “I know what you’re thinking. That you have to do that to get a feel for the track, but you don’t. You can do this Bobbie. Don’t let the crash hold you back.”

I want to punch the shit head, but I know he’s right. Last week’s wreck has been haunting me in my dreams. I should say my nightmares. How Joey always knew when something is bugging me, I’ll never know. Just that he always has. Even back when I was dealing with the cancer and all those treatments. He has also been the only one who always knows what to say to get me out of my own headspace and back into the game of life. Only this time his soft-spoken words of encouragement brought a much-needed clarity to my thoughts and with that clarity a sudden burst of insight.

“Chief I know this is going to sound crazy but drop the sway bars on all the cars a half turn. Also stick a half wedge in the frontend of Sam and Beth’s cars. Leave Corky and Jim’s frontends alone. Drop two pounds of pressure on all four tires for Corky and Beth. Three pounds in Jim and Sam’s tires. Shift the counterweights in Corky’s car to the inside by six inches. Leave Jim and Beth’s counterweights where they are. For Sam shift the weights to the outside by three inches.” I said as I stepped back from Joey’s hug.

“Those are a lot of changes Bobbie.” Chief Hailee looked down at his pocket watch. “It’ll be close, but we’ll get them done before inspection.”

As Tommy and Chief Hailee walked off shouting orders to the pit crews Joey just chuckled. While McNair gave me a knowing smile before wisecracking. “She’s bbbaaaccckkk! God help the poor slobs that have to face these four teams now. The Demon Queen of Speed has shown her fangs. Even from a chair on the sideline she is still a threat to be reconned with.”

“You know something sis. I really wish the docs had given you a cast instead of a splint. That way I could have written that out somewhere where the rest of the drivers could see it.” Joey chuckled. I just blew him a raspberry.

“Come on let’s get you up to the nest.” McNair told me with a chuckle.

“That’ll have to wait, Mac. I still have to do the fan meet and greet.” I chuckled and looked down at the splint once more. “Even if I’m not racing, I still have to show up for the face to face with them.”

“Bobbie you know that you can skip the meet and greet because of your injury. The fans will understand that kind of reason.” McNair told me kindly. I could tell by the way he was looking at my leg he had heard how bad my leg injuries really are. “I heard that you’re supposed to keep the leg elevated.”

“Don’t worry Mac. I’ll be parking my ass on the wall to pit road next to the car. I plan on letting the fans come to me. I think that Danny has a special set of tires on a hand truck just for that reason.” I joked.

“You mean those two tires with the flat spots.” McNair asked pointing towards the forementioned tires and hand truck. “I thought they were there to remind your sister and the other drivers to not waste tires by spinning out in the pit boxes. After all tires are expensive.”

I snickered and just shook my head. “Then it’s a damned good thing that we have a heavily padded budget for tires. Speaking of tires Mac. What’s your take on how the tire ware will come into play?”

“It will vary through the day, Bobbie.” McNair said after a few minutes of thought. “Sadly, we have no way of judging that ware as the race runs.”

“Damn. I was hoping that you had some good news for me.” I grumbled. “I hate to say it but that is the same take on it that I came up with. The real bitch is that the grip on our tires is going to go before we hit the fuel window most likely. No matter how we adjust for the changing track conditions.”

“You’re probably right Bobbie.” McNair grunted with authority. “You’re not the only one to study Temperance’s practice videos. I went over them myself last night after diner with my niece. I also talked with Chiefs Hailee, Marks, and the Stones. We all spotted the same tire ware problem. We also came to the same conclusion. The tire window is going to be much smaller during the race. As is the fuel window thanks to the increased winds.”

“Mac the winds aren’t going to fuel mileage as much as tire ware. The extract downforce is really going to eat up the tires.” I countered.

“The downforce isn’t going to increase tire ware that much Bobbie, but it will affect the mileage.” McNair countered. “The headwind is going to slam into the cars on that back straightaway like a solid wall.”

“What about the tunnel overpasses? How do you think it will play there? We already know that those areas are going to run cooler than the rest of the track.” I pointed then grinned. “We found out that nasty tidbit of information during the practice runs on Friday.”

“The tunnel overpass that is going to be the biggest snake in the grass is the apex tunnel for turns one and two. That is in directly in line with the winds. The second our people hit those turns all bets are off. Even with the rubber buildup that one patch of track is going to be slicker than cat shit on waxed vinyl flooring. Mark my words that is where the big one will come for our racers today Bobbie.” I give McNair a hard look and realize he’s right. He may not be a Stockcar driver but knows the sport and the danger signs as sure as any seasoned Stockcar driver alive.

“You’re right Robert.” My use of his first name had the big Englishman looking me dead in the eyes. “And there’s not one fucking thing we can do to stop it from happening. It’s going to be a question of when and not if again. I really hate these overseas tracks. Too damned many unknowns.”

“Nothing you haven’t faced before, Bobbie. In your first year of Formula One you and your sister faced the same challenges. This should be nothing new.” McNair pointed out then grin. “If I remember right. You two girls handed us vets our assed in more than one race. You more than earned your right to race on the world’s stage. Even this one.”

“Thanks Mac. How did you know I’ve been having second thoughts about the ISA?” I asked him honestly.

“Who won’t be having second thoughts after the wreck you survived last week. I watched that race Bobbie. Hell, I’ve watched every ISA race. The boys and gals over in Formula One may not believe that Stockcar racing is real racing but they don’t drive at one-ninety plus for three to four hours if not longer every time they race. The speeds at which Stockcars run makes your sport deadly because of its very nature.” McNair pointed towards the track. “The Twin Rings hold no secrets for you Roberta McGuire. You’ll be back here next year. When that times comes, you’ll show the world what you can do here. For now, let’s get you out on pit road for the fan meet and greet. I’m sure they’re waiting on your pretty face. I’ll bring your tires.”

I laughed as McNair grabbed the hand truck with the two worn tires and escorted me out to pit road wall. We made good time getting over to where my car would sit on pit road. I’m still surprised that Temperance was able to nail down the pole position. As I plopped my ass down on the pit road safety wall McNair wheeled my tires in front of me. I got the hint and propped up my leg. I spent the next few hours signing autographs for the fans. Even McNair got to sign a few for the fans. An hour before the race was to start Danny and the guys started pushing our cars out of the garage area.

Beth’s car was the first one out and placed in the 5th pole position. Sam’s came next but he was back in the 17th pole position. James was next out and right next to Sam’s car in the 18th pole position. My car and Temperance’s for this race was the last one out to pit road. Temperance was right behind the car smiling. When she got to pit road, she walked right up to me and hugged me. “Thanks for the changes to the car Bobbie. Do you think they’ll make a deference out there on the track?”

“I hope so, Corky. I really do. If you need a change during the race let me know. The key to you staying out front is going to be communication.” I told her bluntly. “If the car doesn’t feel right tell us.”

“Listen to her Corky. These cars will bite you in the ass if you don’t listen to them. They’re not like the drift and rally cars you’re used to.” McNair warned his niece. “Remember these cars are twice as wide, weight twice what you’re used to, and have two times the horsepower. In short kiddo twice the car you’re used to all the way around.”

“Trust me Uncle Bob. I know already. I learned that the first time I got behind the wheel of this bad boy on Friday. I thought I had it all figured out until yesterday’s qualifying run. I still don’t know how I turned in the fastest lap time. The way my ass end was sliding around going over that turn three tunnel I thought I was going to eat the outer wall.” Temperance shuttered as she thought about her qualifying run yesterday.

“Just what happened out there yesterday, Temperance?” McNair asked quietly.

“I don’t really know, Uncle Bob. One minute I’m turning in a pole winning lap time and the car is running fantastic. No problems with handling. The next thing I know I’m on the back straightaway slowing down to come in off the track. The second I cross that tunnel the ass end jumps out on me. Like someone hit it with a two-ton sledgehammer. Then I was fighting to keep the car off the wall. It just doesn’t make sense. I should have had better control going over that spot at the slower speeds.” Temperance bitched.

There was something she said that tripped a warning bell in my head. “Temperance you said that you were slowing down when you crossed over the tunnel. Where you using the brakes?”

“What’re you thinking Bobbie?” McNair asked as he saw where I was going with my question. “You thinking that area is a snake waiting to strike when using the brakes? It sounds like it to me.”

“Sounds that way to me Mac. Only there might be more to it. What I’m thinking is that area has a certain speed zone where handling goes out the door.” I turned to Temperance. “Corky about what speed were you going when the rear end jumped out on you?”

“Around one-ten, one-fifteen or so. No faster than one-twenty. I know that for a fact. Why?” She asked me.

“That’s it.” I said as I snapped my fingers. “That tunnel overpass has a speed zone for control. You cross over it between one-hundred and one-twenty you better have your head in the game. Below one-hundred or over one-twenty you’re in control. You cross the tunnel inside that speed zone you end up in trouble.’ I said with a nasty grin. “THAT is what has been bugging me about this track sense I woke up this morning. Mac do you think you can spread the word to our other drivers without tipping off the rest of the teams?”

“I’ll take care if it Bobbie. You and Uncle Bob need to head for the spotters’ nest.” Temperance told me and walked down the line talking with the other drivers as she went. As if it was just another day at the office for her. I watcher stop at Beth’s car hold a short conversation then move onto towards Sam and James. Beth turned to me and gave me a small salute.

“Time for us to head upstairs Mac. I’ve done enough damage for the time being.” I looked up at McNair. “This time you’ll be on the other headset. I know that I can use all the help I can get. The regular spotters are going to be too busy dealing with their regular duties to help me with keeping an eye on the track conditions and the weather.”

“You thinking that the weather is going to change on us Bobbie?” McNair asked as he helped me stand. Then grabbed the hand truck he wisecracked. “You think I need to take these upstairs with us?”

“Nope. We already set Bobbie up with a swivel chair and makeshift leg prop.” Danny said walking up to take the hand truck from McNair. “I’ll take that off your hands sir. By the way Bobbie. All those change orders you gave. They’re really going to change the handling on the cars. Are you sure that they’re going to give our drivers the edge?”

“In more ways than one Danny.” I gave him an evil grin. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Temperance, and Beth are going to bitch for the first stage about running slower than yesterday. Sam and Jim are going to ask where all the new power came from all of a sudden. Just let them bitch and wonder. Whatever changes they ask for during the first stage ignore. Change nothing. Do you understand? No changes for stage one.”

“Sure, Bobbie I can do that. You want me to pass the word to the rest of the pit crews?” He asked with a shit eating grin. Danny always loved a good prank. Especially one he can play on Sam and Jim.

“Pass the word, Danny. Remember what I said about making changes to the cars for the first stage.” I told him with a nasty grin.

“Sure Bobbie. I can do that, but you know that the Chiefs are going to need a damned good reason for ignoring the drivers.” Danny said as he pushed the hand truck and tires back to the inner pit wall.

“Look, Danny the track is going to undergo a massive change around lap one-oh-five or so. When it comes. Beth, Sam, Jim, and Temperance are going to be sitting in the seats of four rocket propelled sleds.” At Danny’s look of confusion, I sighed. “When they restart for stage two those four are going to be doing everything in their power to keep control of four starving speed demons straight out of Hell looking for their first meals.”

“Okay what the fuck are you talking about Bobbie? I’m just as confused as your jack man.” McNair growled.

“Mac remember when I told you that I couldn’t get a real read on the track?” He nodded his head to my question. “Will, I gave out all those change orders on nothing more than gut instinct. Mostly to counteract the winds coming down off the mountain. I know that the winds are going to be a major player in the race, but I was still missing a piece of the puzzle. I have that piece now. It’s going to be those tunnels and the track surface. This race is going to come down to who can keep their cool the longest and race the track not the field. The track is going to cool off faster than a steer in a butcher shop freezer. As that happens the track is going to tight up.”

“You gave orders to loosen the cars up now so our drivers will be ready for the change later in the race. Sneaky and nasty.” McNair chuckled. “I must say. I approve of your tactics.”

“Sir Robert, there is one thing that you have to give Bobbie. When it comes to racing her mind works on many a twisted levels.” Danny chuckled as we stopped on the other side of the pit wall. “Well this is where I leave you. Have fun Bobbie and try to stay in your seat.”

I just chuckled as McNair escorted me to the tower. As we rode the elevator to the spotters’ nest, we went over any possible last-minute changes we could make to my plan. I know that we’re flying by the seat of our pants with this plan of mine. The problem is it is the only plan I could come up with. Even McNair agreed with me on the plan. Now all we had to do was hope that the track does exactly what I hoped it would.

Coach Hall, Kathy, David, and Joey were already at their spots in the nest when we arrived. They greeted McNair as an old friend instead of the one-time competitor that he was. When Coach Hall heard that McNair was there to help spot for the teams, she sent Kathy down to our spare parts trailer for an extra headset with radio and field glasses. As always Coach Hall had things well organized. She also wouldn’t let me spent more than a few minutes on my feet glade handing with the other team spotters.

I had only been seat for more than a few minutes than the Japanese national anthem played. This was quickly followed by a Buddhist or Shinto monk praying over the cars and drivers for their safety. I’m not sure which. I may have been raised in a Catholic family, but I haven’t much faith in the man upstairs for a few years now. I kind of lost it laying in a Children’s hospital bed. It’s really hard to believe in a kind and loving higher power when you see kids your own age dying in the beds next to you.

When the announcer for the race started speaking, I was happier than a pig in slop to hear an English translation over my headset. “Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the Motegi twin ring for the first ever running of the Funimation Five-hundred. Drivers! Start! Your! Engines!”

The sounds of 40 V-8 high performance engines firing over, reached my ears and filled my heart with excitement. Even on the sidelines the rumbling sounds of those engines got my blood pumping. When the smell of exhaust reached my nose, I took an involuntary deep breath. I flipped over to our all hands channel and waited as the cars rolled off pit road onto the track. For the next five minutes I did and said nothing as the field lined up for the start of the race. When the pace car finally dropped down off the track on turn 4, I knew that the field would make one more lap. Just as I figured the field came around turn 3 and the flagman held up the green flag. They exited turn 4 and the man dropped the flag signaling the start of the race.

I keyed my mike. “Listen up people. Beth, Corky, let the pack go. Drop back to Sam and Jim. Jim, Sam, drop the hammer and catch up.”

“DAMN IT! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU HAVE THEM DO TO MY CAR BOBBIE?” Beth screamed over the radio. “Where did all my power go?”

“What do mean? I’m having to keep my foot out of the throttle.” Sam yelled.

“I’m with Sam on this one Beth. I got more power than I know what to do with.” James seconded Sam over the radio.

“Everyone just chill out!” I ordered. The only one not saying anything was Temperance. For some reason I think she is following her uncle’s orders. To shut up and just drive. “Listen up. For the first stage you’ll be dropping back in the pack. Don’t worry it’s all part of the plan. Trust me.”

“Shut up and drive, people!” McNair snapped over his own radio. “You’re professionals! Now act like it.” I wasn’t surprised when all four of our drivers answered back with a simple ‘yes, sir’.

I smiled as the old Englishman asserted his authority. For the next 35 laps everything went just as I expected. The pack broke down into double file with all four of our cars running in the middle of the pack nose to tail. I smiled as on lap 42 the lead cars started making green flag pit stops for tires and fuel. I brought our cars in on lap 49 for fresh tires and fuel. I smiled as all four pit crews turned in record breaking pit stop times. I mean nobody expects 14.3 second pit spots outside of NASCAR. Yet these are the times our pit crews are cranking out.

For the next 29 laps everything stayed green. I was a little surprised by this. That was a total of 78 laps without a yellow flag. The rest of the drivers must have really been stepping up their game or they’re beginning to understand the concept of pack racing better with each lap. It’s most likely the latter. After all these are professional drivers from every field of motorsports. I would be surprised if they didn’t pick up on the skills for racing in a pack as fast as they were. All that changed on lap 79 when Seth Fisher for Bisbee Snider spun out on the exit of turn 2. The only good thing was he didn’t take anyone else with him. The yellow flag came out the field ended stage 1 under the yellow flag. On lap 81 everyone came in for four fresh tires and fuel.

Our pit crews turned in the fastest pit times of all the crews. I double checked my stopwatch against McNair’s and he against mine. I still couldn’t believe that our crews took an average of 14.172 seconds to change four tires and two cans of fuel. I chuckled as all four of our cars were the first ones off pit road. Beth was in the lead, with James, Sam and finally Temperance right behind her. They lined up for the restart with Beth in first on the outside, James in second on the inside. Sam was behind James on the inside in third with Temperance in fourth on the outside. When the green flag dropped on lap 85, they took off and left the pack behind.

I grinned as the MRI cars pulled away from the pack. Once again, we were showing the rest of the ISA why we are the best. By lap 95 they were within 8 car lengths of the last cars. Then on lap 100 everything start to change. It happened sooner than I expected but the track underwent the change that I predicted. By lap 120 our cars were weaving their way around the slower cars on the track. I pulled them on lap 130 for four fresh tires and two cans of fuel. I chuckled as the rest of the field were coming in right behind them over the next 4 laps. By lap 138 the field had cycled through pit road for fresh tires and fuel. I was surprised that stage 2 stayed green.

“Bobbie, we’ve gone a long time under green flag conditions.” McNair said from behind me. “Shouldn’t there have been at least two or three yellow flags during this last stage?”

“My thinking as well, Mac. I got a nasty feeling this last stage is going to be full of surprises.” I said without taking my eyes off the restart. “Though I think that we’re going to have a bigger problem on our hands than cautions.”

“What’re you seeing that I’m not Bobbie?” McNair asked quickly.

“Temperance isn’t pushing her car, Mac. For some reason Mac, I think she’s scared.” I said truthfully. Only to hear a chuckle from behind me. “Okay Mac, what am I missing here?”

“Corky is doing what she does best, Bobbie.” McNair answered holding back his laughter. “Remember she can turn her car into the biggest roadblock there is on any track she’s racing on. She’s not afraid to push the car Bobbie. Though I doubt she realizes that she is even blocking for her teammates.”

I chuckled as what I was seeing out of Temperance’s driving finally clicked. Temperance was living up to her nicknames of Corky. “Any chance of getting her to go for the win Mac?”

“Only if Beth, and the others drop out of the race. I hate to say this but her time with Nelson and Red Horse has come back to haunt her. She’s blocking out of habit for her teammates.” McNair sighed as he looked through his field-glasses. “See she is already setting herself up to block for the others. Once the green flag drops, she’ll slide into the middle of the track. While Beth, James, and Sam drive off into the sunset.”

I started to chuckle as I spotted something out of the ordinary. “Oh, doubt that Mac. Look how tight she’s in on James’ rear bumper.”

“Trust me Bobbie. She’s not lining herself up for the win but to block.” McNair chuckled. “I’ve seen her pull this more than once.”

The second they went back to racing on lap 163 Temperance did exactly what McNair said she would. I swear that gal made her car twice a wide in less than half the front straightaway. She bottlenecked the track faster than I could have done on my best day. While Beth and the guys took off. Once the others had at 5 car gap Temperance began to race for position. They track stayed green until lap 187 when Ben Baldwin blew his right rear tire going into turn 3. I held my breath as he rode the outside wall of turn 3 and 4. I was expecting him come down off the outer wall into traffic but held it up there all the way through the turns. The rest of the field all dropped down to the inside giving him room to ride out the flat against the wall.

“Son of a bitch. They’re finally catching on.” Kathy called out to me. “Looks like we got ourselves a real racing league now, Bobbie.”

“I would say so Kathy.” I called back as I watched the race of the field was gathered up by the pace car. The professionalism being shown by the drivers made me think that maybe I didn’t belong out there with them. I mean every time I raced against these people there has been a major wreck. “They’re doing better without me out there. That’s for sure.”

“I know what you’re thinking Bobbie. The only reason they’re doing this good is because they’ve gotten over the hump in the learning curve.” I looked up at McNair. “I’ve been there myself lassie. Every few years there was a new crop of rookies. Every few years the accidents would climb for a few races. Then all of a sudden, the accidents would drop back to normal rates. That is what’s happening here. Right before our every eyes. The Stockcar rookies are figuring out how to race again. By the time you race against them in Brooklands Bobbie you’ll face a whole new beast.”

“For some reason Mac. I believe that you’re underestimating the change between now and Brooklands. They have two more races between now and then to gain an even better understanding in pack racing.” I sighed as I looked out at the track and just watched the race for a few laps. “Come Brooklands I won’t be facing the same drivers that I have been. I’ll be facing a pack of demon riding hell raisers. All set on taking down the McGuire Four Horsemen.”

-----tbc-----

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Chapter 11
Motegi twin ring Speedway, Japan, Sunday late afternoon

When the race restarted at lap 195 Bobbie and McNair returned to watching the race. They could tell that with the changing track conditions that Beth, Sam, James, and Temperance were going to have their hands full. At lap 200 McNair spotted the next change before Bobbie. Simply because his was watching the entrance to turn 3.

“Bobbie, the track is going to tighten back up in about ten to fifteen more laps. The rubber is building up fast on that cooling asphalt.” McNair grunted as he watched Temperance cross the turn 3 tunnel.

“It may Mac. I got a feeling that it’s going to get looser with each lap.” Bobbie told him as she watched Beth exiting turn 4. “But you’re there is going to be a major change in track conditions again.”

“Agreed. How sure are you of the track becoming looser?” McNair asked her.

“It’ll be a head or tails call Mac. It’s all going to depend on whether we can go green for another twenty laps.” Bobbie told him.

“How do you figure that?” McNair asked her.

“If we can stay green or at least keep the wrecks down to just one single car wreck the rubber will build up like you said and the track will tighten up. IF, however I as except things to happen the next wreck will bring out a red flag. With this new rule of bringing the field to pit road for red flags to clear the track then it will become extremely loose.” Bobbie said as she lowered her field glasses. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s stupid, but the IRS Commissioners think that the tracks should be cleaned after any major wreck. I can see bring out the driers after a rain delay. I can’t see bringing out the streetcleaners to scrub the track after a major wreck.”

“It’s something NASCAR is having us try out for them. It’s supposed to cut down on repetitive yellows.” Coach Hall said while never lowering her field glasses. “You would know this if you had paid attention to Association rules change briefing on Thursday.”

“I had a slightly more important pressing engagement Coach.” Bobbie snarked as she pointed to her leg. “I can’t be in two places at once.”

“True. How is the leg feeling?” Coach Hall asked before keying her mike. “Beth stay low going into turn one and stay there. The tunnel is get slick.”

“How’s the rest of the team hold on, guys?” Bobbie asked.

“Sam doing right Bobbie. His times aren’t dropping but they’re not getting any better. He keeps saying something about slick spots.” Joey told her.

“Joe’s in the same boat time wise with same the problem. What about Corky, Kathy?” David called out as the field roared past.

“Same, same, Bobbie. At the same points around the track. Over both tunnels, on the exit to turn four, and the front straightaway.” Kathy answered as she turned towards Bobbie. “Any idea on what’s happening?”

“Just one. The rubber build up is starting to peel in those areas.” Bobbie key her mike. “Chief Hailee are you near the last set of tires you pulled off the car? What do they look like?”

“We got a massive amount of rubber build up on the tires, Bobbie. They look like Corky has been running through the marbles at top the of the track.”

“How thick is the rubber buildup on the tires?” Bobbie asked quickly.

“At least three millimeters. What you thinking Speedy?”

“Oh shit! Get the crash carts ready Chief. We’re about have a big one.” Bobbie’s words couldn’t have been more prophetic. The only problem was they came too late to prevent the wreck at the apex of turn 1 and 2.

Elle Harbert of Northern Alliance blew her left front tire. The sudden drop of her left front pulled her down into the car next to her on the inside. The only upside was the wreck started at the rear of the pack. The change reaction wreck only affected the last seven cars. As Elle hit the car beside her they spun sideways. With both cars now sideways to the last five cars they had nowhere to go. The yellow flag came out to be quickly followed by the red. All the spotters were calling for their drivers to pull onto pit road, and into their pit boxes then shut down their engines.

Bobbie held her breath as the fast moving stockcars started braking hard on the back straightaway. She just knew that there would be even more accidents with the way the drivers were shutting down their cars. Her fears were eased as the field gathered up without the pace car and slowly pulled down onto pit road. Each car headed for their assigned pit box. The professionalism and skill shown by the drivers was amazing in Bobbie and McNair’s eyes.

“And the rookies become veterans. There you have your proof Bobbie.” McNair said as he place his hand on Bobbie’s shoulder. “They’ve been learning with every lap of ever race. They’re getting there, but they still have a ways to go yet. Like I said earlier the wrecks just suddenly drop off.”

“You might be right Mac. This wreck could have been a whole lot worse. I have to be honest, Mac. I wasn’t too hip on the new wreck protocols, but they just might keep the number of repeat yellows down.” Bobbie said as she watched track sweepers moving out onto the track behind the wreckers.

“That they might. On the other hand, they could increase the number of wrecks. With the street clears cleaning the track the way they are it will change the track racing conditions.” McNair said and sighed.

“And that is what I was worried about, Mac. When we go back to racing that whole end of the track is going to be virgin.” Bobbie pointed to where the cleaners were working at entrance to turn 1. “They’re starting their run, way too early. If they continue all the way to the exit of turn two. The track is going to be loose on one end and tight at the other.”

“True. I hadn’t thought of that. Though I do wounder at the reasoning behind this practice.” McNair looked over at Kathy’s mom. “Coach Hall, did the ISA Commissioners give their reasoning for the change?”

“They pointed to the twenty-twelve Daytona five-hundred crash that lead to a jet-drying truck catching fire during the caution for their reason behind the new policy.” Coach Hall answered with a sad smile. “You know the one I’m talking about Mac. The one that could have been avoided if they had cleared the track and let the track crews do their jobs safely.”

“You knew one of the rescue workers Coach?” Mac asked her.

“Duane Barnes, the driver for the jet-dryer. He was a family friend and very sweet man.” Coach Hall chuckled. “Thanks to him I was able to get pit passes for the twenty-fifteen, and sixteen Daytona five-hundreds.”

“Those were two of the best birthday presents ever.” Kathy crowed. Then turn serious at the look on Bobbie’s face. “Sorry Bobbie. I forgot.”

“Forget about it, Kathy. Water under the bridge and out to sea by now.” Bobbie told her with a smile.

“Forgive me for not understanding, Bobbie.” McNair began only to be stopped by Joey holding up his hand.

“Mr. McNair, my sister was dealing with her cancer at the time.” Joey said as he looked over at Bobbie. “I thought I was going to lose my sister that year. It was the first time I really understood what she was going through.”

“Roberta, I apologize for my stupidity.” McNair started to say only to have Bobbie chuckle. “What did I say that was so funny?”

“Mac, you’re new to the MRI family and don’t know the whole story. So, forget about the apology. There is a lot left out of my public bio. Most of it concerns my time dealing with Childhood Leukemia. It wasn’t a good time in my life. Not something I would want the rest of the world to know. I wasn’t a very nice person. If you catch my drift.” Bobbie told McNair with a crocked half smile of regret.

“No child should have to face that and be happy about it, Roberta.’ McNair told her kindly as he raised his field glasses to his eyes. “Bobbie, what are those two wreckers doing?”

Bobbie looked to McNair was and chuckled. “They’re having to pull those two cars a part. Seen it before. Back in twenty-nineteen it took three wreckers to pull a part a two-car wreck on the back stretch at Daytona. I figure it will take them about”

The fireball that erupted from nowhere stopped all conversation in the spotters nest. Joey yelled over the roar of the explosion. “HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”

“The gas tank blew on one of the cars.” Kathy said in a calm voice. “It had to have been punctured during the wreck. None of the crewmen were near the cars when it caught fire. Doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes, it does, Kathy. That was Seth Fisher’s car. He was the first one out of his car after the wreck. He kept waving that something was wrong with his car. That is must have been what he was warning the wrecker crews about.” Dave said as he lowered his field glasses. “Look to where cleaners are working. That wet spot has to be spilled oil and fuel.”

Even as Dave was talking about the spilled oil and fuel the flames from the wrecked cars reached the spill. The flames raced up the track. Stopping the cleanup efforts of the track cleaners. One barely escaped being caught by the now out of control fire. Bobbie could only shake her head at the sight. “Damned near had a repeat of the twenty-twelve Daytona.”

“Bloody hell. I remember watching that race. Didn’t something break on Juan Pablo Montoya’s car and sent it careening into Barnes’ truck?” McNair asked.

“It was a rear trailing arm on his car that broke in turn three where two jet dryers were clearing debris. He lost control, skidded up the banking and collided with a trailer-mounted jet engine.” Joey answered. “Shut down the race for over two hours.”

“The track crews were the real heroes of that race. Over the course of two hours and five minutes, they not only extinguished the fire, but cleaned and repatched the track. A lot of the changes for track cleanup following a wreck came about because of that one wreck.” Coach Hall said as she watched the firetruck putting out the fire. “Even the type of extinguisher used by the firefighting crews was changed.”

“Damn. It looks like the Commissioners are going to call the race. We’re past the halfway mark for the race.” Kathy said as she pointed towards the Commissioners position in the spotters nest.

Bobbie looked down at her wristwatch. “Under the new rules they very well may, Kathy. I doubt they will though. We still got four hours until sunset. The only way I see them calling the race is if it takes the track crews more than ninety minutes to clean and repair the track.”

“Bobbie, look at the way the track is burning. That’s not oil or fuel anymore. That is asphalt burning out there now.” Joey said as he lower his field glasses shaking his head. “They resurfaced the track just for the ISA. That shit hasn’t had time to cure all the way through. Even if they use quick-patch or speed-seal, it’ll still take an hour to harden before the cars can run over the top of it.”

“Twenty-minutes to get the fire out. Another, thirty-minutes to clean up the debris. Thirty to forty minutes to put down the quick-patch or speed-seal. Followed by an hour curing time. That’s two to two and half hours.” McNair said adding up the time for the repair and cleanup. “They’ll have to call the race in the next ten minutes Bobbie.”

“Shit, and Temperance was lined up to take the lead.” Bobbie bitched. As true to McNair’s prediction the Commissioners called the race. “Who held the led when the red flag came out?”

“Hitarashi Sukejuro, Bobbie.” Kathy said as she turned to face her driver. “And you’re right. Temperance would have won. As it is, she’s being scored in second place. Nazarova Grigorievna, has third locked down solid. Sam’s in fourth with Beth coming in fifth.”

“Well at least we won’t drop back too far in the points race.” Bobby grumbled.

“About that Bobbie. I’ve been going over the points standings for the drivers’ championship.” Kathy began as she put down her field glasses and took off her headset. “I’ve been wait for the right time to bring this up.”

“No need to tell me Kathy. I already knew. Without Motegi, Melbourne, and Darwin I’m out of the Chase.” I said with a giggle. “Unless I can pull out three more wins. I’ll never recover ground to win the championship. I doubt that the rest of the drivers are going to just rollover and let me win three races just to get back into the championship race.”

“That is what I want to talk about. You don’t need to win three more races. Just place fifth or higher at Brooklands and the next six races. After that you’ll be back in the top ten. As it is, you’ll only drop to fifteenth in the standings between now and Brooklands.” Kathy explained as she looked at the clipboard in her hands. “Before you ask Beth is currently in first place. Sam and James are tied in third place. MRI is first in the Manufacturer’s race. Red Star and Thunder Valley are tied in second place.”

“Not bad considering the season so far. Any idea on how today’s race is going to play out for us in the races?” I asked her.

“Well, with Temperance scoring second, Sam in fourth, with Beth taking fifth. Let’s see.” Kathy hummed as she worked her calculator. “MRI will hold on to its lead but not by much. These last two races have really hit our lead hard. That’s the downside. The upside is we won’t need you in Australia. You can head home tomorrow and spend the next three weeks with Kelly and your kids.”

“What does that mean?” Bobbie snarled.

“Exactly that Roberta. You’re flying home on the first thing smoking.” Coach Hall answered for everyone. “Until that leg is healed, you’re benched.”

“Not happening Coach. I go where the team goes.” Bobbie snorted in defiance.

“Wrong Roberta Lee McGuire.” Bobbie dropped her shoulders and looked over to see her mother standing behind her. “The ONLY reason you were allowed at this race was because you were already in country.”

“Oh, come on mom. I’m twenty-one and married with two kids. I’m old enough to know what I can and cannot do.” Bobbie whined. “You can’t tell me where I’m allowed to travel.”

“The last time I checked you’re still a driver on my payroll. So, yes I can tell you where you can and cannot travel with the team.” Her mother smirked.

“You know life can really suck when your mother is your boss.” Bobbie grumbled to McNair. Only to get a chuckle from the Englishman.

“I can see your point. You don’t stand a chance at winning an argument.” McNair said with a sideways smile. “At least she didn’t use those four words that every mother has in their arsenal to win the argument.”

“What four words are you talking about Mac?” Bobbie asked.

“Because I said so.” Jewels McGuire snarked.

“Ouch!” All four spotters said at the same time.

“There is that.” Bobbie chuckled. “Okay mom. I’ll catch the first thing smoking for home. I’ll take Mac with me.”

“About time you started using your head. Besides, the last time I looked you have two Formula One teams to put together.” Jewels said harshly. “You are going to finish what you started?”

“I thought I already handed that off to Mac?” Bobbie asked in confusion.

“Oh no, Roberta. That whole program is now your baby. You gave it life. Now it is time for your to make sure it grows.” Jewels told her middle child.

“Gotcha, Mom. My idea. My load mouth started the ball rolling. Now, I have to see it through.” Bobbie sighed. “If I wasn’t injured would I still be heading home to take care of the new F-one teams?”

“No, I would have been heading home to handle the setup of the new teams. You would have been on your way to Australia.” Jewels answered with a smile. “Thanks to your injury you get to see to the formation of your new race company. I’m thinking Bobbie McGuire Racing has a nice ring to it?”

“Um… No. I am not going to have a racing team with those initials. I just hear the jokes now. Bowel Movement Racing, Bullshit Motors, no way I’m going to let that happen. Got another name mom?” Bobbie asked her grinning as not only her mother, but all the others from MRI were laughing at the joke she made about using the initials BMR.

“Rocking Roberta’s Racing.” Joey said without a second thought. At Bobbie’s cocked and smiling face Joey blushed. “I kind of… well… I kind of always thought that when it was your turn to start your own racing team that would be the kind of name you’d use.”

“You wouldn’t have come up with a graphic design for my team logo, Joey?” Bobbie asked him smiling. “And when did you think up this name?”

“The last time you were in the hospital.” Joey said quietly. He knew that Bobbie hated any reminder of the last she was sick. He reached around to pull out his wallet. After taking out a folded piece paper Joey showed her the stylized graphic design. It was of three R’s in Lucinda Script surrounded by an oval, done in purple and black. “I’ve kind of been carrying this around for a while. Like a good luck charm for you.”

“Rocket Roberta’s Racing it is.” Bobbie said as she took the graphic from her brother’s hands. Then hugged him while whispering in his ear. “Thanks Joey. I’ll make you proud. Promise.”

“I know you will sis. Just do me one favor. Try and keep a lid on Stephany’s excitement.” Joey said as he pulled back out of the hug.

“Don’t worry Joey. I’ll keep her grounded. Besides do you really think that her dad will just let her walk away from running the family business? I’ll answer that one for you, Hell no.” Bobbie chuckled. “Your fiancée has motor oil for blood and that shop is her home. I could offer her the lead Mechanic’s slot on a team, and she would still turn me down.”

“She does have a point Joey. Stephany has been running her family’s business for just short of three years now. I went there just before we left for Chiba. I was looking for a replacement clutchplate for my sixty-nine Camaro.” David chuckled as he stepped beside Joey. “She knew exactly where it was in their warehouse without even looking at the computer.”

“David, when I say that Stephany can do that shit every day of the week. She has the database for her warehouse in her head. Hell, back before I got my Viper I challenged her knowledge of the warehouse.” Bobbie chuckled. “The little shit put me in my place, fast. There’s been more than once where I would have sworn she has the shop’s computer hooked up to her head.”

“I must say. This young lady sounds remarkable.” McNair said with a smile.

“Trust me Mac. When it comes to Stephany Stone. They broke the mold when they made her. We’re still trying to figure out what she sees in this lug head.” Kathy chuckled as she pointed her thumb at a blushing Joey.

“Enough already you boneheads.” Jewels chuckled at the antics of the spotter crew. Turning to Bobbie, Jewels became serious. “Roberta you need to head back to the hotel. You’ll need to packed and down to the train station.”

“Understood mom.” Bobbie sighed and went up the members of the spotter team. After giving each on a hug she sadly smiled. “I’ll see you guys in a few weeks. Take care of each other.”

“Don’t worry Bobbie. We got this. You just get yourself healed up.” Kathy said as she pushed Bobbie towards the elevator. “Now get going you got a train then a plane to catch.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Bobbie said as she hobbled towards the elevator. McNair was right behind her.

Once they were gone Jewels turned to Kathy, and the others. “Okay, what can you tell me about the wreck and fire that ended the race?”

“It was a total fucking mess waiting to happen, Jewels.” Coach Hall answered.

“Okay what am I missing here Coach?” Jewels asked.

“That asphalt is green as a bamboo, Jewels. Even with all the rain and the track dries running every morning. That shit is still oil soaked.” Coach Hall complained as she pointed down at the track. “That fucked up sealant they used sure as hell didn’t help matters. Between the road oil, the sealant, and the fuel dumped by one of the cars. All it took was a single spark to set the track on fire.”

“Damn! You don’t think we’re going to have this same problem at the other tracks?” Jewels asked of Coach Hall.

“Mom this was a one in a thousand combination of events. Like what happened in twenty-twelve at Daytona. By the time we hit Melbourne their track will have been down for just over eight months. They resurfaced the tracks here just three weeks ago. Sure, it that’s more than enough time for a normal roadway surface, but not for what we’re doing.” Joey said with a grin. “With the type of oils, fluids, and fuel we run in our cars. It’s no wonder that green assed track caught fire.”

“Okay exactly what does that mean Joey?” Jewels asked her son only to have David supply the answer.

“It’s like this Boss. All of out POL products have higher flammability points. Basically its because of their formulations.” David began with a grin as this was his main point of study, chemistry. “Yet when they do catch flame they burn four to five times hotter than normal motor oil, brake fluid, fuel, you name it. Even our tires burn two to three times hotter than normal steel belted car tires. Hell, even the stuff you used in Formula One has the same flashpoints, yet they don’t have that many fires. Yet when you do see one it is a monster blaze.”

“Why, you asking Jewels? It’s not like you could have done anything to change the outcome of the wreck.” Coach Hall asked her.

“Just wondering if it was a design failure in the cars, the track itself, or just a random act of Murphy.” Jewels McGuire said with a chuckle. “You know how get after a wreck. Always looking for the cause and a way to fix it.”

“That’s just the engineer in you Jewels.” Coach Hall chuckled. “Always looking to fix the broken and improve on what works. At least you’re not as bad as Bob about things. I swear your husband does more tinkering than any of the other Chief Mechanics.”

“Not surprising. Chief McGuire has his master’s degree in design.” Kathy pointed out with a wicked smile.

“True. Kathy take a walk with me.” Jewels asked of the young woman. Kathy didn’t know what was going on but followed behind her Boss. Once they were alone Jewels got to the point. “Kathy, tell me something. During the race did Bobbie seem alright. By that I mean was she on edge? Anything like that?”

“Yes ma’am. I know that the others didn’t see it, but I did. The only reason is because I’ve been her spotter for so long. She was as nervus as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” Kathy got quiet. “Ma’am I think this last wreck really spooked her.”

“Damn I was afraid of that happening. That Chiba wreck was the closest she’s come to dying in a long time. She just doesn’t realize it yet.” Jewels mulled. “When she comes back you’ll have to keep an eye on her while she’s on the track Kathy. I got a bad feeling that she may go one of two ways.”

“How’s that Mrs. McGuire?” Kathy asked.

“She’ll either push her cars to the point of breaking or she won’t get out of her own way and wreck. The question is going to be which way will Bobbie go.” Jewels said as she turned to walk back with the others. “And for once I hope like hell she takes the first option.”

“Why ma’am?”

“Because there is nothing deadlier on a racetrack than a driver who’s lost their nerve. They get overly cautious and that just leds to more wrecks. Sooner or later that cautiousness will get someone killed.” Jewels sighed and came to a stop. “Usually it’s someone else. That’s why, Kathy.”

The younger woman just looked at her Boss and said one word. “Shit.”

-----tbc-----

---

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 12
Darlington, South Carolina, Wednesday

I’ve spent the last thirteen days helping Mac organize the new Formula One teams. I still can’t believe that mom and dad dropped this mess into my lap. Not that I should bitch. After all it was my big mouth that started the ball rolling on the new F-1 teams in Motegi. I was a little surprised by the turnout from the local car clubs we when announced the formation of the teams. On the first day we had over ninety young men and women showing for a chance at a slot on the pit crews.

I was surprised when Mac asked Tom Steward, our shop’s lead fabricator if he could build another four cars in two weeks. When I asked him, what was on his mind Mac chuckled. What he told me floored my ass. Between Triple R and the new team of Super Mac Racing, there would be two new F-1 teams. It seems that Steven Henshaw and Dale Ingersoll from the Beach Bums impressed the hell out of him with their driving. He was even more surprised when they were actually able to challenge him on the Knight’s Racetrack.

He offered them both a three-year contact to drive for him that day. In his words ‘He had never seen such much raw talent in one place for driving in all his life.’ As much as I hate to admit this he has to be right. I’ve spent the last week studying the drivers for car clubs at the Knight’s Track. I’ve always known that I went up against some of the best drivers in the area in my rat racing. I just never realized the caliber of those drivers. Of the main drivers for the clubs there was only two that I won’t put behind the wheel of a racecar. Not that they couldn’t drive a racer, but because they were both barely legal to drive on the streets.

I’ve also been spending a lot of time in the offices of MRI. Like today. Going over the shipping manifests, construction schedules, racing schedules, and all the other mundanely minor yet always important details that goes into running an international racing team. The biggest problem though was the time frame I’ve been forced to deal with. The F1A commissioners approved the two new teams the moment we sent in the paperwork. Their only stipulation was they had to be ready to run in the next race at Montreal, Canada. Mac and I were trying to pull off a four-month project in four weeks. The fact that the newest members of Triple R and SMR were able to pull together then actually pull off the impossible amazed me.

The one thing that really amazed me about these kids was their passion. Here we are in the heart of NASCAR country, and these kids are dreaming of Formula One racing. All because of what me and Beth did two years ago. The dream of being a NASCAR driver is still there but now it has to compete with the dream of joining the Formula One and ISA circuits. The draw of international travel has opened the eyes of the local kids to a much wider world.

Then there is the one thing that I never dreamt of happening. A word of our accomplishments spread among the local street racers. The more our celebrity grew the more they wanted to challenge us. Normally me and Beth had no problems with facing these challenges on the Knight’s racetrack. One the fun things was the occasional defeat by these challengers. Not that there was a lot of losses, but they did happen it made it fun for us. Especially when those same challengers would give us a rematch. Which we always won. Then there was those few that just couldn’t be made to see reason.

“Hey Bobbie! Get out here!” Kelly yelled at me for some reason.

As I walk out to the front of the garage area I pull up short. Standing in the middle of our lobby is the one asshole I really don’t want to deal with, Frank Thomas Talbott. The current Darlington county rat racing king and pain in my ass. The loud-mouthed son of bitch has been going around telling everyone that will listen that he can take me. The funny thing is every member of the local clubs have laughed in his face at his arrogance.

“Time to put your money where your mouth is McGuire. I’m sick and tired of waiting for you to man-up.” Frank snarled. “One of those driver slots is mine. Either fire that English bitch or I’ll let everyone know that you’ve lost your nerve. The funny part is I won’t have to do anything to prove it.”

“Just what the fuck are you going on about Franky boy?” I snarled.

“Simple. In the last two years you haven’t accepted a single challenge at the Knight or on the streets. There plenty of reporters that would love to leek a story about a drive who’s lost their nerve. Just image the damage a story like that would do to your carrier. The Vegas bookies would love a story like that. Not to mention how your sponsors would react if they found out you lost your nerve. I bet they would pullout before the ink even dried on tabloids first run.” Frank laid out for me his reasoning. The sad part he was right. I remember similar story and the impact it had on the driver.

“What do you want Frank? Really. Not that bullshit line you gave about wanting on the teams as a driver. We both know that you’ll never get a professional license. Not with your fucking criminal record.” I told the shithead bluntly. I knew that he was up to something. Just not what.

“Maybe not a FIA Racing Super License. But I can still get a NASCAR license. I beat you in a one on one race and I can write my own ticket with every NASCAR team out there. They’ll even help me secure my ticket.” Frank answered in a smug know-it-all attitude.

“You really believe that horseshit don’t you, Frank.” I stated just as bluntly. “What I want to know is who gave you such a fucked-up idea? There is no way you can pass the requirements to get your NASCAR ticket. It doesn’t matter who you try to get to back you.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t get it bitch. You and your sister walk around town like you’re hot shit. That no one can take you down.” Frank ranted as he stepped closer and closer to me. Once he was less than a yard from my face he leaned in close. “Well you made a mistake. You got soft. You got scared. You forgot what it means to be a real driver.”

“You know something fuck face. You just got your race. Five laps at the Knight. Winner takes all. You are pretty good. I’ll give you that much. You think you’re better than ninety percent of the drivers in the clubs. You’re only half right. You’ve made one major mistake.” I spit in his face. “You’ve overrated your skills and underrated mine.”

Frank went to rare back with his fist only to get be greeted by the cocking of a pistol pointed at his head. I smiled over at Kelly and her ever present .38 Police Special. “You got your race Franky boy. Now get the fuck out before they have to carry you out.”

“Have your ass at the Knight’s track in one hour or I’m calling the press.” Frank snapped as he turned to leave.

“No can-do Franky boy. Unlike you I have a real job. Let’s make it six this evening.” I smirked as Frank frowned at my comment about having a real job. “Don’t worry I’ll be there with the pink slip to my Viper in hand.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Frank asked me bluntly.

“Around here we race for pink slips Frank. Let me break things down for your simple mind Franky. You lose the race you lose your car. It’s that simple. That is unless you’ve got, ten-grand in your pocket. Then we race for the cash. There is none of this racing for pride bullshit. Cash or pinks asshole. That’s the deal. You still game?” I asked sweetly.

“I’ll be there. Don’t worry about that. I just hope you have someone to drive you home after you lose bitch.” Frank snarled as he stormed towards the door. “Because you’re going the fuck down.”

“Spider, get your ass in here!” Kelly shouts at the top of her lungs as she puts her pistol away. “Bobbie, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing love. Frank Talbott is suffering from the delusion that he’s god’s gift to street racers.” I assured her as I squatted for her. “As for my leg forget about it. I’m almost back in racing shape. Between Doc Shultz and Mindy over at the PT clinic I’ve got almost full mobility restored. Tonight’s little race will be nothing more than a lesson in stupidity.”

“Are you sure about this Bobbie?” Kelly asked me with real worry in her voice. “The only reason I’m asking is, you haven’t really pushed the Viper since you’ve been home. It’s like you’re being haunted by something.”

I was saved from answering that by the arrival of John ‘Spider’ Walker. He was our lead mechanic in the shop now. “You bellowed Kelly?”

“My wife went and got stupid, Spider.” Kelly snarked. “And I don’t bellow.”

“Where’s the snake?” Spider sighed as he asked about my Dodge Viper.

“Interfectorem anguis is out behind the parts warehouse.” Told him as I went to grab my keys from my purse. “Set her up for a no holds barred rat race.”

“Gotcha Bobbie. Does she need a fine tune up?” John asked with a smile. He loved my car. Any chance that he got to work on her was pure heaven for him.

“You got the time for something like that?” Kelly asked him.

“I always have time to work on that little lady. She ani’t nothing but pure sex. She deserves to be treated like the lady she is, Kelly.” John answered as he took my keys. “Besides. The last she was tuned up was a year ago.”

“Fine just make sure you don’t neglect your normal duties.” Kelly warned him. “Those cars need to be ready for shipping by Friday.”

“All that’s left to do on that front is shipping them out, boss. The first four can be flown out for staging later today. The others can go out on the next DHL plane, Friday. The replacement stockcars can fly out on Saturday. The only hold up for them is the wait on the Charlie one-thirty.” John answered her with a real smile of pride. “As for the pit crews and maintenance teams their set to fly the moment McNair gives the word. I got to say boss. I’ve never seen four teams come together so fast in my life.”

“That’s because they’ve all been practicing for a chance at becoming the next Formula One team. You need to spend some time down at the Knight, Spider. Those kids and their clubs have all seen what the Darlington Knights did two years ago. They all want what the Darlington Knights have earned.” I explained for John. “Look I know that you’re not from around here Spider. So, it might seem strange to you. But to those kids this is more than just a dream to them. It’s a way out of Darlington county.”

“I don’t understand Bobbie.” John said as he gave me a strange look.

“Around here there aren’t a whole lot of options for kids just out of high school. Those that don’t win a scholarship to a college either join the military, work their family’s farm, or get one of the few jobs in the area. Those that can leave never return. The fact that we’re offering them even the smallest of chances at getting out is more than motivation for them. It’s a chance to help their families.” I explained as I looked out the window of the lobby. “With the economy the way it is now days. That means a lot.”

“Damn. I guess I never really look at the situation for kids in this county.” John said as he scratched the top of his head. “Is it like that in the rest of the state or just in Darlington county?”

“Sadly, Spider there are a lot of counties like Darlington in South Carolina. I don’t know how things are in Tennessee. I just know how they’ve been in South Carolina for the last thirty to forty years. Sure, things have been slowly changing around here in the last few years, but they haven’t changed that much.” I explained as I kept my eyes on the 1972 blue Plymouth Barracuda that was sitting across the street from our parking lot. I noticed it for the first time five days ago. “Spider, any idea of who owns that Barracuda?”

“None. I do know that it is not a local car. Just look at the plates.” John said as he pointed at the car. “The only states that give out those types of classic car plates is Delaware, Maine, and New Hampshire.”

“That narrows the owners down to around a few thousand.” Kelly snarked.

“Drop it Kelly. This is one time we can’t bitch about an out of town car. Call Steph and ask her if she’s got anything the owner of that car.” I told her as I walked towards the front door. “I’ll be back in two hours. I need to have a talk with someone.”

I took her keys to the Gladiator. As much as I wanted to ignore the problem I couldn’t. I headed for the one person who could possibly give me some insight to my problem. I had made the appointment last week. Twenty minutes later I was pulling into the parking lot for Doctor Sharron Kelly. As I enter her office I was attacked by a 95lbs missile.

“BOBBIE!” I chuckled as I looked down at smiling face of Lee Harvey. The last time I had seen him he looked like death warmed over.

“How’s it going Lee? You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.” I said as I gave him a welcoming hug.

“I’m in remission.” Lee smiled brightly. “The docs gave me the good news two months ago. If things keep going the way they are they say that I can go back to school this fall. I know this sounds crazy, but I can’t wait.”

“No, it doesn’t Lee. I was the same way. You still seeing T.E.?” I asked him with a grin that matched his own.

“I guess you haven’t heard. Doctor Lawrence is no longer practicing in South Carolina. He moved back to England last year. Something about having to take care of his mother.” Lee told with a sad note to his voice. “I really got to like him. He got me hooked on English Premier Soccer. We even spent weekends together at our house on NBC and NBCSN.”

“That’s sad to hear. I know that his mom is in her late sixties. Though I am glad to hear that you two found something to connect over.” I said as I ruffled his now thick red hair. “Though I really can’t condone your obsession with that so-called sport.”

“HEY!” Lee shouted as he punched me in the arm. Then chuckled. “I watched more than just soccer you know. By the way thank you for that signed poster of you and Beth. All my friends can’t believe that I actually know a real racecar driver. I’ve seen all of your races. Even T.E. watched them.”

“Okay, I guess I can forgive you for liking soccer.” I said airily. “Especially if you got old stone face to watch a race.”

“We had a deal. For every soccer game we watched. We had to watch one race.” Lee chuckled evilly. “Promise not to tell.”

I just nodded my head as I knew this was going to be good. “He started to root for you and your sister. He became a bigger fanatic about the races then me. He even bought the diecast models of your cars.”

“My God! The horror of it all! T.E. Lawrence a race fan. The world is truly coming to an end.” I snarked as I threw back my head while placing the back of my hand against my forehead. I had Lee laughing at my antics.

“I thought I heard a familiar voice. How you doing stranger?” Sharron said as she walked in the reception area. “You can head on back Lee. Betty will be right in. She just needs to finish putting away the file for her last client.”

“How is Karren doing, Doctor Sharron?” Lee asked politely.

“She’s doing much better now, Lee. Karren will undergo surgery next week. In about two months she’ll start radiation treatments to control the cancer.” Hearing Sharron talk about a first round of chemo tugged at my heart. My feelings must have shown on my face. “Karren was diagnosed with osteosarcoma in her knees just over four weeks ago.”

“Will she be able to keep her legs, Doc Sharron?” Lee asked quickly.

“That will be up to the surgeon in charge at the time of her operation Lee. I’ll be honest with you kiddo. Osteosarcoma is a nasty form of cancer.” Sharron sighed as we both saw the sadness take hold of Lee. “I know that you like her Lee. Do you want some advice?”

“Sure, Doc Sharron.” Lee said as he looked up at her.

“Just be a friend for her right now. She’ll need as many friends as she can get in the next few months. Like I said osteosarcoma is a truly nasty cancer. All too often it robs youngsters like yourself of limb and sometimes life. Fortunately, Karren’s doctors believe they have caught it in time.” Sharron told the young teen kindly.

“Okay Doctor Sharron. I’ll be there for her.” Lee said and gave her a hug then head back to talk with Betty.

“Let’s go to my office Bobbie.” Sharron said and led the way back to her office. Once we were alone and we were seated Sharron got down to business. “Okay kiddo. It’s just us.”

“Sharron, I don’t know how to say this.” I started only to have her interrupt.

“You’re afraid that you’ve lost your nerve behind the wheel of a racecar.” Sharron pointed out to me in her usual no bullshit manner. Sharron chuckled at my stunned look. “Bobbie, you haven’t been out to either of the local tracks in the two weeks you’ve been in town.”

“How the hell do you know that?” I demanded.

“Oh, I have my ways Bobbie.” Sharron said trying to be all mysterious. And failing miserably but she still got me to chuckled. “Okay fine. One of the girls with the Firebirds was a patience of mine.”

“I guess it wouldn’t have taken you long to figure out that I wasn’t hitting the tracks.” I sighed and got to the reason for my visit. “And you’re right. I’m afraid that I’ve lost my never. That wreck in Chiba did get to me. More than I was willing to let mom and dad know.”

“Just how bad are the shakes Bobbie?” Sharron asked politely.

“I can probably thread a sowing machine while it was running.” I answered honestly as I held out my still shaking hand. “This is just from the drive over here in the Gladiator. My Viper has been parked behind the parts building over at the MRI shop. The last time I drove it was the first morning back.”

“And in your usual pigheadedness you’re been trying to gut your way through to a solution. Refusing to accept the fact that for the first time since you and Kelly were married you could have died.” Sharron said giving me her usual ‘I figured as much’ look with sigh. “You’ve had brushes with death before Bobbie. Both on and off the track. What was it about this wreck that upset you to this point Bobbie? You’ve been in other wrecks over the last two years. You’ve even been injured in a few of those wrecks.”

“I don’t know, Sharron. That’s the problem. I’ve never been this frightened about being behind the wheel of a car.” I told her honestly.

“Tell me about the wreck in Chiba Bobbie. Most of us stateside still haven’t gotten the full story yet.” Sharron told me with a blank face. I took a deep breath and thought back to that day more than three weeks ago. When I got to the part about the sabotage Sharron held up her hand. “Bobbie I think I know what the problem is. Just as you do.”

“Okay Sharron normally I won’t argue with you. This time though I’m calling bullshit. If I knew what the problem was I won’t be here!” I snapped finally.

“Think Bobbie. Use that brilliant mind of yours.” Sharron sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “Or do I need to take you over my knee?”

I sat there trying to understand what Sharron was getting at. I know that my fear is irrational then again a lot of fears are irrational. Only problem is the fear of a wreck becoming deadly is rational. Especially at the speeds which I drive on a speedway or superspeedway. Finally, Sharron must have decided to have petty on me.

“Bobbie, the wrecks at Chiba happened because of sabotage. What makes you think that every car you get in has been sabotaged?” Sharron asked bluntly. I wanted to deny what Sharron was suggesting but couldn’t. “Bobbie you know that wrecks are part of racing. You expect them. Hell, you even plan for them. It has been something you’ve faced from the first time you strapped on your HANS device. You get out there on every track with the full knowledge of what can happen. You and your team take every conceivable possible precaution to keep you safe behind the wheel of your racecars. You’re so safety orientated that even your wife’s truck has a reinforced frame. I won’t even comment on that monster you call a sportscar. I doubt there is a single Dodge Viper anywhere that can match yours for safety. The last time I heard you pushed your Viper to one-eighty-three just six months ago at the Lady. How many adjustments have you done on that car’s engine since then, Bobbie?”

“More than I’m willing to admit to my psychiatrist.” I chuckled as I thought about she question. “Let alone in a courtroom.”

“That car is part of you Bobbie. You know that Viper better than the racecars you drive on the racetracks of the world.” Sharron pointed out the glaring truth concerning the relationship between me and my Viper. “This is something you know deep down in your bones. You just have to trust yourself and your car.”

I sighed. “That’s the problem, Sharron. I know I can trust the car.”

“It’s your skills that you’re doubting.” Sharron summed up with a heavy sigh. She looked me in the eye and smirked. “Bobbie do you remember the first time that you raced Sam Horn? You were what seventeen at the time?”

I chuckled as I remembered the race that Sharron was talking about. Sam Horn was the undefeated street racing champion until I came along. All Sam saw a cocky kid in a prime GTO with a clean title. I can still remember how my hands trembled as I challenged Sam to a race. I still have the key fob for his 79 Mazda RX-7 IMSA Racer. It, along with a good number of key fobs now hung from a pegboard in my workshop at home. I never keep the cars I win but the key fobs for those cars is another matter. I’ll never forget the look on Sam’s face when I handed him back his keys and title after I won. I won a shit load of ‘cool points’ that day.

“I want you to think about something Bobbie. You are one of the youngest people to ever gain a professional license for your sport. You did all of the work on your own. No one helped you to earn that distinction.” Sharron told me with a smile then went in for the kill. “You did all that to keep a promise to a young woman who was your friend. You going to give all that up over a wreck that got a little too close. What happened to that arrogant little shit that asked me for a blowjob the first we met?”

“DAMN IT! SHARRON I AM SCARED!” I screamed in her face. There is was out in the open. I sat back in my chair and sighed. “Until two years ago I never dreamed of living beyond the next day. I never planned on being a spouse. I never dreamed of becoming a parent. All of that was nothing more than a wish. Now I have all of that and more. I don’t want to lose all that I’ve worked my ass off for in some wreck that I can avoid. I know that I place my life on the line every time I get behind the wheel.”

“Then why did you accept the challenge from Frank Talbott?” Sharron asked me bluntly. “Kelly called me after you stormed out of the office.”

“Because the fuck face piece of shit is crazy enough to threated me in my place of business. He actually stormed in the offices of MRI and called me. Saying he would go to the press saying I lost my nerve.” I snarled. “The little rat fucker pissed me off. Before I realized what I was doing I was issuing my own challenge to a five-lap race at the Knight.”

“I know Kelly told me everything that happened. The only thing she didn’t tell me was why you waited this long before putting that shithead in his place.” Sharron smirked as she leaned forward on her desk. “Now what really made you want to throw down in your office’s lobby? I know you Bobbie. It wasn’t some rat-racer threatening to go to the press.”

For the first time since that confrontation I actually stopped to think about what happened. I didn’t realize just how pissed off Frank had made me. It wasn’t the fact that he threatened to call me a coward in the press. I could deal with that and blow it off. I’ve earned more than a few detractors and haters over the last two years. I’ve turned down as many challenges as I have accepted at the Knight. So, I know that isn’t what pissed me off. Just what was it that Frank said that pissed me off.

“You want the answer Bobbie?” Sharron asked with a sly smile. I just nodded my head yes. “You got pissed off not because some dip shit challenged you in your office. You got pissed because he’s forcing you to face your fear. Something that you have never been one to tolerate.”

As much as I wanted to call Sharron on her bullshit I couldn’t. Frank had done exactly what she said. Then Sharron went for the kill. “And despite almost three years of living as a woman, Bobbie. You are still every much a male. A male with a rather large amount of male pride. Pride in your skills as a driver that you richly deserve.”

“You’re saying I let my ego get the better of me.” I sighed. “Again.”

“Yup. Don’t take it the wrong way kiddo. You need a healthy ego to be a professional racecar driver. Right along with a set of balls the size of King Kong’s or tits big enough to motorboat yourself.” Sharron looked at me then grinned. “In your case you have all three.”

“You know that was just wrong, Sharron. True but wrong on some many levels.” I chuckled as I thought about what she said. “Do me a favor. Never lose your twisted sense of humor.”

“Trust me Bobbie. That is one constant nothing will ever change. My twisted humor is right there with gravity, death, and taxes.” Sharron chuckled.

“Don’t mention taxes!” I grumbled. At Sharron’s questioning look I sighed and told her what was bugging me. “Somebody in the local IRS office has decided to run an audit on my winnings for the past two years.”

“Ah such is the life of the rich and famous.” Sharron chuckled. “The question that faces you now is are you going to show at the Knight? It’s not like you have anything to prove.”

“There is where you’re wrong Sharron. I do have something to prove. Not to Frank and the other meatheads.” I said as I stood up.

“Then to who?” She asked with a sly knowing smile.

“To the only person that matters.” I told as I headed to the door. “Myself.”

“If you know that then you’ll be fine.” Sharron said as she stood up from behind her desk. “One last thing before you go Bobbie.”

“What do you need Sharron?” I asked her.

“When you get done handing Frank Talbott his ass. Would you mind swinging by Billy’s Big Barn Pizza? I have someone who would love to met you.” Sharron told me with a small smile.

“Sure, thing Sharron. You know that I’ve never had problems with meeting your patients. I’ll be there even if I lose.” I told her with a smile.

“Thank you Bobbie. Only this time it’s not a patient. Do you remember Racheal, my old receptionist?” I nodded my head as I thought about the pretty redhead that used work for Sharron and the other headshrinkers. “Will she has a twelve-year-old niece and nephew that are major fans of yours and Beth’s.”

“Say no more Sharron. I’ll bring a few of the signed posters that we have at the office with me. MRI has a stack of them already signed by our drivers. For just these types of occasions.” I told her with a smile. “What say eight? That good for you and your family?”

“We’ll be there. What time is your race?” Sharron asked.

“In two hours why?” I asked after checking my watch.

“Then it’s a good thing that you’re my next to last patient for the day. We’ll see you at the Knight. I think Amy and Andy will get a kick out of watching you in your true element.” At my cocked head Sharron giggled. “Bobbie, you made your name as a street racer. The Knight is a street racer’s wet dream. A road course open to the public for the sole purpose of legal street racing.”

“I’ll see you there. I’ll even make sure there is an open spot in the town nest for them. That way they’ll be able to see the whole race from start to finish.” I giggled as I walked out of her office. “I plan to put on a show.”

Sharron just laughed as she escorted me towards the lobby exit. I pulled up short when I spotted the 72 Barracuda from outside of the MRI offices. This time though the driver was standing by the front finder. Sharron Waved at the young man as she opened the door. “You know the driver Sharron?”

“Of course, I do. So, do you Bobbie.” At my look of confusion Sharron chuckled. “That’s Darnell Webb.”

“Holy Shit! The last time I saw Darnell was three years ago. Did he go into remission?” I couldn’t believe that I was seeing Darnell. By all rights he should have died two years ago from neuroblastoma.

“His doctors gave him the good news shortly after you started racing Formula One. I take it he’s been following you around?” Sharron asked with a chuckle.

“You could say that. Now I need to have a talk with Darnell.” I said as I walked out the door and straight up to Darnell. “I take it you want a race?”

“You would think that Bobbie.” Darnell snarked. Then held out his hand. “Good to see you Speedy. How have you been?”

“Not bad ‘D’.” I said taking his hand with a smile. “Nice ride. Where did you get your hands on her?”

“Found her in a storage unit outside of Dover, Delaware. The self-storage owners didn’t know what they had on their hands. I doubt they would have sold the unit off at auction if they did. I spend the last year and half restoring her to running condition.” Darnell said with real pride.

“Where did you get the parts for her? I know you didn’t go through Slow Jack’s place.” I asked him kindly.

“I used Phillip Brothers and Dawson Run Salvage over in Lexington. They’re close to my parents’ home.” Darnell told me with a shrug of his shoulders. “It was easier to use dad’s barn for the rebuild. This little beauty is no racer. She’s almost pure stock.”

“If that’s the case what brings you over this way? I mean you’re originally from Pelion aren’t you?” I asked him.

“Word has gotten around about Frank Talbott wanting to challenge you to a race. Especially in the Five Points area of Columbia. When word got out that you were home for a short period of time to recover from your injury at Chiba. Frank started running his mouth about how he was going to force you to accept his challenge. Bobbie you should know that the guy ain’t right in the head. He’s fucking crazy and not above driving dirty. Especially if it means that is the only way he can win. Do yourself a favor and just walk away from the cocksucker, Bobbie. The guy is crazy. I mean totally insane. Off his rocker, the cheese is off his cracker, shithouse rat crazy.” Darnell said in warning.

“Too late. Me and the nutcase have a race in two hours.” I told him honestly. Then I turned feral. “If he wants to play dirty all the better. He’ll find that there is always more than one way to skin a rat.”

“Any chance of talking you out of this Bobbie? The guy’s not right in the head. He’ll try to kill you if he cannot win.” Darnell asked as he explained just how far Frank was willing to go to win a race.

“Then I’ll just have to show him the errors of his ways if he tries.” I snarled. “He won’t be the first shithead whose tried to kill me in a race. He won’t be the last.”

“That is the Roberta McGuire I know and love.” Sharron snarked. “Where has she been I wonder?”

“Oh, my dear Sharron. That brash young lady never went anywhere.” I grinned evilly. “Just ask the shitheads in Formula One and the ISA.”

I turned and walked back to my car as Sharron laughed and Darnell stood there with a confused look on his face. It took me less time to get back to the office and garage. Not because there was less traffic. This time I drove the way I used to drive. The Gladiator wasn’t a high performance sportscar, but it would still perform in a pinch. As I pulled into the parking lot Kelly was pulling my Viper out of the garage area. She smiled at me as she climbed out of the driver’s seat. She held the door for me while holding out her hand with an expectant grin.

“Have a good talk with Sharron?” Kelly asked before kissing me on the cheek.

“You got to learn to drive with the fear, and there ain’t nothing more God damn frightening than driving with a live cougar in the car.” I said quoting one of my favorite comedies about NASCAR. I looked inside my Viper. “Where the fuck is my cougar, Kelly?”

“Love you don’t need one.” Kelly said with a smile as she kissed me one more time. “You ready to put Frank in his place?”

“Ask your parents to watch the kids tonight. I need to grab a few things from the office. Then we’re going to the races.” I told her as I headed inside. Kelly was smiling as she dialed her mother. When I reached my office, I started grabbing posters. I grabbed two of each. I also grabbed the bag that I kept my spare helmet and gloves. This may be a race for pride, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take all the safety precautions I can. As I exited my office Kelly greeted me with a grin.

“Mom will pick the kids up from daycare for us. We got the next twenty-four hours to ourselves.” Kelly said as she wrapped her arms around me. “They just need the Gladiator. Can we drop the keys off at the station?”

“Spider take Kelly’s Gladiator over to the station house for us. The keys are on my desk. Let’s get going. I want, no I need to put Franky boy in his god damned place.” I snarled as I slide behind the wheel of my Viper.

“About fucking time.” For some reason Kelly smiled as she slid into the passenger. As she buckled her seat Kelly asked. “What changed?”

“Let’s just say that I got a kick in the ass and leave it at that.” I grunt and fired over the Viper’s V-10 engine. For the first time in weeks the deep rumble of the engine brought a smile of pleasure to my face. This was where I was meant to be. Behind the wheel of a speed demon. I don’t even think twice as I hit the play button on my I-pod. The sounds of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck pound out of the speakers as I reeve the engine and pop the clutch. Kelly automatically grabs the ‘Oh Shit’ bar as I peel out of the parking lot. Even as I tear down the streets of Darlington, I start to feel alive once more. The fear that has gripped me for the last weeks falls away.

I turn on to Old Milltown road and grin. “Four miles to the sand pit. Two miles to I-twenty. Seven miles back the Knight. Thirteen miles of the twisting two lane asphalt covered backcountry roads. Best time fourteen minutes, twenty-four seconds. Start the clock.”

Kelly just chuckles and pulls out a stopwatch. As I cross the intersection of Old Milltown and Honey Hive roads, she starts the watch. “GO!”

I down shift to second gear and push my engine to the red line. When I made the comment about 13miles of twisting backcountry asphalt covered roads I wasn’t kidding. Of all the roads in Darlington country Old Milltown, Busby Crossing, and Pinecrest are the worst. With Pinecrest road being the most traitorous. I start drifting on the first bend. The traffic is light today. I have a good chance at breaking my record.

For the first 4miles Kelly calls out the turns and spots for oncoming traffic. At the intersection for Busby Crossing I pull a 90-degree drift. For the next 2miles I have an almost flat curve all the way to Pinecrest road. I took that slow even curve at just over 80mph. Kelly calls out my time as we take the left-hand fork for Pinecrest Road. The meanest 7miles of asphalt in all of Darlington county. Four hairpin turns, six quarter mile straightaways, three miles with varying grades of slope. In other words, seven miles of Formula 1 track laid out across a natural landscape. Nothing else mattered to me just then as the opening notes of ‘Control the Redline’ by VNV Nation AMV sounded through the cabin of the car. My grin becomes a true smile. Gone were the shakes I’d been feeling every time I got behind the wheel of my car. Once again, the speed demon under the hood of my car was under my total control. I was going to squeeze every scrap of power I could out of it.

As the entrance to the Darlington Knight’s privately owned track came into view Kelly looked down at the stopwatch. As I pulled a hard 90degree drift into the entrance she called out. “Thirteen minutes thirty-four seconds.”

I started breaking and down shifting as I passed under the grate arm. I started chuckling as I worked the fuck out of my breaks and transmission to come to a controlled stop on the pit road. “Looks like I finally broke my record. I think I’m back.”

Kelly leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Like I said earlier. About fucking time. Now go put that cocksucker in his place, Bobbie.”

With that she climbed out of the car taking my purse with her. “You won’t need this, love. I’ll make sure he has the money or his pink slip.”

I just nod my head and pull out on to the track and up to the starting line. As I wait for Frank to get his shit together, I page through my playlist. I’m looking for a certain song. One that will set the mood for the race. I find it halfway down my racing list. I let the smile gracing my face turn predatory. Gone is the easy going Stockcar racer. In her place is the terror of the roads that has been hidden behind the mask of professionalism for the last three years. Oh, there have been times when my darker half has poked her head out during races around the world. This race was about more than just titles to cars. Frank might not have wanted it, but he forced me into a race that solely about pride for me.

I was slightly surprised when the Mazda RX-7 owned by Lisa Holtz pulled in behind me. I just gave Frank and his Pontiac Sunfire a dismissive snort as he pulled in beside me. He may have modified the fuck out of the engine, transmission and body but it was still no match for the raw power and performance of my Viper. I chuckle as Dan’s 1972 blue Plymouth Barracuda rolled to a stop behind Frank’s Sunfire. I wait with a nasty smile plastered on my face as Kelly steppes into the center of the track.

She cocks her hips, places her left hand on her waits and raises her right arm and hand to shoulder level. “READY!” She calls out pointing at the lined-up cars. Smiling at my nod she raises her arm above her head and calls out. “STEADY!” Then after holding the pose for ten seconds drops her arm. “GO!”

I had kept the revs down as Kelly preformed the countdown for the start but the second, she dropped her arm I dropped the hammer. I left Frank and the others standing still as I powered down the front straightaway. I hit the first turn and drift my way around it as if on ice. When I exited the turn I never looked back. I let the pounding drums, powerful guitar riffs of Sabaton’s Bismarck fill the cockpit of my car and my soul. As I round turn 3, I know that I have the race.

I push my car to its limits and pull back just before going over the edge. With each passing second, I increase my lead by a full car length. Frank thought he was the one pushing buttons. He was right. He pushed the one button he shouldn’t have. The one button that would doing nothing more than pissed me off. He wanted a race. What he was getting was a lesson in manners at high speed. A lesson that I was more than happy to hand out. By the time I crossed the line for the third lap Frank was so far back that it wasn’t even funny. He was having a problem with just keeping up with Lisa in her RX-7 and Dan’s Barracuda. For some reason I doubt they’ll even let him finish the race. Not that I need their help but for whatever reason they have their own axes to grind with Franky boy.

I catch a glimpse of them pinning Frank between them as they enter turn 7 in my review mirror. I got a feeling they’re going to put his ass into the wall on turn 8 or 9. Not that I would be surprised if they did. Frank Talbott has been pushing peoples’ buttons on the street racing circuit for months now. He’s been going on and on about how he is the greatest street racer there is and will ever be. The sad part is he has had a nonstop series of wins that has bolstered this false belief. Until now he hasn’t faced a true challenge. All the drivers he has faced until now have been the second stringers of the local clubs. Today he’s facing the big dogs. AND unfortunately for him I’m the biggest damned dog in the pile. Not even Beth can beat me in a rat race.

I around the final turn and head for the finish line to the sound of Kenny Loggin’s Into the Danger Zone. Even as the first lyrics scream from the speakers, I know that I’m finally healed. The fear that has been plaguing has been replaced with my old confidence behind the wheel of a racecar. As I cross the start finish line for the last lap, I shove the throttle to the floor. I work the gears and breaks as I drive my car to the edge and keep it there for the last lap. I want to do more than just win the race. I want to put up a record track time that will not be broken for years. I set the current record the first time I raced on this track. It has stood ever since. Today I plan on shattering that record.

I check my review mirror one more time. I’m not surprised to Lisa and Dan behind me. What I am surprised to see is Franky nowhere to be seen. The asshole either wrecked or blew his engine. Either way he’s lost the race and if I have my way his car. As I round the turn for the back straightaway, I spot Frank sitting off to the side. That is all I need to see to know that he is going to try something stupid. At less than half the distance to the next turn Frank pulls out onto the track trying to block me. I pull a snap drift to the outside and swing wide around him and pull back in line for the turn. The shit head was trying to force me off the track into the grass.

Too bad for him it didn’t work. Any other street racer might have fallen for his trick, but not me. Not by a long shot. I’ve been placed in hairier situations in the middle of Formula One races on much tighter tracks. I chuckle as I blow passed him and round the first turn for the last section of the track. I may not put a record time but that doesn’t matter now. I’m pissed and Franky boy is going to pay the price. I cross the finish line going full out. I start breaking as I round the first turn. I take my time and use the rest of the track to easy down until I’m all the way back to the start finish line. I wait for Lisa, Dan, and Frank to make their own way around the track back to the line.

As Frank pulls onto the front straightaway, I can tell he’s going to try and run. Not that it will do him any good. The other drivers are already pulling onto the track to block his path. I climbed out of my Viper and stepped into the path of his car. I was leaving him no choice. He either stopped his car or hit me. If it was the latter, then I was pretty sure he won’t live to see the next sunrise. As Franky pulled to a stop, I gave him a snarky smile.

I walked up to him as he climbed out of the car holding out my hand. “Keys.”

“You’re not going to give me a chance to win my car back?” Frank asked.

“Nope. I told you the stakes before you ever left the offices of MRI.” I snapped as I snatched the keys from his hand. “Start walking fuck face.”

Frank just dropped his head and turn to walk away. I didn’t let him go to far with a parting piece of advice. “Before you go Frank let me give you a few words of wisdom. The next time you race someone. Don’t go in believing that you’ll win. Because you keep thinking like that, sooner or later you’ll get someone killed. That type of think is only for the stupid. Real racers know that there is someone out there that is better. It’s not the car that makes the driver. Any driver that believes it is all about the car is looking for an early fucking grave. You want to know why I’m so damned good? It’s because I never made the mistake of placing all my trust in the car. I trust in my skills first and foremost. Understand?”

“That is a bunch of bullshit. Everyone knows that it is the car that makes all the deference. Skill will take you only so far. A more powerful car with the right setup will always win.” Franky snorted. “You just had the better car today. That is all that happened.”

“No Frank. I had you beat before we ever left the starting line. I won before you even pulled onto the track. You had it your head that you had the better car. You believed that your skills were better than mine. You want to know how and why I won. I’ll tell you.” I sighed and turned to look at the other drivers. “I never underestimate another driver. Because a bad threw of Fate’s dice and all your plans go the window. Not even the most skilled and seasoned driver can consider all the variables that happen during a race.”

Dan and Lisa walked up behind me as I was dressing down Frank. He was the first to say anything. “My car may not be a full-blown race, Frank. Yet even I beat your ass out there today. Because I knew the limits of my car and skills. For the last two years you’ve been facing down drivers and cars that you knew you could beat. It gave you an overinflated ego. Do yourself a favor. Go home and stay out of street racing. Because the next time you might not be walking home. You’ll be carried off in a Coroner’s van.”

“We played nice with your ass Frank. There are more than a few drivers around here that would have happily put you into the ditch or a tree. You’ve been strutting around here like you’re the top dog. The truth is you’re nothing more than a poser.” Lisa told him bluntly. “Lose the attitude and build yourself a new car. Then come back and we’ll teach you how to be a real racer. Keep the attitude and you’ll keep walking home.”

I chuckled as Frank’s face filled with storm clouds and stomped off. “For some reason I think you guys are going to have your hands full with that boy. He’s not going to let this blow to his ego go unchallenged. He has way too much pride to use his common sense.”

“That’s not the problem Bobbie.” Dan said as he sighed.

“Then what is his problem?” I asked Dan.

“He believes that he needs to be racing on the professional level. The truly sad part his parents are the ones to blame for his attitude.” I looked over at Lisa as she explained. “My cousin told me all about how his dad was this amateur stockcar racer back in the today. Frank’s father died in a wreck at the old Myrtle Beach Raceway shortly after his fourth birthday. Ever sense then his mother and stepfather have been filling Frank’s head with bullshit about his father being this great driver. When the truth of the matter is the man was a total waste of fucking space behind the wheel of a stockcar. They went so far as tell frank that he is this natural born racer.”

“I’ve heard some fucked up shit in my life.” I sighed as I tossed the keys to the Sunfire to Jim Holzer. “Put it up for auction, Jim. Give the proceeds to the Ronald McDonald House.”

As Kelly walked up to me, I smiled. “As for the numb nut. Fuck him. If he shows his face around here again.”

I left the rest the threat unsaid. The rest of the drivers there today knew that Frank Talbott was now Persona Non Grata in Darlington county. I may not be around much anymore, but my word was still law among the street racers. I had earned the to banish asshole drivers from Knight for one simple reason. I have the most wins on this track than all the other drivers in the area. In short, I was the undisputed Drift Queen for Darlington. No one was going to take that away from me without a fight. Not now, not ever.

As Kelly and I walk back to my Viper I whisper to myself. “Not so long as I can still breath. I will always be Roberta McGuire one of Formula One’s Twin Furies. And nothing will stand in my way to victory. Not even my own fears.”

-----tbc-----

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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-----

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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 14
Race day, Brooklands Superspeedway, United Kingdom, Sunday earlier morning.
Pit road

Bobbie stood next her car shaking hands with the fans, signing autographs, smiling for pictures. She may not like some parts of her job at times but meeting with the fans was never one of them. The ones she really loved interacting with was the little girls and boys. They were the ones that always made her want to push her car and herself to the limits. To give them a real show when she was behind the wheel of her car. Some of the teenage boys gave her the creeps at times but she had come to see the signs of a ‘crush’ years ago.

She was surprised at the number of her fans that had followed her over from F-1. There was one group of individuals that had followed her she had no love for. The monkey nuts that host a popular TV show about cars. This was born out last night during an interview with one of them. The man ambushed her and the rest of MRI drivers at diner. If it hadn’t been for Beth’s intervention, Bobbie, Sam, and Jim would have beaten the asshole to a bloody paste.

“Still thinking about the asshole from last night?” Oscar Johnson asked from next to his car. He smiled as a fan stepped next to get his autograph.

“You could say that Oscar. You’ll have to forgive me, but your countryman is a total waste of human flesh. I won’t use him to grease the undercarriage of my tractor.” Bobbie huffed then chuckled as Oscar’s fan held out one of her ballcaps. Bobbie didn’t even think twice as she took it and signed the bill.

“Miss McGuire you’ll have to forgive some of our more obnoxious TV personalities. Especially those nutters over at Top Smear.” The fan said with a chuckle. “Not all of us believe in the idea American cars can’t cut the cheese.”

“Oh, I know that sir. I would also been more than happy to go on their show for an interview. What I have problems with is ambushing a person during a meal. There are just somethings, I don’t care how famous you are, that you don’t do.” Bobbie snarled. “Not even those internet trolls and slugs that call themselves blog reporters in my home nation pull that kind of crap.”

“Really Miss McGuire? You would be willing to sit down for an interview with Jeremy on their show?” Asked the trackside reporter out of nowhere cornering Bobbie.

“Of course. I just hate it when reporters ambush me during a meal.” Bobbie smiled sweetly. When she really wanted to pound the piss out of the man.

“I’ll be happy to setup the interview for you after today’s race.” The reporter offered trying to keep Bobbie boxed in.

“Sorry but I won’t have time. Me and the rest of MRI are due in Rockingham tomorrow morning. This is not like Formula One. We have a much tighter schedule. Especially when you add in all the test runs that we have to work in at each track.” Bobbie counter the reporter who was in her opinion taking up her time with the fans.

“Bloody too right about that mate.” Oscar grunted. “I don’t know how our counterparts in NASCAR do it at times. I mean you have the test runs, then there is the shuffling between track, the constant physical training, nonstop studying of the individual tracks. When you add in all of our sponsorship duties it can get crazy at times.”

“You’re preaching to the choir here Oscar-san. Far too many of our fans only see the time we spend on the track. Especially those in my homeland. It took me and my team members more than a few months to realize we had to train more than just our minds. While Formula One requires a physically fit body it does not place the same stresses on our bodies as Stockcar racing does. The major deference between the sports revolve around the speeds and distances we race. Formula One is like a four-hundred-meter dash verses a marathon. Most Stockcar races last four to five hundred miles over three to four hours.” Kuno Junzo from team Knight Night.

“I noticed that most of the experienced Stockcar drivers are at the back of the field Miss McGuire. Any reason for this? Surely you could have all qualified much higher?” The reported asked shifting his interview to a more race orientated view.

“There is an old bible saying about racing, sir. ‘The race does not always go to the swiftest’. Unlike in Formula One racing taking the pole does not mean you’ll automatically win or lead the race for long. The more experienced Stockcar drivers know this fact. We also know that each track has its own unique properties. This one is a mean nasty backstreet hooker dressed up in a cocktail dress.” Oscar told the reporter bluntly.

“We got a saying about tracks like this in the US, sir.” Jim said as he walked up to join the impromptu interview. “Don’t let the lipstick, mascara, and perfume confuse you. She can go from makeup to a mud-covered bitch in three seconds flat with a switchblade behind her back.”

“I must say. You yanks have some rather colorful descriptions for racetracks.” The reporter said with a grin.

“Why do you think we give our tracks nicknames like Thunder Valley, The Lady in Black, the Big D, The Monster Mile, White Lightning, The Brickyard, The Paperclip, Magic Mile, Diamond in the Dessert, or my favorite the Bermuda Triangle.” Jim told the man with a grin of his own. “Just to name a few of them.”

Beth walked up at that pointed. She had seen the trackside reporter trying to box Bobbie in and had kept an eye, as well as an ear on the interview. “Yeah, Bobbie I got an idea. Next Friday before we start our practice runs. Why don’t you take our friend here out in the NASCAR Experience car for a few laps around Rockingham. You know the one that the NASCAR designers sent over.”

“Sure. I think Chief Hailee can get it setup for me to driver it.” Bobbie said grinning already liking where Beth’s idea was going. Bobbie wasn’t the only one who was sick and tired of this particular reporters attitude towards the new sport.

“If Bobbie-san does not wish to drive him around a few laps on Rockingham. I will do so with pride. I would be more than happy to show him how easy it is to drive fifty to sixty miles at one-ninety plus.” Kuno almost snarled yet he never let the smile slip from his face.

“Um… no thank you ladies and gentlemen. I have a rather strong love for breathing.” The reporter said as he moved down the line of cars and drivers. Once he was gone the drivers all started to laugh.

“By the gods of speed, I have wanted to put that man in his place for the last few months.” Oscar busted out laughing with a full belly laugh.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but he has been pissing me off from day one.” Jim snarled before spitting out a wade of tobacco juice. “Of all the international reporters that guy has been the biggest jack-hole of them all.”

“I have to correct you on that James. That loudmouth little beach-blonde hussy from ESPN is the worse. Her or that goofy former NASCAR driver turned commentator.” Kuno grunted before turning to Beth, Bobbie, Sam, and Jim. “Sorry to disparage your fellow countryman and former driver like that.”

“Forget about it, Kuno-san. You’re not the only one who can’t stand the fuckface. There’s also a few NASCAR drivers who feel the same way. About him and his older brother. Right now, I’m happy we’re not having to deal with drivers like the King, the Intimidator, the Silver Fox, the Outlaw, Smoke, Million Dollar Bill, Rainbow Warrior, or Seven Time.” Bobbie said with a chuckle.

“Um… who are all these people Bobbie?” Oscar asked.

“Let’s just say that those eight drivers are men that scare the crap out of most drivers on a NASCAR track. None of them are to be taken lightly on their worse of days.” Beth answered him bluntly. “If anyone of them were racing in our league shit would change faster than the tracks we race on.”

“How so Beth-san?” Kuno asked her.

“For starters, our chances of winning would drop to almost nil against them. They earned their nicknames for more reasons than one. Those men made changes to our sport in ways that are still being felt.” Jim told the Japanese driver.

“Speaking of the greats. I wonder how the Intimidator would handle this track?” Sam asked as he looked out at the track.

“Who is this Intimidator you are talking about? He sounds like a real nightmare of a driver?” Oscar asked of the MRI drivers.

“Ralph Dale Earnhardt Sr. was an American professional stock car driver and team owner, who raced from seventy-five to oh-one in the former NASCAR Winston Cup Series We just call it the NASCAR Cup Series now. Famous for driving the No. three Chevrolet for Richard Childress Racing. He began his career in seventy-five driving in the World 600. Earnhardt won a total of seventy-six Winston Cup races over the next forty years. Those include four Winston 500s and the nineteen-ninety-eight Daytona 500. He also earned seven Winston Cup championships, a record matched only by Richard Petty and Jimmie Johnson. It was his aggressive driving style that earned him the nicknames ‘The Intimidator’, ‘The Man in Black’, and ‘Ironhead’, while his success at the restrictor plate tracks of Daytona and Talladega Superspeedway also earned him the nickname, ‘Mr. Restrictor Plate’. He is regarded as one of the greatest drivers in NASCAR history. Dale Earnhardt Sr. became a legend in his own lifetime.” Sam answered as he thought about his favorite driver. “The day he died NASCAR lost one of its greatest drivers and most likely its greatest spokesman.”

“Bloody hell! And you yanks drove against such a man?” Seth Fisher asked.

“None of us the chance, Seth. Dale Earnhardt Sr. died in a sudden last-lap crash during the Daytona 500, in oh-one. Jim and Sam have had a chance to race against his son who is no slouch either. Not to mention some of those other drivers mention earlier.” Bobbie told the Australian. “Trust me when I say that all of us here have a long way to go before being able to compete against drivers like them. That includes every driver on MRI.”

“Damn to hear one of the Fury Twins say that makes me wonder just how good NASCAR drivers really are.” Oscar said bluntly. “Do we even have the right to say we’re Stockcar racers or are we just kidding ourselves?”

“Make no mistake in this Oscar. In the last few months, every last driver on this track has earned their right to call themselves a Stockcar racer.” Sam snarled. “Both Jim and me, have faced some of the best Stockcar drivers there are on the track. The only reason Bobbie and Beth are better than us is because of their natural skills. If they hadn’t gone into Formula One first. They would have had contracts with any of the big NASCAR teams back home.”

“More than just the Monster Energy crowd, but X-finity, and the Gander Truck series as well. Not to mention all the other Autosport leagues as well.” Jim told them all then turn his head to spit out another wade of tobacco juice.

“Damn it, Jim! Will you please quite that disgusting habit on pit road?” Beth snarled then sighed as Bobbie spat out her our wade of juice. “Gods! You’re no better than the rest of the damn rednecks back home.”

“The bad part is I’m your sister.” Bobbie smirked.

“Trust me.” Beth sighed as the other drivers and few fans chuckled. “I know.”

“Bobbie, can you come over here for a minute?” One of the ISA coordinators asked from by the pit road wall.

“Excuse me guys. I think I’m about to get my ass chewed for something again.” Bobbie said with a heavy sigh as she trudged towards the coordinator. It wasn’t until she was ten feet away that Bobbie noticed the teenage boy in the wheelchair next to her. “You needed something, Miss McGrath?”

“Bobbie, I would like for you to meet Maxwell Sutton. Max this is Roberta McGuire.” McGrath said with a pleasant smile.

“Nice to meet you Max. Is this your first time at a live Stockcar race?” Bobbie asked him as she took a seat on the pit wall. She remembered how she felt during her time in a wheelchair and people were always bending over her. Bobbie took in the white pallor of the boy. The lack of hair. Thin arms and legs. All signs of second or third stage chemotherapy.

“I’ve watched a lot of racing while in hospital.” The boy said with smile that belied his illness. “It wasn’t until I started watching the ISA league that I really got into the whole racing fan thing.”

“Trust me. I know what you mean. I hated being stuck in a damned sickbed. If it hadn’t been for one of the nurses on my floor. I would have gone nuts.” Bobbie said with a real smile of friendship on her face.

“What do you mean sickbed?” Max asked her warily.

“What Miss McGrath didn’t tell you that I’m a cancer survivor?” Bobbie asked with chuckle. While it was common knowledge that she was a survivor. It wasn’t ever talked about in her interviews and always glossed over in her public bio. It wasn’t considered ‘bad form’ to talk about a person’s illness as far as the press was concerned when it comes to famous personalities. “Trust me, Max. Those stories about me spending half of my teenage years in a cancer ward are true.”

“Wow! And you’re a professional racecar driver now?” Max asked in wonder.

“Yup, sure am. I busted my ass to get out here racing. One of my best friends was a major fan of Formula One also.” Bobbie then told him honestly. “Lisa didn’t make it. She had a third and final relapse. I won Silverstone just for her. I had to bust my ass to beat my sister over there. Don’t let her good looks fool you. She is a mean nasty bitch behind the wheel. It doesn’t matter who she is racing she’ll never let you get away from her. There is a reason we call her the Ice Queen Fury. She’ll gnaw on your rear bumper until you make a mistake. Then she’ll drive right by you without even a second thought.”

“Wow! I would love to meet her.” Max said excitedly. It was just the opening Bobbie needed to give the sick child a real dream come true.

“BETH! SAM! JIM! Get your backsides over here. I got someone I want you to meet.” Then looking at the rest of the drivers Bobbie grinned even wider. “Bring the rest of those mugs with you!”

The gather drivers all shrugged their shoulders when the MRI drivers broke out in smiles. Beth turned to the other five drivers that had gather around Bobbie’s car. “Come on people. Time to see what truly drives my sister.”

As they approached Bobbie stood up smiling. “Max I would like for you to meet some of the best drivers in the ISA. Starting off on the far right we have the rest of my team. Beth McGuire-Towers, Sam Hurley, and James or as we call him Jim Fields. Next up from team Reynolds Racing, are the jokers in the crowd George Baker and Oscar Johnson. Those two ugly mugs over there in back is team King Night’s, Hitarashi Sukejuro, and Kuno Junzo. Now these lovely ladies up front are Rokossovsky Aleskeevich from team Red Star and Alexa Peters from Horn Thomas.”

Max chuckled at the insulting descriptions for the men and laughed at the way Bobbie had the women blushing. Each one of the drivers held out a signed ballcap for the young boy. It wasn’t long before Max had every driver on pit road coming by and dropping off a signed ballcap. Bobbie just faded away into the background letting the other drivers show the kid a good time. More than a few of them want to take Max out for a few laps around the track in the specially built NASCAR Experience car. If not for the IV in Max’s arm it would have happened.

Back at her car signing autographs Bobbie just smiled as Max had the time of his young life. Bobbie got Chief Hailee to setup a spot for Max on top of his pit box. As the last of the fans were called away Bobbie stepped back over to the pit wall. “Miss McGrath will you please take Max over to my pit box? I believe that my Chief has something important to show Max.”

“Really Miss McGuire, you have already done enough.” McGrath whispered.

“Trust me just do it.” Bobbie said with a smile. Then leaned in close to the woman. “This is nothing. When it comes to kids like Max, I go the extra mile.”

With that Bobbie turned and returned to her car. Beth watched the whole exchange. She wasn’t alone. Jim and Sam both had seen the interaction. As they all signed their last autographs the drivers around them asked what Bobbie had done. It was left up to Beth to explain.

“I know that most of you guys have heard the story about my sister being a cancer survivor. What most people don’t know is how close she came to dying during her last round of chemo. When she gets out there on the track and starts to drive. She is no longer racing us. She’s trying to out race the Devil’s Bounty Hunter. Most people just call him Death. Something Bobbie became all too familiar with before she turned sixteen.” Beth turned to sadly look over at her younger sister. “She’ll never say this outload. She’ll never talk about it in front of public ears. When it comes to kids like Max over there. Then she’ll take her car beyond its limits. She is about to turn that car of hers into a three-thousand-pound sledgehammer. Do yourselves a favor. Don’t get in her way.”

“Why do you say that Beth-san?” Kuno asked her quickly.

“Because every time there is a child suffering from cancer in the crowd. Bobbie becomes the very personification of speed. The personal envoy of Mercury and Hermes. The messengers of the gods all find themselves wondering at her control. The Ghostrider, Hell’s Black Dog, the Devil’s Bounty Hunter all turn down contracts concerning her when she drives in front of sick kids. She becomes a force of nature that only few can compete against.” Beth told them all as she watched Bobbie getting into the headspace she would need for racing. “Ladies and gentlemen this race just became very personal for my kid sister.”

The sounds of a trumpet sounded signaling for the driver to enter their cars and the fans to leave the pit road. Beth was slightly surprised to see her father instead of Chief Marks come out to help her into the car. She could tell by the look in her father’s eyes that he was worried about something. And it concerned her kid sister. Looking down the line at Bobbie’s car Beth saw her mother there to help her sister strap into her car.

“Tell me something Beth. How do you see this race shacking out now?” Her dad asked.

“Now that Bobbie knows she’s racing in front of a fellow cancer patient all bets are off. The first half may go down the way she briefed us during our team bitch session this morning. After that she’ll take the lead and never look back. That is unless there is a major wreck in the first two-hundred and fifty miles. If that happens it’ll be all I can do to keep up with her. The rest of the field can just kiss her ass goodbye and stay the fuck out of her way.” Beth told her dad as she pulled on her gloves and stopped just before pulling on her helmet. “Dad it’s in her eyes. Bobbie is going to run the edge no matter what today.”

“Don’t worry sweet-pea. Your mother saw it and is having a talk with her. We know how the first half is going to go down anyway. Those clowns over at Les Ailes de Justice and Prototype Outcasts made the mistake of going for the top eight pole positions. The second that green flag drops everyone from nineth on back are going to split them. For the first eight rows were are going to end up three wide. The last eight rows will be two wide. Perfect for draft racing.” Bob told her as he raised her window netting after slapping her helmet. “Run your race kiddo.”

“Yes, sir.” Beth answered as she waited for the call to start engines.

Bobbie’s car

I was surprised when mom showed up to help me into my car. Normally she stays in the team pit box area. “What’s up mom?”

“You tell me, Speedy?” Mom asked with a little worry in her voice.

“Don’t worry mom. I got this. My head is in the game.” I told her as I inserted my earbuds. “I know what is at stake here. I also know that one mistake can led to an early grave. This race is going to be nasty once we pass the first stage. The problems will start popping up around lap fifty-five to sixty. If we stick to our fuel and tire management strategy the race is ours.”

“Bobbie just how sure are you of this strategy?” Mom asked me.

“Enough to place a month’s pay on the outcome. Why?” I asked her as I stop halfway into the car. There was something in her voice that had my undivided attention.

“Les Ailes de Justice and Prototype Outcasts are going to do everything in their power to block the rest of the field. How sure are you of them getting boxed in the first ten laps?” Mom asked me.

“They made a mistake last night mom. Both teams got to running their mouths the drunker they got. They went and pissed off the other seven teams. Trust me mom.” I said as I looked up and down the rest of the field. I couldn’t help and started to chuckle. “There are way too many egos around here to let something like that stand.”

Mom quickly joined me as she handed my helmet before tightening down my straps. She patted my helmet gave me a thumbs up and raised the netting. I reached up and started my playlist. I knew that I had to get my head in the game for the race. The only thing that I hated about the pit road track walk was it cut into my time before the race for this. I let my mind fall away as the opening sounds of Jimmy Buffett’s Southern Cross fill my ears and mind.

As the song ended, I heard those four words in racing ring out across the stands. “DRIVERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!”

I flip the two battery switches and smash down on the starter button. The roar of the V-8 demon of speed and fury fills my cockpit. I reach over and grab the shifter smiling behind my helmet. As I shift into first gear, I know that today is going to be a real challenge. As it is, I’m starting off on the inside of row thirteen. Pole position 27th with Sam on the outside in 28th. Jim and Beth are right behind us. With the rest of the field made of nothing but Stockcar drivers. All the F-one and another drivers are in front of us. Sixteen of the world’s best drivers. All facing 450mls of deceptive concrete track.

As we roll out onto the track, I already feel the change from yesterday during practice and qualifying. Thanks to last night’s track cleaning, better known as rain, the track is greener than new grass. I key my mike before we even run the first warmup lap. “Kathy pass the word. Change in pit stop order.”

“What’s up Bobbie?”

“The track has gotten greener than we expected. She’s going to be eating tires left and right for the first twenty laps. We can also throw out our fuel strategy for the first half of the race. Between the wear on our tires and the increase in traction it will kill our performance big time.” I told her as we rounded turn 2 for the second warmup lap. Beth must have spotted the change as well.

“She’s right Kathy. We got whole new ballgame on our hands.” Beth called out over the team radio net. “We’re going to be chasing the handling of our cars all day.”

“You can beat your backside on that. My rear end is already sliding out on me.” Sam bitched as we rounded turn 3.

“All of you knock it off! Get your damned heads in the game! You got one more warmup lap before we go racing.” Chief Hailee yelled over the radio at us.

We all did as ordered and got our heads in the game. I let my music fill me with each lap. When the green flag flew over the start/finish line I smiled. The opening guitar riffs followed by the hammering beat of drums of Metallica’s signature song Enter Sandman blasted out of my earbuds.

I don’t know what the hell happened but everyone from the third row going back had to checkup. It didn’t take long though before the reason showed itself as I thundered pass the Peugeot 508. Thanks to the paint job I knew it belonged to Gerino Rosetta. I could also tell the reason for his sudden drop to the rear of the pack. The man had blown his engine on the start. The damned fool overrevved his engine then when he shifted gears everything let go at once.

“Bobbie they’re going to throw the yellow once everyone is clear. They’re keeping pit road close for now.” Kathy called over the radio. “Bobbie with the acceptation of Rosetta the field hasn’t changed.”

“I figured as much. I knew that it would take more than a few laps before the rest of the field started to shack out the way I expected.” I told her honestly.

We took four more laps around the track before the green flag dropped again. I wanted to be proud of how I predicted the shakeout of the field. Yet for some reason I just couldn’t. Even as the sounds of AC/DC’s Demon Fire blared in my earbuds. Not even the driving guitar riffs of Angus Young and Stevie Young, can calm me. The pounding beats of Phil Rudd’s drums or Cliff Williams driving bass guitar, hold nothing but excitement for me today. Brian Johnson’s howling vocals once brought me comfort today bring me nothing. As the green flag drops the field takes off. It doesn’t take long though before Les Ailes de Justice and Prototype Outcasts are boxed in. Just like I said they would be. I grin as the two outside lines shuffle the teams to the back of the field.

When the competition yellow came out on lap 25, I followed everyone else onto pit road. I had already called for 4 tires, and 2 cans of fuel with a tearaway. My guys came over the wall the second I came to a stop in my pit, 14.24 seconds later I was down and gone. As I rolled off pit road, I found myself in a race with Mori Unkei. I’m not really surprised the gal can fucking drive. As we pulled onto the track, I notice that I actually pulled into the number 12 spot. That was one massive leap.

“DAMN GOOD STOP GUYS! From twenty-seven to twelfth. That is fifteen positions. One of your best stops ever!” I called out over the radio.

“Bobbie listen up! We had to drop the pressure in your right-side tires by three pounds to easy up on the wear and tear. It should also give you another three to four laps on your fuel mileage.” Chief Hailee told me as we rounded turn 2 before the restart. Yet there was something in his voice.

“Okay, what’s going on Chief?” I quickly asked.

“It’s the tires we took off your left side Bobbie. To be exact the left rear. If you start to hear anything from the rear or start to smell something get off the throttle. We got a weird wear pattern showing already.” Hailee said.

“How weird?” I asked him as we entered turn 4.

“Enough to worry me.” He answered honestly. Which was enough of an answer for me.

“Copy that.” I answered back as the green flag dropped restarting the race. I shifted from 3rd to 4th and never looked back. The sounds of Nickback’s Burn it to the Ground pounded through my earbuds. I let my mind go. I let the nagging fear fall away as I dove for the inside of turns 1 and 2. I drove passed the 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th, positions before they realized I was even there. I could feel Beth, Jim, and Sam snapping at my rear bumper as I powered out of turn 2 down the back straightaway. I knew they were there. They had to be. They were the only ones crazy enough to run the draft with me on a track like this.

“Bobbie just a heads up. Beth, Jim and Sam have formed a train on your ass.” Kathy warned me as we powered down the straightaway. Only when we reached turn 3 Kathy called out. “GO LOW AND STAY THERE! HUG THE DAMNED YELLOW LINE!”

I didn’t even think twice about what Kathy want me to do. I went low to the inside as close to the apron as I could get and stayed there. I hugged that yellow warning line all the way around. To my surprise the three cars in front of me pulled up towards the outside of the track along with the outer line of cars. We were going three wide into turn 4 at full throttle. I don’t know what our speed is, but I have a feeling it is well over 200mph. We come of the exit onto the front straightaway like that. The field powered down the front straightaway three-wide and no one was letting up on the throttle.

The V-8 demons chained under our hoods howled with an uncontrollable rage at being tamed by us mere mortals. Nothing was going to hold them back with the exception of the drivers. We were the ones in control. I should say we were the ones with the illusion of control. Like my t-shirt at home says. ‘If everything seems under control, you’re not going fast enough.’ We hit the entrance to turn 1 when the inside lane wavers for the first time.

I slide upward taking my line with me. The car in outside line slides downward bringing his line with him. Between the two of us we force the middle line of cars to checkup and fall back. One that has a ripple effect throughout the field. It is not long before the last 8 rows are the only ones running three wide. The next 4 rows a double file while the last 8 cars are running single file. With me in 3rd place and the rest of MRI going back from there to 6th place.

For the next 23 laps we run like that when the green/white checkered comes out for the stage win on lap 50. As we were rounding turn 2 onto the back straightaway Chief Hailee calls out over the radio. “Bobbie how is the handling holding out?”

“Keep everything the way it is Chief. Just give me four fresh tires, two cans of fuel, and a clear tearaway. That and the fastest pit time on record.” I said.

I was surprised to see that Siegmund Kühne took the stage win for Thunder Valley while Violet Knight took second place for Horn Thomas. As I pulled to a stop in my pit box my crew was over the wall once more like the pros they were. I felt my car’s right-side bounce into the air, as the air guns screamed. When they rounded to the left-side, I knew that they were going to turn a record time again. I don’t know what he said to them, but they were cranking out the speed. That or he slipped them something extra in their water bottles. Not that I would condone such a thing.

When Danny dropped the jack on the right side I took off. It was a drag race off pit road. As the guys from Les Ailes de Justice and Prototype Outcasts were just getting their left side tires, I was clearing the exit to pit road. Right behind Siegmund Kühne. I went up one position in the poles. Not a lot but enough to challenge for the lead. With the rest of MRI behind me and the draft we had this next stage won. It didn’t matter what happened. Unless there was a major wreck, we had this stage. All we need is for this stage to go green all the way.

We rounded turn 4 on lap 52 headed for the front straightaway and the restart of the race when I saw it. High up on the outside of the straightaway just before the start/finish. “Kathy get the track cleaners out. There is a massive chunk of rubber up against the outer wall.”

“They already heard about it, Bobbie. They’ll be holding the restart for two more laps. Stay away from that thing Bobbie. It’s not rubber. It’s a piece of break pad. It came off one of the Les Ailes de Justice, cars.” Kathy told me.

“Who lost the pad?” I asked her.

“Christen Dior, she’s the only one still on pit road. The officials are giving her until the flag drops to get back on the track. If she can’t they’re pulling her.”

“Damn it looks our friends over at Les Ailes de Justice are having a bad day.” I chuckled as we round turn 2. “How is the rest of the field shaking out?”

“About the way you guessed with one or two exceptions. All of the Stockcar drivers have worked their way up to the front half of the pack. Only Nathan Watson and Oscar Johnson are still deep in the pack. I don’t expect that to remain that way for long though. They’re both middle race drivers. They’ll start to working their way up through in about fifteen to twenty laps. I figure by the time we start our first round of green flag pit stops. They’ll be right there with us.”

We finished the two extra laps for the restart I knew that it was time to turn up the heat. As we crossed the start/finish line, and the green flag dropped the sounds of Sabaton’s Bismarck howled in my ears. I grabbed the shifter and pushed in the clutch. I was in 4th gear and going for broke on the outside. Siegmund Kühne may have had the inside but I had something going for me on the outside. Thanks to the rain last night the normal buildup that should be there was half of what it would have been today. Hell, it wasn’t even a quarter.

One of the things I had learned about this track was the fastest way around. Wasn’t on the inside but on the outside. It didn’t take long before the rest of MRI lined up behind me. Jim was right on my ass, followed by Sam, then Beth. As I came down onto the back straightaway, I felt something at the back of my head. It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time. The last time I felt this way as two years ago at Silverstone. Then it hit me there was an unfamiliar voice on the radio. It was the voice of a young boy cheering me and the others to push our cars to the limits. At first, I thought it was Lisa then remembered that she was watching with the Angels looking down at us poor dumb asses.

I keyed my privet radio channel for Kathy. “Looks like Max is having one hell of a fun time. Who suggested the headset?”

“Your dad.” Kathy turned soft with her voice. “You did a really good thing here today Bobbie. Did you know that his visit was for the Make a Wish foundation?”

“Saw the signs, Kathy. That is something that never leaves the back of your head when you’ve survived it.” I told her as I powered around turns 3 and 4 heading for the front straightaway. I lived with the fear of death for longer than any kid should. I remember the endless trips to the bathroom to empty my stomach. The endless days of staring at blank hospital walls. The painfilled days and nights fallowing a surgery. All of the shit that came with being a survivor of cancer. As I powered down the track headed for turn 1 those memories fueled my resolve. This race wasn’t for me. It was for Max.

Kathy must have picked up on my thoughts. “Stay high on the turns Bobbie. It’s the fastest way around the track right now.”

I started to open up the throttle when she called back. “Hold back on your throttle for another twenty laps Bobbie. Save the meat for the last stage.”

On lap 79 I lead MRI down pit road for our green flag pit stops. I called for 4 tires, 2 cans of fuel, and a tearaway again. Again, our crews turned in record pit stops, all four just over 14 seconds. We down and gone before the first of the other teams started filing in. It took a few laps before everyone had filed through for their pit stops. From there on the race remained green. I was beginning to wonder if this track was going to live up to its possible nickname. On lap 100 I crossed the start/finish line taking the stage 2 win.

Once again, the pit crews were flying over the walls. Pit road was organized chaos. A ballet of graceful insanity consisting of 6 highly trained individuals. Each with their own piece of skin in the race. There’s the Jackman, Fueler, Front Tire Changer, Front Tire Changer, Rear Tire Carrier, and Front Tire Carrier. There is a saying used in NASCAR. ‘Races are won or lost in the pits.’ A driver may be the dipshit hanging it all out on the track, but it is the dedication of these 6 team members that can make or break a Stockcar driver. The only two other members that have more of an impact are the Crew Chief and the Spotter for the driver. Kathy has been with me from the start and is one of the best. With only her mom being better.

I roll off pit road with Beth, Sam, and Jim right on my bumper. As we line up, I let Beth have the inside lane. I know that I’ll only have the advantage for one maybe two laps. I need to get out in front and stay there. The green flag drops and we go back to racing as Judas Priest’s Hell Patrol blare in my ears.

For the next 3 laps I let that song take me away. With that song I drag the rest of MRI around with me. I leave nothing off the track. I pull on every ounce of rat racer still deep in my soul. I call on the blood of moonshiners and rumrunners turned Stockcar racers. The outlaws of my sport’s roots. When the next song comes, I couldn’t have been in a better mindset. I couldn’t have asked for a better song as Steve Earl’s Copperhead road blasts away.

Only a few drivers out here would understand the true meaning behind these words. These were the men who gave birth to sport that would sweep a nation. It spoke to the very heart of Stockcar racing. How a bunch of rowdy moonshine runners defying the law lead to the birth of legends. It also talk of the price those early drivers paid for giving birth to my sport.

We’d had a total of 8 yellow flags throughout the race. Four of them for blown tires. One for running out of fuel just before a pit stop. Two last blown engines one on the back straightaway and the real surprise was the car in turn 3. The reason for the surprise was the team the car was part of. Team Thunder Valley had the most solid build cars behind ours. The last one was for a car spinning out in turn 1. Still, they were able to recover. Then again Murphy likes to play with Fate’s dice.

On lap 125 we came down for our last green flag stop. When we rolled off pit road, we were lined up the way we came of the track. Once everyone had cycled through it was lap 128. That is when Beth pulled in behind me and started pushing. I felt it when Jim started pushing her. When Sam joined in the freight train, I felt the draft take hold. We were gone, with a lead that resembled what we had at Daytona.

“Speedy I need you to hold something back for me kiddo.” Chief Hailee called out over the radio as we rounded turn 4 on lap 129.

“Chief I got at least another full quarter of the throttle to go yet. I got a feeling that Beth, Jim, and Sam have that much if not more.” I radioed back.

“BULLSHIT!” Chief Hailee called back. “You have to that pedal buried.”

“Nowhere near it Chief.” I called back not thinking about our speeds.

“OH SHIT! YOU’RE RUNNING WITHOUT RESTRICTOR PLATES!” Chief Marks called over the team net explaining the problem.

“What does that mean?” Jim asked.

“YOUR SPEEDS KIDS! YOU’RE TOPPING TWO-THIRTY-SIX ON THE STRAIGHTAWAYS AND TWO-THIRTY-FOUR IN THE TURNS!” Marks called out the insane speeds we were putting down.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Chief Marks and Hailee were two of the best. If they were said we were doing 236mph on the straightaways and 234mph in the turns. Then that was what we were doing. Now I was really worried. The big one had happened yet, and we still had another 31 laps to go. More than 93 miles of the unknown.

On lap 137 it finally happened. I barely heard Kathy’s warning in time to react. We coming of the exit to the back straightaway when she screamed. “GO! HIGH! NOW! LOW! BACK UP TOP! FLOOR IT!”

I weaved my way through a cloud of inky white smoke and flying pieces of rubber. The screams of tearing and crumpling metal sounded all around me. As I cleared the smoke, I could still hear the sounds of dying cars behind me. The yellow flag came out before I crossed the start/finish line. I knew it was bad when I entered turn 1 and they red flag was out. “Bobbie, they want you to roll to a stop at the entrance to turn three and shut it down. They’ll send out the pace car once pit road is cleaned up and the wreckage is cleared away.”

“Shit! Were any of the pit crew members were hurt?” I asked in a panic.

“That is the good news. Everyone is walking away unscratched. The bad news is the last six pit-boxes along with most of their tools have been severely damaged. They’re going to need their backups if they want to finish the race.” Kathy said.

“Wow! That is bad. Any word about how the drivers are, yet?” I asked.

“All drivers are out and walking around. Though a few of them are kind of pissed off. Yup there goes another helmet! Damn! If I didn’t know that we were in England I could swear I watching the Bristol stomp out there.” Kathy chuckled. “Yup there go the short track tempers. Fists are flying over at the entrance to pit road.”

“Oh shit. Who’s getting into it?” I asked her.

“Koychev Fyodorovich and Abdulov Germanovich for Red Star on one side. On the other Caleb McLean and Joseph Lachman for Bisbee Snider. Damn those Russians sure can fight dirty. Ouch that is going to leave a mark. Caleb just clocked Koychev across the mouth with solid right cross.” Kathy said with real laughter. “Oh damn. They’re sending out ISA Officials to break the fight up. You know this is going to be the replay button favorite of the week.”

“So long as no drivers were hurt, and the ISA officials don’t get the shit beat out of them from breaking up the fight. I’m happy to let people rewind all they want.” I told her honestly. Then chuckled. “Though there are a few of those chuckle nuts I wouldn’t mind seeing them get the shit pounded out of them.”

“Okay they got the hotheads under control. Looks like this will be a short red flag. The good thing is most of the debris is in turn four. Yup the officials are already pulling all damaged cars off the track and pit road. Looks like out of the thirty-three drivers before the wreck when we return to racing, we’re down to twenty-one drivers. Of the twelve wrecked cars only one isn’t headed for the scrapyard or recyclers. Even that one is only good for spare parts.” Kathy chuckled.

“Talk about an uproar at the Circus Maximus.” I laughed.

“Bobbie we’re going to back to racing. Fire up your engine.” I did as I was told.

It didn’t take long before we were rolling once more around the track. As we rounded turn 4 on lap 141, I wondered if they were going to open pit road. If the ISA officials kept it closed the better off for us. I knew that we had the fuel to go the distance as if was now. So, long as we remained green for the rest of the race. One yellow flag will stretch things. One Green/White/Checker beyond that and all bets are off. One of us is going to need fuel.

“Bobbie they’re opening pit road for a final stop. Get in there girl.” Kathy ordered me. I didn’t want to but followed her orders. There must have been something about the track that she saw that I didn’t for me to give up track position for fuel. My crew gave me two fresh tires on the right side and a can of fuel. On lap 144 the green flag dropped, and I dropped the hammer.

The next three laps were side-by-side racing then it happened. Two cars halfway back in the field spun out on the front straightaway collecting a few others with them. We were back under yellow. Then came the word we were going into to over time. Green/white/checker race to the finish. “What the hell Kathy?”

“Oil slick across the track. Listen Bobbie. If you got a special song you have been holding onto now it the time to use it. This is going to be a run for the money and Beth isn’t going to let you go. Other than that Bobbie, all I can say is good luck.”

“And God’s speed.” I finished for her. I slipped my hand inside my leathers’ top breast left pocket. I thumbed through my list until I came to the song I wanted. I hit the delay button then slipped it back into my pocket. We rounded turn 3 on lap 149 and the green flag flew in the air. I hit the play button through my leathers and grabbed the shifter. I was jamming gears before the first drumroll of Sammy Haggar’s I can’t drive 55 filled my ears.

I could hear Kathy laughing her ass off as I powered past Beth and Jim. I was dragging Sam behind me. The two of us dropped own in front of Beth going to the inside of the track in turn 1. We came out of the exit onto the back straightaway and I heard more than just Kathy’s laughter. Mom must have turned Max’s headset to the one I share with Kathy. That was all I need to hear. I shoved the throttle to the floor. Damned everything else I want this win for him.

We rounded turn 4 and the white flag was in the air. One lap to go and my lead was increasing. As I entered turn 1 for the final lap, I had a 6-car lead on the rest of the field. I looked down at my gages and began to worry. “Come on baby just three more turns. Hold it together, girl. Please just a little longer baby.”

I hit my marks one after another. With each one I felt as if Lisa was sitting next to me as we rounded turns 3 and 4, I knew the race was over. I also knew that I had just set a record at this track. A record that would stand for a long time to come. One that I could be proud of. As I pass under the waving black and white checker flag, I can’t help myself. “You’re still looking over my shoulder, Lisa.”

-----tbc-----

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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 15
Rockingham Speedway, United Kingdom, Sunday, 1400
The Saint George’s Distillery 600

I looked around the newest track on the ISA circuit in wonder. In just two and half years this place went from open fields to a multimillion Euro complex. We’ve been here sense Tuesday. In that time, we’ve had four test runs, a full practice run with the rest of the field, and qualifying laps. That whole time not one drop of rain fell on this tract. Then I wake up this morning and the rain is coming down in buckets. Talk about a fucking mess. The rain finally let up a half hour ago.

“Looks like we’ll be able to get in a full race Bobbie.” Jim Fields said as he stepped you next to me. “At least I hope we will.”

“I doubt it Jim. I got a good look at the radar before I left my hotel room. There’s a massive front headed this way. If we start racing in the next hour. That rain will hit us around lap one-oh-five to one-ten. If we get started later than that it won’t matter when the rain comes. We’ll end up finishing this race tomorrow.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam asked as he walked up with Beth.

“That incoming front is going to wash out this race. It’ll hammer this track with rain for no less than three hours. Then you add in the time needed to dry the track. That’s another two hours just for the track. One for pit road. That is a total of six hours. By the time they get the track back to race conditions the sun will be down. Seeing as how they didn’t put any stadium lighting up when they built this place. There is no way we can race at night.”

“Damn. I didn’t figure on that. I guess I need to pay more attention to how the weather is going to play into our races. I’ve gotten lazy.” Jim bitched.

“No Jim, not lazy. You’re just used to being able to run after sundown. If I’m not mistake most NASCAR tracks have stadium lighting now days. It so a race can go late into the night. So far, we’ve been lucky. This is the first track that we’ve raced at that is without stadium lighting. There are two more just like it without stadium lighting, Berlin, and Warszawa.” Beth told them both.

“Then we really need to pay attention to the weather that those two tracks. There’s not a whole lot we can do about today though. That track is going to be greener than new grass in June. It was bad enough when we first got here on Tuesday. Today it’ll three to four times worse.” Sam lamented. “God, I hate England.”

“I hope not, my friend. Sure, the weather can be a bit dodgy at times, but England does have her bright points.” Alexa Peters lilting voice reached us as she walked into our garage area. We all turned to see her smiling face. “Just remember that the weather can change faster than the trade winds.”

“No offence Alexa, but the weather here is crazier than Myrtle Beach during hurricane season. I could have sworn that when I went to bed last night the weather forecast was for clear and sunny skies. Instead, we wake up to cats, and dogs.” Beth bitched.

“Beth didn’t you know that the BBC weathermen are paid to lie.” Alexa chuckled.

“Damn. Here I thought they only did that in the US. Now I know it’s worldwide.” Sam cracked then gave us all a sly smile. “I think I know what I want to do when I retire. I’m going back to college and get my degree in Meteorology. That why I can get paid anywhere in the world for being a Bullshit artist.”

As much as I wanted to pound him I couldn’t. Sam knew just what say to get a laugh out of me and the others. Our laughter was drowned out by the roar of the jet dryers as they rolled by on the track. The roar was enough to draw all of our attentions. I sighed and looked back out at the soaking wet track. The water was streaming down the sloped pavement under the pressure provided by the Akron Turbine Group's Turbo Dryers. Even with those powerful pieces of equipment I knew it was going to take another half hour or more before the track and pit road were ready for racing.

“Damn. Look at all the water. What the hell happened last night.” Beth bitched.

“Just an early summertime shower, Robert. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get a race in today. I really do hate being rained out.” Alexa quipped.

“You’re not the only one, Alexa. I know that we can’t control the weather. Just once though I would love to be able to just come out and race. This is our eighth race and half of them have been under threat of rain.” I bitched. “Or high winds.”

“Yo bro, you’re preaching to the choir here.” Jim snarked. “At least you didn’t have to deal with those crazy fucking crosswinds at Motegi.”

“Trust me brother I know what you’re talking about. You should have been up in the spotter’s nest. If I hadn’t been sitting down, I would have been knocked down.” I can still feel the heavy winds off that mountain. “I spent that whole race wondering if and when one of you would go airborne.”

“It was touch and go a few times, Bobbie.” Alexa chuckled. “I know that my front-end lift on the back straightaway more than once. I don’t know how you buggers were able to pull off the speeds that you were on that track.”

“We learned how to face high-cross winds at our hometown track of Darlington.” Beth answered with a small smile. “You’ll see what I’m talking about at the end of the season. Right now, you and the other European teams have the advantage.”

“How so?” Alexa questioned her.

“Simple. You have all raced on or around the European tracks. You all know how your cars handle in the natural weather conditions of Europe. Think about it, Alexa. With the exception of MRI, Bisbee-Snider, and King Night all of the teams are from Europe. In Japan King Night had the advantage. In Australia it went to Bisbee-Snider. Just like we had the advantage at Pocono, and Daytona. Because we’ve raced or tested at those tracks. MRI’s one major advantage has always been our ability to adapt. Because of that, we have no real specialists.” I quickly explained.

“That’s why you’ve been able to pull out the wins that you have. Just last weekend. You rolled off pit road deep in the field. By the halfway point you were out front and never looked back. You may not be specialists.” Alexa pointed out to me. “Yet that ability of your team to adapt is what makes you so deadly.”

“You got to remember something about all four of us, Alexa.” Sam said with a nasty grin. “We all have the same background. We’re all rat racers. Whenever you race on the streets you don’t have the chance to make adjustments to your car in the middle of a race. You run with what you brought.”

“It’s also about than pride for us. We when or walk home. Because we also race for cash and titles.” Jim grunted. “It’s and all or nothing situation when we race.”

“Damn. No wonder you lot never give up during a race. You don’t know the meaning behind the word surrender.” Alexa chuckled. The roar of the jet dries passing by drowned out the laughter of the gathered drivers. “Damn I wish they could put mufflers on those damned things.”

“There is only one problem with that idea. Mufflers will cutdown on the heat and force from those monsters. I know that they’re noisy as hell, but have you ever sat in the stands during one of our races?” Beth asked her kindly. When Alexa shook her head no, we all chuckled. “Trust me, Alexa those dries have nothing on us going out doing one-ninety. You got to remember we don’t use mufflers either. There is a reason they call a stockcar race, Thunder Under the Sun.”

“We sit behind the wheel of three-thousand-pound demons of speed. We fight to control over nine-hundred-horses hell bend on running wild. It is only by our will that we can even come close to controlling those monster demons.” I had everyone’s undivided attention. “We’re not like other sports. We take all the precautions that we can, but there is still the unknow element of danger. The one thing that we cannot control. The great Murphy factor that leds to injury and sometimes death.”

I could see it Jim’s eyes before he said it. “Like the old NASCAR saying goes. If everything seems under control, then you’re not going fast enough.”

“I thought that the saying went. If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.” Alexa countered with a sly smile.

“Oh man. Guys we’re in trouble. If the other teams are starting to figure out the meaning behind that we’re in deep shit, guys.” Sam chuckled.

“Let’s just hope they never figure what we mean behind. Drive it like you stole it. Because if that happens. We’re all, in trouble.” I bitched then chuckled.

“Bobbie, I have got to ask. Why did you ever switch over to Stockcar? You and your sister have name real names for yourselves in Formula One.” Alexa asked me with confusion. And for the life of me I just couldn’t take her question seriously.

“Because I’m too lazy to work and too chicken to steal.” I quipped remembering the quote from Kyle Bush. At her blank look of total confusion, I started to laugh along with everyone else from MRI. I took pity on her. “Alexa I always wanted to drive stockcars. Sure, Beth and I made our names in Formula One, but our hearts and souls have always belonged to Stockcar racing.”

“That’s a damned lie. Your heart belongs to Kelly and your kids. You sold your soul to the devil to feed your need for speed. It’s your ass that belongs to racing of any kind.” Beth snarked before giving me a punch in the ribs.

“OOOWWW! I’ll sue your ass for that!” I garbed my ribs where Beth hit me and started to ham things up. “This is OSA at its worse.”

“Um… I know you yanks are found of your acronyms but what the hell is OSA?” Alexa asked with a puzzled look on her face.

As one Jim, Sam, and Beth sighed. “Older Sibling Abuse.”

“It has gotten out hand in the States, Alexa.” Tony said as he walked to join us. “It has reached epidemic levels in certain parts of our country. Why there are reports of brothers leaving baby sisters locked in closets, older sisters using baby brothers as life size Barbie dolls. These are the mildest of criminal acts commented under sibling rivalries. The true atrocities are far too many to even name off. When it comes to my wife and her sister things get taken to a whole new level. Especially when they are behind the wheel of their cars.”

Alexa couldn’t help herself and started to laugh. Once again, the King of Bullshit, Tony Towers, has struck. When she finally regained her self-control. “Mister Towers I must say you have a modest way with words.”

“Just call me Tony, Alexa. Just remember if these two ever get pissed off at each other during a race.” Tony told her in warning as he point at Beth and me. “Either be all the way out front or get out of their way.”

“Why is that?” Alexa asked.

“Because they’ll forget about racing the rest of the field. This isn’t common knowledge, so we’ll let you in on a little family secret.” Tony told her with a deep chuckle. “Back home we have local road course track. These two are always heading over there to race just each other. It’s how they relax. As it stands, they have split their wins fifty to forty-nine. With Bobbie in the lead.”

“Not for long. We’ll be taken care that little problem when we head for Darlington at the end of the season.” Beth snarled. I chuckled as she got pissed over Tony reminding her of our ongoing battle. I just had to up the ante.

“Why wait? Let’s place a little bet on today’s race.” I grinned.

“Knock it off, you two.” Dad snapped as he walked up to our group. “Alexa, I need to have a few words with my drivers.”

“Of course, Mister McGuire. See you all on the track.” Alexa said as she left us.

“Listen up people. Thanks to how we qualified yesterday. We’re spread throughout the field. With two-hundred-and-forty laps we should be able to work our way up into a full team run. The only problem is going to be the changes in the track conditions. When we start racing the track is going to be green. Bobbie give us a rundown on the tack. Full stats girl.” Dad ordered.

I didn’t even thick twice as I remembered the stats for this place. “Length two-point-five miles laid out in your classical oval track format. Track surface is asphalt. The banking in the turns is on the progressive side. Starting off at eighteen degrees going up to twenty at the apex. Both the front and back straightaways has a continuous three degrees. Unlike the other tracks we’ve this place has a double pit road. There are entrances on the exit of turn two and turn four. This splits up the field for our yellow flag stops. It’s the green flag stops we need to worry about. If you exit too soon on the wrong pit road, you’ll have to go all the way around. That’s kick in the ass about having the double pit road. Because the exits for the pit roads is on the opposite pit road.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Dad asked with a smirk. “Like the fact that we’re running counterclockwise?”

“Ah shit I did forget about that. Five hundred miles of nothing but right-hand turns.” I bitched. “That is really going to screw with our timing.”

“More than that Bobbie. This is the first time Jim, or I have run a counterclockwise race. We both had problems during practice.” Sam pointed out then looked towards the other garages. “I don’t know about Jim, but I noticed that other normal NASCAR drivers were having the same problem.”

“They have a point Bobbie. The other drivers that came over from the other circuits don’t have that problem. They’ve all raced at, at least one counterclockwise track.” Beth grunted before chuckling. “You don’t have that problem because you’re screwy to begin with. The change in direction just doesn’t bother you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snarled.

“That you’re crazier than a shithouse rat on fire for starters.” Dad chuckled.

Our attention was drawn to the load speakers. “Attention! Attention! All drivers report to your cars! This is your first warning.”

“Alright guys. Time to put on your big girl panties.” I snarked. Only to get a dirty look from Jim and Sam as our pit crews chuckled.

As we left the garage area, I went over our pole positions in my head. “Let’s see Jim is going to have the easiest time sitting on the third row in sixth place. Beth has nineth place locked down solid on the fifth row. Sam can make a decent run for the led coming off row seven in thirteenth. I’m the one with my work cut out for a decent placing. Damn it.”

“What ya thinking about Speedy?” Chief Hailee asked as I neared my car.

I didn’t even bother hiding my frustration with Chief Hailee. “Why the fuck did I have to blow my engine during practice? If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have to go to the back of the damned pack. I should be starting next Sam not in the last position.”

“Look Speedy how many times do I have to tell you? You didn’t blew the engine. No one could have foreseen the crankshaft snapping like that. Especially at such low rpms. Put it out of your mind and run your race from the start.” Chief Hailee said.

“That’s just it Chief. I can’t run my race. Not from the back of the pack. I spent all of last night trying to figure out how to get back to the front with the rest of the team. I just couldn’t figure out a way to pull it off.” I bitched as I pulled on my balaclava and gloves. Once I was ready, he helped me slide into the cockpit. Once I was in and started strapping in Hailee leaned in through the window.

“Listen up Bobbie. You got six-hundred miles to work your way through the field. Remember this time the race is all about endurance. You got six-hundred miles to work you way through the field. Take your time, pick your line, run your race, and screw the rest of the fucking field. Got me?” Chief Hailee smiled as he handed me my helmet. Before I could reply he was raising the window net sealing me inside.

With nothing else to do I pulled on my helmet and gloves. I took a deep breath and let my mind go to that place I need for running from the back of the pack. People say that Stockcar racing isn’t real racing. I would like to see them get out here and drive 400 to 500 miles without break. We run marathons where other racing circuits run sprints. Only the La Mans and other 24hr races have longer distances. Today is going to be one of our longest races at 600miles.

It take us anywhere between 3.5 to 4.5 hours to run the whole race. If we stay relatively green for the majority of the race 3.5 hours. With more than the average number of yellow flag laps 5 hours. The average time for the Coco-cola 600 ran is 4.5 hours with 9 to 10 yellows per race. But unlike the Coco-cola 600 run at Charlotte North Carolina we’re running this on a 2.5-mile-long track instead of a 1.5-mile that’s Charlotte Motor Speedway. Few laps but still the same distance.

I was brought out of my self-introspection by the announcer. “Drivers! Start! Your! Engines!” I reached over and flipped the battery switches and mashed the starter.

The rumble of the massive V-8, 5.9-liter naturally aspirated engine filled me with a sense of barely contained raw power. I knew the second that I had the chance to unleash that monster nothing was going to stop me. The words of Dale Earnhardt Sr. came to mind for some reason. ‘Second place is first loser.’

That thought was fallowed up quickly by a second quote from ‘Days of Thunder’. Without realizing it I left my mike open as we rolled down pit road. “Control is an illusion, you infantile egomaniac. Nobody knows what’s gonna happen next: not on a freeway, not in an airplane, not inside our own bodies and certainly not on a racetrack with 40 other infantile egomaniacs.”

“Trying to get yourself into the right headspace Bobbie?” Kathy asked with chuckle.

“No. Just bitching to myself about rolling off dead last, Kathy.” I moaned.

“So, quoting Dr. Claire Lewicki from Days of Thunder is just a way to let of steam? Why not choose Harry Hogge?” Kathy answered back as she use a gruff voice. “The drivers can’t stand to be reminded of what can happen to ‘em in a racecar. They don’t go to hospitals; they don’t go to funerals. You get a driver to a funeral before he’s actually dead, you’ve made history, darlin’.”

“Fuck that is the truth. If you can get my ass to another driver’s funeral you really have worked magic.” I chuckled as the field formed up behind the pace car. I started to weave back and forth trying to warm up my tires. I could already tell that the track has undergone a massive change from yesterday. “Kathy pass the word to the others and Chief Hailee. We’re going to need fresh tires long before the competition yellow at lap twenty-five.”

“What’s up Bobbie? Talk to me here girlfriend.”

“It’s the grip Kathy. The track is more than just green. It’s raw as sandpaper.” I could tell the others hadn’t figured it out yet by the way everyone else was weaving. We rounded the track three more times before Kathy gave me the heads up.

“Okay Bobbie, get ready. The pace car is dropping off the track. Three, two, one! DROP THE HAMMER!”

I let the rest of the field pull away just a little before shifting gears and dropped the throttle to the firewall. As we powered down the front straightaway for turn 1, I start to smile. It was happening just the way that Dad warned me. The regular stock car drivers are checking up going into the turn. They’re not used to turning right. It won’t last long. The regular stock drivers are just too adaptable to not take in the change in direction. They’re all like MRI. If they were racing the NASCAR circuits most would be either Cup, Xfintiy, or Truck drivers. They’re all just too damned good to be any less.

I hit the play button for my music as we exited turn 4 onto the front straightaway. I had been holding back on the tunes. I wanted to let the field get spread out some but that wasn’t happening. As the opening notes of AC/DC’s ‘It’s a long way to the top’ rang out in my ears I let myself fall away to that special place I needed to drive my way through the field. I drop down on the inside and hug the apron.

“Bobbie what are you doing?”

“Playing the odds, Kathy.” I answer back as I power into turn1.

“What the hell does that mean?” She demanded.

“Far too many of the other drivers are checking up on the entrances to turns one and three. The counterclockwise driving is throwing off their timing. If I time it right, I figure I can pull a slide on at least three to four positions on each turn.” I explained for her. I was thankful that I was alone in the car. This way no one would see the nasty grin I was wearing.

It went just the way I hoped. We entered turn 1 and more than half the field was breaking hard. I pulled into the thirty-sixth position without a problem. On turns 3 and 4 I repeated the same move gaining another five positions. Within four laps I had moved from fortieth place to thirty-first. By lap 8 I knew that I was in trouble though, I could already feel my tires’ grip going away.

“Kathy something is wrong. My grip is falling off faster than expected.” I radioed.

“How bad are we talking here Speedy?” Chief Hailee asked coming up on the spotter’s channel. This wasn’t like him. He normally stays off this channel.

“Let’s just say that it feels like I’m driving over black ice.” I told him honestly as I fought to keep from sliding up the track at the apex of turns 3 and 4.

“If you’re feeling that way then back it down and bring her in.” Chief Hailee called back for some reason. “Something else is going on Bobbie.”

“Chief pit road is still closed. We bring her in now and she’ll get hit with a major penalty. We have to wait. If Bobbie holds back until the competition yellow, she’ll be fine.” Kathy warned us both.

“I can hold out for that long Chief.” I called back as we entered the front straightaway. I knew that I had to hold for that long. As I crossed the start/finish line the sounds of Judas Priests’ Turbo Lover started playing. The driving beat of the drums and screaming riffs form the guitars settled my nerves. The more the music played the harder I pushed my car. Totally ignoring both Kathy and Chief Hailee. I couldn’t help myself. I just had to go faster. The car may have felt like I was driving on black ice but the faster I went the easier the car handled.

It didn’t make any sense to me, but I had to push the car. Something was pushing me to drive harder and faster. I could almost feel the psychical presence of some unknow force of nature. I’ve felt this once before during a race. Someone was going to die today. The Grim Reaper was hunting the track. I hit the button and radioed in the warning to Kathy and Chief Hailee.

“The Bounty Hunter is sniffing around. Kathy keep your eyes on the middle of the pack. If something goes wrong, it’ll be there.”

“Talk to me baby girl. What’re you feeling? What’s got your nose twitching?” Mom asked over the radio. I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear her, but I was. She always listens in on our radio chatter.

“Just a feeling mom. Like what went down in Barcelona, Spain two years ago. Only this time the feeling is twice as strong.” I told her honestly. “Mom it didn’t come on until after I ran a few laps at speed out here.”

“Gotcha honey. We’ll pass the warning along.” Mom said before dropping off the air.

Surprisingly, the field went the all the way to the competition yellow without a wreck. I was sure there would have been at least one. I rolled down the back straightaway pit road towards my pit box. I knew what was bugging me. I felt the water under my tires. Both pit roads were still wet. They should have been dried before we started, but somehow the water was still rolling across the asphalt.

I hit my pit box dead on the numbers. I felt the left side of the car come off the ground and heard the scream of the air guns over the rumble of the engine. I felt the gas can slam home in the right rear. The setup of this car was totally backward from our usual. Then again, we were running a counterclockwise setup for this race. Everything was backwards. It had taken my pit crew all week to get used to this setup. I wasn’t expecting our usual 14 second pit stop. I was totally surprised when at the 7 second mark the right side of the car was bounced into the air. ‘What the hell? They should still be working on the right side.’ But the scream of the air guns total me a deferent story. When the car came down off the jack, I sped off down pit road at just under pit road speed.

“What was our time Chief?” I radioed in.

“Let’s just say that this was one of our fastest pit times in recent weeks. Fourteen-point-nine-eight. Three-hundredths over our best time.” Chief Hailee chuckled.

I was glad as hell that I wasn’t holding down the radio button just then. “Holy Fuck! Where the hell did that come from?”

I put the thought of our pit stop time out of my head. When we lined back up for the restart, I was surprised that our pit stop had been good enough to move me up more than twelve spots. From thirty-first to nineteenth. Not bad in the long run. If we keep putting up those kinds of pit stop times I just might get back into this race after all. I just hope we can stay away from the yellow flags.

I hit the play button for the next around of music in my play list. We crossed the start/finish line just as Metallica’s Enter Sandman basted out of my ear buds. The green flag came down and we were off once more. We made two more laps free and clear. Then the first yellow flag came out on lap 28. One of the drivers for Red Star blew his left front tire and slammed into the wall of turn 3. He kept his car up against the wall and out of traffic as the rest of the field sped pass.

“Stay out Bobbie.” Kathy ordered me for some reason. It took me a few seconds to realize what she was getting at. It was all about track position. If I stayed out while the others went in for a pit stop, I would move up in the field. Once again Kathy spotted something I hadn’t about the track.

“What’re you seeing Kathy?” I asked her.

“Rubber build up on the outside line Bobbie. The outside line came in faster than the inside lines for starters. By the end of lap forty the middle and outside line will come in on the turns. It will be another twenty laps before the inside line reaches race conditions. You’ve been lucky so far with those inside passes. If anybody else tried to pull that crap.”

“No need to say it Kathy.” I told as she left the rest of her sentence unsaid. It was only because of my skills that I hadn’t wrecked.

We ran the next three laps under yellow. Only three cars dropped off the track for a pit stop. The downside was they were at the end of the pack. When we went back to racing it was just as Kathy said. The outside line was the fastest. It also had the best grip. For now, anyway. At lap forty the inside line started coming in. I was more than a little surprised that we had been running two wide the enter race.

As we rounded turn 4 on lap forty things changed. Alexa went into the inside retaining wall of turn 1 thanks to a blown tire on the right rear. She was on the outside line and took two other drivers with her. I stayed again as the most the field headed for pit road. Thanks to this I was able to move up to tenth place right behind Beth, Jim, and Sam. When we went green for the rest of the 1st stage, we were running 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th. Fifty laps in and we were finally able to run as a team. The second that green flag drops we’re going balls out for the checkered.

The flag dropped and we took off like bats out of hell. We split the front runners. Beth and I went low while Jim and Sam went high. We entered turn 1 four wide. I looked over at who was in the middle of our squeeze play. It was a mix of four teams. Red Star, Horn Thomas, Bisbee Snider, Northern Alliance. We didn’t plan on it, but our sudden move spooked the crap out of the four drivers. They hit the breaks and fell in behind us. I just grinned. Once again, we were showing the other teams why MRI was to be feared. We weren’t afraid to run four wide when the track was a rattlesnake in the grass waiting to strike. We had no problems with push the limits for our cars and skills.

Once we were out front, we started running nose to tail working the draft. It didn’t take us long to stretch out our led. It was quickly becoming a repeat of Pocono and Daytona. With every lap we laid down we stretched out our led further and further. At lap fifty Beth took the stage win with the nearest cars ten lengths behind us. Witch for me was just fine. I don’t mind running fourth for the race. It won’t affect my standings in the points race. When you’re in first place there nowhere to go but down. With my current led in points only Jim, Beth, and Sam are anywhere near being a threat to over taking me.

We roll down pit road hitting our pit boxes. Fourteen seconds later we were headed back out on the track. It didn’t take us long to resume our positions from before the pit stop. On lap fifty-five we went back to racing. Beth was setting a blistering pace. If the race stayed green for the next forty-five laps, we’ll have set both lap time and speed records. I could only hope.

At lap seventy the teams started cycling through pit road for green flag pit stops. Beth led us down onto pit road on lap seventy-six. We were the last team to cycle through. By lap eighty we were back out front leading the race. I was still holding my own in fourth, but Beth had traded places with Sam and Jim was running first. We actually managed to stay green all the way to the end of the second stage. Jim took the win and lead the field onto pit road. I hadn’t even gotten stopped good before Danny had the right side of the car bouncing into the air. The girls’ air guns were screaming before Greg slammed the first of two fuel cans home. Casey and Sherry worked their magic and were soon rounding the car to the left side. Danny was right behind them. As Casey was pulling the left front tire lug nuts Joseph, the front tire carrier pulled off the third tearaway from my windshield. The second Danny dropped the left side and cleared out of the way I pulled out of my pit box.

As I rounded the far turn onto the front pit road, I passed both Jim and Sam. Beth was just ahead of me by two boxes. As I passed her, I saw something that made me nervous. I watched as a replacement jack was thrown over the wall to her jackman. The bright side of the situation was they were working on the left side of her car. As much as I want to slow down and check to see if she’s alright I can’t. this is a race. Part of racing is that great spectator Murphy. He is always willing to stick his nose in where it doesn’t belong. Fucking bastard.

As I roll onto the track. I notice something strange going on with more than a few pit boxes. The other teams were taking longer and longer with their stops. More than a few of them were making massive adjustments to their cars. I keyed my radio.

“What’s going on the other pits, Kathy?”

“The handling is falling off majorly for a lot of the teams, Bobbie. They’re already starting to chase the track. It won’t be the first around of adjustments either.”

“Shit. Not good. If the other teams are chasing their handling this soon in the race. It’s only going to get harder the longer we run.” I said into the empty air of the cockpit of my car. “Kathy keep an eye on the inside line for me.”

“What’re you thinking, Bobbie?”

“That line is going to come in hard and fast now that the track is heating up. Also, I want you to break out your laptop and keep an eye on the radar forecast. It won’t belong before that next stormfront rolls in.” I warned her. I knew that stormfront was going to play into this race sooner or later.

“Already got an eye on the stormfront Bobbie. We got another hour or two before it becomes a threat. The real threat is going to be the rubber build up on outer edge.”

“What else are you seeing Kathy? What did I miss?” I needed to know.

“This track is eating tires Bobbie. That rubber has to go somewhere.”

“Got it Kathy. The edges are going to be tricky. So, passing is now going to take more skill and timing than normal.” I bitched. As we lined up for the restart, I found myself all alone again on the pole. “Kathy where are the others?”

“I was hoping you weren’t going to ask that. They’re all two rows back Bobbie. Of all the MRI cars you had the fastest pit stop time. You’re also the only one to just take four tires, and fuel without any adjustments.”

“What adjustments did the others take?” I asked her quickly.

“Beth took two rounds up on the track bar. Jim went with a half wedge on the left side. Sam dropped two rounds on the track bar. But those are nothing compared to the rest of the field. As it is, you’re the only one who made any adjustments.”

Oh, shit not good. If everyone else making those types of adjustments. Then either the track conditions are changing way more than I realized or I made a royal screw up on my last pit stop. Kathy must have read my mind.

“Bobbie you’re the only driver that can handle this track without adjustments. This track might as well have been designed and built just for you. Also, of all the drivers out there. You’ve the most wins on counterclockwise tracks. You know and understand the needed technical skills to race here. Better the Beth or any of the other Formula One drives on the circuit.”

“What are you talking about Kathy?”

“during the two years you race Formula One Bobbie. You never lost at one of the counterclockwise racetracks. You always shined the brightest on those tracks. You really showcased your skills as a driver on those.”

It took me a few minutes to realize what Kathy was getting at. I couldn’t thinking of one loss at what I had come to think of as the left-hand tracks. We exited off turn 4 onto the front straightaway the pace car dropped off the track. I looked up and spotted the green/white checkered flag waving too late. The drive in the second pole position got the jump on me. Not too mention the rest of the field. I had gotten so caught up in my talk with Kathy I missed my shift to fourth gear. Before I realized it. I was being passed on both sides. The field had shuffled me into the middle and I was fast losing positions on the track.

I had dropped all the way back to eighth place when I suddenly felt a bump in the ass. I looked into my mirror to find Jim pushing on my bumper. I felt a second bump as Beth join in our draft. When the third bump came, I knew that Sam had joined our draft. With all three of them pushing I was able to stay in eighth place. The fact that the first three rows were still far enough apart I started driving for the front. There was no way that I was going to just let the other teams just drive off into the sunset without a fight. Before we realized it, we were dancing three-wide in a Homestead Speedway style turn three at one-ninety-eight miles per hour. This was fucking nuts as we were doing it counterclockwise.

We raced this way for the next twenty laps before things changed. Halfway back in the pack someone blew a tire and went into the wall on turn 1. We slowed down for the yellow flag laps. The field also took the chance to drop down onto pit road for a yellow flag pit stop. This time the stops were done in their normal time. No one was making any radical adjustments to the cars. We were just passed the halfway mark of the race and the afternoon rain hadn’t showed its head yet. As Danny dropped the jack and I took off out from my pit box Kathy gave the bad news.

“Bobbie, you know that stormfront you were worried about? We’ll it is less than a half hour out and coming fast. I don’t know how it happened, but that monster picked up speed and is racing towards this track with a vengeance.”

The second Kathy talked about the incoming stormfront the more I wanted to raise hell over the radio. The only problem was it wasn’t her fault. This was nothing more than your typical English summer rainstorm. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the Atlantic current’s effect the weather around here?”

“Only once every year for the last three years.” Kathy chuckled as we drove around the track waiting for the restart. “Okay Bobbie I just got the word. Next time around we’ll be going back to green.”

I did a quick count in my head. We had spent the last 12 laps under yellow. That was way too long for just a blown tire. “Kathy what hell happened? It shouldn’t have taken this long to get a car with a blown tire off the track.”

“They did more than just blow a tire Bobbie. When Nazarova Grigorievna hit the wall, he snapped the driveshaft, rear axle, and differential. They had to send out the flatbed wrecker to recover the car. That’s why it’s take them so long to clear the track. That and the cleanup of parts.”

Damn. If the other cars are hitting the wall with that kind of force. It won’t belong before there is a major pill up. As we round turn 3 the pace car turns off its warning lights. “Here we go. Please rain get here before the big one.”

The pace car dropped onto the front pit road. We reached the restart zone, and the pole position driver missed the gear change. I didn’t. I took advantage of the other cars having to check up or drive around the former leader. By the time the rest of the field had gotten their collective acts together I was diving deep into turn 1 at full speed. When I came off the exit of turn 2 the yellow flag was flying.

“What the hell?!” I keyed my radio. “Kathy what happened?”

“Eight car pill up at the back of the pack, Bobbie. The last three rows failed to check up in time. Most of the damage is radiators and front ends. The good thing is all the nets are already down. No one is hurt and they’re all climbing out now. That’s fourteen down out of a field of forty.” Kathy paused then started chuckling.

I saw why as I pulled in behind the pace car as we exited turn 4. “Oh man. Why the hell did we ever show the European drivers those videos?”

“Those videos are part of Stockcar history Bobbie. The days of the gentleman driver are over. They’ve finally gotten the right attitude to be Stockcar drivers. How did you put it? We bump, grin, and trade paint at one-ninety like it’s a Sunday drive.”

“Not exactly what I said during that interview. But yeah, you’re right.” I chuckled.

“Bobbie they’re scoring you in the lead. Beth is in third, with Jim and Sam tied in fifth. When we line up for the restart take the inside line.” Before I could ask her why Kathy whispered over the radio. “It’s finally reached race conditions.”

That was all I needed to hear. The race was mine to loose. Then she gave me another piece of good news. “Bobbie, I miscalculated the arrival of that front. It’s just over the horizon. Fifteen laps at the most before its over the top of us.”

This brought a nasty smile to face. A win is a win in my book. I figured we had 6 to 7 more laps under yellow thanks to those fights. Then maybe 4 to 5 more under green before the next yellow flag. If they throw the red flag for rain that’ll be the end of the race. With over half the race in the books if it starts raining the Commissioners have already said they’ll call the race for safety reasons. Not that you’ll hear me bitch. Unlike in Formula One we don’t have tires designed to race in the wet. Hell, the only reason our tires have any grip at all is because of the down force created by the aerodynamics.

At lap 141 on the back straightaway I saw something I normally hated to see. Rain drops on my windshield. We were still under yellow conditions from the clean up for the wreck and fights on lap 135. I looked up at the pace as its warning lights went from flashing yellow to steady yellow. I really smiled now. The Commissioners were signaling for a competition pit stop. As the pace car led us down off the track the skies opened up. The rain was coming down before we even had a chance to stop.

“That’s it Bobbie. The Commissioners are calling the race. This stormfront is bigger that we thought it would be. From what I can tell. This one is going to be hanging around for the next three to four hours. Looks like you got another win. That places you firmly on top with a fifty-three-point lead over everyone else.”

“Kathy I could, careless about the win right now. No one got hurt today and the race was mostly green with only one real wreck.” I snapped at her before letting the button for my radio go. “The Bounty Hunter didn’t collect his reward today.”

As I pulled to a stop in first place on pit road my pit crew was there with the cover for the car. Danny wasted no time in dropping my window net and helping me climb out of the car. Sherry was standing there holding an umbrella over me as I removed my helmet and gloves. As I pulled on the baseball cap with my sponsor’s logo, I looked down the track. We were lined up nose to tail. Most of the pit crews were hustling their drivers out of the now driving rain. We had gone from a gentle springtime rain to a summer deluge.

“Well, that it guys. Our time in England has come to an end.” I sighed.

“What’s got you down Bobbie?” Danny asked. “You won.”

“Trust me I know the Danny. I just.” I finished the sentence with a shrug.

“You hate winning by rain out. You would rather drive to the end than just take an easy win. We know what you mean Bobbie.” Danny said as he looked at the rest of the pit crew. They were all athletes. They understood what I was feeling. Sherry leaned in tight and whispered in my ear. “Take the easy win, girlfriend. We got twelve more race to go in this season.”

“Understood Sherry.” I meant what I said. I would take this win. We still had a lot of racing to go yet. With the biggest and longest races yet come. NASCAR only has one 600-mile race, the Coco-cola 600. The ISA has four. Today was just the first. The next is at the Berlin superspeedway. With the next at the Moscow super trioval. The final 600-mile race will be held at Talladega. Of the remaining three Only Talladega holds any real meaning for me. Only the season’s finale at Darlington holds any greater meaning for me. “Come on guys let’s get out of this rain. I’ll deal with the bullshit in the garage.”

With those words I put the Saint George’s Distillery 600 behind me. I did take one final look down the line before heading for the garage. I just wanted to see where the rest of the team placed. I wasn’t surprised to see Beth, Sam, and Jim in the top five. With second place going to Rosie John from Reynold’s Racing. “Not bad.”

“What are you talking about Bobbie?” Sherry asked.

“The other teams are starting to get their acts together. The wins are going to become hard to come by. Rosie John from Reynold’s Racing was able to hold onto second place from the start of the race. She was even able to fight her way back after that screwed up pit stop.” I said pointing over to the line of cars. “She’s the first Rally driver to place higher than tenth. It won’t be long now. The real threat will show their head here shortly. It’s just taking them a little longer to get a grip on stockcar racing. I figure that by the time we hit Indianapolis the Open wheel drivers will be biting at our heels like rabid dogs.”

“You sure?” Danny asked.

I gave the only answer I could. “A c-note that the winner at Indianapolis is a Formula One driver.”

“Ah shit.” They both grunted out.

-----tbc-----

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Total number of drivers 40. Number of company teams 10. Number of tracks 20. Number of countries 12. Time frame 6 months. Number of Fallen Angels hooked on speed 2. The McGuire sisters are and they’re out for blood in the newly founded International Stockcar Racing Association. After two years driving the Formula One circuit Professional Drivers Roberta Bobbie McGuire and her sister Elisabeth ‘Beth’ McGuire have made real names for themselves. The two young ladies took the world by storm in their first year by placing 3rd and 4th in the Championship points race. Now their plans and dreams of starting in the International Stockcar Association have come to fruition. The Fury twins plan to prove to the world they belong in Stockcar Racing. And they don’t care who they have to put into the wall to bring home the inaugural championship.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remember Spain last year, mom?”

“Oh shit. Not good.” Mom whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” I asked in confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apostolic Privet Viewing Boxes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s that sir?” I asked bluntly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile in the Press box.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----tbc-----

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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 17
Roman Speedway, Rome, Italy; Saturday, Race day: 1400
The Beretta 500 garage

Bobbie stood quietly fuming as the other drivers of MRI stood off to one side. The fact that Bobbie had been pissed off for the last hour was the main reason. Not that she didn’t have reason. The two drivers in of motorsports that could piss her off like there was no tomorrow had shown up at introductions. The fact that they were here just to drive this one race pissed her off even more than normal.

“Robert Lee McGuire you will get that scowl off your face this moment.” Jewels, her mother scolded her then softened her voice. “You’re scaring the other drivers.”

“Fuck that shit mom. If they think I’m mad now. Wait until we’re on the track and racing.” Bobbie snarled. Not caring that she was pissing off her mother. “Just how in the name of Hell did Monitore Doro and Danilo Olmo get approved to race Stockcar?! Don’t give that bullshit about them being fucking Italian citizens either.”

“It was done for political reasons, Bobbie. One of the conditions for the ISA to hold the race here was that they be allowed to run in the inaugural race.” Bob McGuire answered her with a heavy sigh. “Look kiddo, there is nothing we can do about it. Besides the two drivers they’re replacing are so low in the standings it won’t affect the Drivers’ points race.”

“That’s where you’re wrong dad. Them driving here for Prototype Outcast is going to throw the whole points race off. I don’t care about the Drivers’ Championship; it’s the Manufacturers race they’re fucking with.” Bobbie grunted. When she saw the looks of confusion on everyone’s face Bobbie knew she needed to explain. “Until now we’ve all been in an almost dead with Prototype, Reynolds Racing, King Night, and our friends over at Red Star. Those two can shift that Championship Race majorly.”

“How? They’re not stockcar racers. The best they’ll be able to do is place somewhere in the top fifteen.” Jewels told her thinking that there was no way for the two men to place anywhere near the top 10 and threaten their lead in the Manufacturers’ Race. “Even then they need to come last place.”

“Didn’t you hear what that fuck tard Grayson said. They’re not starting the race. They’re only finishing it. All Raniero Accomando and Gerino Rosetta have to do is drive one warmup lap, then pull onto pit road and swap out with Doro and Olmo.” Bobbie almost snarled with pure frustration. “Don’t you get it yet daddy?! Accomando and Rosetta are both on the second row. Doro and Olmo won’t have to come from the back of the pack. At most they’ll lose one or to positions before the flag drops to start the race. As for them not being a threat in Stockcars think again. Those two shitheads spend all of last season running Touring cars. They have a major advantage over most of the other teams’ drivers.”

“They’ll understand the track and the conditions faster thanks to their time driving those touring cars.” Bob McGuire grunted as he snapped his fingers. “Damnation. I hadn’t thought along those lines. It’ll be a major feather in Prototype Outcast to win this race. Not too mention major promotional points with their home consumer base. No wonder they’re pulling this stunt.”

“Okay I hadn’t thought about that angel, but I can see it. I was only thinking about the Manufacturers’ Points race. The big problem we face is those two chuckle heads have major beefs with both me and Sam. Not to mention every woman on the circuit. They’ll be gunning for us all.” Bobbie sighed.

“What the hell happened with them Bobbie?” Sam asked.

“It all started back during their first year in Formula One. You see when Beth and Bobbie were signed to Mercedes-Benz those two shitheads were part of the old team. They had been on a four-year losing streak and the COWWs wanted a fresh start. Monitore Doro and Danilo Olmo felt that my daughters had wrongfully taken their places for the old Mercedes-Benz team. What they forgot was their contracts were up and the bosses weren’t going to renew them.” Jewels told the gathered drivers. “When Bobbie and Beth showed up out of nowhere and started winning. Those two tried to say that the changes they suggested for the cars was the reason for their wins. When word got out that our cars had none of their suggestions in our design. Teams pulled away from them and started to distance themselves from potential trouble.”

“Oy vey did they ever. If they hadn’t switched to Touring, they won’t have had rides last year. Even then the teams that picked them up kept an eye on them. Nobody and I mean nobody wanted anything to do with a pair of troublemakers.” Tony chuckled evilly. “It was well know that they held grudges against the McGuire Furies.”

“Okay that explains a lot. What I want to know is why Bobbie has her panties in a twist?” Jim asked as he fixed himself a large cup from the cooler of Gatorade.

“Nothing really.” Beth waved her hand airily. “They just made the stupid mistake last year of threatening to put Bobbie in the wall if they ever got the chance.”

“WAIT! WHAT? SERIOUSLY?! Someone said they would put Roberta McGuire into the wall?! What are they fucking stoned, stupid, or crazy?” Jim asked in surprise.

“All of the above.” Bob answered him with a straight face. Then busted out chuckling.

“Now they have the chance to carry out their threat. While not having to work their way through the field. It’s bad enough that I have to fall back to the rear of the pack because of the engine swap.” Bobbie bitched then kicked the stack of tires she was standing next too. “Now I have to deal with those two fucktards as I work my way to the front.”

“Bobbie do you really think they’ll screw with you?” Jewels asked calmly.

“I know they will mom. This is their only chance to come after me and Beth. After today they’re back on the Touring Car circuit. We’re at the perfect track for their ‘revenge’. Two miles of nonstop concrete with Turns one and two sitting at twenty-seven degrees and turns three and four at twenty-five they’re just like Darlington. Then you add in the straightaway’s banking at eight degrees this track is one nasty self-cleaning bitch.” Bobbie spat out a wade of tobacco juice into a cup. “She’s going to eat both tires and powerplants like there’s no tomorrow.”

“More than that kiddo. This is going to be a real marathon race. Me and your crew chiefs have been going over the numbers from practice. This race is going to come down to fuel management. More than tire management.” Bobbie gave her father a strange look. He never gave out information like this before a race. “We got five-hundred miles to cover people. If you go balls out from the start, you’ll burn through your fuel faster than everyone else.”

“Wait a minute dad. Are you saying that we don’t have the fuel mileage the other teams have?” Beth asked him quickly.

“Sadly, this is one time that we don’t have that advantage. Prototype, Thunder valley, and Red Sun are going to be our biggest competitors on this track. Especially if it comes down to fuel milage. I hate to say this as both an engineer and mechanic those three teams have had the best fuel management for the whole season.” Bob sighed as he looked out at pit road. “We’ve been lucky that none of the other teams have twinged to our biggest weakness yet.”

“You’re saying that our engines suck down fuel like a drunk coming off a forty-five day at an open bar. Not good dad.” Bobbie grumbled. “When were you going to fill me in on this ‘little’ problem?”

“Until now we haven’t had to worry about it too much. There has been a major gap in the experience level of the other teams. Only a few of them had a concept of what fuel management at the beginning of the season. We’re on race nine of twenty. Those gaps are now gone. The drivers that didn’t start out in Stockcars are no listen to those of their teams that did. Last week was the last race where MRI had a clear advantage in Stockcars.” Bob held up his hand stopping Bobbie and Beth from commenting. “I know you girls got your start in Formula One. But you’ve both been test driving Stockcar designs for your mother and me for years now.”

“Dad that may have been the case.” Beth started to say only to be stopped by Tony.

“Honey, you have to quite this downplaying of yours and Bobbie’s natural talents. I doubt there is more than a handful of drivers in the ISA that can match you two. Even Jim and Sam have problems keeping up with the both of you. Over the last eight races they have had to step up their game to keep from falling too far behind in the point chase. The same can be said for the other Stockcar drivers that came over from NASCAR.” Tony told her as he wrapped his arm over her shoulders. Then he looked over at Bobbie. “If you doubt me just look at the points standings.”

Bobbie and Beth could only chuckle at Tony’s comment about the Drivers’ Championship Points race. Bobbie was on top with 13056 points. Beth was right behind her with 1303 points in second place. Sam and Jim were tied with 1302 apiece. Their next nearest competitor was Nathan Watson with 1256 points and the highest placed of the Touring Car drivers. Behind him came Hitarashi Sukejuro and Kuno Junzo each with 1238. They were currently the highest placed Rally drivers. After them came the first of the former F1 drivers with 1236 points, Marc Wimmer. After Wimmer came the first of the former NASCAR Drivers not on MRI, Ben Baldwin with 1235 points. After that, the field was dominated by the Stockcar drivers. The rest of the field was a steady mix of Touring, Rally, and F1 drivers.

“That may be true, Tony. The problem with those drivers from the other fields are now figuring out how to truly race as Stockcar drivers. The Touring drivers had the easiest time in making the transition. After them comes the Rally drivers. The former F1 drivers were still struggling with the transition but they won’t be down for much longer. They’ve already figured out how race in a pack and the draft. Like I told you all after Rockingham. They’re getting their acts together.” Bobbie warned she team as she looked out at pit road. “Just look at the starting grid. Five of the top ten positions are held by F-one drivers this week.”

“The remaining top five are a mixed bag of Rally and Touring drivers to boot. The first Stockcar diver is back in eleventh place.” Bob told his gathered drivers with a nasty chuckle in his voice. “The one advantage the former NASCAR drivers have is simple. The Rally, Touring, and F-one drivers haven’t completely realized that Stockcar racing is as much an endurance as it is about speed.”

“You’re wrong dad. They learned that back at Daytona.” Beth corrected her father. “Or haven’t you noticed that the other drivers have been running laps with us in the morning. Most have been doing it on their own without their pit crews. We’re the only team that has everyone busting their hump at oh-dark-stupid. We learned that winning races is about more than just skill. It also takes physical fitness. That is something we learned the hard way back in Formula One.”

“And thanks to our two High Priestesses of Pain. We’re currently the most physically fit drivers on the track. We know what it takes to win. The other drivers have tipped to this fact now and are catching up fast. Make no mistake about that. The only exception is the other Stockcar Drivers. They’ve known all long about what their teammates are just now learning. When I said that Indy will be the turning for the F-one drivers I wasn’t kidding.” Bobbie snorted then spit into her cup again. “Though I might be wrong. Today’s race could be that turning point.”

“What do you see that we don’t Bobbie?” Sam asked as he stepped next to her and looked out at pit road. “What is it really that has your panties in a twist about those two drivers? No bullshit this time.”

“Monitore Doro and Danilo Olmo started off as Stockcar drivers on the European Circuit, before making the jump to F-one. They couldn’t make the transition. That’s why they never won a race or even placed higher than fifth. The problem is they were fantastic Stockcar drivers. They could have easily gotten a ride with any of the NASCAR teams. Their only problem is they let their over inflated egos get in the way of driving.” Bobbie chuckled. “Now, they have decided to come play games in my favorite playground. Prototype Outcast thinks those two will knock us down a peg or two by using their hatred for me and Beth.”

“Then I guess it’s time to introduce them to the Darlington Two Step.” Sam chuckled.

“Not this time. I think it’ll be better if we Do Si Do and Roll Away To A Half Sashay, Sam. We’ll let the ladies waltz to the front and slam dance our way to third and fourth. When we get find our ‘dance partners’.” Jim chuckled evilly. “We put their assed in the wall and don’t look back.”

“That is just mean you two. Normally I won’t above of such tactics.” Jewels giggled but it had a nasty twinge to it. “But I approve boys. Don’t worry about the fines. We’ll cover any that come your way.”

“Not so fast Jewels.” Julie Manner’s voice drew everyone’s attention. “If what I have just overheard is even halfway true. Then Mercedes-Benz will pay all fines. I had not thought that Prototype Outcast would go so far as too pull this kind of shit. Then I want those two drivers in the damned wall. Understood gentlemen?”

The two South Carolina country boys just nodded their heads and grabbed their helmets. As they left the garage headed for their cars the two young men bumped their helmets together. Bobbie and Beth just sighed then grabbed their own helmets. As they turned to leave the garage Bobbie turned to Julie. “I hope you know what you just unleashed out there on the track.”

When they were alone Julie turned to Jewels. “What did she mean by that, Jewels?”

“Because those four drivers are going to turn this race into a paint swapping fender bending brawl. Those four cars that cost your company four-point-nine million dollars apiece, just became thirty-five-hundred-pound battering rams. We’ll be lucky if at the end of the race we can use them for spare parts.” Jewels snarled.

“If all it costs Mercedes-Benz twenty million dollars to teach the other teams a lesson in cheating. Then it is money well spent.” At the look of confusion on Both Jewels and Bob’s faces, Julie laughed. “I learned a long time ago. That one must sometimes spend money to drive home a point to the competition.”

“I have problems with assholes who think they can cheat and not face consequences.” Julie walked pass the two of them towards the open garage door. There she stood looking towards the Prototype Outcast cars. “Unfortunately, MRI has been targeted by someone that has gone out of his way to make trouble for me in the past.”

“Okay, Julie what are you talking about?” Bob asked her harshly.

“Carmelo De Salvo runs the racing department for Maserati. The two of us have crossed swords more than once in the Boardroom when I worked for Dynamic Engineering Investigations. Each time he has been the one come out the loser. I take no prisoners when confronting a flawed design. Especially one that will get people killed.” Julie took a drink of her coffee. “Carmelo has a bad habit of pushing his design teams. They turned out more than a few flawed designs that would have gotten an untold number of people killed.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Julie. Doesn’t DEI test more than just car designs?” Bob asked her with more than a little confusion.

“They do. The problem with Carmelo is the man never lets the people who actually know actually know their jobs do them without interfering.” Julie sighed. “I’m actually surprised that Prototype Outcasts haven’t had at least one fatality on their team with him as their manager.”

“Put that down to blind luck on the part of the Crew Chiefs and the drivers’ skills. They’re the only ones that have kept that team alive and viable.” Bob grunted harshly then spat on the floor of the garage. “Today is going to get nasty Julie.”

“Bob is telling you the truth Julie. You have no idea of what you just unleashed on that track today.” Jewels told her as she pointed out at pit road. “When that green flag drops. Those four youngsters are going to live up to their nickname. Woe be onto those who get in their way.”

“What nickname would that be Jewels?” Julie asked with a sly yet knowing smile. “Are you talking about the one the press calls them or that lovely name the other teams call them behind their backs?”

“The one behind their backs.” Jewels answered coldly. “The Asphalt Demons have come out to play. Only today they’re out for blood and sheet metal.”

Pit road #5 car

Bobbie looked over at Chief Hailee as she neared her car. “Good news old man. My old ‘friends’ Doro and Olmo have shown up to play.”

“Then it’s a good thing that was able I reinforced the corner and side panels with a heavier grade of sheet metal before this race. It may be pushing the limits for the framework and body design rules but screw the Commissioners.” Chief Hailee chuckled. “I’m tired of banging out the dents.”

“Don’t really care Chief. I just want to know if this beast can take a hit and keep on rolling?” Bobbie almost snarled as she set her helmet and gloves down on top of the car. “I know those two fuck nuts are gunning for me.”

“Then it’s their funeral.” Chief Hailee chuckled nastily. “What I want to know is how did those two were able to get a ride for this race.”

“It’s simple. This the heart of Italy, Mother Rome. Prototype Outcast are sponsored by Maserati. They the only Italian car company in the ISA. That team needs to win here as a matter of National Pride. To that end they’ll do whatever it takes. Even going so far as to bring in a pair of ringers just to handle me and Beth.” Bobbie sighed. “Unfortunately, the rest of our team is going to pay the price.”

“Then drive like the Devil himself is hot on your ass, Speedy.” Chief Hailee told her with real feeling and heat as helped Bobbie into her car. “If He gets near put his ass in the wall. Use turn four for the bastard’s graveyard.”

“Understood Chief. How much did you leave me under the hood?” Bobbie asked as she started strapping into her seat. She knew that Chief Hailee had a habit of throttling back her engine for practice and qualifying runs. He always returned her engine to full power on race days. Just to give her an edge. It may have been skirting the rules, but it was a gray area. There was nothing in the rules that said she had to use the full power of her engine to qualify.

“You got an extra ten percent throttle Bobbie. With the draft and down force your car is pulling on this track that’s all I dare give you.” He told her honestly as he handed her gloves and helmet. “Remember, this isn’t a restrictor plate race. If you were to run at full power the car or tires would break long before the first stage ended. That’s a lousy fifty laps.”

“I know that Chief. This race is going to come down to tire and fuel management.” Bobbie told him as she put her earbuds in, then pulled on her Nomex balaclava. Chief Hailee said nothing as she pulled on her gloves. Then just before pulling on her helmet Bobbie looked up at her. “Chief let me know what the cans tell you after the competition yellow. I’ll need to know if I’m to win this race.”

“Just drive like I told you. Let me worry about the fuel and tire situation.” Chief Hailee ordered her as he raise her window safety net. With his driver secured Hailee headed for the pit box so he could observe the race and pit stops.

Bobbie just chuckled to herself as she flipped the battery switches on then pushed the play button on her iPod. As she locked her iPod into the pocket of her specially design steering wheel the soulful sounds of ‘Lonely Feather’ began to fill her ears. To say the anime song caught her off guard is an understatement. Then she remembered that her mom had been playing around with her iPod earlier that morning. “Okay mom what do you have in store for me today?”

Her question would have to be answered throughout the race. Not that it matter anymore. Bobbie no longer needed the music to calm her nerves and steady her racing emotions during a race. The only thing she needed now was the beat to judge her timing. It had become a game between her and the rest of her family to see who could upload her newest race mix. This time it was her mother who had won. That put her mother in the lead with two wins over the rest of the team. Then the four words she was waiting for finally came.

“DRIVERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!”

Bobbie mashed the starter button and waited for the monster V-8 engine to fire over. As the deep throaty rumble answered to her command Bobbie finally felt the rush of adrenaline come. This was what she lived for. As the pack slowly rolled of pit road an unseen nasty grin came to Bobbie’s face. As she rolled onto the track in eighteenth place on the outside of row nine Bobbie was already planning her attack on the rest of the field. With 250 laps Bobbie knew she had all the time in the world to reach first place.

She knew the driving style of every driver in front and behind of her. Unlike the rest of MRI, she had spent hours studying videos of the other drivers. It didn’t matter what their original field. She studied them. She knew their strengths and weaknesses. All those long hours of recovery from her accident had been put to more than one use. The biggest of which was studying the other drivers.

Study that she would now put to good use. At first the field slowly rounded the track building up the heat in their tires and warming up their engines. The field made five laps around the track before the pace car turned off its lights on the back straightaway. As they rounded Turn 3 it dropped off the track on the exit of Turn 4 onto pit road. The field exited Turn 4 and the green flag dropped just as the opening notes of Eternal Story began to play in her ears. Bobbie giggled to herself as the theme song for her favorite anime played. As they crossed the start/finish line the field was already splitting into three lines.

By the time they hit Turn 1 the field was three wide and pushing 189mph. They carried that speed all the way through turns 1 and 2. Bobbie knew that by the time they reached turn 3 the field would be pushing 198mph at both ends and over 210mph on the straightaways. As usual Kathy was on the ball calling out her position and the positions of the other members of her team. As they came down the front straightaway Kathy called out her speed. Even at 85% throttle she was still pushing 215mph. At this speed it won’t be long before the ‘big one’.

Much to Bobbie’s amazement no one wrecked, and the race stayed green until the competition yellow on lap 25. As she pulled down pit road Kathy informed her that she was in now in 15th place. Bobbie was a little disappointed that she hadn’t been able to clear more cars during those 25 laps. David and the rest of her pit crew turned in a record-breaking pit stop. Bobbie rolled back out after 13.4 seconds passing 4 cars on pit road. Her pit crew had been able to give her four fresh tires and two full cans of fuel in those 13.4 seconds.

After forming up behind the pace car Bobbie knew that the field had changed radically. “Kathy what the hell happened? Where are the lead cars? Where the Hell is half the damned field?”

“They’re still on pit road Bobbie. Everyone is making massive changes to their cars. From the looks of things only you, Beth, Sam, Jim, and a few others didn’t suffer from having their handling falling off.”

“Okay what are you talking about Kathy?” Bobbie snapped.

“The others teams were all fighting for control the faster and longer you ran. If I had to guess the concrete is eating away at the tires. This is a concrete track.”

“It has to be more than that Kathy. I mean I’ve been running just as hard as everyone else. I should be having the same handling problems. Something else has to be going on here. Talk with the spotters from the other teams.” Bobbie ordered her as she held her place behind the #44 of Nazarova Grigorievna from team Red Star. “Tell me something Kathy how did Grigorievna get in front of me?”

“He only took two tires on the last stop. Him along with Joseph Lachman and Seth Fisher all short pitted. They took position over tires. Figure they’ll short pit again around lap forty or so. Heads up Bobbie time to get back to work. We’re going green this lap. Yup the pace car just cut his lights.” Bobbie looked towards the front of the pack and chuckled. “Okay pull ‘em tight and grab the stick one more time Bobbie. Time to go racing.”

The pace car dropped off the track the pack entered the restart zone and the green flag waved. Bobbi shift into third gear and hit the play button for her iPod. The last song she had heard before her pit stop had been Judas Priests’ ‘Victim of Changes’. What she got wasn’t what she was expecting. Instead of ‘Ripper’ she got ‘Chronos’ the opening theme song for ‘Food Wars’.

“What the Hell? Mom!” Bobbie didn’t realize that her mike was open, and she just transmitted that last comment across the airwaves. The only sign Bobbie had done so was the sudden laughing that came from her mother. Releasing the transmit button and began to swear up a blue streak. “Mother fucking stupid god damned setup.”

“Bobbie, I hope you like my gift. Kelly told about you watching all those anime videos while recuperating and watching the kids for her. Maybe next time you’ll keep your eyes on the kids the next time she asks you to take of them while she’s working.” Jewels chuckled evilly. There was a problem with her assumption though. The anime videos that Kelly found Bobbie watching were in truth a cover for the real videos she was studying at the time.

As the field entered turn 3 Bobbie felt the pull of the side draft. It was pulling her towards the car in the outside lane. A thought flashed through her mind. ‘If the side draft is this heavy at this point in the pack. It must be murder at the rear. Hope like hell Alexa and Violet can handle it.’

For the next 52 laps the field continued to run cleanly. When the end of the first stage came it was anticlimactic. Bobbie had been unable to break out and make a run for the front in those 52 laps. The only members of MRI that had been making any headway were Sam and Jim. They had worked the way up through the pack to hold the 17th and 18th positions. It was amazing how fast the other drivers learned to get out of the way for them. In many ways the reputation and nickname of the MRI drivers was well deserved. Though none of the other teams dared to call them Asphalt Demons to their faces. Mostly because three of the four would happily punch someone out. The fourth had no problem in removing body parts at highspeed.

The next 28 laps the race ran smoothly. Until Hitarashi Sukejuro went into the wall in turn 1 taking his teammate Kuno Junzo with him. They were in 37th and 38th place when it happened. Fortunately, Alexa Peters and Violet Knight were both able to miss the wreck. Hitarashi had blown out his right front tire entering turn 1. The real downside to his wreck was that he took his teammate with him. Bobbie actually like the two men from King Night Racing.

Bobbie started breaking the second the yellow warning lights started flashing. She noticed that more than a few of the other cars were having a hard time controlling their braking. They were still able to get their cars slowed down to pit road speed but this still worried Bobbie. She quickly keyed her radio. “Chief when I bring her in have the girls double check my right-side brakes.”

“What’s wrong Bobbie? Talk to me here kiddo?”

“It’s not me but the other cars. A few of them are having problems with braking. I got a bad feeling that rubber is building up on the brake pads.” Bobbie told her Crew Chief. The fear Bobbie had behind the wheel was not being able to stop her car in time if she had to. Being able to stop was as much a part of racing as speed.

“Understood. Brake check the second the tires are off.”

The field did 2 more laps before pit road opened. When Bobbie stopped in her pit box the crew was already clearing the wall. Bobbie felt her right-side bounce into the air as the air guns screamed. She felt the first of two fuel cans slam home at the left rear corner panel. As the seconds ticked by Bobbie kept count. She reached 7 seconds before the right-side came back down. She noticed that Sherry was carrying a rag in her offhand as she rounded the front of her car. It took another 7 seconds for her pit crew to change out the left-side tires. When Danny dropped the car, Bobbie took off. Her count had reached 15. Before her pit stop Bobbie had worked her way up to 12th place. As she joined the pack, she knew she had dropped a long, long way back in the field.

“How far back did that stop drop my ass Chief?” She asked over the radio.

“Still waiting for the rest of the field to shake out Bobbie. But it was worth it.”

“Was my hunch, right?” She asked quickly. Hoping that she just avoided a major problem in the long run.

“We dodged a major bullet, Bobbie. You were right about buildup on the brake rotors. If you had slammed on the brakes. You would had to deal with one of two outcomes. Neither of which would have left you in control of the car.” Chief Hailee grunted then sighed. “They would have either caught fire or failed to grip.”

“Shit not good, Chief. If we have to wipe down the rotors on every pit stop. We’ll end up dropping even further back in the field.” This was a real worry for Bobbie.

“We should be fine wiping them down with a Kavaler rag every other time, Bobbie.”

“Okay Chief I’ll trust your judgement. Not like I need the win here anyway.” Bobbie was being honest with the man. She flipped over to the net she used for Kathy. “Okay Kathy give me the bad news. How many positions did I lose?”

“Not as bad as you would think Bobbie. You’re back to where you started. I know that doesn’t sound like a good thing, but it could be worse. There are still teams working on their cars. By my count there are still five cars with their left-sides still on the jack. From what I’m hearing up from the other spotters. The other Crew Chiefs are just now figuring out what we already have about the brakes.”

“Fine by me. If we can void a wreck by sharing information, then great. If the other teams don’t want to listen that’s they’re problem. I just hope like hell they don’t take someone else with them into the wall.” Bobbie sighed as she knew that wish was nothing more than blind hope.

Kathy knew that there was nothing she could say at that point. All she could was stand there and watch her driver’s back. All while trying to keep her out of the big one when it came. Unlike the spotters for the other teams. Those who worked for MRI knew and understood the risks of racing at over 200mph. They knew that their luck would runout sooner or later. They could continue to run at such speeds without paying the price in either sheet metal or blood.

When they finally went back to racing Bobbie slowly worked her back up through the field to 10th place. On lap 140 and the end of the second stage Bobbie was happy to see that they had avoided the big one so far. They had only 110 laps to go. During the second stage the had only one yellow flag pit stop. The other had been a green flag. Bobbie started doing the math in her head as she rolled down pit road to her stall. IF the race stayed green for the last stage, she would need at least two or three more green flag pit stops. Yet that could go as high as four depending on tire wear and fuel consumption. Bobbie needed more information if she was going to try to win this race or just place in the top ten.

While sitting in her pit stall Bobbie keyed her mike. “Chief what are the old tires looking like? Can I still push it out there or do I need to hold back?”

“That’s a flip of the coin Speedy. This is a damned if you do and damned if you don’t situation. I’ve talked with our other Crew Chiefs and they’re all saying the same thing. This damned track is eating tires like a cop in a doughnut shop giving out free samples. Either the contractor skipped flouting the surface or they broomed the whole damned track. That’s all we can figure out.”

“Well damnation, shit fire and save the matches.” Bobbie grumbled as Danny dropped the left-side of her car signaling the service was complete. Bobbie pulled out and worked her down pit road. As she was passing the number 1 stall, she noticed that Sam was hot on her ass. With Beth and Jim right behind him. As they lined up for the restart Bobbie was surprised to find that her whole team now held the 3rd through 6th positions in the field. With six cars out of the race to wrecking, engine and other mechanical failures Bobbie knew it wouldn’t be long now.

As the field rounded turn 3 on lap 235 the pace car turned off its warning lights and dropped to the inside lane. Bobbie knew that they were seconds away from restarting the race. Without thinking she hit her play button one time. When she went in for her pit stop the last song, she heard was Metallica’s Fuel.

She was expecting another anime theme song so was surprised to hear Sabaton’s ‘Bismarck’. This was quickly flowed up by Rammstein’s ‘Engel’. Bobbie began to chuckle as she rocked out to the German lyrics of the two groups. “Mom must have let the COWWS get in on the fun. If I hear ‘99 Luftballons’ by Nena, I’ll know she let them in on the fun. Not that I’m complaining. These are some rocking tunes.”

While the next song wasn’t ‘99 Luftballons’ it was still prefect for Bobbie’s style of driving. Then again Bobbie always had a love for the hard pounding rhythms of the 80s rock bands like the Scorpions with their ‘Rock You Like A Hurricane’ and ‘Blackout’. Yet when Bobbie heard the next song, she couldn’t hold back any longer. She had to go for first place. As the sounds of Trooper by Iron Maiden filled her soul Bobbie dropped to the inside of Stijn Bargboer of Northern Alliance Racing. Bargboer never even saw Bobbie’s move until it was too late. The problem for Bargboer was the rest of MRI were hanging off her ass as they blew past him on the back straightaway. Only they weren’t able to exploit their lead for long.

On lap 197 the field was split into two packs. That was when it happened and Bobbie’s worst fears about Monitore Doro and Danilo Olmo came true on the front straightaway. Kathy started yelling just as Bobbie and the lead pack exited turn 4. “OUTSIDE! NOW! HUG THE WALL! STAY THERE!”

Bobbie didn’t even think twice as she pulled up next to the outside wall. She stayed there as she drove through the smoke obscured tumbling, spinning, rolling, and flipping cars that made up the back of the pack. She had just cleared the wreckage and entered turn 1 when the yellow flag came out. Once Bobbie saw the yellow flashing lights that told drivers of a wreck somewhere on the track she started to slow down. She knew that the red flag would becoming out soon. It had too. With what she was able to see as she drove through the wreck site. There had to be at least eight to ten cars involved.

“Okay Bobbie listen up. The pace car is going to take you around the track for three laps before pit road opens. That’s the bad news. The good news is only seven cars were involved. None of the drivers are hurt. All window nets are down, and drivers are getting out on their own. The wreckers and track sweepers are rolling out now. It could have been a lot worse Bobbie. Only nine cars total. Two of which can still move under their own power. Not that it matters all nine are out of the race. Do you want the really great news?”

“Okay give it to me Kathy?” Bobbie knew something was up if she was asking that.

“You won’t have to deal with Doro, or Olmo for the rest of the race. They got caught up in the wreck. Let me correct that. They started the damned wreck.”

“What the hell happened Kathy?”

“Doro and Olmo tried to bull their way through the second pack. They made the mistake of tangling with Abdulov Germanovich and Rokossovsky Aleskeevich from Red Star. You know how those Russians get when somebody plays dirty.”

“And our comrades from Red Star decided to teach those two chuckle heads a lesson in manners and Stockcar racing by trading paint.” Bobbie sighed as the pace took them by the wreck site on the front straightaway. She noticed that Doro and Olmo were nowhere in sight. “Hey Kathy, where are our troublemakers?”

“The ISA commissioners hustled them into the ambulance before any of the other drivers could get their hands on them. It seems that you weren’t the only one who were displeased with them driving in this race. And more than a few of them wanted to show that displeasure by handing out an attitude adjustment.”

“That’s not surprising. There are more than a few F-one drivers who remember them from their days in Formula One.” Bobbie chuckled as she thought about some of the stories she had heard about Doro and Olmo.

“Bobbie this time around get ready for your pit stop. They just opened pit road. Any changes you want done for the setup?” Chief Hailee asked her.

“Four fresh tires, two cans of fuel, a fast wipe down of the breaks, and a tearaway Chief.” Bobbie called out as they entered turn 3 from the back straightaway.

“Understood Bobbie. How’s the car holding up?” Chief Hailee asked.

“I still good but the longer we run the harder it’s get to hold the turn. The side g-forces are a killer on this concrete. It’s not so bad when I’m running signal file but the second someone pulls up beside me things gets harry. The side draft in the turn is absolutely nuts. I’ve never seen anything like it, Chief.” Bobbie told her Crew Chief as she entered pit road. Even as she was pulling to a stop in her pit stall Bobbie was wondering if she would even finish the race without a dent or someone else’s paint on her side panels. “I think this little lady can give our dear Lady in Black a run for the title of Too Tough To Tame.”

“That’s a first coming from you, Speedy. I didn’t think there was track in the world that could unsettle your nerves. Or even one you would compare to Darlington.”

“Trust me, Chief. This lady is hiding a mean streak two miles long, three lanes wide, and made of reinforced concrete.” Bobbie called out over the scream of air guns and idling engines. “I swear by all that’s Holy, Chief. Rome must have sent one to Darlington to measure every last inch of the Lady and correct her little quirks. Only they failed miserably.”

This last comment was greeted with a grunt as Danny bounced the left-side of her car into the air. Carry and Sherry’s air guns were screaming once again. As Greg slammed the second fuel can home in the fuel intake. Bobbie always marveled at the speed which her pit crew could service her car. More than a few of the other pit crews challenged their times and speed. Not even the other MRI pit crews could match her five-member pit crew. They were the best of the best bar none. Danny dropped the jack signaling her service was done and Bobbie pulled out.

While her crew turned in a 15 second pit stop, she still hadn’t lost any positions in the field. Kathy came over the radio before she even cleared turn 1 behind the pace car. “Heads up Bobbie. The next four laps are going to be under yellow. The track sweepers are still trying to the clean up the quick dry.”

“Damn. How much did they put down?” Bobbie asked her.

“If I had to guess. I would say ten to fifteen bags. Trust me, Bobbie. They needed that much. There was five ruptured radiators, two lost oil pans, three smashed master brake cylinders, and one punctured fuel tank. The whole inside lane was covered in some kind of fluid.”

“Wow. It’s a miracle that no one caught fire.” Bobbie chuckled with real relief.

“Thank God for the new fluids we’re using. The only combustible is the fuel. Everything else is based off new nonflammable bases.”

“True. How many laps do we have left Kathy? I kind of lost count.” Bobbie admitted.

“When we go green, you’ll have forty-four laps to go Bobbie. That’s the good news.”

“What’s the bad news Kathy?” Bobbie asked her spotter fearing the answer.

“Unless you get eight more yellow flag laps. You’ll need to make at least one green flag pit stop for fuel. I’ve run the numbers up here and Chief Hailee is off on his calculations. Without those eight yellow flag laps you’ll run out of fuel on lap two-forty-four. Even then if you get one overtime run you won’t have enough to make even one green-white-checkered. Sorry.”

Bobbie wanted to pound her fist on the steering wheel but knew that would do no good. That was racing. Sometimes no matter what you do you still lose the race. All she could do now was hope for those caution laps. If they didn’t come all she would make her green flag pit stop on lap 135 and roll the dice hoping that other drivers would follow her in for a green flag pit stop. On lap 205 the pace car turned off its warning lights and dropped to the inside shoulder. Bobbie grabbed her straps with her right hand and tightened them down one more time.

As the field came off turn 4 onto the front straightaway the Flagman dropped the green flag from the stand. He either lost his grip on the flag staff or was just clumsy but the man grabbed the yellow and waved it. Bobbie couldn’t believe what she just saw. “What the hell? That is going to be a YouTube and TEVO moment for years to come. I mean how the hell does a flagman drop the green flag.”

The pace car quickly reenter the track from pit road with its warning lights flashing keeping the field from running away. Bobbie knew that they would get at least one maybe two caution laps thanks to the flagman’s goof. Once the field was on the back straightaway, she looked over towards the front straightaway. There she saw a man running across the track towards pit road. As they entered turn 3 the man was running back across the track carrying the green flag. The man reached the outside wall and was going through the gate as they exited turn 4. They field passed under the flag stand still under yellow headed for turn 1. They exited turn 2 the pace car turned off its lights and dropped to the shoulder once more.

“Well, that’s two caution laps down. Now all’s I need is for someone to blow a tire, spinout, run out of fuel, or just have a stroke of bad luck.” Bobbie said into the empty air of her car. “Come on Luck be a lady today.”

The pace car dropped onto pit road and Bobbie looked towards the flag stand as they rounded turn 4. This time the flagman held the green flag in both hands. When Bobbie noticed this, she started laughing. It was so distracting that she missed her shift. This allowed Jim and Sam to blast past her taking the lead. Bobbie quickly got her head back in the game. She may have been in third place now. That didn’t mean she was out of the race. She had 42 laps to make up for her mistake. That was when she realized that she hadn’t hit the play button on her iPod. Once she had corrected this oversight Bobbie began to make headway in her race against her teammates.

It took 10 laps before she in position to make a run on the two men when the yellow flag came once more. “Kathy what happen?”

“Oscar Johnson, Rosie John from Reynolds Racing and Sabina Altimari from Prototype Outcast tangled on the exit of turn two. No ones fault. Sabina had a tire go down and spun-out. She clipped Oscar who then went into Rosie. Hold on. Yah there goes their window safety nets. Here comes the wreckers and ambulances. Oh man! We just got another YouTube and TEVO moment. I guess chivalry isn’t dead among the European drivers. Damn talk about being smooth.”

“What? What’s going on?” Bobbie really wanted to know what was going on.

“Oh, nothing much. Oscar is just helping Sabina out of her car. Oh man he just kissed her hand. I guess there won’t be a fight this time.” Kathy went silent for a few moments then giggled. “Opps. I was wrong. Rosie just popped Oscar in the back of the head. Now she’s screaming in his face. If I didn’t know better, I swear was she was calling him a pervert or something.”

“Good for Rosie. That playboy teammate of hers has been chasing every female driver on the circuit. The only females that he hasn’t chased after are me, Beth, and Rosie. The crazy part is if he ever pulled his head out of his butt. She would give him more than just the time of day.” Bobbie chuckled. “Any idea of how many laps we’re going to be under yellow?”

“We’re still waiting on word from the Marshals. But I would say that we’re looking at seven to nine laps. Hopefully ten to eleven.”

“That would give me the needed fuel to make it to the end. If we stayed green all the way. I know this sounds cold, but we could use another four of five yellow flag laps. Just to cover two green-white-checkered over times.” Bobbie had already been doing the math in her head. She still didn’t like her odds. “Are they going to open pit road any time soon?”

“Just got the word on that. Unless they go to five caution laps pit road is staying closed for now.” Kathy answered quickly then after a pause came back of the radio. “Listen up Bobbie next time around pit road is going to be open. What do you want to do? Chief Hailee needs to know now.”

“Right-side tires only and a full can of gas.” Bobbie didn’t even think twice about what she wanted on the pit stop. This was going to be her last chance to make up position on put road and still be able to win the race. It was a gamble.

As they rounded the track and headed for pit road Bobbie noticed that eight of the cars at the back of the pack stayed out. This was not a good sign. If those eight cars were gambling on having enough fuel to go the distance, then her strategy just got blasted. They would be out in front of her, along with the rest of MRI. It also meant that they would be able to block her and her team for the rest of the race.

“Kathy who stayed out. Talk to me.”

“Panos Kontotis from Prototype Outcast is now in first place. In second place we have Bobby Parker from Reynolds. Going back from there its Abdulov Germanovich and Rokossovsky Aleskeevich for Red Star, Sakurazaki Mashai and Mori Unkei with King Night, Seth Fisher and Violet Knight from Bisbee Snider rounding them.”

“Not good. Those are all great drivers. Especially defensive drivers. They’ll be a problem.” Bobbie called back to Kathy as she pulled into her pit stall. Danny lead her crew over the wall. Nine seconds later Bobbie was down and away with two fresh tires on the right side and one full can fuel. As much as she was hoping to gain a few positions Beth, Jim, and Sam beat her off pit road. Thanks to the pit spot and the 8 cars staying out on the track Bobbie fell back to 12th place.

The flied did four more laps under caution before going back to racing on lap 227. With twenty-three laps to go Bobbie knew there was no way she could win. She hit the play button as they crossed the start/finish line with grim determination. She may not have a chance at winning the race. That did mean she was just going to give up. Her professional pride as driver was on the line. As hard as she drove her car the ten drivers in front of her weren’t making any mistakes. Even as they went two wide in the turns at close to 200mph nobody was flinching. Bobbie knew that the gap she and MRI had over the drivers who had come over from the other sports was now gone. There rest of the season was going to be a nonstop battle at every track.

Instead of angering Bobbie this thought thrilled her. Thrilled her in a way she hadn’t expected. For the second time this year Bobbie was having fun. Real honest to god fun. Ever sense Daytona racing the other drivers had been boring her. Now the other drivers were racing she and not just the track.

Then on lap 247 on the back straightaway the first car of the eight that had stayed out for track position ran out of fuel. As Bobbie passed them on the shoulder Bobbie knew that Abdulov Germanovich’s gamble failed to pay off. She knew that Rokossovsky Aleskeevich won’t be far behind. She was right as she too join her team on the shoulder at the bottom of turns 3 and 4. Bobbie expected for the Marshals to wave the yellow flag then remembered something from the Drivers’ briefing. They were on lap 448. Three laps below the threshold for the yellow flag. Unless there was a wreck the Marshals weren’t going to wave the yellow flag.

Two cars running out of fuel wasn’t a reason to slow or stop the race. Bobbie wanted to push the other cars to go faster but Panos Kontotis was able to block both the inside and outside lane perfectly. Before Bobbie realized it, they were passing under the checkered flag. She had gotten so caught up in trying to get around Jim and Sam she had forgotten about trying to win.

As she pulled of the track with the rest of the field Bobbie radioed Kathy. “Kathy can you tell me who won?”

“Italian pride has been upheld Bobbie. Panos Kontotis won by two seconds. That’s the good news. The bad news is Doro and Olmo are already making claims that he won because they helped to clear out the trash.”

“Kathy do me a favor. Get with the other spotters and make sure that Jim and Sam don’t find out what those two are saying.” Bobbie pleaded.

“Too late. Though I doubt it will be a problem. The Marshals are going to hand them both a major fines for their part in the wreck earlier. Prototype is also getting nailed with both fines and point penalties. In short Prototype Outcast well have to win eight of the last eleven races to get back into the running.”

“You just made my day girlfriend.” Bobbie chuckled. “I don’t even mind coming in tenth place. It was worth it.”

-----tbc-----

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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 18
Texas Motor Speedway, Texas, USA
Long Horn Sizzling 450; 12:00 Sunday

Like everyone else from the good old USA I was happy as hell to back home the States. Even if it was in Fort Worth, Texas. I would rather be back home in Darlington. Still, it was nice to be home. Kelly flew in with the kids on Wednesday. I was surprised to meet our nanny. I had expected some 50 something old bat. Not the 25-year-old Clemson College student with blonde hair and green eyes that was Julie’s niece. Sue was bright, charming, and good looking. Kelly, the twins, and Sue really brightened my month.

The biggest reason most of the US drivers were happy to be home was the race in Paris. The Charles de Gaulle 450 was a total nightmare. One-hundred-eighty laps of nonstop white-knuckle driving over 2.5 miles of the worse laid asphalt in the history of mankind. Not even the roads in Cincinnati were as bad as that track. It eat tires, developed potholes near the edges, the infield was a soggy mess of ankle-deep grass. The pit road was so damned narrow that the crews had to keep one eye over their shoulders just to do their jobs.

Luckily, none of our pit crew members were hurt but there was more than a few close calls. The jack man for Ben Baldwin of Horn Thomas wasn’t so lucky. He got clipped by Jules Grinda of Les Ailes de Justice and was taken to the hospital with a broken leg. I have to give Jules this much. The man is a real gentleman. He climbed out of his car and ran back to check on Ben’s jack man. Jules took the disqualification with grace and dignity. Jules even offered to paid the jack man’s hospital bill. That wasn’t the only accident.

Out of one-hundred-eighty laps we ran forty of those under caution thanks to blown tires, and drivers hitting the potholes on the inside edge of the track apron. The potholes didn’t starting showing up until around lap eighty. When the first pothole appeared, no one saw it until it was too late. That wreck took three cars out of the race. By the end of the race no one was running near the inside track apron and a full third of the cars were either off the track in the garage or headed for the scrapyard from wrecks. There wasn’t one car without a bent right front fender.

Those bent finders led to more than one colorful exchange of words fallowed by the ever-popular serving of knuckle wrapped croissants with espresso a la ass kicking. Not all of those fights happened on the infield of the track between drivers. More than a few of them went down between the pit crews on pit road. The worse fight was between the pit crews for Violet Knight and Alexa Peters. If it hadn’t been for Sam and Jim’s crews that fight won’t have been broken up. As it was more than a few black eyes, bloody noses, and fat lips were handed out.

“Thinking about Paris, honey?” Kelly asked as she stepped out the bedroom of the tour bus. Before I could say something, she place her finger to her lips. The simple reminder that the babies were napping brought a smile to my face. “Isn’t it about time for you to head out for the pit walk?”

“I got a few more minutes, Kelly.” I yawned then stretched as I stood up. “I was kind of hoping to miss the walk today.”

“You know better than that, Roberta.” Kelly scolded me. Then tapped me on the nose. “Just think about the fans. Besides what could be so bad that you would want to miss the pit walk?”

“Skye Day.” Was all I had to say. Kelly’s sunny smile disappeared to be replaced with barely controlled rage.

“They still haven’t fired that bitch!” Kelly snarled. “What does she have to fucking do before the network gets rid of her? Rape someone.”

“From what I understand you’re not the only ones pissed at the woman.” Sue chuckled from the dinette table. “I don’t think there isn’t one driver on the circuit she hasn’t pissed off at one time or the other.”

“Sue, if the ISA were to hold a raffle among the drivers with her as the grand prize. The ISA would lose money.” Kelly chuckled. “That bubbleheaded sable haired skank has broken more than a few journalistic ethics in her pursuit for a headline.”

“That’s a fucking understate of the god damned century. Last year I caught the bitch sneaking into my car hauler. She was trying to get pictures of my car’s power plant. If Chief Hailee and Marks hadn’t stopped me. The bitch would have had a torque wrench sticking out of her forehead.” I snarled.

“Wait a minute here boss lady. Are you saying Skye Day actually broke into a car hauler and still has her damned job?” Sue asked us both in disbelief.

“That is just one of the stunts she’s pulled in the last few years. Skye Day has jumped a cross so many lines that her nickname is hopscotch. We can even begin to count the number of times that woman has been caught in off limits areas.” Kelly grumbled. “Sadly, she’s not the only reporter and commentator that we know who has pushed the bounds of common decency.”

“I swear if I didn’t know better. That bitch fuck her station owner to get her position.” I grumbled then had to explain my comment for Sue. “Skye is the second biggest out lesbian on TV. Only Ellen DeGeneres is any bigger.”

“I get it now. Seeing as you’re the only ‘out’ lesbians in professional racing she believes that she should unlimited access to your personal life.” Sue sighed and shook her head. “I knew of a few journalism students like that back in school. A lot of what the Journalism Professor taught them was about pushing the limits to get their story. Doing whatever it takes. No matter who gets hurt. Even if it means fucking the boss to get the promotion.”

“Exactly. Skye puts on this nice bright sunshiny front for all the world to see. When the truth is she is the biggest rattlesnake in the viper pit known as the media press corps.” Kelly snarled. “When I had the twins, the rest of the press corps stayed the hell away. Not that bitch. If it hadn’t been for Amy Stow and the Pink Porsche Posse that bitch would have been taking pictures of our babies and posting them on station’s website.”

“Who and what are the Pink Porsche Posse?” Sue asked trying not to laugh.

“You remember those eight pink sports cars saw you outside Billy’s Big Barn?” Kelly asked Sue with a grin as I cringed at the mention of those 8 sins against the natural order of the universe. I mean how could any sane individual paint a 1984 through 1989, 911 3.2 Carrera, neon pink with metal flake underlayment. “You know ones that you said were cute looking.”

“OH! You meant those cars. Are they some model of Porsche?” Sue asked smiling. “They were awfully cute. I mean I could see me behind the wheel of one. In a few years. As it is they look expensive.”

“Kelly when you get Sue home. You will spend time EDUCATING our nanny in the finer points of Darlington Car Culture.” I breathed out between clenched teeth. “You said you gave her a thorough interview, Kelly. How could miss such a glaring discrepancy in her education?”

Sue’s face turned white as I asked this of Kelly. She must have thought I was going to fire her. “But darling she came with such impeccable references. I would never have believed that her aunt would have sent us such an underqualified nanny. I am so sorry dear. Don’t worry I’ll correct the problem once we get home.”

“Am I getting fired?” Sue asked us with real fear in her voice.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer and started to laugh. Kelly just smiled as she chuckled. “Oh man. You are just too cute for your own good, Sue. No, you’re not being fired. My lovely wife is just being her usual pain in the ass self.”

“Okay what am I missing?” Sue asked with real confusion.

“I’ll explain once I’ve gotten Bobbie out the door.” Kelly told her with a smile. “Though you can expect to have homework.”

“On what?” Sue asked in true confusion.

“Classic Cars and the culture that surrounds them.” I called back over my shoulder as Kelly shoved me out the door to my bus. To Kelly I grumbled. “I’m going already.”

“Just get your ass out there already.” Kelly said with a firm push. “And no, I’m not joining you this time. If I see that bitch, I might gut her.”

I just chuckled as the door to the tour bus closed behind me. As I walked through the infield towards pit road, I signed a few autographs for the fans that had HOT passes. I smile as two teenage girls ran up to me and asked to take a selfie. After they moved on, I was approached by another group of teenage girls. Only these young ladies were all wearing school uniforms. After I signed their autograph books and ballcaps their teacher took a group photo for the girls. As I moved on from them, I was surprised that an all-girls privet school from South Carolina would bring their students to a professional Stockcar race in Texas.

As I joined the other drivers behind the grandstand used for driver introductions Beth, Sam and Jim walked up smiling. Beth was the first to say anything. “I saw that you gave the students from Akin Equestrian Girls Schools a personal interview. They’re a rather unique group of young ladies.”

“You can say that again. They caught me and Jim outside our garages.” Sam chuckled. “For a bunch of privet school princesses, they sure don’t act like it.”

“I think it might have something to do with those tracking anklets.” Beth smirked. “I got a feeling that there is more to their story than their teacher or they were willing to let on.”

“Not our circus, not our monkeys, guys. As far as we’re concerned. Those kids are here to see a race and meet a few of the drivers.” I told the three of them. “We need to get our heads in the game. This may not be our home track, but the locals are looking for us to bring home a win. Especially after last weekend’s screwball showing in Paris. I don’t even want to think about that race ever again.”

“Bobbie’s right guys. We’re on American soil. We’re the only All-American team. Our manufacturer may be a German owned, but the production model for our cars are built stateside. One of those planets is not too far from here.” Beth told our teammates. “More than few of the fans in the stands today are going to be workers in that factory. We got to put on a real show for them.”

“More than that Beth. We have to place in the top ten today.” I told them honestly as I thought about the fans in the stands. “Because today’s and next week’s race are going to be all about National Pride.”

“Damn never thought about it like that.” Jim grunted then looked me in the eye. “When did you figure this angel out Bobbie?”

“Wednesday night at the sponsors’ meet and greet.” This time I didn’t try to hold back the laugh. “You guys would have spotted the signs as well. If you had been trying to make up for lost time with your SO’s.”

“What signs?” All three asked as one.

“Bill Kayhill, Dale Spicer, Jim Thorp, from the Big Three were all there at the party Wednesday night. They’ve been trying to deal their way into the ISA sense the beginning of the season. They cornered Wilfried Herwig and Irina Stumpfegger halfway through the party. They’re pushing for them to allow Ford, Chevy, and Chrysler to compete.” I explained as the first driver names were called out. We had time because the Commissioners were starting at the back of the field.

“They have NASCAR sown up. What do they want with the ISA?” Jim asked.

“They’re argument is pretty simple. For the ISA to truly be International that all car manufacturers should be represented.” Beth huffed. “It’s really all about equal advertising. Especially in the countries they been allowed to export.”

“Do they even have cars that can be considered ‘saloon sports’?” Sam asked. “I mean the production models for all of our cars fall into that category.”

“Depends on who you ask, Sam. Then again with just minor adjustments any of the Big Three cars can easily fall into the saloon sports car category.” Beth answered.

“That’s not the problem. If they get approval to join the ISA that will mean three more teams to deal with on the track. That’s twelve more cars and drivers. Unlike the rest of the teams. They can pull directly from NASCAR for their drivers and pit crews. They’ll have major advantage in more ways than that. Think about all that experience those teams can draw on. They have had NASCAR programs going for decades.” I pointed out the harsh truth. “We’re the only team will can compete on that level.”

“Damn I hadn’t thought about that. They can pull from Sprint, Cup, and Truck for their drivers with ease. They’ll use the ISA as a minor league for all three.” Jim bitched as he took out his snuff.

“That’s not the only problem if they get into the ISA, Jim. Nationalist pride will become part of our races. We ran into that crap in Italy and France. Just think about how bad it’ll get if we have four All-American teams besides us in the mix. The bumping, and rubbing, will get out of hand. You got to remember that for a lot of our drivers there’s more on the line just professional pride when we race in their home countries. There’s also national pride.” I explained just before Nazarova Grigorievna from Red Star racing joined us.

“Bobbie is telling truth, comrades. A great many of our fellow drivers are under great pressure to bring home wins for their motherland.” Nazarova’s accent may have been thick but we could still understand him. “Rome and Paris are only beginning.”

The names of Nazarova’s teammates were called in order which surprised us. “Da. We were able to post near identical times. They should be calling me soon.”

“Damn that is impressive. How did you do?” Sam asked with respect.

“For some reason I placed higher than my comrades. Not sure how. I had the same setup but got better performance.” Nazarova as he shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s racing for you Naz. It’s like the old saying goes. Sometimes you’re the tiger. Sometimes you’re the tiger’s meal. There is one thing I’ve learn in Stockcar racing that has held true every race. No one is guaranteed to win.” Sam chuckled as he slapped Nazarova on the shoulder. “I started off on the poll more than once and ended up limping across the finish line dead last. All it takes is one mistake and you go from number one with an insurmountable lead to dead last.”

“Say where did you place on the grid?” Beth asked him with a sly smile.

“I have the pleasure of starting between the McGuire Furies, and their two teammates.” He chuckled then pointed at Mori Unkei from King Knight. “The beautiful Mori is to be my partner on row four.”

We stood there joking around as the next eight drivers were called. When Sam and Jim were called Nazarona followed them with Mori right behind them. Beth gave me a strange look. “Okay Bobbie. Now that it’s just you and me. What is bugging you about the Big Three wanting to horn in on the ISA? I know you spotted something else during that party. You would have made the comment about national pride without a damned good fucking reason.”

“This stays between us Beth. Those fuck nuts will use a loss today by us and the other American drivers as away to force their way into the ISA. They’ll say that if we had American made cars we would have won.” As I explained the situation for Beth, she began to grinned her teeth in anger. “The ratings for NASCAR have been falling off over the last few years. Thanks to mismanagement by the France family and the PC bullshit that has been pulled by certain teams. The ISA is new and untapped territory for advertising.”

“Damn. That means we need to either win the race, or finish near the front with an American driver taking first place.” Beth sighed. “Who do we push across the finish lines if it’s not one of us?”

“Kuno Junzo, Ben Baldwin, Caleb McLean, or Rufus Graham. Anyone of them will take the wind out of the Big Three’s sails.” I saw Navarona and Mori step out onto the stage as their names were called. “Okay sis, time to play to the crowd.”

“Quite your bitching. You love it and you know it.” Beth chuckled as she slapped my ass. “Let’s put on a real show. Time to shack what mamma gave us.”

With mile-wide grins we stepped out onto the stage waving to the fans. Instead of just walking down the runway to the pickup that would takes us around the track. Beth joined me in doing the electric slide. As we danced our way down the runway the crowd roared with laughter. As we climbed into the bed of the pickup the announcer called out the names for the two drivers. After a quick ride around the track, we were dropped off on pit road near our cars.

After all the drivers were introduced, the fans were allowed to walk along pit road and met the drivers. As the clocked ticked down towards start time the reporters swarmed our cars scrambling for prerace interviews. I talked with most of them. Only Skye Day got the cold shoulder from me and the rest of the MRI family. Well, she did get more than a cold shoulder at Sam’s car. I had to run over and hold him back. I don’t know what she asked, but Sam was going to break the camera over her head. Thankfully, this time an ISA Commissioner was near enough to hear who started the confrontation. Skye Day was ejected from pit road and the race. Not that I gave a shit. I wasn’t the only driver to clap as track security escorted her and her cameraman from the speedway.

For the next twenty minutes we signed autographs for the fans before they were asked to clear the infield and pit road. The national anthem was played. We mounted our cars and waited for those famous words. The Grand Marshal for today’s was race was the CEO for Long Horn Steakhouse. “DRIVERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!”

I hit the play button on my iPod. Flipped the battery switches and mashed the starter button. As the monstrous V-8 fired over I felt more than heard the rumble of the superheated exhaust for the enslaved demon of speed. We rolled off pit road to the dove set tones of Bonnie Tyler singing her classic Holding Out For A Hero. That one song told me that is was dad who uploaded my race mix today. Kathy was already on the radio giving me a breakdown on the field as we rounded turn 1 for the warmup laps. As usual she had me chuckling with her description and prediction for how the field would shack out once the green flag dropped.

As we worked our way around the track, I went over what I knew about it. The Texas Motor Speedway is located in the northernmost portion of Fort Worth, Texas, the portion located in Denton County, Texas. It built in 1995 and originally names the Texas International Raceway. The first race was in 1996. The track surface is asphalt. Its length is 1.5 miles in a quad-oval design, where the front straightaway juts outward slightly. The track layout is similar to Atlanta Motor Speedway and Charlotte Motor Speedway. The little lady has for 4 turns with variable banking. Turns 1 and 2 are sit at 20° with turns 3-4 at 24°. The race lap record is 0:22.542 held by Paul Tracy, Team Green, from the CART FedEx Championship Series in 2001. Of all the tracks that we would race at stateside only Talladega, and Atlanta held any mysteries for me. I knew exactly how I was going to attack this track.

I wasn’t the only one who knew how to tackle this track. There were another 12 Stockcar drivers who knew this track. The kick in the ass is they were spread out among the rest of the teams. Of the 40 drivers that made up the ISA league only 16 could truly be called Stockcar drivers. The other 24 came from other fields and were still learning the sport. That gap is has been closing with each race. By the end of today’s that gap will be almost gone. After five warmup laps as we rounded turn 4 onto the front straightaway the pace car dropped off the track. I grabbed my safety straps pulled them tight one more time and grabbed the shifter. As we neared the start/finish line the green flag dropped. The race was on.

The field split and let one of the poll cars pass down the center. I ignored the car as I went to the inside passing him. “Put the hammer down Bobbie. Oscar Johnson is out of the race. He dropped his transmission at the start.”

“Well, damn. Look’s like Oscar Johnson doesn’t have the same luck as his cousin in the great State of Texas.” I chuckled as we rounded turn 2 and came under yellow flag conditions. “Oscar must have really blown that transmission if they’re sending out the wrecker to drag him back to the garage.”

“There’s transmission fluid all over the front straightaway, Bobbie. It’s going to take the clean up crews at least seven to ten laps to get that mess off the track. On the bright side. You were able to move up to sixth place.”

“Better than dropping back in the field. These yellow flag laps will also extend our fuel mileage for the first stage.” I quickly told her.

“Not enough to make much of an impact Bobbie. We still got seventy-four laps to go in this stage out of three-hundred total laps. Remember that this one is going to come down to the final stage and those last twenty laps.”

With those words of warning from my spotter I got back down to the business of racing. Just like Kathy guessed it took the cleanup crews 9 laps to cleanup the transmission fluid. When we restarted the race on lap 11 the whole field surged forward as one through the tri-oval are of the front straightaway. It took 12 more laps for the field to settle down into race form. By the time we hit lap 30 I knew that I would be making a green flag pit stop long before the end of stage 1. I wasn’t the only one who spotted the fast-approaching need for fuel and tires. On lap 46 the first 12 drivers dropped off the track for those much-needed pit stops. At the end of lap 48 I was pulling into my pit stall. At the end of 14.3 seconds, I was down and away. I had four fresh tires, a full tank of fuel, and a clear windshield. It took me a full lap to get back up to full speed. By lap 50 everyone had cycled through their pit stops and the field was back to pack racing.

The first wreck came on lap 74 in turn 3. The upside it was a single car crash. We crossed the start/finish line ending the first stage under yellow. I hit pit road with the rest of the field calling for 4 fresh tires, 2 cans of fuel, and a half a turn down on the track bar. During that first stage I learned the longer I ran the tighter my car became. By the end of the first run I was fighting for control in the turns. I was hoping that half turn down on the track bar will loosen me up for the longer runs. Even with the additional time it took for the track bar adjustment my guys still turned in a 14.7 second pit stop.

When we lined back up for the start of stage two, I found myself in sixteenth place. I had dropped outside of the top ten positions. I wasn’t worried. We had 225 laps left in the race. More than enough to work my way back to the front. On lap 78 the green flag was dropped, and we were back to racing. I crossed the starting line to Pat Benatar’s Invincible. This time nobody missed a shift or dropped a gear. At lap 98 things changed. The poll position car blew a tire at the entrance to turn 1 taking the second-place car with them into the outside wall. The two cars spun back down into the field hitting three more cars. Thanks to Kathy I was able to miss the wreck. Beth and Jim weren’t as lucky. The yellow flag was out as I exited turn 2 onto the back straightaway.

By the time the field had shaken out over the next lap. I found myself in seventh place. On lap 101 pit road opened and everyone was dropping down for fresh tires and fuel. The second I stopped Dave and the rest of my pit crew were over the wall. Once again, I marveled at the ballet that was a Stockcar pit stop. They performed their dance to the music of my engine’s rumble, and the scream of their air guns. There was no wasted movement on their part.

Each member performed their assigned tasks and moved onto the next. All in under 15 seconds. When the left side of my car hit the ground, I was gone. I passed two of the lead cars on my way off pit road. This was one time that having a fast pit crew made all the difference. As I lined up in fifth place Kathy gave me the bad news. I had thought that only Beth and Jim were damaged in the wreck. I was wrong.

“Bobbie, Sam is going behind the wall. He collected a piece of debris from the wreck. His radiator has an eight-to-ten-inch piece of break rotor sticking out of it. I hate to tell you this, but you’re on your own for the rest of the race.”

“Shit. Not good. Not good at all.” I said to myself and the empty air of my car. “Kathy I’m going to need you to step up your game girlfriend. We both know that I got a great big target on my rear bumper.”

“Don’t worry love. She’s not alone. You just run your race. Kathy will read the track.” The sound of Kelly’s voice calmed my sudden case of nerves. “AND I’ll be looking for the unfriendlies wanting to take you down.”

“Kathy who’s in front of me?” I needed to know who was in front of me to decide my next moves in this race. I learned at the beginning of my racing career that no two drivers approached a track the same way. Especially when out front. Some only raced the field, while others only the track, then there were the few that did a combination of the two. Those were the ones I worried about. Because you could never tell which way the race would go with them out front.

“Good news, bad news, on that front Bobbie.” Kathy told me before giving me the rundown. The good news was Ben Baldwin, and Caleb McLean were first and second. The bad news was the two chuckleheads in third and fourth. Siegmund Kühne and Marc Wimmer from Prototype Outcast. That whole team has been pushing hard to climb up the Manufactures’ Championship Race sense the Daytona race. The penalties levied against the team after what happened in Rome hasn’t helped with their attitudes.

When the green flag dropped, Kühne and Wimmer split Baldwin and McLean. This forced me to make a choice that I wasn’t ready for. Either push Baldwin or fallow Kühne. I chose to push Baldwin. It turned out to be the right choice. As we entered turn 1 going four wide at 160mph plus the restart was a hairy-scary-white-knuckled ride. With Kühne and Wimmer on the outside without backup they both quickly fell back towards the middle of the pack. We exited turn 2 on the back straightaway and pushed our speeds towards the 180mph mark. I was thanking the gods of speed that Kühne and Wimmer didn’t cause a wreck with their stunt on the front straightaway.

For the rest of the stage the race remained under green flag conditions. Baldwin took the stage win with McLean just four-one-hundredths of a second behind him. We hit pit road for fresh tires, and fuel on lap 151. That’s when everything to shit. Danny’s jack jammed as he was lifting the right side. After getting the car down he switched to a new jack on the left side, but Sherry’s air gun blew its seals then. If it could go wrong on this pit stop it did. By the time I finally rolled off pit road I had dropped from third all the way back to eighteenth. As much as I wanted to raise hell with Danny and the guys on the pit crew I knew better. Murphy loves fucking with pit crews in the middle of hot running race. That didn’t mean I couldn’t pound the shit out of my steering wheel in frustration.

“Bobbie, I know that your up set right now. So please don’t take this out on me, I’m just the messenger. You need to pull out of line and drop to the end of the inside line. The Marshals say you were speeding coming off pit road.” The second Kathy told me I had to drop all the way to the back of the pack. I blew my stack. Kathy let me vent for ten to fifteen seconds before reminding me that I needed to fall back to the rear of the pack.

I kept up my one-woman bitch fest as I pulled out of line and dropped to the rear. I would have continued my bitching if Kathy hadn’t reminded me that we still had 148 laps to go. I may have been the last man standing for MRI without any friends, but I still had one of the fastest hotrods on the track. With this in mind I gritted my teeth and tightened my safety harness straps. I had 222 miles of racing to get back to the front. I just had to work my way around 34 drivers.

“Listen up, baby girl. You can do this. Time to change your play list.” Mom’s voice over the radio did the one thing that Kathy couldn’t at that time. Calm me down enough to think. “Break it out. It’s under Bounty Hunter. You got time.”

I pulled out my iPod and scrolled down to the listing called Bounty Hunter. I hit the play button and snarled as the green flag dropped on lap 154. I pulled to the outside line of the track and hugged the wall. “Fill your hands you son of bitches.”

I was passing cars to the opening notes of Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries remix. By the time I hit turn 1 I had the throttle wide open and not looking back. For 3:06 minutes I let my soul feed on the driving force of the classical remix as it guides my hands, and feet. Kathy must have been listen in on my iPod feed because the girl never missed a beat with her calls. Little V Pacific Rim ‘Epic Rock’ theme took over for Wagner he calls became even more precise. I became lost to the world around me. There was only me, and the pissed off demon come straight out of hell that was under my hood.

I first put this mix together almost four years ago. I did it for one reason. To bring down a pack of assholes who thought they owned the streets and roads of Darlington Country. The night that I played this mix I was behind the wheel of Judge. That night I let my anger fuel my driving as I turned my Judge into an Executioner. I put an end to the Darlington Knight’s reign of drunken hell raising. That was the only time I ever played this race mix. Today it was taking on a whole new meaning. I was still the Huntress. Only now I was hunting something other than vengeance for a friend. Today my prey was nothing less then total domination over a 1.5-mile racetrack and a field of 35 drivers.

I pulled alongside the twelfth-place car to the sounds of Uptown Funk. This was the first of twelve songs that I had downloaded from anime remixes. As I powered by them on the back straightaway Immortals replaced Uptown Funk. It had taken me fifteen laps to work my way this far through the field and I wasn’t slowing down. After Immortals came Midway and Look up the sky is falling. On lap 180 Kenny Loggins Highway to the danger zone took me to a whole new level. They say racing three-wide at certain tracks a certain type of driver. They’re either braver than all the Saints and Angles put together or totally bat fucking shit crazy. As I power my way around the track continually hugging the outside wall, I realize that people are wrong. There’s a third type of driver. They got balls of steel, skills unheard of, and are crazy than any bat on high grade meth. In short, a driver who had nothing to lose by running on the radge edge of insanity and pushing their skill to the limit. Someone like me right now.

On lap 190 Chief called for a pit stop. It took me two more laps to work my way to the inside so I could make the entrance to pit road. I was braking the second I pulled onto pit road. I wasn’t going to get nailed with a second speeding penalty if I could help it. As I pulled to a stop in my pit stall Danny led the crew over the wall. They must have been beyond pissed for the last stop. Because 13.45 seconds later I was down off the jack heading for the exit of pit road with four fresh tires, and two cans of fuel. Once I was back out on the track I didn’t play around. I knew that the rest of the field were already cycling through for green flag stops. This was my chance at making up some ground and positions. With AC/DC’s Thunderstruck pounding in my ears I drive for position.

By the time, the first ten cars realized they were in danger of losing position it was too late. I was reeling them in one at a time. I was on a roll and nothing was going to stop me. Or so I thought. I had worked my way up to fifth place when then green/white checkered flag signaled the end to the third stage on lap 225. Kathy was cheering me for moving back up to fifth place. Only I wasn’t done. I had one stage left. Just 75 more laps to pull off a miracle.

As I slide to a stop in my pit stall Danny and the others were clearing the wall. I started counting down the seconds as had become my habit. The scream of the girls’ air guns filled the air as Danny raised the right side. By the time I reached 6 Danny was dropped the right side and was rounding the front end. At 8 he had the left side in the air and Greg was slamming home the second can of fuel. When I reach 13 Danny dropped the car. That was my signal to leave. As I rolled down pit road, I watched my tachometer like a hawk. I wasn’t surprised that I passed fourth and third place while they were still being serviced. Not with the time my pit crew just turned in for my servicing.

Not too many pit crews turn in 13.54 second pit spots. Then again, my guys spent two years turning in 1.8 to 2 second pit spots in Formula One. They were also doing everything under the sun to make up for that FUBAR back on lap 151. As I lined up behind Marc Wimmer and Joel Franz in third place for the start of the last stage of the race Kathy gave me some good news.

“You’re not going to believe this Bobbie. Joel Franz has to do a drive through and line up at the back of the pack. The dumbass pitted so far back in his box he was outside of his box blocking Joseph Lachman from exiting his pit box.”

“That’s an old Indy car trick. The tactic is legal but there is a trick to pulling it off correctly. You have to know just how far back in the box to stop. Too far back and you’re outside of the box. Too far forward and the other driver can slide around you. Trust me it’s not easy to do.” I chuckled as Franz pulled out of line and let the field roll by on the back straightaway. I pulled into second place on the inside while Wimmer took the outside line. “If he thinks taking the outside line away from you is going to get him the win. He’s in for a nasty surprise.”

“You can say that again Kathy. The outside line is fast, but you have to hug the wall.” I radio back chuckling. “The really fast lane is down by the apron.”

“Yeah. You also have to be half crazy to run up against the wall. Then again look who I’m talking too?”

“Hold on there Kathy. My lovely wife is not half crazy.” Kelly said hotly over the radio then chuckled. “She’s totally nuts.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny Kelly.” I sighed then chuckled myself. “The sad part is you’re telling the truth. Who’s behind me that I need to worry about?”

“Just four drivers and they’re all from the same team. Red Star Racing’s Nazarova Grigorievna, Koychev Fyodorovich, Abdulov Germanovich, and Rokossovsky Aleskeevich. Their teamwork is second only to ours. If they can close in on you. They’ll pull a team bump-n-run at the exit of turns two and four. They’re currently in fifth through eighth position. They won’t be there for long though. Not if they get a solid run-on Ronan Bain and Alexa Peters just behind you.” Kelly’s analysis of the situation was as usual spot on. “After you get by Wimmer you’ll need to dive in the rearview mirror for the rest of the race.”

“Well, damn. And here I was hoping for a nice quiet Sunday drive.” I joked.

Only to have mom jump dead in my ass with both feet. “Roberta Linn McGuire you pull your head out your fourth point of contact and get it back in the game. The race ain’t over for another seventy-four laps. You got to run that all without backup.”

“Yes ma’am. Any idea of why they’re holding up the restart?” I asked as we made a second lap around the track.

“Something about the scoring at the end of last stage. You really screwed up the field with that wild drive to the front. They’re having problems with sorting out the back third of the field.” Kathy answered quickly. “Nobody expected that kind of a drive from the back to the front like that Bobbie.”

“Not my fault. If they can’t keep track of who is where out here, then they need to get new score keepers.” I bitched but tightened my straps just a little tighter. I knew the second that the green flag dropped for the final stage. All hell was going to break lose and I had a great big target on my ass. Not that, that was anything new. It’s just that this is the first I was on my own. Until now I had the rest of MRI either blocking for me, or I was blocking for them. This was going to be a one man show or I should one woman show of driving skill and tenacity.

The green flag dropped on lap 228, and I couldn’t help myself. I hit the button for my mike. “Time to channel my inner Intimidator boys and girls.”

“DROP THE HAMMER SPEEDY!” Chief Hailee called out the radio laughing. I shifted gears and shoved the throttle to the floor. I powered past Wimmer and never looked back. For the next 30 laps we ran under green flag conditions. Then it happened on lap 259 three cars about midway back in the pack got tangled up in turn 4 going three wide through the turn. They collected six other cars bringing out the caution flag. I was already entering turn 1 with a four-car led on the field. I pulled in behind the pace car as it entered the track with its lights flashing.

“Chief Hailee when they open pit road, I want four fresh tires, two cans of fuel, a tear away, and no changes. The car is handling just fine. Even better now that I’m out front in clear air. It’s like she’s rocket sled on rails.” As I described how the car was handling for me, I heard Chief Hailee grunt. “What’s up Chief?”

“What’s the engine sound like Bobbie? Is it growling or rumbling?” He asked.

“There’s a slight growl when I shift gears going over the tunnel turns. Why?” Now I was worried that something was wrong with the car this late in the race.

“You’ve been pushing your engine harder than any other driver out there. You might be getting ready to drop a cylinder. Maybe even a gear in the transmission. Either way you’ll be out of the race.” The more Chief Hailee told me about his worries the more I wanted to punch someone. I was so close. I just need to finish the last 39 laps. It was time to roll the dice.

“Chief are we using the same car next week at Indy?” I asked him.

“Nope. We’re bring in one of the superspeedway cars for that monster. Why?”

“Then let’s roll the dice. If the engine blows, the engine blows. That’s racing.” My quip must have stroke a cord with Chief Hailee. The belly laugh was all I needed to hear to know that he would back my play.

After 6 laps they finally opened pit road. I lead the field down off the track and hit my pit stall. Once again, my pit crew turned in a near record setting time of 13.12 seconds. Their fastest time of the day. I don’t know why but so far only a few teams have gambled with taking just two tires this season. Even then those few teams had regular Stockcar racers for drivers. Yet even now this close to the end of the race no one went with two tires trying to gain position on the track. The only thing I can put that down to is they all know this could be the last stop. Better to have four fresh tires and two cans of fuel then gamble on position. Not when the meanest bitch on the track was sitting in first place.

As we lined up for the restart, I took the inside line again. Wimmer still running in second place pulled up on the outside line. I knew that this was going to be a 45-lap countdown of bump and grind. On lap 155 the green flag dropped, and I dropped the hammer one more time to the driving beat of Iron Maiden’s Run to the Hills. Sabaton’s Aces In Exile and Midway were next between the three songs I drove away from the rest of the field. I wasn’t going to go down with a fight. If Bill Kayhill, Dale Spicer, and Jim Thorp want to use National Pride as a reason for muscling their Racing Divisions into the ISA. Then they’ll have to get by me first.

They want National Pride. I’ll give them National Pride in fucking spades. As I ram it down their throats. As the laps ticked down my lead over the rest of the field increased. As did the annoying growl from my engine. “Come on baby hold it together. Just twenty more laps. That’s all I’m asking.”

I hit the radio button. “Chief I got a feeling that she’s not going to last.”

“Keep the petal to the metal Speedy. Like you said. If she blows, she blows. We both knew it was a gamble when you rolled off pit road.” Chief Hailee answered.

“Screw that crap! I built that engine Bobbie. She’ll hold. Just don’t let up. Keep pushing it to the limit sweetheart.” Dad called out over the radio. I fallowed his orders and keep my foot in the gas. If he wanted me to melt down the engine block. Then I was going to turn it into slag. If he wanted me to drain the tank. I would turn the inside into the Sahara. If dad wanted me to cross the finish line on the roof. Then I would flip the damned car and slide across the finish line scarping off the paint as I went leaving a trail down the front straightaway.

With each lap the growl grow. Dad wanted me to push the engine to its limits. That was exactly what I was doing. I stay just short of the red line on the tachometer. I was pushing my car so hard that I was lapping the cars at the back of the pack. it had taken me 285 laps to get to this point. I wasn’t about to let up now. All I could was trust in dad’s engine design and pray my luck held out. I passed under the white flag on lap 299 with an eight-car lead when it happened. I dropped a cylinder. “Ah shit. Come on baby just one last lap. You can do it.”

That dropped cylinder throw my handling and power out the window. This last lap was going to be run on nothing but luck and prayer. I exited turn 2 onto the back straightaway headed for turn 3. “Bobbie please tell me that’s not smoke I’m seeing?”

“Sorry Chief Hailee, but I cannot tell a lie. I dropped a cylinder going into turn one. This baby is running on hope, luck, and prayer.” I was at least being honest.

“Keep rolling those bones Speedy. You still have a four-car lead on the rest of the field. Don’t give up yet.” Kathy called out. “Quick go to the outside line and stay there. Wimmer is trying to make a run from there.”

I pulled to the outside line and stayed as I entered turn 3. Thanks to Bobby Parker and Oscar Johnson blocking the inside. Wimmer was trapped behind me on the outside. There are times in racing that you get an unexpected helping hand. My luck and engine held out until I crossed the finish line. I barely reached turn 1 when my engine finally gave out and blew completely. I hit my brakes as smoke poured out from under the hood in a bellowing oily gray cloud. I had oil spraying over my windshield and roof. I got my car down to the inside and into the infield grass before thing else could happen. Thankfully, I didn’t take anyone with me.

Once stopped I dropped my window net first thing. With it down I radioed Chief Hailee. “Send the wrecker. She’s done Chief. Cooked well done with a side order of fries and coleslaw. The only thing missing is an ice-cold beer.”

“The wrecker is on the way, Speedy. As for the beer you’ll have to make do with cheap champagne in the winner’s circle.” Chief Hailee chuckled.

“I better get a steak with that crap at least.” I answered back as I climbed out of the car. As I took off my helmet and gloves, I patted the hot hood of my car. “You did girl. You gave it your all. Thank you.”

I looked towards the wrecker as it pulled off the apron. With it was the ambulance. My ride back to the winners circle. As the wrecker crew was hooking up to my car, I stopped them. “You treat her real nice boys. She’s a winner.”

“We’ll treat her like the lady she is, Miss.” With that I left the wrecker crew to do their job and climbed into the ambulance for my ride back to the winner’s circle.

“This is a real first for us. We’ve never delivered a driver to the winner’s circle. We’re normally dropping you off at the infield care center like a bunch of pizza delivery guys. Though we’re happy any time you can climb in and out on your own.” The EMT in back said as he held out a clipboard. “Would you mind signing this?”

I chuckled and signed my autograph. Only this time I did more than just put down my name. I quickly wrote out 1 large, pepperoni, mushroom, sausage, thin curst, side order of bread sticks, 2ltr of Coke, total $29.75, then signed my name below. As I handed the clipboard back, I chuckled. “I’ll have to go get my wallet.”

“We’ll put it on your tab.” He chuckled. “By the way that was one hell of a show you put on out there today, Miss. I should know. Me and Johnny have been working these races since two-thousand and Little E’s DirecTV five-hundred win. That’s been over twenty-three years now.”

“At least he was able to drive his car to victory circle. They got to drag mine in on the hook.” I bitched as he chuckled.

“There is a bright side to this, Bobbie. You may not be doing victory doughnuts on the front straightaway.” The driver called back with a chuckle. “But how many drivers do you know of that claim they were chauffeured to the winner’s circle?”

-----tbc-----

P.S. I would like to say thank you to everyone who send their well wishes during my illness. I will be back to my normal posting schedule soon as possible. (ducks as pillow is thrown at head) If my daughter lets me. I still have a long way to go before I'm full recovered.

---

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.

---

Chapter 19
Indianapolis Motor Speedway, In, USA Sunday
The Holiday Inn, Indianapolis

As the pit crew went to work Bobbie McGuire was having breakfast with her wife. Next to them in their car seats were their children. To all the world they were nothing more than a young family on vacation. Kelly smiled as Bobbie signed a quick autograph for a young teenage boy before returning to her breakfast.

“What?” Bobbie asked her before eating a spoon of Rice Krispies.

“Nothing, Bobbie.” Kelly giggled from behind her coffee cup. At the cross look from Bobbie, Kelly put her cup down smiling. “You never turn away the fans. Even when you’re eating. You always take the time. You never let your fame go to your head.”

“Like you would let that happen. I remember the last time I got a little too big in the britches. You kicked me right in the ego.” Bobbie chuckled and took drink of her coffee. “Then again I can’t let myself end up like those over indulged jackasses that parade around like the world owes them.”

“You’re acting awfully sure of yourself today, Bobbie?” Kelly snarked then squinted her eyes at her wife. “What are you up to?”

“Me? Up to something? Whatever gave you that I idea?” Bobbie counted trying to play the part of the innocent.

“I’m smelling the back pasture Roberta. Care to try again?” Kelly chuckled.

“Fine. Let’s just say that I plan on collecting on a bet today.” Bobbie chuckled.

“Which Formula One driver do you have your money on Bobbie?” Kelly asked smiling.

“All of them. This track has been an F-One track far longer than a Stockcar track. Joe, Sam, and the other drivers that came over from NASCAR are going to get a nasty surprise today.” Bobbie told Kelly and returned to her Rice Krispies.

“I’m glad to see that you haven’t forgotten where you got your start.” Kelly answered with a smile. A smile that grew as a young woman approached their table. “Good morning Sue. How you feeling this morning?”

“Pretty good actually. I never expected to find such a great gym at a hotel.” Bobbie took in the young woman’s purple sweatshirt embossed with Clemson in orange across her chest and matching running tights. “I know mom has always told me about the gyms at the hotels she’s stayed at over the years.”

“Well get used to gyms like that one Sue. Because you’ll be seeing a lot more of them over the next few years. We got four to five years before you need to start looking for a new position.” Kelly assured her with a smile. “If not longer.”

“Thank you, Kelly. Though I do wish we could get that damned problem with my passport cleared up.” Sue bitched.

“What is going on with that? I mean we thought you had your passport already.” Bobbie asked her before she took a drink of her coffee.

“I did. Mom had me get one when I turned thirteen. I still can’t believe someone would steal a nurse’s ID.” Sue grumbled as she fixed herself a cup of coffee. She looked over at Bobbie’s fruit, cereal, juice, coffee, and water breakfast. “Um… Bobbie I know this isn’t my place but is that all you’re going to eat?”

“It doesn’t seem like much Sue.” Kelly told her smiling. “But it’s for the best.”

“I don’t understand.” Sue said in confusion.

“Drivers who eat heavy before a race put themselves in danger of becoming sick. If that happens and they have to be replaced the driver loses points in the championship race. None of them want that, trust me.” Kelly quickly explained.

“Okay I’ll take your word for it. Though I still don’t understand why the drivers push themselves so hard in the gym with all that physical training.” Sue told us as she fixed her own bowel cereal.

“Sue do you remember how we sat and watched all of the races since you came into our employment?” Kelly asked smirking. Sue just nodded her head. “Do you remember how you commented on the speeds that they were traveling?”

“How could I not? I mean I think the slowest speed I saw was during yellow flag laps. Last week’s race in Texas was insane. I may be new to the racing scene but that cannot be normal.” Sue chuckled.

“Sue that is a normal Stockcar race. Speeds of over one-eighty are commonplace. At some of the Superspeedway tracks speeds of close to two-hundred-miles per hour have been reached. A few times over that mark. Because the ISA doesn’t run restrictor plates it is quickly becoming the standard. I won’t be surprised if we actually see a new lap record set today. We’ve already seen a new qualifying run times and speeds set yesterday.” Bobbie told their nanny with a sly smile. “Hell, I might even beat my best time and speed today.”

“I doubt that Bobbie. Weren’t you complaining about a feedback from the engine last night?” Kelly asked her kindly.

“I was. Though I’m sure that dad and Chief Hailee have the problem figured out by now. I should be fine. Even if I have to start from the back of the pack because of engine replacement. I know this track and I know my car.” Bobbie grinned.

“Um… what does that have to do with winning? Aren’t the cars all the same?” Sue asked of Bobbie before taking a bite of her cereal.

“To a point they are, Sue. We do make acceptable modifications within the rules for each car to fit the individual driving style of the driver. Most of which are closely guarded.” Kelly quickly explained for Bobbie who had a mouthful of cereal. “Bobbie and Beth though are slightly deferent from the other drivers.”

“How so?” Sue asked politely.

“They started their racing careers long before they ever pulled off a pit road for their first Formula One race. Those two were and still are rat racers. They were racing the backroads of Darlington County before they ever earned their driver’s licenses. Then there was all the test driving they for their parents. I think the only type of car they haven’t test drove around Darlington Speedway is a dragster.” Kelly chuckled as Bobbie shrugged her shoulders.

“What can I say. We were outlaws having fun. Just like the men who founded our sport.” Bobbie held up her hand and stopped Sue from forming her next sentence. “And we are a sport in every way Sue. Think about the sheer amount of physical training that each driver, and pit crewman put themselves through daily. Weight training, endurance training, aerobics training, yoga, stretching, all of that and in some cases more.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that Bobbie. I can see the pit crews going through all that but not you. I can see the endurance and aerobics training to keep your weight down but not the other stuff you go through.” Sue pointed out her view.

“Sue what is the fastest you have ever driven your car?” Kelly asked seeing the problem for their nanny.

“I don’t know eighty-five on I-twenty. Other than that, I’ve always obeyed the speed limit.” Sue answered honestly then shrugged her shoulders. “Kind of had to. In South Carolina, my Nurse’s license is affected by the number of points on my driver’s license. I know it sounds stupid but those damned Swamp Rats figure if you can’t drive like a responsible person you can’t be a nurse.”

“Then you’ve never really felt the sway, swing, or push against the side of your car in a tight turn?” Bobbie asked her knowing she hadn’t.

“Not really. Why would they sway or swing like you say?” Sue asked in confusion. “Don’t you design the cars to fight against that kind of thing?”

“It happens anyway, Sue. We can do all we can to give us a mechanical add in those situations, but it still happens. The main cause has been and always will be the speeds at which we drive. Speed equals downforce, downforce equals Gs. We constantly pull two to three G’s in the turns. That is a lot of force to fight against in the turns. I need the strength just to keep my head pointed in the right direction. All that endurance training I do is to handle all that speed for four to six-hundred miles. When I climb out of the car at the end of the race today my legs will barely hold me up, my arms will feel like rubber, and my back like shit. It takes me two full days sometimes to recover from a race longer than five-hundred miles.” Bobbie told her honestly then grinned as insight dawned on Sue.

“Wow! I never realized that auto racing is more of a sport than people give it credit for being. It’s no wonder you train as hard as you do.” She blushed as she mumbled. “I thought it was just to keep that wonderful figure.”

“Trust me on this Sue. Bobbie McGuire could eat a Billy’s Big Barn Carnivore extra-large pizza on her own.” Kelly snarked. “And go back for extra crazy bread with butter and sauce. My wife has a very healthy appetite during the off season.”

“She would need it. I’ve been doing some calculations in my head. While we’ve talked. By all rights Bobbie sweats off between three to five pounds every race. I don’t know how she does it.” Sue gave me a look of true admiration.

“Sue don’t let that country girl high school graduate act of hers fool you. Bobbie isn’t your normal typical driver. She knows more about racecar design than the other three drivers on their team. Then there is the simple fact that she and Beth are very unique drivers.” Kelly told her calmly.

“How so?” Sue asked politely. “Aren’t they all driving the same way?”

“If you watch them closely you’ll find that each driver has a very unique style of handling their cars. The cars maybe the same but not the way they’re driven. There is a reason they call Beth the Ice Fury. Because that’s how she drives. Cold and calculating. She’ll hound your bumper, pushing you, waiting for that one moment when you let your concentration slip. Then strike. Beth is also a highly technical driver. She can tell you what changes she needs to her car after five to ten laps.” Kelly explained then pointed at Bobbie with her fork. “Bobbie the other hand is a totally deferent story. One that defies all reason.”

“Wow. I’d expect deferent driving styles among the deferent types of races, but not from two raised in the same family. How is Bobbie deferent?”

“Certain people call me the Fury of Fire or the Raging Bitch. Depends on who you talk to on which answer you’ll get.” Bobbie chuckled. “IF you asked the drivers that came over from NASCAR they tell you I’m the bastard child of Dale Earnhardt and Richard Petty. Though they know full well who my parents are.”

“What my lovely wife is trying to avoid telling you Sue is this. Bobbie is an intuition style driver. Unlike her sister she can tell you exactly what needs to happen with her car in two laps at top speed. She can also tell you how a track will change throughout a race. Her instincts for racing are unnatural at times. I think there is only one driver that can react nearly as fast to changing race conditions as Bobbie. It’s her sister Beth.” Kelly told her smiling.

“Wow. When my aunt told me that I would be working for one of the newest stars in racing she wasn’t kidding. Though I am surprised that she didn’t know exactly who she has been working for over the last few months.” Sue chuckled.

“Sue this afternoon while you’re watching the kids in the bus I want you to pay close attention to the televised broadcast for me. You’ll have a radio with you. It’ll be tuned to the Spotter’s channel. All I want you to do is listen to what Kathy tells me and compare it to what is on the TV. Especially to the in-car driver cameras.” Kelly ordered her bluntly. “You’ll learn a lot from the coverage.”

“Yes, ma’am. Though I don’t understand why.” Sue told honestly.

“You’re going to be around a lot more drivers over the next few years. You need to know exactly what you’ll be dealing with Sue.” Kelly told her honestly as Bobbie stood up from the table. Kelly looked down at her watch. “That time already?”

“Yeah babe. It is. See you and the kids at the track.” Bobbie said before kissing first Kelly then the two sleeping babies. As she walked away Sue turned to Kelly.

“Um… Kelly I noticed last week that Bobbie left for the track hours before she needed to be there. Does she always do this?”

“What do you know about my wife Sue? Medically I mean.” Kelly asked their nanny.

“Honestly, nothing really.” Sue answered quickly.

“Bobbie isn’t head for the track. At least not directly. She’s headed back up to our room to grab a very special duffle bag. Then she’ll sneak downtown to nearest Children’s hospital. She’ll spent the next few hours on the deferent wards visiting the kids then head up to the terminally ill ward. There she’ll do something that only she can do. Telling them all her of her own personal story of survival against cancer and success. When she’s done she’ll hand out signed posters, t-shirts, and ballcaps to every last child on that ward. Only then she’ll head for the track. Where she’ll place her life on the line for those children with a smile on her face.” Kelly sighed and took a drink of her coffee as Sue gasped.

“Then why does she put herself on the line competing in such a dangerous sport?” Sue asked in confusion.

“She does it for the children in those hospitals and to keep a promise to a friend. Bobbie doesn’t know any other way to live her life. She’ll go out there today and push her car to its very limits. Right up to the edge and slightly over. To the point of being out of control and she’ll love every last second of it.” Kelly told the young woman. “Please don’t think ill, of her Sue. It’s just that the only time in her young life that Bobbie ever felt in control for a few years was behind the wheel of a race car. Either street racing her GTO or one of her parents designs.”

“I did a rotation on the terminally ill ward at Grand Strand, Kelly. We used to get the Make-a-Wish people in all the time. I couldn’t stand seeing those days. I really hated the code blues on that ward. I know that Bobbie had to experience more than a few of them herself. As a child it would have left a real mark on her.” Sue said quietly fighting back her tears. “Is that why she wants me to pay attention to the broadcast in the bus?”

“It is Sue. She isn’t like the other drivers. She doesn’t race the track or the other drivers. When Bobbie climbs behind the wheel of her car she becomes a deferent person. There is only person my wife ever races. It is the Devil’s Bounty Hunter.” Kelly looked over at her two sleeping babies. “As much as I would love for Bobbie to drive in a safer manner that’s not going to happen. She has faced that bastard far too many times in her younger years. She drives the way she lives.”

“How is that Kelly?” Sue asked as her professional curiosity as a nurse was peeked. If she could take the lessons she learned in this job and apply it her goal of becoming a Child Psychiatrist later on. She would have a leg up.

“She lives her life as if every day were her last. You’ve heard that old song by Tim McGraw ‘Live like you were dying’?” Kelly asked with a sad smile as Kelly nodded. “That’s how she lives and why she races.”

“Then I doubt that anyone else could use her as an example.” Kelly sighed.

“I won’t say that Sue. If you want to study psychiatry while in our employ I have no problems. So long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties to the kids. When we get home. I’ll introduce you to Doctor Sharon. As for using Bobbie as a case study do yourself a favor. Don’t even try.” Kelly giggled as she looked to the exit of the dining room. “Any other doctor would have had her committed long ago.”

“Are you saying she’s crazy?”

“Clinically insane by any definition. They have her picture on the opening pages of psychiatric textbooks as a warning to new students.” Jewels McGuire chuckled as she joined them at the table. She looked over at her grandbabies. “Have they started sleeping through the night yet, Kelly?”

“Yes thankfully. What brings you down here Mother Jewels? Looking for Bobbie?” Kelly asked before fixing her mother-in-law a cup of coffee.

“You can read me so well, dear.” Jewels sighed as she drank her coffee. Setting the cup down Jewels looked over at her daughter-in-law. “I take it that Bobbie is off to her usual race day visit?”

“You just missed her, ma’am. I believe that I can still catch her for you?” Sue offered as she started to get up from the table.

“Don’t bother, Sue. It’s best that she don’t find out until the last minute.” Jewels sighed and looked over at the nanny. “There are just certain things best handled that way with my youngest daughter. She can be quite mercurial on race days.”

“THAT’S an understatement of the first order, Jewels. Calling my wife mercurial on race days is like saying Nitroglycerin is explosive.” Kelly chuckled. “At least this time she hasn’t threatened to brain someone with a torque wrench.”

“She will if her father hasn’t replaced that cracked engine block by race time.” Jewels told her bluntly and waited for Kelly to put things together. When Kelly did, Jewels smiled as her daughter-in-law grimaced. “Yup! They’re pulling the engine of her car as we speak right now.”

“Aw shit! They better have that thing back together before she reaches the track.” Kelly snarled as the thought of her wife going ballistic on her team turned her stomach. “Sue we need to head for the track earlier than expected.”

“May I know why?” Sue asked as she started gathering up the diaper bag and one of the two car seats.

“Because Kelly needs to be there to stop Bobbie from braining her father.” Jewels chuckled and stood up. At Sue’s look of confusion Jewels explained. “When Bobbie finds out that she is going to be starting from the back of the field again. She is going to blow a major gasket.”

“Why would Bobbie starting at the back of the pack be that big of a deal?” Sue asked as the three of them headed for the elevator. “I’ve done some reading on her in the sports sheets. She’s come from behind before.”

“Not on a track like the Brickyard, Sue. It’s one of the oldest tracks in America. Also, this track is a known killer.” Jewels told the nanny. “More than seventy people have died here. The last person was a member of the safety crew Art Morris in twenty-ten. The last driver to die on this track was Tony Renna in two-thousand-four during testing. The thought that they might be the next name on that list haunts every driver out there.”

“Damn. I knew that racing could be dangerous, but I never dreamed that it could turn deadly. How many drivers have died over the years?” Sue asked thinking that there might be a paper in the mindset behind professional drivers.

“Far too many Sue. Of all the sports there are there are a very few where the athletes place themselves in as much danger.” Jewels explained for Sue. Then turned to Kelly. “When you get to the track use the Wi-Fi Kelly and look up the stats.”

“For which sport mother?” Kelly asked honestly.

“All of them. Then break them down by sport.” Jewels told her as they exited onto their floor. “See you in an hour.”

MRI stalls, Garage Area: 1230

Bobbie walked into her garage in a great mood. Her time with the kids on the ward had brightened her spirits. It reminded her of her promise to never give up. She was able to get more than a few of the kids to make the same promise. As she handed out the signed posters, ballcaps, and t-shirts, she was rewarded with smiles. In more than a few cases there were tears with those smiles. Bobbie extracted a promise from the ward nurses to tune in the race on the ward’s dayroom’s TV for those who could make use of it and in the rooms of those who couldn’t.

Bobbie knew that the kids would go out of their way to watch. If only to see her race. Those kids didn’t care if she won or lost. Just that Bobbie had come to see them. Bobbie knew what her clandestine visits did for the children. More than once Julie Manner had tried to get her to take someone from the press office, but Bobbie always refused. It took Jewels McGuire to explain why over cocktails one night. When Julie finally got Bobbie’s reason she dropped the matter.

Bobbie’s great mood though didn’t last long. The swarm of mechanics surrounding her car and the engine hoist made her stop dead. “What the fuck happened?”

“Cracked engine block, Speedy. We’re almost done making the change.” Bob called out from under the car. “Go get changed and ready for the race.”

“How the fuck did the engine block crack?” Bobbie demanded.

“The usual fucking way. Now go get changed. As it is we’ll be pushing the time limit before inspections.” Bob growled from under the hood of her car.

“That damned engine better not fucking blow on me during the race.” Bobbie told her father as she turned and headed for her bus.

“Get a move on people. I got a feeling that if Bobbie misses this race.” Bob McGuire told the crew as he looked over his shoulder at his daughter’s retreating back. “We’ll be the ones that she takes the torque wrench to.”

With less than 40 minutes to race inspection Bob and the crew closed the hood on Bobbie’s car. After Bob reported the change in engine the race officials naturally applied the penalty of moving Bobbie to the back of the field. Something that Bob knew was going to piss his daughter off to no end.

Bobbie’s bus

As Bobbie entered her trailer she found her mother, Sue, Kelly, and the twins waiting for her. “I take it that dad gave you the good news already mom?”

“You could say that Bobbie. Though I wouldn’t exactly call it good news. How did you find out?” Jewels asked of her.

“Stopped at the garage before coming here. Talk to me mom. Just how bad was the engine block cracked?” Bobbie asked with real concern.

“When your father called me this morning. All he told was that we needed to change the engine and the transmission. I won’t know exactly what went wrong with the engine until I can examen it on my own.” Jewels explained for Bobbie.

“Mom this is the second time we’ve had to replace a powerplant because of a cracked engine block. What the fuck is going on?” Demanded as she headed for the back of the bus to get changed. “Engine blocks just don’t fail like that.”

“You’re right about that Bobbie. I won’t argue that point. The problem we’ve had is getting the manufacturing specs on the engine block materials. There should be absolutely no reason for those blocks to be cracking the way they have.” Jewels explained. “By all rights we should still be using the same engine blocks from the beginning of the season. The problem is Benz recalled those earlier blocks.”

“Just fucking great, mom. When were you going to tell me about them recalling to early engine blocks?” Bobbie snapped.

“I wasn’t to be honest. I don’t know what is going on with our suppliers. The only thing that makes any sense at this point is a failure in the quality control.” Jewels knew that Bobbie wasn’t liking what she was hearing. The thump of a fist hitting the closet drove the point home.

“Damn it! You tell those cocksuckers. That if I have one more engine block crap out on me during a race. We’re going back to building them in our own facilities. Jack, Dan, Cole, and Dale can turn out what we need.” Bobbie snorted as she stormed out of the back area of the bus in just her Nomex under suit. “You may be the owner and lead designer for MRI mother. But it’s our asses on the line out there.”

“Calm down Robert!” Jewels yelled. Only to get a dirty look from Bobbie. “Fine I’ll pass the word onto our suppliers.”

“Look mom I know that you’ve probably been getting the runaround from our suppliers. We still need answers as to why our engine blocks have been blowing up on our asses. At the current rate we’re going one of us is going to lose an engine in the middle of the race big time. I don’t know about Beth, Sam, and Jim but I can tell you that I don’t like playing Russian Roulette at one-eight plus.” Bobbie sighed.

“Your father and I don’t like it either. This sport is dangerous enough as is. Having dodgy equipment under you kids doesn’t make us feel any better. I’ve already told your father to stash that cracked block. I promise you that I will get to the bottom of this damned problem.” Jewels grinned wickedly. “Even if I have to go behind the backs of the COWWs.”

“COWS?” Sue asked in confusion. “Who are the COWWs?”

“Crazy Old White Women.” Bobbie explained with a snarky smile causing Sue to sputtered at the explanation. “I know it’s not very PC but to hell with that shit. Besides the granddames know how we feel about them.”

“You actually call the granddames of Mercedes-Benz Crazy Old White Women?” Sue asked her in total disbelief. “And they know about it?!”

“Yup sure do. I think they find it funny.” Bobbie told her with the same snarky smile. “I do know that they hired your mother so didn’t have to deal with our teams. I mean I had to arrange etiquette lessons for Jim, Sam, and their fiancées before their first meet-n-greets. The granddames know that we’re a bunch of unruly rednecks that get the job done. The best way to let us do that is to get out of our way and find us a mouthpiece that can deal with the public and corporate bullshit.”

“Hence my mother. Damn, they maybe a pain in your ass but they’re crazy. Crazy like foxes.” Sue chuckled. “No wonder you call them COWWs.”

“Bobbie you need to finish getting ready. We have the fan walk in twenty minutes. After that Driver Introduction at two. With the prerace ceremonies at two-fifteen, and the roll-off at two-twenty-five. If everything goes right the green flag drop at two-thirty.” Jewels told her bluntly as she read off the day’s itinerary. There was one event that she skipped over. The prerace inspection. She wanted to keep Bobbie out of the garage and her husband’s team’s way.

“Okay mom I get the hint. Stay out of the garage and away from dad’s crew if I want to race.” Bobbie answered snidely before taking a deep breath to calm herself at the look Jewels gave her. After she let it out Bobbie looked her mother in the eyes. “I get it. For now, I need to keep my cool and let dad do his job. When the flag drops I do my job. Only today I need to step up my game.”

“That is where you’re wrong Roberta. Speed is but one clue to winning at the Brickyard. Control is the second. Patience is the third key. Now tell me what is the last final and last key to winning here at the Brickyard?” Jewels asked Bobbie forcing her to play their old game.

“Knowledge of the track.” Bobbie answered without thinking.

“Start line to finish. Take me through one full lap.” Jewels ordered. “Get me a full Stockcar start. Two lines.”

“Inner or outer lain?” Bobbie asked.

“Your on the pole, inside line. GO!” Jewels countered with a smile.

“It’s a relatively flat track by American standards. Due mainly to the way it was first constructed and the fact that it is one of the oldest operating tracks in America. The track is two-and-half-mile-long rectangular oval with dimensions that have remained essentially unchanged since its construction. It has two five-eighths mile-long straightaways, four geometrically identical quarter mile turns, connected by two one-eighth-mile short straightaways, termed ‘short chutes’, between turns one and two, and between turns three and four.” Bobbie closed her eye as she talked about the track to better see it in her mind. “We come off turn four onto the front straightaway. The start/finish line is point three tenths of a mile from this point marked by the three-yard-wide stipe of bricks. We hit turn one at the end of the front straightaway. All four turns have a nine-degree banking. Unlike the straightaways of which there are four. Two short straightaways at point one-two-five miles long. The two long straightaways are the front and back straightaways at point six miles long. The five most dangerous times of the race will be in the seconds that we exit each turn and crossing the bricks. To win will take all four elements, plus a massive amount of luck. From the drop of the green flag, I’ll be at a massive disadvantage starting from the back of the pack.”

“Very good, Roberta. Now tell me how you get around this disadvantage.” Jewels ordered her with a smile.

“There is only one way around this disadvantage. The pit stops. I’ll have to shave as much possible time off each stop. All without breaking pit road speed.” Bobbie grunted then chuckled. “And a few other damned rules.”

“Good. You got your fucking head back in the game. Go get dressed.” Jewels said pointing towards the back of Bobbie’s bus.

Pit Road; Race Time 02:30

I slide through the window of my car with Danny’s help and into my seat. We’re running fifteen minutes behind thanks to a long-winded preacher giving the Invocation today. As I put in my earbuds I went ahead and keyed up my race mix for today then hit play on my iPod. Once I had my Nomex hood and helmet on I pulled on my gloves. As I was putting my helmet on Danny did up the safety netting to my window. Once again I send up a silent prayer that I won’t need to use a signal the ISR Officials that I’m alright following a wreck. With the net up and my helmet on Danny headed for the pit road wall.

“DRIVERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!” The second I heard those four words I flipped the battery switches and smashed the starter button. The V-8 roared to life. I looked out the windshield at the six cars in front of me. As the sounds of Iron Maiden’s Aces High filled my ears we rolled off pit road. I had to chuckle. I keyed my radio.

“Kathy when you get the chance kick Joey in the butt. He’s this week’s winner for the Screw with Bobbie’s iPod Challenge this week. While you’re during that find out how the sneaky little twit did it.”

“Mom gave me the key before I came to the track this morning.” Joey radioed back.

“That was going over the line little brother. I don’t care if it was to win the challenge. When I get done with this race I’m kicking your sorry little butt.” I snarled over the radio at him. Only to hear the rest of our team spotters laugh. When Aces High was replaced by Metallica’s by Dairy of a Mad Man just as the green flag dropped. The race was on, and I went to work.

I shift into fourth gear by the time the field had reached turn 1. This race wasn’t going to be our normal 450-500 miles long. Today’s race was all about endurance more than any other. Today’s race is 600 miles long and take more than 4 hours to run from start to finish. I’ll need my music more than ever today if I’m to win. The one good thing about today’s race is NASCAR stepped in an forced the used of restrictor plates on the engines. I know that won’t matter much in pack racing. But there are just somethings that you don’t take chances with and speeds over 190 is near the top of that list.

We were already pushing 189.9mph on the back straightaway and we hadn’t completed the first lap. When we came down off turn 4 onto the front straightaway I realized that this was going to be one of the fastest 600s on record. We got 239 laps to go. “Oh man is today going to be a long day.”

“Still in Speedy. Today is all about who can last the longest.” My father told over the radio. “Remember we got a competition yellow on lap thirty. With segment stops on laps sixty, one-twenty, and one-eighty. Play the long game kid. Remember we don’t need today’s win. You’re still first in the driver’s chase, with Beth, right behind you. You got Jim and Sam tied in third place. MRI holds first place in the Manufacturer’s Race with a twenty-one-point lead.”

Dad was right I need to calm down and play the long game. I don’t have to win today. I just have to finish the race in the top 10. I got 239 laps to get there. I may not have the best car out here today, but I got the best team. It will be my team that makes all the difference in the race today. My friends on the pit crew. Mom, dad, and Kathy on top of the pit box. Kathy and the other spotters looking down on the race from on high. It would be all of them that will win the race for me today.

We had just completed lap 7 when my first break came. The inside car on row 12 blew its engine on the short chute between turns 1 and 2. As it pulled down onto the apron and we passed I got a look at the car’s number. Kathy confirmed what I saw before we even got the yellow flag. “Bobbie that was Oscar Johnson from Reynolds Racing. The wrecker is already rolling. The officials are debating on opening pit road after the next lap.”

I made a fast decision and keyed my mike. “I won’t be coming in, Kathy. I can use the yellow flag laps to move up in the field.”

“Don’t be stupid Speedy. If they open pit road your bring that beast in. Understand?” Chief Hailee ordered me over the radio.

“No Chief I don’t. If I stay out I can pick up seven to ten spots easily. If not more.” I know that I was bucking Chief Hailee, but I could already see a trend forming in the race lanes of the track. “Let me stay out.”

“What are you seeing kiddo?” Mom asked quickly cutting off Chief Hailee.

“I don’t know yet mom, but there’s a trend forming in the lanes.” I answered quickly. “One that just might give me an edge for passing.”

“How big of an edge and where?” Chief Hailee asked next.

“That’s just it Chief. I need more time on the track at slower speeds to figure that out. The yellow flag laps show be enough.” I told him honestly.

“Bobbie do you think that five yellow flag laps would be enough?” Dad asked next.

“Honestly I don’t know. That’s why I want to stay out if they open pit road.” I knew that I was gambling but sometimes you have to gamble in racing.

“Stay out Bobbie. I’ll back your play.” Dad told me. “Besides it’s my fault that you’re in last place. I should have doubled checked those new engine blocks back home at the shop before using them in the cars.”

“Not your fault dad. Talk to mom. She’s got a theory for why we’re blowing engines or cracking the blocks.” I radioed backed.

“You’re only going to get three laps Bobbie. The officials have decided to wait until the competition yellow for the first pit stop.” Kathy reported over the radio.

“Damn. Not good. Speedy you better figure out that passing lane as fast as you can. Because I just got a report from Beth and the others. It’s not good.” Mom told me.

“How bad is it mom?” I asked quickly.

“It’ll take all four of you running as a team in the draft to take home the win. That’s the good news. The bad news is the other teams have already figure that little tidbit of information out. They’re actively blocking Beth and the boys. Keeping them from hooking up. The only one they’re not blocking or looking for is you.” Mom told me with a nasty chuckle in her voice. “You know what to do baby girl. Run this race the way you want.”

That was all I needed to hear. Five laps later the green flag was dropped, and we were back to racing. There had been only one hiccup in my plan to stay out during the yellow flag laps. The rest of the teams had stayed out as well. With no way of gaining a few positions I could only wait until the green flag. I did figure out what I needed about the passing though.

With a snarl in my voice, I radioed Kathy. “Time to turn this beast lose. Call ‘em out as I pass ‘em Kathy.”

“Okay Bobbie. You’re in currently in thirty-nineth. On the inside. You got Nazarova Grigorievna and Koychev Fyodorovich right in front of you. Both of them are F-one drivers and know this track. After that you got a mix of driver styles covering every field there is through the next twelve rows. With Stockcar drivers taking up half of those spots. You got the advantage here. Now take them one row at a time. You know how Grigorievna and Fyodorovich drive. Take ‘em on the outside of turn three and crossing the short chute.”

Over the next 24 laps between Kathy’s direction and the speed of my car I was able to advance 9 positions. When the competition yellow came I held the 30th position. Mostly to Kathy’s hard work and her ability to see what I couldn’t see at 189 mph. As we pulled onto pit road on lap 32 I thanked the gods and demons of speed that when I qualified I was the third fastest. This allowed to me to pick my pit stall. For once I let mom talk me into taking one of the stalls near the middle.

The second I slid to a stop in my box I turn my eyes to the one thing most pit crews didn’t have, the pit box stopwatch. At 0.01 I watch as my pit crew cleared the inner wall. Danny, my jackman runs around to the right side of the car. Before I know what’s going on he has the car in the air. Even as he is raising the car off the ground I hear the scream of Casey, and Sherry’s air guns. I feel Greg slam the first of two gas cans home at the left rear corner panel fuel port. Joseph and Will bust their asses with the carrying the replacement tires. I felt the right-side slam down at 6.14 seconds as Will ripped the first of ten tearaways from the front windshield. At 6.48 seconds I feel the left side of my car bounce into the air. The scream from the girls’ air guns is load enough to drown out the low rumble from the engine in idle. I shift into 1st gear as the clock hit 13.25 seconds and Danny drops the right side of the car. As I left my pit stall I took one last look at the time.

I keyed my mike as I passed cars still in their boxes that had stopped before me. “Nice going team. That was a world record pit stop at thirteen-point-four seconds. You just got me six spots on the rest of the field. I couldn’t have asked for more. Thank you. Now I got to show what I can do with the edge you gave me.”

“Listen up Bobbie. I gave you two pounds in the left side tires. That should give you more grip in the turns. I need you to talk to me over the next fifteen laps.” Chief Hailee called out over the radio.

“Copy that Chief. I’ll do my best. Right now, I got my hands full. This race is a long way from being over.” I radioed back as I pulled onto the track. As we lined up to restart the race Kathy let me know that I was now in thirty-first. I still had twenty-two positions to go before breaking into the top ten. Not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination. I knew that I would need all my skill, and luck to pull off a top ten finish.

“Bobbie when the green flag drops push for the inside line hard and stay there. Hug the apron for as long as you can.” Kathy called out.

“Copy that Kathy. What are you seeing?” I asked her.

“The inside line has a tighter, faster grip than the outside line. You should be able to pick up at least four to five positions over the next four laps. Push for a three wide race for as long as possible.” Kathy told me. Over the last three years I have learned to trust her intuition about tracks under race conditions. Of the four spotters on team MRI only her mother Coach Hall was better.

When the green flag lap dropped on lap 35 I dropped down to the apron. I was expecting to be all alone, but I had company. Three other cars behind joined me on the apron. Before I knew it the four of us were running three wide with half the field. From position fifteen going back the field was racing three wide and I now sat in fifteenth position nearest the apron.

The fourteen cars in front of us were running two wide, nose to tail. One wrong move and there would be a shit storm of a wreck. Screw the ‘big one’ a wreck right now would take out half the field. If not more. Talk about pucker factors running high. I think I felt my ass suck up my seat cushion. The longer we ran this way the greater our chances of wrecking. Something need to give and give soon. I kept praying for an opening to get around the cars in front of us, but they stayed tied together side-by-side. Leaving me no way around. The dirty rotten bastards.

Thankfully the gods of speed heard my prayers. We finished the first stage under green flag conditions. When the green/white checkered flag flew on lap 60 I breathed a sigh of relief. Now we just needed to reach lap 120 without further mishaps. It doesn’t matter. I know there will be yellow flags thrown over the next 60 laps. They’ll be for everything from blown tires, single car wrecks, debris on the track, and everything in between. I just don’t want one thrown for a multi car wreck. If there is one I don’t want to be in it. Under the competition yellow flag at the end the first stage the field rolled onto pit row on lap 61.

Even as I was pulling into my pit stall. I could tell that my team was going to turn in another record-breaking time. There was a visible aura of speed and victory surrounding them. The second I stopped they cleared the wall. Even before the right side was off the ground the air guns were screaming and fuel was pouring into the tank. I looked up at the pit clock when I felt the car slam down on the right side. I had to do a double take at the time. IF they kept up this rate I would leave my pit at with another 13 second pit stop. I looked over the pit clock a second time as Danny dropped the driver’s side of the car. AS I pulled away I couldn’t believe what I saw, 12.93 seconds. A record breaker.

When we lined up for the restart Kathy told me that I had moved up to 12th place. Talk about up moving up through the pack. I only had one problem. Beth, Sam, and Joe were all back in the twenties. All three were plagued by problems on their last pitstops. For Sam it was a case of a jammed air gun, Joe had a tire roll wrong, and Beth had a jack failure. Once again I was on my own.

As the field roll off turn 4 and into the restart zone the sounds of Ozzy Osborne’s Crazy Train fills my ears. A slow nasty grin comes to my lips. If my mother saw my face. She would be screaming for me not to do something stupid. Not that it would stop me at this point in the race. I was in 12th position and on the outside of row 6 near the front of the field. I also had a massive advantage over the ten cars in front of me. Kathy had spotted something about the outside edge near the outer wall. Over the last sixty-four laps a four line of attack had slowly appeared.

The green flag dropped, and we were back to racing. “GO HIGH BOBBIE AND STAY THERE!”

I didn’t even think twice about following Kathy’s order. Before I know it I was side-by-side in third position on the outside nearest the wall going three-wide into turn 1 at over 180mph. The fucked part was the rest of the field had gone three wide behind us. Talk about pucker factors reaching an all time high. If we keep this up someone asshole is going to wreck. I just hope like hell they don’t take out the rest of my team with them. As we crossover the short chute into turn 2 I let the notes of Crazy train take me away.

There is only me, the music, and my car now. The rest of the world has fallen away. I can hear Kathy over the radio as she fills me in on the rest of the field. She warns me of potential threats from other drivers. The side draft from the second-place car is screwing with my speed. If is could just get ahead of them. I know that I would take over first-place and the lead. Then it happened on lap 89. Just before our pit window. I had a feeling about the reason for the wreck.

“YELLOW FLAG BOBBIE! HIT THE BREAKS! BACK OF THE FIELD! Kuno Junzo and Nathan Watson tangled up at the rear of the field. It’s a bad one. Got sheet metal and rubber flying everywhere. Ah shit! Junzo’s radiator let go big time. The cute between three and four is covered in fluid. It’ll take the wrecker and cleaning crews at least four to five yellow laps to clean up this mess. Don’t be surprised if they throw the red flag once pit road is open.” Kathy warned me.

“Kathy did one of them blow a tire?” I asked her.

“How did you know? But you’re right. Watson blew a left front tire and turned down into Junzo on the exit to turn three.”

“Damn. I knew that I wasn’t imagining it. Chief Hailee before I come in check the old left front tires. I got a nasty feeling that the left side tires are wearing out faster the right sides.” I called out over the radio.

“Already on it Bobbie. The second Junzo spun down like that. How did you know it was a blown tire?” Chief Hailee asked quickly.

“Got feeling as always, Chief Hailee. We both know that this track will eat tires like crazy. I got a feeling that our pit window is going to be a lot tighter than we first thought. Closer to thirty laps than thirty-five laps. Not because of fuel millage but tires. We’re going to go through them like crazy today. Especially at the speeds we’re running today.” I told him.

When pit road finally opened on lap 92 the whole field headed down for fresh tires and fuel. As I entered my pit box I had a mile wide grin. I knew this time I would be the first off pit road. That’s when all hell broke lose and my luck went into the crapper. The left side tires blew and dropped my car on the pavement three pit boxes from my own. I was grinding the left side under carriage as I pulled to a stop in my pit box. Sparks were flying everywhere. The next thing I knew I had a fire in my engine compartment in my pit box of all places.

With fire blazing out from under the hood. I killed the engine and dropped my window net. My pit crew went from servicing my car to fighting a pit bow fire. Danny, Sherry, and Casey helped drag me out of the car and away from the fire. Meanwhile Greg, Joseph, and Will came over the wall with extinguishers. I can feel the heat coming off the car from five feet away as the gang pulls me over the pit wall. Once on the other side I stood there watching my race come to an end. I as turned and hugged by mom then dad. I still had my helmet on so that made things a little awkward. Though once I had it and my gloves off I got hugged again. Only this time it was Kelly giving the hug. Of all the ways that racecar drivers can die. Death by fire is the one that we all fear the most.

I heard the firetruck pull up and their heavy-duty fire extinguishers blasting my car. If they were breaking those out. Then the fire was close to being out of control. Not something you want on pit road. When I looked back at my pit stall I saw that the stalls in front and behind were empty. The ISA officials having cleared them and their cars away from the fire.

“Don’t worry Bobbie. Once the fire is out. I find out what happened.” Dad reassured me as he studied the car and fire.

“You can start with the break lines and oil pan dad. I got a feeling that the one of them let go during the slide. The heat off the breaks or a spark ignited them. I know that you guys do you best taking care of the cars. You had to trade out the busted block on short notice this morning. I don’t know of anyone who could have pulled that off as fast as you and the guys. This is nothing more than bad luck.” I grossed then snorted. “At least it wasn’t on the track.”

“True but this will put us under the red flag for at least half an hour. No way around it. At least most of the field were able to get clear of their pit stalls before your car broke into flames. Their stopping all of the cars on the back straightaway for safety reasons. Once they give the all clear they’ll bring everyone down onto pit road for full pit stops and safety checks.” Chief Hailee said as he join me and my family.

“How bad was the fire Chief?” I asked him.

“The car is a total write off. For safety reasons we’ll need a wrecker to tow from the pit to the garage. We got lucky that the fuel tank didn’t blow on us.” The more Chief Hailee informed me about the car the more I wanted to puke.

“At least the rest of the team still has a chance at a win.” I said hopefully.

“Your mouth to god’s ear.” Kelly quipped. “Let’s go watch the rest of the race in the bus love. You can explain what’s going to Sam. She’ll understand it better coming from you.”

-----tbc-----

It has taken me a few months to return to my favorite race team but now that I have I'll been finishing the story.

---

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.

---

Chapter 20
Park Inn Hotel, Berlin, Germany: two weeks later

Bobbie, Beth, Sam, Jim, and their Crew Chiefs sat at the end of the table in the Hotel conference room. They were not happy. After having a total nine blown engines over the last three races MRI have lost several positions in the Drivers Championship and Manufacturers Championship. This alone was enough to piss them off, but it was the pit fire that finally broke the straw. A fire that was traced back to a cracked engine block leaking oil. At the other end of the table sat the senior Engine Design Engineers for Mercedes-Benz. In between them the owners of Mercedes-Benz and their wives. Needless to say, that the tension in the room was unmistakable.

Before she left her room Kelly double checked Bobbie to make sure she wasn’t carrying a heavy torque wrench or other blunt object. Bobbie wasn’t the only driver to be searched by her spouse. Though in Beth’s case it was rather redundant as Tony was a walking talking weapon in his own right. Tony ‘The Tigger’ Towers was a former MMA champion for the light heavyweight division. The young man could bring the pain in more ways than one all on his own. The fact that Tony was standing directly behind Beth wasn’t lost on the owners. The woman who had arranged this meeting sat in the middle of the tables. It was her job today to try and keep things civil.

“Now that were are all here Ladies and gentlemen I’ll begin the meeting. First I shall set down the ground rules for this meeting.” Julie Manner began only to have Bobbie interrupt her with a snarl.

“You can screw the rules Julie. I only need five minutes alone with those fuckheads. Their fucked-up engine design has cost me and my team one too many races this season already. Not to mention points in the Championship races.” Bobbie’s very blunt outburst caused Julie to sigh and the owners to cringe.

“Bobbie please calm down. We’re here today to try and work things out in a civilized manner. Now as I was saying there will be a set of ground rules for this meeting.” Julie snarled then looked over at the engineers. “They will be followed. The first of which gentlemen. You will hear out the MRI design and engineering team.”

“We have no reason to listen to the unfounded accusations from a group of uneducated American grease monkeys. There is absolutely nothing wrong with those engines.” The head designer snapped accusingly as he looked at Jewels and Robert McGuire. “If anyone is to blame for the failures of those engines. It is the drivers.”

“Shut it fuckface. We have the x-rays, ultrasounds, and the results from the analyses for magnetic flux gradient wear to back up our claims. The design of those engine blocks is faulty. Right now, I’m very tempted to let my drivers express their displeasure with the design. We warned you that there was a possible problem at the start of the season. We expressed our concerns over the engine block design clear back at Pocono. You have repeatedly ignored our concerns. Going so far as to endanger the lives of our drivers.” Bob McGuire snarled only staying in his chair because Jewels had a grip on his shoulder.

“Herr McGuire there is nothing wrong with the design. We tested those engine designs on our track with our own cars.” The Head Designer countered snidely.

“Did you use production line model cars for those testes?” Bobbie asked quickly.

“Ja. That is our normal procedure Frau McGuire. Why do you asked?” The man was clearly upset at having their testing protocols questioned by a driver.

“You stupid fucking assholes!” Bobbie screamed. “The cars we drive are nothing like the production models! We reach and maintain speeds that your production model never will. You can’t treat the engines we use the same way! Stockcar is only a designation not an actual qualification you fuckheads!”

“Das macht absolut keinen Sinn.” The man grunted. “A stock car is a stock car. You take a car off the showroom floor und race it.”

“That is where you’re wrong dumbass!” Bob snarled. “What we race on the track has absolutely nothing in common with a production line car. We build the cars from the frame up. They're custom built for the drivers within the standards of the ISA regulations. The only thing that those cars have even remotely in common with the production models is the Mercedes-Benz badge on the front grill.”

“This is why we have been pushing to build the engines at our own shop. Using our own fabrication methods. You cannot use the same engines you put in a production line car that you do for racing.” Jewels explained for the designers and engineers. She looked over at the granddames for Mercedes-Benz. “Do you understand now Ladies?”

“I do believe that you have made your point Jewels. Though I can tell from the look on Herr Reinhart’s face he still doesn’t understand.” Julie pointed out as she glared at the senior engineer. “You have something say in your defense sir?”

“Ja. The complaints from MRI are without merit. None of the engines that we designed und they used during Formula One racing had such problems. Why would they need a totally sperate design for Stockcar racing?” Reinhart demanded.

“Because Stockcar racing is a totally deferent animal you stupid son-of-bitch.” Tony snapped as he started to walk around the table. Only to be stopped by Julie.

“Mr. Towers there is no need for violence. Please remain with your wife. I believe that we can still come to a peaceful resolution.” Julie told him hoping to keep the very deadly young from beating the shit out of the design team and engineers. When Tony backed down and returned to standing behind Beth, Julie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Tony. Herr Reinhart I suggest you adjust your thinking. Because I can assure you that Herr Towers has no problem with violence. Especially when it comes to protecting his wife and his family. You’re belief that Formula One and Stockcar racing are the same is flawed.”

“Warum sagen Sie das? We have designed race car engines for years. There should be no deference between the two sports.” Reinhart demanded.

“First off let’s talk about the seventeen-thousand-pound deference in weight you fucking moron.” Beth yelled. At the sudden looks of realization Beth sneered. “That’s right you shitheads. A stock car weighs more than half a ton heavier than the average F-One car currently on the circuit.”

“Then there is the speed differences. Unlike in Formula One we run at speeds of one-eighty plus nonstop for laps at a time. In Formula One our speeds fluctuate. The engines never hold the same revs for any great length of time. This is due to the need to handle the tight corners of Formula One tracks. Stockcar tracks are designed for one purpose speed.” Jim pointed out angerly.

“Another point is the style of racing. Most Stockcar racing is done in packs. Usually side-by-side. When we race we have to take in how the draft affects our cars. If you think that only Formula One cars are aerodynamic designed. You would be wrong. Each and every car on our tracks is a miracle of aerodynamic design. Then there is the down force we have to contend with. It beats down on our cars like a sledgehammer. Not just in the turns but the straightaways as well.” Sam grunted.

“Don’t forget about the g-forces we deal within inside the car itself during the race. We run marathon races compared to Formula One drivers. Just like our cars. We have to plan for races that last between four to six-hundred miles and two to three hours long. Unlike Formula One races that are no more than two hours and a hundred-and-ninety miles long. We race longer, and harder than any Formula One driver and car. Our races are usually two to three times longer.” Beth snarled.

Bobbie could tell that they were finally getting through to the designers and the engineering team. Julie sat still not saying a word as the drivers were able to drive home the point that she had failed to do over the few months. Nothing she had done or said to these men had gotten them to change their attitudes towards the needs of the Stockcar teams. Julie had even threaten to have them fired. At least that was what she thought. Reinhart had to have the last say as usual. The man just refused to see or believe that he and his team were wrong.

“That is nothing more than Blödsinn! You just need to adjust your driving to accept the limitations of the engine designs.” Reinhart sneered. “That problem is not in our design but the way that the drivers handle their cars. None of the Formula One drivers have had this problem with their engines.”

“You don’t get it. Even with the experts right here in front of you.” Julie snapped as she pounded her fist in frustration. “We’re not dealing with Formula One cars or racing. This is Stockcar racing you damned fools. They know what they need in their engines. Mrs. McGuire has sent you numerous emails explaining to you the needed design changes. Yet you have continuously ignored her and her husband. Both of whom are recognized experts in the field of racing. In more than just Stockcar racing. I have tired to explain to you the differences. Yet you seem to think that they and I have nothing to offer in the design of the engines and transmissions. I have threatened to fire you and you still ignored me and them.”

“Excuse me Julie, but are you saying that these men have ignored a Vice President of this company?” Mrs. Maybach demanded of Julie.

“On more than one occasion Frau Maybach. The one time that I did fire these shitheads they went to your husband complaining of unfair treatment by an emotional woman.” You could almost see the quotation marks surrounding emotional woman Julie answered her bluntly. “Instead of coming to me he rehired the fools.”

“That will not be happening again.” Mr. Maybach snapped as he looked over at the engineers and designers. “You are all fired. Your offices will be cleaned out by our Security and your personal items will be sent to your homes. Get out of my sight you gods be damned fools. I don’t even want to think about the amount of money you have cost this company.”

“Jewels what do you need from our company?” Mrs. Mercedes asked of Jewels McGuire.

“Just let Julie do her job. Then leave us the fuck alone to win races. With a good deal of luck, we might be able to bounce back from this latest fucking debacle in Indianapolis. We could have avoided the situation that we’re currently in if those shitheads had paid attention to the information that me and my husband sent them. As it stands now this team will need top five finishes here, Lausitzring, and Mosco if we’re to regain any positions in the Championship races.” Jewels snarled.

“That is three races. How could you have fallen so far out of the standings?” Asked a very shocked Mrs. Jellinek.

“With four DNF’s from the last race. That’s how, Frau Jellinek. NINE! I REPEAT NINE! Blown engine blocks in under four-hundred fucking miles. Those damned engines didn’t even last the standard four-hundred miles for one God damned race! Let alone the six-hundred miles that we were promised by those fuckheads!” Bobbie yelled just before she came out of her seat. “Mine let go in the fucking pits and caught fire! I was lucky to have it happen where it did! If I had lost that engine on the track. I could have burn to fucking death before the fire crews got to me!”

It took Bob, and the four Crew Chiefs to stop Bobbie. She was going to vent her fear, anger, and frustration over what happen at the last on the heads of the designers and engineers. Bobbie want her pound of flesh and she was going to get it. This was the second time in her racing carrier she had been way too close to a fiery death. This time though it would have been her death.

Only Kelley McGuire, and the other drivers understood Bobbie’s desire for bloody revenge better than those gathered in the conference room. Kelly held Bobbie as the shakes hit her in the bus following the pit fire. Bobbie’s shakes were so bad the poor Sue thought she would have to call the track medics at one point. If it hadn’t been for Jewels just as Sue was exiting the bus Bobbie would have been on her way to the nearest hospital. Once Bobbie had her nerves under control the anger came. Only it was more like a blind rage. Bobbie’s quarters were going to need extensive repairs after her little outburst.

“Roberta Lee McGuire you will sit back down right now!” Jewels snapped as she saw the designers and engineers back toward the door. Jewels could understand her youngest daughter’s rage. The problem was this was not the time or place for that anger to be vented. Once order had been restored Jewels turn her attention back to the owners of Mercedes-Benz. “From now on we will be fabricating everything from scratch out of our facilities in South Carolina. That means from ground up. To include the engines. Seeing as how the corporate designers and engineers cannot see fit to meet the needed standards for Stockcar racing.”

“Agreed Jewels. If we had but known of the circumstances your teams have been laboring under. We would have stepped in weeks ago.” Mrs. Maybach sighed then looked over at Julie. “Julie this is what we hired you to handle. Why didn’t you fix this problem before it came to such a head?”

“Talk to your husbands, Frau Maybach. Every time I have tried to exercise my control in the pursuit of my duties. They would step in and overrule me. I either have complete control over the Stockcar racing division or I quite. I will not have your husbands interfering with the way I run the division again. I have earned the trust of the drivers and their teams. You ladies and your husbands are barely tolerated in their garage areas. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard the drivers comment about you walking through their garages.” Julie almost growled as she stood up.

“My daughter who works for the McGuires has reported that the stress levels which are already high on race days rise to dangerous levels because your presents in the garage areas. Before you question Sue’s qualifications to make such assessments I advise you don’t. Sue graduated at the top of her class and is a fully licensed Psychiatric and Pediatric Nurse. She was trained to spot the signs of extreme stress in her patients. She may be new to Stockcar racing having been to just one major race. It was enough for her to spot all of the extreme stressors.” Julie did snarl this time as she glared at the granddames. “Right now, I’m looking at the four biggest of those stressors ladies. The only one that is greater is a lack of faith in their equipment. Which they have had for the last few months.”

“That will no longer be an issue Julie. You have our word on that matter. Jewels build your engines the way you need to build them.” Mr. Maybach ordered Jewels McGuire then turned to his wife. “You and the others will stay out of the garage areas unless you are invited by Julie. If you want to talk with the drivers you will go through her and no one else. Understood?”

“As for our design and engineering team or anyone else getting in your way Julie. That will no longer happen. When you were hired you were promised total control over that division of our company. You will have it, and more. You hire who you want, purchase what you need, do whatever it takes to get the job done.” Mr. Mercedes told her bluntly as he stood up. He grabbed his wife as he did so and pulled her to her feet. “Time to go dear. Handle this matter Julie. Get our teams back on track to a winning season.”

With that the rest of the owners and their wives left the room. Leaving Julie to finish dealing with MRI and the former designers. She looked over at them and snarled. “What are you still doing here? You’re fired! Now get out!”

As the eight men left the room the tension finally broke. Bobbie and the other drivers breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Julie looked over at Jewels and Bob relieves to see that she wasn’t the only one relaxing now that meeting was over. All three had sat down the day before to discuss the problematic nature of the meeting in the first place. They all understood that Bobbie was going to be their biggest problem child. The pit fire had set her on edge in ways they had not seen in over two years for a few days following the race. The fact that Bobbie’s infamous temper flared during the meeting was not lost them.

“Bob, Jewels, are your teams and cars ready to race this weekend?” Julie asked politely as she eyed Bobbie and the other drivers.

“We’re ready. We replaced the engines and transmissions with ones from our shop at home before leaving. If we didn’t Bobbie was threating to use her favorite wrench on her father first then me.” Jewels snarked as she glanced at Bobbie.

“Well, you now have full control over everything. As it should have been from the start. I still don’t understand why they demanded control over the engine and transmission fabrications. Those fools have no idea of the requirements needed for race cars by their drivers.” Julie sighed. “Now I just have to find their replacements. Any ideas of who I should talk to outside of yourselves?”

“There are a few designers and engineers out there Julie. Though you would be hard pressed to find any better than my parents.” Beth told her.

“Beth as much as I would love to have your parents designing and engineering for the whole racing division that’s not possible. They have their hands full just covering what your team needs. I need full time designers for the other fields in which we have racing teams. That is what I have to fix.” Julie explained for Beth. Only to hear a soft chuckle from Bob and Jewels. “What have I missed?”

“Bobbie who designed the current engine in your cars?” Bob asked instead of answering Julie outright.

“You know it was a join design between the four of us drivers dad. You and mom were busy with that Enduro engine redesign for Toyota. David and Tonya were busy with designing that drift car for Toby Henderson. Steve and Jacky had they’re hands full with designing that new Mark Stanly rally car build. I still haven’t figured out what Bill and Marsha were up to in their office.” Bobbie told him.

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me that you have an entire design team back at you home offices in South Carolina?” Julie asked in surprise.

“Julie you really need to spend some time at the MRI facilities in Darlington. Over the last three years MRI has gone from a small family run operation. To one of the largest automotive racing design firms in the US. We currently have one two-person design team for eleven deferent automotive sports. We cover everything. That includes F-one, Indycar, F-two and three, GP-two series, Formula Renault, Endurance, Touring, Drift, Rally, and of course Stock car. If you want a new design and you don’t want the competition to know what you’re up to, you come to MRI.” Tony answered her with a chuckle. “It used to be just Jewels and Bob in the design and engineering shop. Now we have twenty-five designers and engineers.”

“Holy shit! I knew that the MRI had become a major player in Formula One and Stockcar racing. I didn’t know they had their hands in all of those other fields. Just how massive is your operation?” Julie asked with a directness that surprised the gathered members of MRI.

“Let’s just say that we’re not the mom and pop from three year ago. Between what Jewels and I have reinvested in the company with what the girls have invested in the family company. We’re now one of the largest employers in Darlington. We’re not only a racing firm.” Bob told her with pride.

“We’re also a trade and training school for pit crews. It may not seem like a viable carrier for most people, but there are a lot of great athletes that don’t get the needed exposure to gain college scholarships. Then there is the kids like Sam and Jim. They spend their time bending wrenches learning a trade because their chances of going to college are slim to none. We take that raw talent and hone it to a razor’s edge. They learn everything from fabrication to basic design.” Chief Hailee explained for Julie about the other half of MRI.

“It looks like I need to take that trip to Darlington before we head for Mosco. How many of your designers are willing to work with other teams?” Julie asked Jewels.

“All of them. Our design firm takes commission work all the time. Before you ask. We have one of the best security systems in the business. Just remember one thing. Our designers and engineers take the secrecy of their other very personally. They’ve been know to shoot people in the ass for being too nosey.” Bobbie chuckled as she looked over at her blushing mother.

“I only did that once. No need to bring ancient history Roberta.” Jewels grumbled.

“Now that is a story I would love to hear over cocktails sometime. Unfortunately, you all are needed down at the track. You have practice runs in four hours. If what I’ve heard is true about this track you’ll need it.” Jewels told them.

“What have you overheard Julie?” Beth asked her quickly.

“That this track is the Monster Mile on steroids. I don’t know what that means but I know that the driver who said it was a regular NASCAR driver until this year.” Julie explained for the team.

“Do you remember which driver made that crack?” Kelly asked as she pulled out her tablet. “I need his name please.”

“Robert Morgan for Thunder Valley. Does that help?” Julie answered as Kelly typed.

“In more ways than one. Robert ‘Mortician’ Morgan three seasons in the ARCA Menards Series. He has one win at Dover. Yup, if anyone would know about the Monster Mile it would be him. If he is comparing Berlin to Dover on steroids we have a problem.” Kelly looked over at Sam and Jim. “Okay guys. You two are the experts on Miles. How do we crack this mother? Because neither Bobbie nor Beth have raced Dover.”

“We don’t. I don’t care what Morgan says. If the German engineers supercharged the Monster Mile then it is a whole new ballgame. We can’t apply what we know about Dover to this track. As it stands right now the only thing we know about it are the specs. The track is a three-mile-long concrete oval, with twenty-four-degree banking in the turns and nine-degree banking on the straightaways. The track has a seating capacity of three-hundred-eighty thousand. Making it one of the largest spectator venues we’ll run at in Europe. The track is wide enough to race three way safely all the way around. On the inside is an apron that runs the full length of the track. On the outside is a thirty-foot tall catch fence to prevent debris from flying into the stands. Which by the way surround the whole track. We’re racing in a big, damned colosseum here Kelly. The only way to win is to race the track not the other cars. Even then luck is going to be the major factor in the race.” Jim answered for them both as Sam just nodded his head.

“Oh boy. Not good. I don’t like the idea of running three wide for four-hundred-fifty miles. There are way too many things that can go wrong.” Beth grunted.

“Beth this weekend’s race is five-hundred miles. I doubt that we’ll be running three wide for more than fifty laps at most.” Bobbie snorted only to have Jim and Sam sigh. “Okay what did I miss?”

“Bobbie think about the mindset for the other drivers. Every last one of them is thinking like a Stockcar driver now. Hell, you were right about a former Formula One driver taking the checkered flag win at Indianapolis. Still can believe that shithead Joseph Lachman actually took the win.” Sam grumbled.

“I told you that a Formula One driver would win at Indianapolis.” Bobbie chuckled. “They know that track way better than any of us. Only Beth and I had any real chance at beating them. If Beth hadn’t blown her engine on lap one-forty-four she would have chased down Lachman within five to seven laps. There is a reason they call him the Fly Squirrel. The man is a nutjob behind the wheel of a car. He is totally unpredictable. Not even I can figure out how that man thinks on the track. Once he was in the lead only Beth had a chance at beating him then.”

“Wait. Are you saying that Beth is the only person who can figure out what Lachman would do?” Jim demanded of Bobbie.

“Excuse me. I know that I’m the newest member to this organization but why would the former Formula One drivers have an edge at certain racetracks?” Julie asked.

“It all revolves around their training. More accurately the styles of driving that the individual drives trained for in their former sports. You see each driver trained to drive on certain types tracks. Stockcar drivers learn how to drive on circular tracks. Making them the best drivers on those types of tracks. Then there are tracks like Indianapolis. Sure, it’s a circular track but it feels more like a road course. The only banking that track has is in the four turns. That gives the edge to the drivers from the other racing fields.” Bob explained for Julie.

“I think I understand. Are at least I understand the concept. If not the practice. Tell me something Bob. How do you see the rest of the season playing out?” Julie asked him with a small smile of hope.

“It all depends on if we can get four of the top ten finishes over the next four races. Even then we need for Reynolds and Red Star to have a run of bad luck.” Bob answered honestly then gave Bobbie and Jim a death glare. “You two are not to help them with that bad luck. I don’t give a good god damn if you have legitimate beefs with some of their damned drivers.”

“Sorry boss, but if Abdulov Germanovich or Rokossovsky Aleskeevich get any where near me I’m putting their asses in the fucking wall.” Jim snarled.

“I’m with Jim on this dad. Bobby Parker, and Rosie John owe me not one but two fucking cars. I won’t even go into what those assholes over at Les Ailes de Justice owe this team. Six fucking cars and two wins. All because they were so far out of the Manufacturer’s Championship it was pathetic. Now we’re the ones that need the fucking wins to get back into the race.” Bobbie snarled.

“Excuse me but am I missing something?” Julie asked. She couldn’t believe the very unprofessional attitudes that Bobbie and the other drivers were showing.

“There are a few things that you need to understand about our team’s drivers mom. The first of which is they take being wrecked on purpose personally. Secondly they all and I do mean all hold grudges. You piss them off once shame on you. Because you won’t get a second chance.” Susan chuckled as the rest of the team laughed. “You really need to spend some time in the garage and pit area mom. I’ve only been with them for a few months but even I know how drivers think now.”

“Sue why are you here? Shouldn’t you be looking after the babies?” Julie asked her.

“Bobbie and Kelly wanted me here. I should say Kelly wanted me here. As for the babies they’re in the hotel nursery right now. As for why I’m here that was a little complicated for me to figure out. Now that I’ve seen the outcome of the meeting I know the reason. There was a very distinctive gap in understanding between the needs of the race teams and the corporation designers. Those eight jackasses felt that they were the only ones who know how to design an engine power planet for racing. They based this knowledge off of their understanding from Formula One and the other automotive engines they have designed in the past. When you add in their misconceptions about Stockcar racing. It was a recipe for disaster.” Sue explained with an ever-growing smile of pride.

“Still working on your education, I see dear. Are you planning on becoming a Doctor now?” Julie asked with pride.

“To be honest mom. I wasn’t until you introduced me to the McGuires. They in turn introduced me to someone special. Bobbie’s Psychiatrist, Doctor Sharron Kelly. She had a major impact on my ideas of what a psychiatrist should be and how they help their patients.” Sue told her mother as she thought about her meeting with Sharron.

“I can see that you time as a Nanny will have more of an impact that I believed.” She looked over at Kelly. “Thank you, Kelly.”

“I had nothing to do with her change in attitude. That all belongs to Doctor Sharron Kelly. That bitch is crazier then me or any of her patients.” Bobbie chuckled.

“No, she’s not Bobbie.” Jewels snarked. “She drives like someone who actually had a brain in her head that works. That’s way saner than you four nutjobs.”

“I take it that our drivers have a habit of driving above the speed limit when not on the racetrack.” Julie snarked as Bob, Jewels, and the Crew Chiefs just nodded their heads. Julie sighed then asked. “How many tickets to I need to fix?”

“None. They’ve been smart enough to keep their rat racing confined to the Darlington Knights’ racetrack for the last few years.” Bob grunted. Then looked around the room. “But your daughter is right about one thing Julie. You do need to spend time in the pits and garage areas. You’re in charge of the Racing Division for Mercedes-Benz. That covers a lot of territory. More than just the Stockcar teams.”

“What do you suggest?” Julie asked Bob bluntly.

“Spend time with each team. Start with us. Spend this week and next with us. Then move over to the F-One teams for their next two races. Keep doing this until you understand what each racing team needs.” Jewels explained. “Speaking of the garages. We need to get a move on. We start practice runs in one hour.”

“Bobbie you need to get your head in the game before we get there. I don’t care what happens. You’re the first one on the schedule. You’ll have just barely enough time to get changed and prepped for your runs. Jim you’re right behind her with Beth following you and Sam rolling off last. Before you bitch, fucking don’t. The ISA set the order for practice runs today.” Jewels told the team. To hear a round of ‘yes ma’am’s from the team.

Julie stood still as they filed out of the room. Only her daughter Sue remained in the room with her. “Tell me something Susan. In your opinion how sane are Bobbie and the other drivers for MRI?”

“Mom you got to understand something about race car drivers. They have to be just a little nuts to get behind the wheel of a three-thousand-pound race car. That applies to more than just Stockcar drivers. Even the Formula One drivers think the same way. They go out of their way to minimize the dangers, but they can’t account for everything. Wrecks happen all the time. Wrecks that can put a driver in the hospital or even the grave. Yet they go out there and put it all on the line. For most drivers racing is all they know. For Bobbie McGuire it is something else.” Sue told her mother with real honesty. “What that is I haven’t figured out yet.”

“I see. That does explain a lot about the attitudes of the drivers towards the old design and engineering team. They place their lives on the line and trust their trust in their equipment. If they can’t trust their equipment then they can’t trust their skills to keep them alive.” Julie sighed with real regret. “I should have stepped in after the second failed engine.”

“Mom you’re still getting the hang of this jig. You’re working off a major learning curve here. Right now, you’re barely pulling down a C-plus. You’re good at the public relations crap no doubt about that. It’s the technical and personnel aspects that you’re failing in. That’s why the McGuires invited you to visit the garages and pit areas. You need to see what they do up close and personal.” Sue explained for her mother then looked down at her watch. “It’s been fun mom, but I got to go pick up the McGuire twins and head for the track. Kelly will be waiting for us in Bobbie’s tour bus. I know it sounds crazy, but the babies seem to keep Kelly calm.”

“Why are you worried about keeping Kelly calm?” Julie asked.

“As a Medical Professional I’m worry about more than just the drivers, mom. After that pit road fire and two wrecks at Indy I’m worried about the whole team.” Sue explain for her mother. “That is the only reason why me and the twins are here. It took me talking my ass off to get Kelly to let me travel with the team this time.”

“Damn it. I want you honest opinion as a Medical Professional Sue. Do I need to start looking for substitute drivers?” Julie demanded of her daughter.

“I don’t believe so mom. You have to understand that they maybe pushing the edge, but they’re still professionals. They’ll do their jobs. The question is if the Crew Chiefs can regain the trust of the drivers.” Sue told her mother.

“I doubt that will be a problem Sue. I’m not the only one that needs to spend more time in the pits and garages. Before you say that I’m wrong think about something first. Just a few minutes ago those four drivers damn near came out of their chairs in defense of their Crew Chiefs. They barely had their rage under control. I truly believe that had if not Jewels and Robert McGuire been here. Those drivers would have skinned those men alive.” Julie pointed out for her daughter. “It will be that rage that drives those four young people to retake their positions as the top drivers in the Championship races. Nothing and no one will stop that from happening.”

“Care to expand on that theory mom?” Sue asked.

“While it is true that I haven’t spent much time around the teams in the pits and garage areas. I have spend time around the individual drivers. Each of them has one thing in common. The need to be the best.” Julie told her daughter.

“Do you think that will be enough to keep them going?” Sue doubtfully asked.

“Think of their individual driving talents. Then their individual personalities. You add those two components together with the pit crews’ need to redeem themselves in the eyes of their drivers. Nothing will stand in the way of those four drivers retaking the top four positions in the Drivers’ Championship race. With that the Manufactures’ Championship race. I may not know race cars Sue, but I do know people. It was the McGuire sisters that convinced me to take this job. I knew that I would need to know about them than what was in their bios. I talked with every driver I could at those damned meet-n-greets and sponsor parties that I could about the sisters. You want to know what I learned?” Julie smirked.

“Okay mom. What did you learn from the other drivers?” Sue sighed.

“Don’t get in their way when they’re on an unholy tear. Normally when they’re racing they’ll turn their cars into thirty-five-hundred-pound, two-hundred-mile an hour, sledgehammers then pound your ass into the wall. From what I gathered that was them playing nice. Piss them off and all bets are off. They came over from F-one with a nickname that fits their driving. The McGuire Furies.” Julie chuckled at the look of surprise on her daughter’s face. “They weren’t the only ones. Jim and Sam also have reputations and nicknames.”

“Do I even want to know?” Sue giggled.

“For your work you better. Nicknames have power and meaning in this sport. Jim earn the reputation for being a stone-cold driver with nerves of steel. It’s the reason other drivers call him Landslide Fields. Sam on the other hand is a pure emotional driver like Bobbie. Only Sam keeps his emotions under control and using them like fuel. Until someone pisses him. That’s the main reason the other drivers call him the Dragon. All those emotions come boiling out in a red-hot raging flame. Do you understand where I’m going Sue?” Julie asked her daughter.

“I believe so, mother. You’re telling me to do more than just study the drivers of MRI. I should instead study all of the drivers in the ISA. Along with all of the pit crew members. They have just as much invested in the race as the drivers.” Sue told her mother with a smile of understanding.

“Good girl. Now we both need to head down to the track.” Told her and picked up her briefcase and purse. Then with a small sigh Julie looked at the end of the table where MRI had sat. “Let’s hope that our drivers keep their cool.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, mom. We want them fired up, and ready to rock. We want them pushing their cars and skills to the limit. It’ll be the only way they can regain the lead in both Championships.” Sue pointed out to her mother.

“Then let us hope they show some restraint on the track.” Julie told her daughter. “Because if they don’t we’ll have a major problem on our hands.”

“That is where you’re wrong mom. We aren’t the ones with a problem. The other teams have the problem. Those four drivers are out for revenge, and nothing will stand in their way of getting it. They’re going to set every track between here and Darlington at the end of the season on fire. They will turn lose the demons under the hoods of their cars. Raising unholy hell in their passing.” Sue snarled as she thought about the two drivers she had the most exposure to Beth and Bobbie.

“How sure of this attitude are you Susan?” Julie asked her.

“As sure as my diploma reads Clemson University across the top. They’re still pissed over that mess with their engines. They’ve been handicapped for the last few weeks. You saw the looks on heir faces mom. They want vengeance for the screwups caused by those engineers and designers.” Sue told her mother with a heavy.

“Then let us pray that no one gets in their way.” Julie chuckled. “Because if they do. Those four will pound them into the wall.”

With that mother and daughter left the conference room. Sue to pick up the twin children of Bobbie and Kelly McGuire. Julie to head for the garage areas of the new Berlin racetrack. A racetrack that was already gaining a reputation for being as unpredictable as an Atlantic Category 5 hurricane and three times as nasty. Berlin’s Blitzkrieg superspeedway would live up to the hopes of its builders.

-----tbc-----

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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 21
Berlin Superspeedway, Berlin, Germany

I stood on the pit road wall looking out at the heavy overcast clouds and the three-mile-long concrete oval, with twenty-four-degree banking in the turns and nine-degree banking on the straightaways. When I first woke up this morning I was hoping for a clean run at the track. Beth Sam and Jim were standing just behind me. “It’s going to rain. Shit there goes our chances at finishing more than four-hundred miles with these new engines.”

“Look on the bright side. We’ll at least get some solid data on the way they handle under real race conditions.” Beth offered up as she looked towards the northeast and the clouds rolling over that end of the track. “But you’re right. I figure we’ll get seventy-five to eighty laps at most.”

“I doubt that we’ll get that many Beth. I’ve been looking at the weather radar. There is a heavy storm cell rolling in on us. Once it hits they’ll have to call the race. We’re talking a total washout of the track.” Jim snorted.

“I’m with Jim on this one Bobbie. I give us fifty laps before it starts to sprinkle. Then around lap sixty total down pour.” Sam grunted as he gave his prediction.

“Guys think about something here. We’re running nonrestricted engines here. We’ll be pushing the two-hundred mark for most of this race.” I told the two men. “We’ll cover the first fifty laps in no time. Even with the competition yellow on lap twenty-five we’ll still be pushing our fuel window. I figure that we’ll get around twenty-three solid laps before needing to pit for fuel and tires.”

“Not even that many if Chief Slone’s calculations are correct.” Jim told us.

“What’s he saying Jim?” Beth asked quickly as her analytical mind kicked in.

“According to Slow Jake we’ll be lucky to hit twenty laps before needing tires. That’s going to be the deciding factor today. I kind of agree with him after seeing my tires from the practice runs and qualification yesterday.” Jim told us.

“How bad was the wear and tear?” I asked him bluntly.

“I can honestly say that if I had pushed any harder. I would have blown out the left side tires in under three to four laps.” Jim grunted.

“Damn. That is some massive tire wear. I never stopped to look at my tires from the practice runs. What made you look at them Jim?” Sam asked his partner in crime.

“During my last two practice laps I started to feel a slight shimmy in the frame. I can honestly say that it wasn’t the normal wearing of my tires that caused the handling to go sideways. I actually had to back out of the throttle in the turns.” Jim explained for us all. “Before you say anything. I know that I’m the only one to use all twenty laps for my practice run.”

“That’s true. I quite after twelve, Beth after fifteen, and Bobbie after only ten laps. What I want to know is why did you go the full twenty?” Sam asked him.

“There was something about the way you three were attacking the turns that I had to figure out. I wasn’t getting the same speed through the turns that you all were. It took me sixteen laps to figure out how you were pulling down those speeds. Once I did it was like flying through the turns.” Jim grinned.

“THAT is another thing we need to talk about. Have you three looked at our practice times and speeds?” Beth asked us with a wicked grin. “On our own we’ve all cracked the two-hundred mark on the straightaways. None of us went slower than one-ninety-eight during qualifying. It’s not surprising that we hold the top four positions on the starting grid. No one else even came close to our speeds or times.”

“What does that have to do with the price of coffee in Berlin?” Sam grunted.

“Guys. Think about it. What happens when we run in the draft?” I snarked.

“Oh shit. We’ll break two-oh-five if not more. Nobody will be able to keep up with the four us. Not once we break away from the pack.” Sam chuckled. “Our only problem will be who wo we let led the first stage.”

“That isn’t our biggest problem. We need to figure out who we let led and win the final lap. As it stands now. Sam is in twelfth position in the Championship. Jim’s in fourteenth tied with Beth.” I pointed out then sighed. “I’m barely holding onto fifteenth. We all need top five finishes for the next three races.”

“Bobbie, for once in your life shut the fuck up.” Beth snapped. “I heard about that promise you made to the kids at the HELIOS Kinderklinik yesterday.”

“Fuck you Beth. If I win I’ll do on my own luck and skill.” I snarled.

“That doesn’t mean we can give you a push here or there, Bobbie.” Sam grinned.

“I’m with them on this Bobbie. The rest of the world might not know about your little visits to the wards, but all of MRI knows. That’s all that matters to us.” Jim said as he patted me on the back. “We’re more than teammates. We’re family. Giving you a win here or there doesn’t make up for the second chance you gave us.”

“Jim’s only telling you the truth Bobbie. We owe you big time. Of all the drivers in ISA you deserve the inaugural Championship win the most. Not because of your skills as a driver. Because of what you do off the track that no one sees or hears about. How many children’s hospitals have you visited this season?” Beth asked of me with a knowing smile.

“If I don’t count the visits to the hospitals in South Carolina, thirteen so far. If I add in the ones at home. Somewhere around sixteen or so.” I blushed answering.

“More like twenty-one this season alone little sister. If we add in all the ones that you have visited over the three years your visited would be close to or over ninety. Julie has been hounding all three of us to go with you when you make your visits. It took dad explaining that was your thing and your thing only. We’ll visit them during the offseason. You give those kids something that we can’t.” Beth said with a smile of pride. Then grinned at the perplexed look on my face. “You give them hope Bobbie. Real honest to god hope.”

“Beth is right about that Bobbie. None of us can give those kids that kind of gift. You’re a true inspiration for them. You survived cancer and went on to become a professional racer. Hell, just look at me, Jim, and the rest of the Darlington Knights. Your challenge to turn our acts around pushed us all to earn the second chance you offered us. The old Darlington Knights could never have earn our pro licenses. Now we have six professional drivers among our ranks. The rest of us are either pit crew or junior mechanics for pro racing teams.” Sam told me with a smile.

“That’s your real gift, Bobbie. You inspire everyone you meet to better themselves. To strive for their dreams.” Jim said with real conviction. “That includes the other drivers in the ISA. I don’t know of one driver that hasn’t been forced to up their game just to compete on the same level as you and Beth.”

“Bullshit guys. I’m just being me. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m a racer. That is all that I have ever been and always will be.” I snorted.

“God! You’re such a stubborn, clueless, jackass at times.” Beth snorted then chuckled. “Then again I doubt you would be any other way.”

“I am not stubborn or clueless. A jackass at times sure. I just never give up the fight. Can’t help it.” I snorted as I thought about all the time I spent on the children’s cancer wards. “Not with what I’d been through before earning my ticket.”

“And that’s why you’ve earn not only our respect but admiration, Bobbie. Today is about more than just National Pride for Mercedes. It’s all about Team Pride for us. We have to win today for no other reason than to retake our places at the top of the Drivers’ rankings.” Beth told me honestly.

“The other teams have been talking Bobbie. More than a few of them say that you’ve lost your edge. That you’re no longer a threat.” Jim snorted as if that could ever be true. He knew that once pushed into a corner I always come out swinging.

“A lot of the other drivers are talking about putting your ass into the wall if you get near them.” Sam snarked then grinned. “Saying something about putting you in your place once and for all.”

“Just where would that be?” I snarled. As if I didn’t already know the answer.

“Barefoot and in the kitchen.” Beth grinned evilly. As I popped my knucks.

“Which team has been running their mouths the loudest?” I demanded.

“Who else, Prototype Outcasts and Les Ailes de Justice.” Beth grinned. “After all most of their drivers came over from Formula One.”

“Let me guess. Raniero Accomando, Gerino Rosetta and Panos Kontotis from Prototype Outcasts. With Jules Grinda, Léonard Carrell, and Lilian Picard from Les Ailes de Justice being the loudest of them all. Am I right?” I asked bluntly.

“Nailed it in one. What I want to know. What is their problem with you two?” Sam almost demanded of me and Beth.

“Last year we crushed all six at one time or another. They kept thinking that women had no place in Formula One racing. Other than as decorations off the track.” I snorted bluntly. “Kind of made sure they never left the track with their pride in tactic. Put their asses into the wall more than once.”

“Okay now I understand. Big macho he-man types didn’t like the fact that a ‘little’ girl could out drive their sorry ass on her worst day. Never mind the fact that when you pissed. Your driving skills jump off the fucking scale.” Jim chuckled.

“If you think they jump off the scale when my little sister is pissed Jim. You haven’t seen shit when she is on a mission to prove a point.” Beth giggled. “Just watch what she does today.”

“Are we taking odds?” Chief Hailee asked as he join the four of us.

“What are you giving Chief?” Sam asked quickly.

“Depends. Did one of you let Bobbie know about the talk around the garage areas?” Chief Hailee asked us with a knowing grin. When Jim nodded, Chief Hailee chuckled. “Four to one odds on the win. With a spread of five seconds on her fast lap time.”

“Not even going to touch that with an over under of fifteen seconds on the lap time Chief. Sorry but Bobbie is already pissed.” Beth snorted as she looked me in the eyes. “We’ll be doing good to just keep up with her today.”

“So long as our engines hold out and the rain holds off. We should be able to take the first two stages.” I explained with an evil smile. “WE just need to get single filed in front of the pack. Once we do that we don’t look back.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Jim grinned as Beth and Sam nodded in agreement. All four us turned to look at the grandstands as the announcement for the fans to clear the garage area. “Looks like it’s time to punch the clock and go to work.”

“About time. I’ve been feeling the need.” I began the old movie punch line.

“The need for speed!” To have Beth and the boys finish with a round of chuckles.

With that we all headed for our cars on pit road. We all stood respectfully as the German National anthem was played and a local preacher gave the benediction. With those out of the way we all climbed through the windows of our cars. I quickly put in my earbuds and bring up my latest race mix on my iPod. With Nomex hood, gloves, and helmet on I hit the play button. I waited for those four magical words. When they came I flipped the battery switches and mashed the starter button. The roar of the V8 monster chained to my will brought a smile to my face.

“Drivers! Start! Your! Engines!”

We rolled off pit road in single file behind the pace car. I know that it was conceded of me to think this way. But now that I’m out on the track with Beth beside me on the front row plus Sam, and Jim right behind us on the second row. I knew that we had this race in the bag. As we worked our way around the track during our warmup laps I listened to the soothing tones of Bonnie Tyler’s, Holding Out For A Hero. I knew the song by heart. I had listened to it during the darkest hours of my stays in the children’s cancer ward.

As we rounded turn 4 on our final warmup lap my grin grown. As we crossed over the start/finish line the opening notes to Steve Earle’s Copperhead Road roared in my ears. I shifted into 4th gear and stomped on the throttle. I was in my element. Nothing was going to stop me from setting a record for this track. As the first reframe of the song played in my ears I felt the world fall away. There was only me, my car, and we were one with the track.

The more the song played the faster and harder I drove. I more felt than saw Beth fall in behind me as we rounded turn 2. By the midway point of the back straightaway Jim and Sam were right behind us on lap two. We were a four-car freight train that was running out of control, and no one was going to stop us. By the second verse we had a 2 to 3 second led on the rest of the field and it was growing as we crossed the Start/finish line completing the first lap.

This song spoke to the very heart of every Stockcar racer. At least to those of us who grew up watching the legends of NASCAR. Men like Dale Earnhardt, Richard Petty, David Pearson, Jeff Gordon, Jimmy Johnson, just to name a few. These men were my heroes. Then there were the men like Junior Johnson, Bill Blair, and Lloyd Seay. The men who founded the sport as something to do on the weekends with their bootleg specials. Then there’s Wendell Scott. NASCAR’s first African American driver. They say that he was so fast that he moved the Civil Rights movement.

By the end of the third verse, we had crossed back over the start/finish line and were heading for turn 1 with three laps under us. Kathy told me that we had close to a five second led on the rest of the field. I more felt than saw Beth pushing on my rear bumper. I knew that Jim and Sam were tucked up nice and tight behind her. We were splitting the draft and the work. Nothing was going to stop us now that we were out front. From this point on 1st through 4th belonged to MRI. The rest of the field just didn’t know it yet. They were all racing for 5th place.

Copperhead Road was replaced by Sabaton’s Metal Machine. The driving heavy metal song fits our driving as we push our cars to over 210mph. When Chief Hailee radioed me to hold back on the throttle I chuckled. I still had a full quarter of peddle left to go. I knew that if I pushed down the rest of the way. I would be leaving Beth and the boys behind. I knew that I had the fastest car today. I proved that during qualifying yesterday. Not even Beth came close to my time or speed.

With the pounding drums and driving riffs of the guitars I wanted to go faster. By the time lap 23 laps in next to no time at all. When the competition yellow came out on lap 25 I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew that I was pushing my fuel window hard. Even with holding back on the throttle. I had a feeling that I would be running on fumes when I hit my pit stall. I was so low on fuel the pressure needle had passed E and was on W for walk. I had to ride the apron all the way around the track. Before I even slide to a stop in my pit stall I saw calling for two full fuel cans and the ether bottle in case I stalled out. Thankfully Greg slammed the first can into the fill port before my engine had a chance to stall out.

I knew that this was going to be a long pit stop. But I needed those two full fuel cans and four new tires. I could tell by the way my car was handling towards the end of lap 25. When Danny drops the driver side of my car I shift into 1st and haul ass out of my pit stall. I cross the line at the end of pit road inches in front of Beth. Her pit stall is right behind mine, but she completed her stop a fraction of a second faster. Not that it mattered. I still beat her off pit road. Jim and Sam were right behind us. As we lined up for the restart behind the pace car Kathy gave me the line up on the field. I was only slightly surprised to hear that the majority of the former NASCAR drivers were right behind us. While the Formula One and other drivers were spread throughout the rest of the field.

I knew that the edge would shift to the Stockcar drivers once more when we reached this track. I just didn’t expect it to be this large of a shift. The only reason I could figure out for the massive shift was the arrogance of the other drivers. I knew that they were feeling cocky after the last four races. Especially after Nathan Watson’s win at Indianapolis. Today’s race would be nothing more than a lesson in humility for the Formula One drivers and their counterparts from the other fields. When it comes to balls out, no holds barred, high speed, racing, no one holds a candle to Stockcar drivers for being the best. Maybe I should say the craziest.

On lap 28 we went back to racing to the sounds of Sabaton’s Steel Commanders. With this song I have to chuckle. I know who got a hold of my iPod before the race this time. I keyed my radio. “Kathy punch my little brother for me.”

“I take it that Joey uploaded a new race mix on your iPod?” She asked.

“You could say that.” I chuckled and went back to racing. I was slightly surprised to hear a cellist playing with the hardcore rock band. Not that I had anything against Joey’s taste in music I just prefer the bands from the 80’s and 90’s. As the first verse roared in my ears I dropped to the inside of the track hugging the apron. I had already figured out the fastest way around this track was near the bottom close to the apron. The outside line was nothing more than a wreck waiting to happen. The knicker was that if someone could run the outside line they would be a real threat in the long run.

I had to give Joey this much. His taste in music was prefect for racing at high speeds. The pounding drums and radical guitar refs were almost timed perfectly for taking the turns and judging the entrance for the straightaways.

For the next four laps I rocked out to the sounds of that song was enough to push me to greater speeds. Even Beth and the guys were having a hard time keeping up. They may have dropped in behind me once the green flag dropped but they were barely behind me in the draft. I knew that I could push my car to even closer to the edge.

Then it happened. On lap 48 the yellow flag came out for a single car wreck. I had been expecting to happen since lap 15 of the race. Deep back in the field Rokossovsky Aleskeevich from team Red Star blew a front tire. She slammed into the wall on turn 3. Then slide her way around to the exit of turn 4. I was already slowing down when the pace car pulled out on to the track to gather up the field. We crossed under the green/white checkered and yellow flag on before pit road was opened up for servicing. The only good part about the whole situation was that I won the stage.

I had no sooner pulled to a stop in my pit box then my pit crew was over the wall. They had my right side in the air in no time and the first can of fuel was being dumped into my car. I swear they were turning in another record-breaking pit stop. As I pulled away from my pit stall I took one last look at the stopwatch. I couldn’t believe what I saw and keyed my radio.

“Kathy is that time right?” I asked her.

“If you saw twelve-point-nine seconds you’re not crazy.”

“Holy crap! What have they being doing? Training in their sleep?” I asked her.

“Just about. Mom has been driving the pit crews to faster and faster practice times. At the beginning of the season, she made a comment about placing bets on which team could turn in the best time.”

“How high is the beating pool?” I asked her quickly.

“The current pot is somewhere around eight-hundred-and-fifty bucks. Mom set a cap of ten bucks for any beat.”

“What are the requirements for the beats?” I asked with nasty thought.

“Fast time to the nearest five-tenths of second. Whoever gets the closest time wins the pot. So far Danny had been the biggest winner. If no one wins then the pot rolls over to the next race.”

“Can the drivers get in on the poll?” I really wanted to get on the action. It sounded like it would be fun.

“Sorry Bobbie. Pit and garage crew only. That’s one of the rules. No drivers allowed not even by proxy. Even if I wanted to place a beat for you mom wouldn’t allow it.”

“Well damn. Where’s the fun in that?” I grumbled. Though I could understand the rule. A driver can make or break a pit stop. One mistake on the part of the driver could cost a pit crew valuable seconds.

“Heads up Bobbie. This go around they’re dropping the green flag.”

“Copy that Kathy. By the way what’s the word on Aleskeevich?” I asked her.

“Nothing yet Bobbie. I do know that the rescue team had to help her out of her car. The ambulance crew too her straight to the infield medical center. I did see them placing her left arm in a brace before moving her.”

“Not good. If they’ve already braced her arm. Then they’re worried about a broken bone or dislocated joint. Hope she’s okay.” I radioed back.

“I’ll get with her spotter and give you a report on her condition. Right now, you need to get ready to go back to racing. They’ll be dropping the green flag on the next lap.” Kathy warned me just as the pace car turned off its warning lights.

As it pulled off the track at the entrance to pit road. The flag man waved the green flag. Once more I shift gears and stepped down on the throttle. With no one in front of me. I had a clear shot for the inside line around the track. Once again the other three drivers for MRI fell in behind me. This time though the order was slightly deferent. Directly behind me was Sam then Beth with Jim bringing up the rear of our line. Before we even hit the exit to turn 2 we were pulling away from the rest of the field. This race was quickly becoming a repeat of our successes earlier in the season. I just needed to make to the halfway point in the lead.

Dad, Chief Hailee, and the others were watching the weather radar hard. We all knew that today’s race won’t go the full distance. The only good news so far was that both me and Chief Slone were wrong on our calculations. We were actually getting close to 30 laps for our fuel window and 27 laps for our tires. That was the only good news though. We may be getting more laps between pits stops, but the handling of our cars was slowly slipping away over those laps. That was the bad news.

The longer we pushed our cars the harder it was to handle them at full speed in the draft. For the next ten laps things went as planned. Then on lap 63 a yellow flag came out for a two-car wreck at the back of the field. I was expecting the wreck to happen but not when it happened. We drove two more laps under yellow before pit road opened. I didn’t even think twice and headed in for four fresh tires and fuel. Once again my pit crew turned in their normal 13second pit stop.

Once we were back out on the track and lined up Kathy gave the lowdown on the two cars involved in the wreck. “It was Seth Fisher from Bisbee Snider and Marc Wimmer of Thunder Valley this time Bobbie. It seems that Fisher blew a tire and turned down in front of Wimmer. The good part about the wreck was it happened at the end of the pack on the front straightaway.”

“Either of them get hurt?” I asked her.

“They were out of their cars with no problems. They’ve already been released from the infield care center. Speaking of drivers being released from the care center. They sent Aleskeevich to the hospital. Looks like she’ll be out for the rest of the season. She’s going to need surgery to repair her broken arm.”

“How bad was it broken?” I asked her.

“According to her spotter it is broken in three places. All clean breaks which is the good news. It’ll still take her out of the points race though. I should have more information for you by lap eighty.”

“Thanks Kathy. If I haven’t said it lately. Thank you for all your hard work. I couldn’t do this without you.” I told her honestly.

“Forget about Bobbie. It’s my job to keep you out the wrecks when I can. Point you towards the right line when you needed it. Warn you when someone is getting stupid near you. Finally let you know when it is time to pit.” Kathy chuckled. “Speaking of my job I forgot one important part. Keeping track of the lap count.”

“How many more laps until we reach the halfway point?” I quickly asked.

“Not counting this yellow flag lap eighteen more to go. Which will end in about fifteen seconds. Get ready to drop the hammer Bobbie. Once you’re clear of the rest of the field don’t look back.”

“Gotcha Kathy. I guess it is time for that song.” I pulled out my iPod on the back straightaway and keyed up a particular song. “Kathy relay this to the others.”

“You got it Bobbie. Setting up the team relay now. On my mark hit the button.”

“Copy that Kathy.” I told her as I slipped my iPod back into my breast pocket. We rounded turns 3 and 4. Kathy began her countdown.

“THREE! TWO! ONE! HIT IT!”

I hit the play button through my leathers and grabbed the shifter. To the sounds of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck roared across our team radio network. Beth was the first to say anything as I dove for the inside line at full throttle.

“TIME TO ROCK!” Beth screamed over the music.

“Don’t hold back! Go for broke!” Sam yelled.

“Drop the hammer baby girl!” Dad shouted over the radio.

“GO! Bobbie! GO!” Jim shouted out behind him.

We powered across the start/finish line driving as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at our heels. As we entered turn 1 Beth pulled in tight to my rear bumper. As she did this Sam pulled in tight behind Jim. As we exited turn 2 they had dropped down behind Beth. On the back straightaway the four of us started to pull away from the rest of the pack once again. With my teammates pushing me we reached all new speeds. When we exited turn 4 onto the front straightaway we hit 215mhp. As Phil Rudd pounded out the beat on his drums Angus Young, Stevie Young, and bassist Cliff Williams cut lose with hard driving guitar riffs. While Brain Johnson’s vocals spoke to my very soul. I wasn’t the only one affected by the song. Beth, Sam, and Jim were pushing themselves to drive even faster.

Nothing was going to stop me today but the weather. This race and the win was mine. I hadn’t planned on running the race this way. I just didn’t care right now. For some reason I had to have this win. I wanted the inaugural lightning bolt trophy for the Berlin Blitz 500 in a major way. No, I knew the reason I want that three-foot-tall, twenty-five-pound trophy. It was going in the main welcoming lobby of HELIOS Kinderklinik. That was the promise I made to those kids.

On lap 80 the first crack of thunder rolled across the speedway. I knew that the ISA officials would soon be calling the race. I keyed the radio. “Heads up people. We got four to five more laps before the rain hits.”

“We might not get even that Bobbie. I’m looking at the radar map of the surrounding area. Berlin is already getting hammered by unusually heavy rainfall for this time of the year. Keeping pushing your cars kids.” Dad ordered over the radio.

With that order I pushed my car even further towards the edge of its performance envelope. I was going to show the world not just those fools from the old Mercedes-Benz design what kind of a car MRI can build. Especially when we’re left the fuck alone to do our jobs. My job was to drive the cars of MRI. Dad’s job was to build the cars. Mom’s job was to design those cars. It doesn’t matter who wants to take us on. We will put them all in their places.

McGuire Racing International was no longer the small mom and pop racing design firm from three years ago. We were now a force of nature in the world of automotive racing. Today’s win was going to prove that point once and for all. I had heard the rumblings in the garage area by the other teams. Too many of them thought that our wins at the beginning of the season as nothing more than flukes and luck. We needed to prove them wrong today. To drive the point home that we were the ones that they should fear. That none of our wins were flukes or by luck.

Even as we pushed our cars to their breaking point we were pulling away from the rest of the field. By lap 85 the rain still hadn’t started. We were also just over the halfway point of the race. That was the good news. The bad news was the handling of our cars was starting to slip. With each progressive lap our tires were wearing out. Much faster now that the track had a solid layer of rubber. The other kicker was the middle and outside lines had finally come in to their fullest. There was a good possibility that a team could use those two lines to threaten our led.

It would all depend on if the other drivers could team up. Hopefully it will take the other drivers time to figure out the threat those two lines presented. Then on lap 89 the first drops of rain hit my windshield. I grinned the race was over, and I had won. I kept my speed up until the yellow flag came out on lap 92. We drove three more laps before the red flag came out on lap 95. As we crossed over the entrance to pit road the rain started to come down in bucks. We pulled to a stop in our running order. We had no sooner stopped than our pit crews were coming over the wall with our tarps. It took me a few seconds to climb out of my car.

As I was running for the pit box I felt a twinge in my lower back. When I got to the wall Chief Hailee was there to help me over. “I saw that flinch and grimace Bobbie. Are you alright? Do you need to go to the infield care center?”

“I’m fine Chief. My back is just acting up is all.” I grumbled as he helped me over the wall and under the pit box shelter. “That damned wreck at Silverstone is still causing me problems.”

“Okay kiddo. What the hell does that mean?” Chief Hailee demanded.

“Don’t tell mom or the others. The docs told that the chemo affected more than just my growth and appearance. It also screwed with my muscles and joints. If they’re right by the time I turn thirty I’ll be forced to retire because of arthritis.” I know that I was taking a chance by telling him this, but he was my Crew Chief.

“I think I understand. With every wreck you run the chance of accelerating your arthritis. I’ll start working on a way to minimize your risks.” Chief Hailee told me as he patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll start with reinforcing your seat. I look into a new restraint harness design for you. One that won’t put so much pressure on your lower back and shoulders.”

“Thanks Chief. Can you do me a favor and not tell the others about this.” I looked back out the now rain-soaked track. “I want to drive for as long as I can before the docs force me to retire.”

“Have you told Kelly about this yet Bobbie?” He asked me kindly. When I shook my head no he sighed. “Damned hardhead. Alright I’ll keep this between us. For now, but the moment I think you’ve pushed things too far. I’m telling Kelly.”

“Okay Chief Hailee. I’ll tell her after the victory diner tonight.” I promised him just as a bolt of lighting followed quickly by a clap of thunder filled the air. “Looks like the gods of speed are going to hold me to that promise.”

“More like the Demons of Speed have witnessed your promise Bobbie.” Chief Hailee chuckled with a friendly smile. “But I do believe you’re right about the victory diner. If this downpour keeps up for another ten minutes the ISA will have to call the race. There’s no way the track drying crews will be able to get the track back to race conditions safely in time to continue the race before nightfall.”

His words were punctuated by another flash of lightning and clap of thunder. I looked towards the direction of oncoming storm. The horizon was as dark as night and mean as a pissed off gator. “I don’t think it’ll be that long before the race gets called for severe weather.”

As if summoned by my words the arena speakers crackled. “Achtung, meine Damen und Herren. Aufgrund des schlechten Wetters. Das heutige Rennen wurde ausgerufen. Unsere Gewinnerin ist Mrs. Roberta McGuire von MRI. Der zweite Platz geht an Sam Hurley mit Beth Towers auf dem dritten und Jim Fields auf dem vierten Platz.”

As the speakers continued to blare the race results Danny walked over to me smiling. “They’ve called the race due to the inclement weather. You’re the winner Bobbie. Second place goes to Sam with Beth in third and Jim in fourth. The ISA officials will be here in a few minutes to present the trophy.”

“Thanks Danny. I guess I need to make myself a little more present able.” I chuckled as I wiped the sweat from my forehead. I started to reach for pins that held my ponytail to the back of my head. Only to be stopped by mom.

“Leave your hair up Bobbie. No need to let the crowd think that you weren’t ready to step back into your car.” She told me as she handed me a bottle of water and two aspirin with a wink. “For your ‘headache’.”

“Thanks mom.” I told her as I took the aspirin and water. “I promise to fill you and dad in on everything later.”

“We already know, sweetheart. Remember your doctors have to send us report on your physical condition for racing.” Mom whispered in my ear as she hugged with a smile. “Don’t worry we won’t pull you from the roster until we are force to.”

“Thanks mom. I’ll spend sometime in the hotel’s hot tub before the party.” I assured her before turning to face the ISA officials as they arrived. I spent the next five minutes with the trackside reporter giving a fast interview. Then the officials present me the Chrome Lightning Bolt. As I raised it over my head in victory I wondered if I could have ran the full 500 miles and still won. Not that I was going to bitch. A win is a win. No matter how it comes about.

“Fräulien McGuire during your acceptance of the trophy you said something about this trophy being for the Children of HELIOS Kinderklinik. Would you care to explain that for our audience?” The trackside reporter asked.

“Let’s just say that I was keeping a promise I made. Have a good day Herr Reinhart.” I told him with a smile and walked away. I knew that my cryptic answer would drive the man and the fans crazy with curiosity. Not that it would matter to me. I love my fans, but the time I spend with the kids on the cancer and terminal illness ward of the children’s hospitals was a personal matter. One that I would guard with every ounce of my very being. No one, and I do mean no one, was ever going to use my privet visits to those kids as a publicity stunt to promote their own agenda.

Kelly met me at the bus with a smile and hug. “Great win love. You drove like you were possessed out there today.”

“I got to say Bobbie. I’ve seen you drive on TV before and at Indiana but none of that prepared me for what I saw out there today. I couldn’t believe the speeds you and the other MRI drivers were pulling down today. Do you know what your top speed was during the race?” Sue asked with the excitement of the newly converted fan.

“According to Kathy my fastest lap was one-minute-twelve-seconds at two-hundred-eighteen miles per hour. I think that will be a track record for a few years.” I answered with a mile-wide grin. “What do you think?”

-----tbc-----

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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 22
Pentahotel Moscow, Moscow, Russia, Thursday: 2230

Bobbie escorted Kelly into the banquet room of the Pentahotel Moscow with a smile. With two straight wins she was back in the top-five of the Driver’s Championship Race. She, Beth, Jim, and Sam were in a four-way tie for third place. This weekend they were at the type of track she loved the most, a triangle. The Moscow Superspeedway is a copy of Pocono Speedway, but it is on a whole new scale.

Unlike Pocono’s asphalt covered 2.5 miles. Moscow’s track was 5 miles of asphalt fury. There were a few other differences. The biggest of which was the banking in the turns. At Pocono the banking in Turn 1 was 14°, Turn 2 is 8°, and Turn 3 is at 6°. Then there was the straightaways. Pocono’s main straightaway is the longest on any North American speedway at 3,740 feet, the “Long Pond” straightaway stretches for 3,055 feet between Turns One and Two, while the run from Turn Two to Turn Three is a mere 1,780 feet. Moscow has all of Pocono’s best and worst features. Only on a much larger scale. As Bobbie told Kelly earlier that morning. “This track maybe a copy of the Tricky Triangle, but it’s more like the Bermuda Triangle.”

The couple were surprised at the number of guests at the sponsor party. While they were both wearing cocktail dresses. You could still tell that even after three years of wearing dresses Bobbie was still uncomfortable in her dress. Most of the sponsors and other drivers knew that Bobbie would rather be wearing her trademark riding breeches and flied boots. As for Kelly being at her side. The other drivers knew not to try their luck. Bobbie McGuire was known for two things in the world of professional race car drivers. Her skill behind the wheel and her violent temper.

Though tonight’s party would be slightly different from other sponsor parties. The reason for this was the number of drivers from different sports. Thanks to two unforeseen disasters Moscow would host races for Formula One and Indy car racing this weekend on top of the ISA race. The first was a fire in the garage area at Sochi. The second was the damage caused by earthquake at Sao Paulo. Thanks to the rescheduling of the two open wheel circuit races there were three times the number of drivers at the sponsor parties.

The owner of the Moscow Superspeedway had offered the use of his track so that the two other sports wouldn’t have to cancel their races completely. Not too say the man was totally altruistic in his offer. By giving the other two sports a chance to race at his track on the same weekend of the inaugural race he had setup a festival atmosphere. One that was very similar to Dayton’s Speedweek. Only here it was a mix of Formula One, Indy car, and Stockcar as the finality. Bobbie had to give it to the owner of the track for his savvy promotional skills. She had a feeling that this festival would become a yearly event. She even liked the name he had picked out for his festival. It tickled her funny bone in a twisted sort of way. Fire storm at the Triangle.

“Well now. There’s the two bonny lashes I’ve been looking forward to see.” The thick English accent of MacNair had Bobbie and Kelly turn around to face the big man. “Glade to see you back in the top five Bobbie.”

“It feels good to be back in the top five Mac. Thanks to those blown engines we were almost out of the race for the year. Those wins at both Berlin and Lausitzring really helped out our situation a lot more than we want to let on. At least now it’ll be a real race for the championship.” Bobbie chuckled. “I know this is going to sound crazy but how are things going with the Formula One teams?”

“Not bad considering our late start in the season. We won’t win any championships but we’re giving the more proven teams a run for their money. Next year we’ll put them stupid cunts on the heels.” Mac chuckled evilly then turned sober. “That’s if our luck holds out and no one gets hurt.”

“Well at least you know there’s a talent pool to draw from for replacement drivers if that happens. We didn’t have that the first season me and Beth drove the circuit. We really were a shoestring operation that season.” Bobbie told the big man kindly.

“You could have fooled us, Bobbie. The way you and your sister drove scare the crap out of most of us.” All three turned to face the newcomer. “Even now those drivers you lined up for Mac are scary behind the wheel. Where did you find them?”

“Nice to see you again Fantasia. I thought that you were retiring last year?” Bobbie said in way of greeting to Narseo Fantasia. She actually liked the older Italian team owner. To her this man had real class.

“I was but my son is not yet ready to take over for me. He wants to finish his schooling before taking over for me.” Fantasia explained with regret.

“Narseo why don’t you let your daughter take over for you?” Kelly asked him.

“I would if the drivers respected her.” The swarthy Italian chuckled. “They don’t see her as a real manager or owner.”

“Tell them to look at Bobbie. She is both an owner and a driver. I know that none of your current drivers ever beat her on the track. Now that she is an owner she is still stomping their asses into the mud.” Mac snorted bluntly. “Trust me Narseo. You let that little girl of yours take over for you. In two years she be putting trophies on the wall for you. Let your son go be a doctor the way he wants. The true future of your organization lays with that daughter of yours.”

“Alright Mac. I’ll do it.” Narseo snorted. “But if after two years If I don’t see new trophies on my wall. I’m coming after your ass.”

“Don’t worry Narseo. Francisca will make you proud. That young lady knows more about Formula One cars than most of their drivers and designers.” Kelly chuckled then hugged Bobbie. “With a few notable exceptions.”

“And you’re an impartial judge for that quality in drivers?” Narseo asked with a friendly chuckle. “Though in our flied MRI has always been a threat.”

“Not just Formula One Narseo. They have been a threat in every field that they ply their trade.” A fourth voice said as a blonde hair German joined their talk. “It doesn’t matter what the field. I should know. I have one of their powerplants in my car. They’re true demons of speed.”

“Hello Fritz. Nice to hear that someone likes our designs.” Bobbie said as she held out her hand to the Indy car driver Fritz Holtz. “If you ever decide to join MRI. I’ll form an Indy car team just for you.”

“That’s quite the offer Fritz. I think I’ve only heard Roberta McGuire make that kind of offer once before.” MacNair said with a straight face.

“Who did she make the offer to, MacNair?” Narseo asked the big Englishman.

“Sorry old boy but that would be talking out of school as the Americans say.” MacNair chuckled as he gave Bobbie a look of conspiracy. “Though I can say that the individual has been enjoying their retirement job. All while being as close to the action in one of the fastest sports as possible.”

“While not getting dirty or placing their ass on the line.” Bobbie finished with a chuckle of her own. Bobbie turned to the Italian. “How about it Fritz? You game?”

“Can I have a few days to think it over Bobbie?” Fritz asked her.

“Sure. As it stands right now I don’t have an Indy car team.” Bobbie told him honestly then went in for the kill. “Though I heard a nasty rumor at the last sponsorship party. Is it true that this is your last season?”

“Ja. My frau wants me to retire after this season. She is tired of me putting my life in danger. Not that I blame her. I want to see my kinder marry and have kinder of their own.” Fritz chuckled heavily. “My son wants to take over for me.”

“Is the boy any good Fritz?” MacNair asked quickly.

“Good enough to replace me.” Fritz answered with pride. Then gave Bobbie a lopsided grin. “Though not good enough to go head-to-head with the McGuire sisters.”

“There are very few drivers that can go head-to-head with the Fury sisters, Fritz.” Kelly told the man honestly. “Now that she’s returned to racing Stockcars. Lets just say that the number of drivers that can compete against her has dropped.”

“After the last two races I have to agree. Seeing as how the enter MRI team has jumped into a four-way tie for third place. Not to mention putting MRI in second place for the Manufacturer’s Championship.” MacNair pointed out for Fritz.

“I would put it down to nothing more than luck on their part.” Snarked a new arrival. “Because they definitely don’t have the skills to be real racers.”

“You know something Carrell. You keep running your fucking mouth. Sooner or later, someone is going to put your ass into the wall. It might not be the drivers of MRI, but you can be sure that someone will.” MacNair warned the Frenchman coldly. “You can take that to the bank boy.”

“They can try, MacNair.” Carrell retorted as turned to walk away. “But why should I lessen to a dried-up old has-been?”

“Bobbie do us all a favor tomorrow. You get the chance put that worthless piece of shit into the wall.” Narseo snarled.

“I’m surprised that she hasn’t already. Though over the last two years Bobbie has learned restraint.” Jewels McGuire said as she walked up behind MacNair. She gave Bobbie and Kelly each a quick hug and kissed them on the cheek. “You look lovely this evening girls. Have either of you seen Beth and Tony?”

“No ma’am. We just got here about fifteen to twenty minutes ago. I do know that they left their room before we left ours.” Kelly answered quickly.

“Damn. I was hoping to catch her before Julie does.” Jewels grumbled.

“What do you need to see her for mom?” Bobbie asked quickly as she scanned the crowd for Julie and her sister.

“I just need to talk with Bobbie.” Jewels grunted. Then seeing the look in Bobbie’s eyes relented. “Izzy is in town. She wants to talk with both you and her about the upcoming race in Toledo, Spain.”

“Please tell me that she doesn’t want us to walk that fucking show?” Bobbie grumbled.

“What show are you talking about?” Jewels asked her.

“She’s promoting an up-and-coming new clothing designer. Izzy called me three weeks ago trying to get me to arrange for Bobbie to walk this guys opening show.” Kelly explained with a friendly smile.

“That explains the message I got from Julie.” Jewels sighed. “I swear if she wasn’t such a good friend of the family.”

“Relax mom. We got this covered.” Kelly told her with a chuckle. “I already told her that Bobbie and Beth are booked that weekend.”

“Thank you dear. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I still need to find your sister. She owes me twenty-bucks for last week’s race mix.” Jewels mumbled.

“Wait! I thought it was Jim who put tighter that racing mix.” Bobbie bitched.

“Nope. I was the one to load that race mix, but it was your sister who put it together. I would have thought that the mix choice gave it away.” Jewels smiled. “After all the last time I looked only your sister listens to Pat Benatar.”

“I’m going to kill her.” Bobbie snarled good naturally as the others chuckled. They all knew that Bobbie loved her sister dearly. That the only time that love got put on hold was during the last lap of a race.

“Don’t bitch to hard Roberta. That mix got your head in the game for that track.” Jewels chuckled as she turned and left her daughters after collecting the 20 bucks.

“Bobbie what was that all about?” MacNair asked her.

“It’s become a game for the pit crews and drivers, Mac. The challenge is as follows. Whoever can get ahold of Bobbie’s iPod and upload a new race mix wins. To enter you also have to put up twenty dollars. You can work on your own or as a team of no more than three. The only two people who are not allowed to compete are me, our Nanny Susan and people not part of MRI.” Kelly quickly explained for MacNair.

“Why was I informed of this little challenge?” MacNair grumbled.

“Last time I looked you’re dealing with the Formula One teams. That disqualifies you from the game.” Bobbie pointed out with a friendly smile. “Besides. I doubt that I could handle bagpipes and drums for five hundred miles.”

“Daft crazy woman. I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy. Let alone to someone I like.” MacNair chuckled evilly.

“Okay knock it off you idiots.” Bobbie grumbled. She took Kelly by the hand and pulled. “I need a drink and a dance with my lovely wife.”

As the young couple walked Narseo looked over at Fritz and MacNair. “There goes the most powerful couple in all of racing. I don’t care what field it is in.”

“Narseo has anyone ever accused you of having a gift for understatement?” MacNair asked the man bluntly.

“On a few occasions I have been accused of that gift, my friend.” Narseo chuckled. “Though not lately and never to my face.”

“Then it’s about damned time. Though I do have to agree with you about the McGuire ladies. They are scary in ways that even the Gods of speed fear.” Fritz snarked.

“Tell me something Fritz. Are you going to take Bobbie up on her offer?” Narseo asked the man politely.

“To tell you the truth Mac. I think I would be a fool to turn her down.” Fritz told with an honesty and relief he hadn’t felt in years.

“Smartest damned decision you’ve made in years, Fritz my boy.” MacNair said as he slapped the German on the back. “Now let’s follow the ladies’ example. First round is on me. After that you’re buying Fritz.”

Moscow Superspeedway, Russia, Friday: 1130

Beth, Jim, and Sam stood atop of Beth’s transport trail watching Bobbie make her practice runs. They could tell by the way Bobbie’s car was handling that this triangle was three times more dangerous than Pocono. More than once, Bobbie was almost sideways in the turns. If they had been listening in on her radio they would have heard her swearing up a blue streak five miles long and sixty feet wide.

“I got a feeling that Bobbie is going to be pissed beyond belief when she pulls into the pit.” Jim snarked as Bobbie went through turn 2. “Damn she almost went sideways in that turn. What the hell is going on with her today?”

“I think I know. Tomorrow is an anniversary.” Beth told them softly. She didn’t want to tell the two men how much the death of Bobbie’s childhood friend still affected her sister. Tomorrow’s race was going to be one for the record books. If not for the race itself but the fact that Bobbie McGuire the Demoness of Speed was going to be racing with an angel on her shoulder. An angel named Lisa Hill.

“Oh damn. I forgot. Tomorrow’s is Lisa’s day.” Sam sighed as he remembered the girl that had been the driving force behind the team’s ace driver.

“Shit! I’m an asshole. We all are.” Jim grumbled as he slapped his forehead.

“Forget about it guys. All we can do is stay out of her way tomorrow during the race.” Beth told them both knowingly. “Bobbie will run her race and there is nothing that we can do to change that fact.”

“How do you see it playing out Beth?” Jim asked her.

“She’ll take the pole during qualifying later today. Then tomorrow she’ll do her little disappearing act before the race. If she doesn’t do it today. Either way come the green flag Bobbie will drop the hammer. The only thing we’ll see of her for the rest of the race will be her rear end. When her car pulls into her pit for fuel and tires the hood will be glowing from reentry friction.” Beth chuckled.

“Damn girl you make it sound like we’ll be racing for second place.” Jim grunted.

“No shit. As much as I like your sister. There is no way I’m just going to roll over and let her win without trying to beat her.” Sam told her bluntly.

“Guys trust me on this one. Every year on the anniversary of Lisa’s death Bobbie does something over the top. If she is in a race she’ll either win or wreck. Not even I can keep up with her during those races.” Beth chuckled in a way that was both proud and envious of her sister. “I can’t figure out how she does it, but her skills seem to just ramp up to fucking stupidly high levels. She can just pull more out of her car than normal.”

“Damn that sounds fucking impossible but knowing Bobbie. I would have to say that she just quits holding back.” Sam grunted honestly.

“I would say it’s more than that Sam. We both know how Bobbie goes out of her way to keep her promises. If I had to make a guess. I would say that she is doing that every time she races on Lisa’s anniversary.” Jim told them both as he watched Bobbie turn on to pit road. He jokingly asked of the other two. “Is it my imagination or is the hood of her car smoking?”

“It might as well be. Look at this time she just put up.” Beth said as she held out the stopwatch she had been using to time Bobbie’s practice run.

“Holy shit. Hold on if she put up that kind of time. Then her speed would be two-hundred-and-twenty-five miles per hour. If we were at Pocono she would have crushed Juan Pablo Montoya’s record.” Sam told them both with real surprise in his voice.

“I don’t know about that Sam. Remember this track may seem like Pocono, but there are minor differences. Ones that allow us to run at higher speeds for long times and hold those speeds through the turns.” Beth warned them both. “Of the four of us here there is only one driver that this track’s layout favors.”

“You’re talking about Bobbie. How is this her type of track?” Jim asked her.

“The three long straightaways and only three turns with different degrees of banking in those turns makes this track more like a road course than a normal oval track. Between the three of us. Who is the most likely to win on a road course?” Beth asked Jim and Sam with a sly smile. When both men nodded in understanding Beth chuckled. “Now you know what I’m getting at boys.”

“Damn. She’s bad enough on the Knight. A track like this one must be her wet dream.” Sam grunted as he watched Bobbie climb out of her car.

“Like I said earlier guys. Come tomorrow’s race stay the fuck out of her way.” Beth repeated herself as she watched Bobbie remove her helmet and gloves. The anger in Bobbie’s movements let Beth know just how pissed off Bobbie was with her last run. “Come on guys let’s get over there before Bobbie pounds Chief Hailee or my dad.”

“Beth if Bobbie is looking to beat the shit out of someone. I don’t want to be anywhere near her right now.” Sam told her bluntly. When Beth gave him a questioning look Sam sighed. “I still owe her fifty for Indy.”

“You still haven’t paid her? What are you nuts? You know how Bobbie gets when people don’t pay up on their bets.” Beth demanded. “I know you got the money. So, what’s the fucking deal, Sam?”

“I… well… um… you… see…” Sam’s stammering caught Beth’s full attention.

“Don’t tell me that Lisa has you on an allowance.” Beth laughed out load.

“Ever since she got that ring on her finger. Lisa has been controlling the pursue strings.” Jim chuckled as he elbowed Sam in the ribs. “She has him living on two-fifty a week. I can’t wait till they finally get married.”

“You’re not the only one Jim. Lisa is without a doubt the best thing to ever happen to Sam.” Beth told her friends. All conversation was ended as the sound of another V-8 engine fired over. The three MRI drivers watched as Rosie John from Reynolds Racing pulled onto the track for her practice run. “That girl is going to put her ass into the wall if she’s not careful.”

“I doubt that Beth. Rosie would have had her own ride in the Sprit Cup this year if it hadn’t been for politics. The woman is a natural behind the wheel of a stockcar. I have to say she is one of the best stockcar drivers around.” Jim said with a cockeyed smile. “Right behind us of course.”

“Not to modest is he?” Bobbie asked them as she climbed onto the top of the trailer. When all three of her teammates turned to face her Bobbie smiled. “Nice to know that you three are watching the competition for us.”

“More than just the competition Bobbie. We thought you were going to lose it a few times out there. Just how nasty are the turns?” Sam asked her.

“Depends on the turn Sam. Turn one you got three lines to run. I figure by lap ten tomorrow there’ll be a fourth line further towards the outer wall. By lap twelve I can see us running four-wide through that turn with ease. Turn three will stay the same through the day. The most we’ll get out of that turn will three-wide racing. It’s turn two that we need to worry about. We’ll be lucky to get three-wide through that turn. Remember that bitch is a tunnel turn. I’m sure you all felt that hump in the pavement at the midpoint of the turn. Hit it at the wrong angle and BOOM. Your ass is in the wall. Then there is the exit off turn two. That damned dip in the pavement isn’t that noticeable until you hit it at two hundred plus. It’s enough to throw your handling off. Bad enough to turn you sideways.” As Bobbie gave her three teammates the rundown of the track they could tell there was more.

“What haven’t you told us Bobbie?” Beth demanded.

“The straightaways may look nice and level. They’re not. Those straightaways have a slight two to three degree backing to them. The straightaway between turns one and two has a surface that is also bumpy as all hell. We’re talking red clay country road washboard. The back straightaway is a total contrast. We’re talking a sheet of glass people. The only straightaway that is halfway worth driving on is the front straightaway. Even then it’s only for the five-thousand-feet in front of the grandstands. The twelve-hundred-forty at each end is the little brothers of Oak Castle road back home during the rain.” Bobbie snarked.

“Oh shit. Oak Castle road is bad enough on sunny day. That twenty-four-hundred-eighty feet will tear up more cars than the turns. How many do you figure we’ll lose in those two stretches of track?” Jim snarled.

“To be honest Jim. I have no idea. If I had to make a guess. I would say anywhere between five to ten on the front straightaway, three to six on the short straightaway, and nine on the back straightaway.” Bobbie sighed as she did the calculations in her head. “That’s if we get lucky.”

“What do you mean by that?” Beth asked with real concern.

“If things go tits up at any one of those points. We will be looking at the mother of all ‘Big Ones’. We’re talking about half the field on wreckers with a red flag stop that’ll take two hours to clear.” Bobbie answered her bluntly.

“Damn talk about your doom filled predictions.” Sam chuckled. “Let’s hope you’re wrong Bobbie. Because if you’re right there will be more than a few drivers heading for the nearest hospital tomorrow.”

The sounds of tearing sheet metal and crumpling car parts drew the foursome’s attention to turn 3. There they saw Rosie John sliding around the turn against the outer wall. They could all tell that something had severely gone wrong with her car. They watched in horror as the car began to tumble end over end. They could tell by the way the car tumbled that Rosie was in for one hell of a wild ride. All four sent up silent prayers for the woman’s safety. They could only pray that when the car finally did come to a stop that Rosie dropped her window net.

After 12 flips the car came to a stop resting on its roof. The rescue crews were already rolling by this time. The four drivers waited on pins and needles to see if Rosie dropped her window net. When the net never moved they all knew that Rosie was hurt and in need of help. When the rescue team and ambulance arrived at Rosie’s wrecked car they went straight to work. The first thing they did was to flip her car over onto its tires. Bobbie and the others weren’t the only ones watching the rescue of their fellow driver. The rescue team had the jaws of life and rescue saw out. Within minutes they had the driver’s side cut open and peeled away.

They watched as the Paramedics extracted Rosie from the wreckage. With great care the placed the woman on a stretcher and carried her to the waiting ambulance. By now there wasn’t a driver at the track that hadn’t realize Rosie John was hurt in a major way. Beth turned to see a grim-faced Bobbie.

“Bobbie did you expected this to happen?”

“I did but not from Rosie. One of the other Indy car drivers but not her. She doesn’t try to power her way through the turns. She tries to finesse her way through the turns and straightaways. Whatever happened out there had to be a mechanical failure. There is no other explanation.” Bobbie snarled as she thought about the woman who had earned her respect.

“Are you sure about that Bobbie?” Sam asked her.

“Sam trust me on this. Bobbie is right about what happened out there. It was mechanical failure. We were listening in on their radio chatter.” All four drivers turned to find Bob McGuire standing behind them.

“What happened dad?” Beth asked him before Bobbie did.

“Her brakes failed as she entered the entrance to turn three. From there it was all Rosie could do to keep from slamming headfirst into the wall.” Bob answered her.

“Shit. If Rosie John could lose control of her car that fast in turn three. Then we’ll be doing good to finish the race with at least twenty cars tomorrow.” Jim grumbled as they watched the ambulance race from the track. “Any idea of who they’ll get to replace her in tomorrow’s race Bob?”

“Reynolds Racing will most likely go with either Julia Stencil or Rufus Graham. They both have the experience to handle this type of track and work well in a Stockcar setting. Though I got a feeling that Reynolds will be down one car for their team this race. They’ve been running into finical problems lately. This wreck could spell the beginning of their end as a four-car team. They need a win in a major way. They haven’t been putting up the numbers the way the other teams have been. I think they’ve only had three top five and six top ten finishes all season.” Bob explained for his drivers.

At the grim looks on the faces of the other drivers Bobbie explained further. “I hate to say this guys, but dad is right. Reynolds Racing isn’t the only team that is facing sponsorship problems. Word around the pits is that Justice is also in trouble of losing a few of their sponsors.”

“Bobbie how drivers are facing sponsorship problems?” Beth asked her.

“Depends on who you talk with Beth. If you go off the watercooler gossip. I would say that ten to twelve drivers are looking at losing their individual sponsors. Though Les Ailes de Justice is the only team that is looking at losing their team sponsor.” Bobbie explained for her sister.

“What do you mean Les Ailes de Justice is looking at losing their team sponsor?” Sam asked her quickly.

“During the sponsors’ party last night, I overheard a conversation between Julie and Richard Levett for Peugeot. If Les Ailes de Justice doesn’t starting winning they’re pulling their corporate sponsorship. The asshole made some comment about not supporting a team of losers. That Peugeot had a reputation of only backing winners. That’s the jest of the conversation.” As Bobbie told them about the conversation she overheard the faces of Beth, and the others turn cold.

In their minds it was one thing to drop a driver for breaking the law. It was totally other thing to kick a driver or team because they were having a bad season. The lose of their corporate sponsor was a death knell to any racing team. The one thing that no team could survive. If Peugeot was making that kind of threat then things for the Justice drivers was really hitting a rough patch country back road.

“Damn. I knew they’ve been having problems making the shift over to stockcar racing but I never realized they were this bad. Is it because they’re only team made up of Formula One drivers or is it something else?” Jim asked Bobbie.

“Damned if I know Jim. I do know that they’ve improved little by little with every race. Just like the other Formula One and other drivers that didn’t come over from Stockcar racing. I’m sure that given another season they’ll be on par with the rest of us. I mean that by the way. If they’re still around this time next year. We’ll be facing a leaner, meaner, and deadlier team.” Bobbie told them all.

“So, what do we do Bobbie?” Sam asked her.

“Nothing. As much as I hate to say this guys we do nothing. We got our own problems to deal with first. After that we do what we can for them.” Bobbie sighed. “If they’re still around by that time.”

“Let’s hope you’re right Bobbie. I hate to see a team go down money and sponsorship problems.” Bob told his team honestly. Bob watched as Rosie John’s car was hauled behind the pit road wall and into the garage area. “Think I’ll go down and find out what went wrong with her car.”

“Don’t bother dad. We saw it from the start. Rosie pushed her car too far over the limit going into turn three. It doesn’t matter how good your skills are or your car is. You disrespect that turn. It’ll reach out and snatch your ass sideways. It’s not a matter of if but when with that turn.” Beth told him.

“The same can be said for turns one and two, Beth. It has to be the entry angle of the turns. They don’t appear dangerous, but the truth is they’re deadly as hell. Each turn has a slight dip right at the entrance for some reason.” Jim told them.

“The reason is simple comrade Fields. When the construction company began to build here they made one small mistake.” The heavy Russian accent drew their attention.

“How’s it going Nazarova? Enjoying your time at home?” Sam asked the Russian driver.

“Not bad Samuel I’ve enjoy my time with my family. Maybe I can answer a few questions about the Moscow Triangle.” Nazarova smiled as he answered Sam.

“Maybe you can tell us why there is a dip just before each turn?” Bobbie snarked.

“When the construction company began they made one minor mistake. They miscalculated the needed amount of asphalt. They came up short. Before you ask why they didn’t order more. They couldn’t afford too. You see they were already over their budget by several thousands of Euros. To make up for the tightened budget constraints. The contractor stretched the asphalt as much as possible. The concert underneath was standard six-inch highway pour. Instead of a ten-inch pour needed for a speedway. When they poured the turns they started in the middle of the apex and worked outwards. That is why there is a dip at the entrance and exit to very turn. They practiced this same method with the straightaways. The two outer straightaways received the smallest amount of asphalt. That’s the main reason they are so bumpy.” As Nazarova explained about the pour method of construction for the track all four members of the MRI team sighed. They could all see the situation clearly.

“Shit.” Jim spat out then snarled. “No wonder this track is a roval. It truly is Bobbie’s wet dream for racing.”

“Look’s like we’re all racing for second place. Sorry guys.” Beth chuckled.

“What does that mean comrade Beth?” Nazarova asked with a smirk. “Are you saying that the race is already decided?”

“Nazarova we got a saying back home in Darlington South Carolina. ‘Moonshine flows in the blood of our drivers. If you want to win Stockcar races. Find yourself a bootlegger.’ Of all the drivers at this track there is only one that fits the bill more than the others. My sister, Roberta McGuire.” Beth chuckled. “The real kick in the ass is tomorrow my little sister will have one more advantage.”

“What advantage is that?” Nazarova asked with more than a little curiosity.

“She’ll be racing with an angel on her shoulder.” Beth answered honestly. “And no matter what we try. The only thing that will stop her from winning is her wrecking her car. Even then I wouldn’t place bets on that happening. Because my little sister is becomes a force of nature when she has that angel on her shoulder.”

“Fascinating. A Demoness of Speed who is blessed with her own Angel.” With those words hanging in the air Nazarova turned and walked away. As he did so he waved his hand in the air calling out. “Идите с Божьей Благодатью Робертой Макгуайр.”

“What did he just say?” Sam asked of Bobbie.

“Damned if I know. I just hope that it wasn’t some ancient Russian curse.” Bobbie grunted as she turned to face another new arrival.

“He said Go with God’s Grace Roberta McGuire. Not that you need kiddo.” Jewels answered for her youngest daughter. “I hate to break up this little bullshit party. But I thought you would want an update on Rosie.”

“How’s she doing mom?” Beth asked quickly.

“Good news, bad news, and shitty news. What do you want first?” Jewels told them.

“Dealer’s choice mom.” Bobbie answered quickly.

“Okay will go with the shitty news first. Rosie is out for the rest of the season. She is on her way to the hospital as we speak. The bad news is Reynolds Racing doesn’t have a replacement car her at this time. The good news is she is alive and will be able to watch the race from the grandstands tomorrow. Thou it will have to be from a wheelchair. The infield docs say that her left arm and leg are broken in multiple places.” Jewels as informed them of Rosie John’s injuries all four of the MRI drivers grimaced in sympathy.

“At least she’s alive. The new safety measures are paying off big time this year.” Beth grunted as Bobbie elbowed her in the ribs. “What?”

“She got off lighter than I expected Beth. Even with the new safety features in our cars. That wreck could have killed her. The real kick in the ass for Rosie will be the new physical she’ll have to undergo before she can return. Remember the ISA is cracking down on all drivers who wreck. Those damned concussion tests are a pain in the ass. Don’t forget you have to pass not one but two now.” Bobbie pointed.

“Traumatic brain injury is nothing to fuck around with Roberta.” Jewels snapped.

“Mom Bobbie has nothing to worry about then.” Beth snickered. “Bobbie would need a brain to suffer that kind of injury in the first place.”

Sam and Jim chuckled as Bobbie stuck her tongue out blowing Beth a raspberry in response to her wise crack. Jewels chuckled at her daughters’ antics then sighed dramatically for effect. “Roberta please show some decorum. After all the press and fans can see you dear.”

“Oh, please mom. Don’t try pulling that put upon Catholic mother act on us.” Bobbie snarked in response to Jewels’ look of disapproval. “Besides you know that I’m the prefect lady when I have to be in front of the press and fans.”

“When?” Jim snarked. Which got everyone to chuckle. Even Jewels. The sounds of a V-8 firing over drew their attention to pit road. “Is that Rokossovsky Aleskeevich?”

“It is. She’s the last driver before we start setting up for qualifying runs.” Jewels answered honestly.

“Do you think she’ll have the same problems as the rest of us mom?” Beth asked. “I mean this is her home track.”

“I doubt it Bobbie. She’ll have the track knowledge advantage this time. You’re all some of the best drivers out there kids. But I have to honestly say that Aleskeevich is the threat of threats on this track.” Jewels told them all with a calculating smile. “That woman will push you all tomorrow.”

They turned to watch as Aleskeevich powered through the first turn and onto the shortest straightaway. Bobbie was the first to comment. “She’ll lose it on the back straightaway at that speed.”

“No, she won’t Bobbie. Remember she knows this beast the same way you know the Lady.” Jewels warned her youngest daughter and drivers.

“If that’s the case mom. How do we handle her?” Beth asked.

“We don’t. We race the track and let the track take care of the rest.” Jewels told them all with real honest respect for the woman. She then looked Bobbie dead in the eyes. “Even with your angel Bobbie. Make no mistake. Aleskeevich is your biggest competition. Along with the rest of Red Star.”

“Then we need to make sure that team Red Star remembers that of all the teams that McGuire Racing International is the real deal.” Bobbie snarled.

-----tbc-----

Sorry for the long delay on the chapter. I plan on returning to my normal posting schedule.

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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 23
Moscow Superspeedway: Race day 1030 am
Drivers’ briefing tent.

Bobbie could only look out at the pouring rain with nothing but disgust. She had gone to bed the night before under clear skies. This morning she could barely see the parking lot in front of the hotel. Even now the forecast for the day was overcast clouds with a chance of rain. “I hope like hell this rain lets up soon.”

“Welcome to Russia’s second greatest weapon, comrade.” The voice chuckled with a heavy Slavic accent. “During the Great War the spring and summer rains did more to stop the Nazis’ than our valued troops.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, Koychev. Though what it has to do with today’s race is beyond me.” Bobbie said as she turned to face the Russian driver.

“Have you ever heard of General Winter and Major Mud, Bobbie?” Koychev asked.

“Can’t say that I have. Though I got a feeling the names have something to do with the weather here in Russia.” Bobbie chuckled.

“They do. During the Great Patriotic War, the Nazis made a few great mistakes. The greatest of which was attacking Russia during the latter part of the summer. When traditionally the heaviest rains fall in our country. The fields and dirt roads turned to mud. Bogging down their advance. It removed the Nazis’ two greatest advantages, speed and maneuverability.” Koychev told her with a grin.

“Please tell me that you’re not comparing me to the Nazis?” Bobbie grinned.

“No, but you do remind me of that French Corporal who became Emperor. He to made the same mistake of attacking Russia in the late summer months.” Koychev chuckled as his joke about Bobbie’s height drew a raspberry from the festy American driver. “You know Bobbie. Of all our competition only you have shown me, my team, and my country any type of respect. I must know why?”

“The answer is simple my friend. In the words of your General Alexander Kerenski ‘It is wise to study the ways of your enemy.’ I would be a total dumbass to ignore the history and culture of this land.” Bobbie told him honestly. “The drivers it produces are some of the best.”

“I see. Thank you for your honesty Bobbie.” Koychev told her with a smile as he looked out towards the track. “Allow me to show you the same respect with a small piece of advice. When the rain stops, and the track driers get to work beware of the exits to the turns. They will still be holding a slight sheen of water until the sun beats down on them to dry them out. We learned this fact the hard way during our test runs last year.”

“Thanks, Koychev. With the way our cars are setup something like that could cause us all kinds of problems.” Bobbie grunted as she thought about what would happen if her car hit a sheet of water at over 200mph. With the speeds MRI put up yesterday during qualifying that was a real possibility. Out of all the teams MRI held the top four positions in the field. They had won those spots by postings speeds between 220mph and 221mph. With Bobbie posting the best speed at 221.7mph with a record setting time that had a good chance of standing for several years. The ISA was already talking about using restrictor plates at the Moscow Triangle.

“Attention all drivers! Attention all drivers!” Bobbie and Koychev turned towards the podium at the front of the Drivers’ tent. They knew that something was up by the way the ISA official was standing.

“Bobbie I have a feeling that our good friends in the officials are about to make our day a little more challenging.” Koychev grunted from beside her.

“You know something Koychev. For a Cossack you’re smarter than you appear.” Bobbie snarked as Koychev chuckled at the dig. “Though today I got a feeling that this race will be similar to your people’s great cavalry rides of history.”

“Good one my friend. For some reason I believe that you’re right. With your team being our lead scout element.” Koychev’s comment about MRI being the sacrificial members of a cavalry charge brought a cringe from the young women. Koychev chuckled as he thumped her on the back. “Don’t worry comrade. I doubt that you’ll face the same fates of those old horsemen.”

“I hope you’re right buddy.” Bobbie grunted as a crack of thunder rolled across the racetrack. “Tell me something Koychev. Does this track have a nickname yet?”

“Nothing official yet, sadly. Me and my teammates have tried out a few but none of them seemed right.” Koychev answered honestly.

“I got one for you, Koychev. Cossack Rage.” Bobbie chuckled.

“Quiet down please, drivers. I have an announcement to make. It concerns the start of the race and our track drying efforts.” The man began grabbing Bobbie’s full attention. Even Beth, Sam, and Jim were giving the man their undivided attention. “When the rain stops our tracking drying teams will begin their work with the new Antonov jet dryers. They will make three laps round the track proper. Once they have complete these laps you will be instructed to start your engines and roll out onto the track. The track dryers will then begin their work on pit road while you drive until their work is completed. Once all track drying efforts have been completed one of the paces car will pull away from the rest of the field. This driver will run two full laps at near their top speeds. Only then will it be determined if the race will be run today.”

“Sir, why only the pace car? Why not one of the regular cars? Wouldn’t an actual driver be better at gaging track conditions.” One of the drivers near the front asked. The heavy Tokyo accent gave away the driver’s identity for Bobbie.

“A valid question, Mister Junzo. This is a method that the Americans’ NASCAR league pioneered. It has been found to provide the best and safest results for all involved in the race.” The official answered for Junzo. “Does that help?”

“Thank you sir. It does answer a few questions.” Junzo answered.

“Still can’t believe that most of our races have been relatively rain free so far this season. At least to the point where the track dryers haven’t been needed. That or the ISA has rescheduled for the next day.” Sam chuckled honestly.

“What I want to know is how they expect just three track dryers to clean up the track in three laps. NASCAR uses the Air Titan two-point-oh to dry their tracks. Usually as many twenty per track. I count what five, six trucks total. That’s all three dryers, two vacuum trucks to pick the water up, and one squeegee truck.” Bobbie pointed out to her teammates.

“Ah that is the wonder of Russian redesign. The Antonov jet dryers are three times the size of their American counterparts. Plus, three times as powerful.” Koychev chuckled from beside them all. Their attention was quickly brought back to the official with his next few words.

“Should there be a red flag for rain at any point during the race. The race is called for the day. We will not be restarting for weather delays ladies and gentlemen.” This was not something that Bobbie wanted to hear.

“Excuse me sir! But why not? We obviously have the equipment to handle a sudden down pour.” She demanded not liking the idea of winning by rainout.

“That is true Ms. McGuire. What is also true is what happens to the track’s surface as well. Which is something we do not know.” The man pointed out bluntly. Before going in for the kill. “We have several more races these next few days. We cannot in danger the other drivers from the other sports by damaging the track surface with multiple track drying attempts in one day.”

“So, what you’re trying to say is no one knows how the track surface will react after the first drying attempt.” Bobbie bitched for the rest of the drivers as she snarled. “We’re your damned guineapigs.”

“No Ms. McGuire you are not guineapigs. As with all new racetracks there are certain aspects that remain unknown until the first race.” The ISA official said trying to placate the suddenly enraged American. Once again Bobbie’s infamous temper flared.

“Chill out baby sis.” Beth whispered hoarsely. She knew how her sister got we other than her gambled with her life. “They’re just not taking any chances.”

“Beth’s right Bobbie. This is still an unknown track. It doesn’t matter how many test laps we’ve run here. It doesn’t matter who ran them. This monster is still a rattlesnake waiting to strike. It’s already put one driver in the hospital.” Jim told her bluntly as he waved at the rain-soaked track.

“We already know that this monster’s construction was piss poor to begin with in the first place.” Sam hissed as he recalled the conversation from yesterday. “It was a bitch to drive under ideal conditions. Think about how it’ll be out there today. Wet substandard green asphalt over two thirds of the track with poorly poured concrete under that.” Sam warned her.

“What are they talking about? What substandard asphalt?” One of the drivers from Thunder valley demanded. “We were promised safe racing conditions.”

“The tracks are safe sir. We have taken every precaution there is to insure your safety.” The official calmly told the now angered drivers. Bobbie could tell that her outburst had pissed off the other drivers. Now it was her job to calm them back down enough to listen to reason.

“Everybody just chill out. Shitty tracks are part of racing. We all know that and accept it as part of the risk we take as professionals. The Asphalt Czarina will do what she wants and the rest of us smucks just have to deal.” Bobbie’s wise crack about the Moscow Triangle being Russian Royalty got the Russian drivers laughing. Her unintentional wise ass crack would also have far reaching consequences. A flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder ended the laughing. Bobbie cleared her throat and continued. “I don’t know about the rest of you monkey nuts but the Asphalt Czarina ain’t got nothing on the Lady in Black. She ain’t driving me off.”

“Only a fool disrespects a Lady, Bobbie. Especially another woman.” Mori Unkei from the Japanese team King Night warned Bobbie with a small bow of her head. “Though in the case of the Lady in Black. She is still the Track Too Tough To Tame.”

“Ladies and gentlemen can I please continue with my announcements?” The official huffed. Only to get a round of ‘whatever’s’ from the drivers. “Thank you. As I was saying should we have to call for a halt in racing due to inclement weather. No matter how far we are into the race that is it. Whoever is in the lead at the time is our winner. As for the race itself. Stay above the lower yellow line unless avoiding an accident. There will be three stages with the first two ending in a competition yellow flag stop. Those two stops will be on laps thirty and sixty. The final stage will consist of forty laps. Should there be a yellow flag with less than four laps. We will make only one attempt at a green/white/checkered overtime. Are there any questions?”

When no one spoke out the official smiled. “Very well then. You can return to your buses until called to your cars. Before you ask we have no idea of when that will be. The current weather pattern has stalled overhead.”

“Just great. First delay of a race with no end in sight. To top it off this is the one race that the ISA officials can’t reschedule. It’s either run the race or cancel.” Sam grumbled as they all raised their umbrellas as they exited the tent.

“Seeing as we got time on our hands. Any one up to a game of Texas Hold ‘em?” Jim asked them with a smile. Then offered. “We can use my bus for a change.”

“I’m in. What about you Bobbie?” Sam agreed knowing that Beth would turn them down.

“Sorry guys, but I got some work I need to go over in my bus.” Bobbie answered then headed for her bus. She really wanted to go over engine design.

“Excuse me but what is this Texas Hold ‘em comrades?” Koychev asked them.

“A style of poker Koychev. It’s not hard to learn but unless you’ve played before. Stay away from these two yahoos.” Bobbie warned him.

“Not a problem Bobbie. Unless they cheat I’ll be fine.” Koychev chuckled. “As for another player. I believe that my teammates will be more than happy to join.”

“Okay don’t say I didn’t warn you. Come on Beth. Let’s get to work on those designs.” With that the two sisters headed for their individual buses. As they walked away Koychev turned to the two other Americans.

“What has your teammates so engrossed that they would give up a chance to play a game for money?” Koychev asked.

“Koychev let me fill you in on a few things about Bobbie and Beth McGuire. First off you’ll be hard press to find two more dedicated drivers anywhere. Secondly they may gamble with their lives on the track but never with their money at the poker table. Don’t ask us why that’s just how they are. Lastly if you should ever find out that the major bookies are taking bets on them during a race. Don’t bet against them. No matter what the odds.” Jim told him honestly.

“It sounds like they earned their reputations on the Formula One circuit.” Koychev grunted as he watched the two woman disappear into the heavy rain. “I can only hope that Major Mud evens the odds today.”

“Don’t bet on that happening, Koychev. Bobbie and Beth visited their Good Luck Charm this morning.” Volet Knight said as she walked up behind them. “Those two speed demons are going to be racing with angels on their shoulders.”

“What does that mean Volet?” Koychev asked her bluntly.

“Ah shit. They visited the nearest Children’s Hospital didn’t they?” Sam asked a smiling Volet. With a sigh he turned to Koychev. “The only thing we’re racing for is third place Koychev. Once that green flag drops. The world and the field will fall away for those two and their only competition will be each other.”

“That and the track itself. Once they get into that mindset nothing gets in their way but the finish line.” Jim grinned.

“Well, they will find that angels in Russia don’t always side with the saints. In Russia they’ve been known to do the Devil’s work.” Koychev grinned only to hear Jim chuckling. “What have I missed comrade?”

“When it comes to angels and demons riding shoulders. Beth and Bobbie McGuire are on a first name basis with the Archangel Michael and the Devil himself Lucifer. Not even the Archangel Azrael, dares to challenge those two on a racetrack.” Jim answered with a nasty grin.

“From the way you talk about the McGuire sisters. I would swear they have supernatural powers behind the wheel of their racecars.” Koychev chuckled.

“Koychev old boy. You won’t be the first or the last driver to make that comment about the McGuire sisters. There’s a reason we call them our Furies of Fire and Ice.” Sam chuckled as he looked towards the two McGuire sisters buses. “Even back home their driving skills were legendary long before they ever set foot on the professional racetracks of the world.”

“I had heard that they used to race on the back roads of the home state. I just never gave much credit to them.” Koychev chuckled as he cracked his knuckles. “Now my comrades tell me about this Texas Hold ‘em.”

Bobbie’s bus.

Bobbie and Beth sat down at the dining table in her tour bus. Spread across the top were blueprints for an experimental engine and transmission. Scattered among the blueprints were sheets and sheets of handwritten calculations plus notes. This was Bobbie’s pet project. She knew that in the past internal combustion engines could be fueled by gain alcohol. She also knew all the problems those old engines suffered from by using gain alcohol as fuel. She knew the main reason biofuels hadn’t taken off in the USA was Big Oil and the major automotive companies. The biggest concern for the automotive companies was the cost of manufacturing biofuel engines. Bobbie knew that if she could design an affordable engine and transmission design half her problems would be solved.

“Bobbie you do know that you’re just rehashing old designs right?” Beth asked as she picked up one of the blueprints.

“Yup. I’ve known that from the start. The biggest problem biofuel engines have always faced is Big Oil and the Big Three’s reluctance to embrace new fuels. The only area the Big Three have shown any inclination in multifuel engines is for the military. For example, the engine that you’re looking at now was the original engine design for the Hummers. That design was sidelined for more the conventional deiseal fueled engines.” Bobbie bitched as Beth just hummed.

“Yeah I can see your reason for wanting to rehash these designs. What does Kelly think about your little project?” Beth asked with a giggle.

“That I’m wasting my time.” Bobbie chuckled. “But she doesn’t bitch too loudly. My little hobby is keeping me out of her hair.”

“I can see her saying that.” Beth laughed only to have her laughter drowned out by a peel of thunder. “Damn that was close. You think they’ll call the race Bobbie?”

“Honestly sis. If they do cancel the race I won’t be surprised. Check out the satellite scans for the area.” Bobbie told her as she opened her laptop. “Here take a look at the weather forecasted for the next three days.”

“Shit. Rain, rain, and more rain. The only break is going this afternoon. Even then that break is only for two hours.” Beth grumbled. “They won’t even have a chance to dry the track properly. The question now is how are they going to score the race for the championship race.”

“If they go off the NASCAR system. The ISA officials will use our qualification results for deciding the points. That would give MRI the top four slots in the drivers’ championship race. It’ll also solidify our position in the Manufacturer’s Race as well.” Bobbie answered honestly.

“What do you think our chances are at being able to race at least one stage?” Beth asked her with real curiosity.

“To be honest Beth. Slime to fucking none. Even with those massive jet engines drying the tracks. It’ll take at least six to seven laps before the track starts to even become drivable. Even then we would need rain tires. Not the slicks we’re running.” Bobbie told her bluntly. “If we were still in Formula One cars it’d be no problem but were running Stockcars now.”

“Damn I hadn’t thought about. Though you’re probably right. Any chance of them pushing the race back to sometime during the week?” Beth wondered.

“None. Our next race is next Saturday in Warszawa, Poland which is a three day drive from here. With the one after that a week later in Toledo, Spain. There won’t be any time for us to run delayed races. Today’s race and the next two are run, no run situations. As it is the ISA is running on a tight enough budget. Any delays in our schedule races will blow that budget straight to hell.” Bobbie bitched.

“What do you know that the rest of us don’t Bobbie?” Beth demanded.

“This stays just between the two us Beth. Do you remember those four suites from the Networks?” Bobbie asked her. Beth just nodded her head yes. “They’re getting pressure from NASCAR and F1A to drop the broadcasts of our races. Especially the ones that happen on the same day of the week.”

“We can’t be taking that large of the market?” Beth asked in surprise.

“Haven’t you been watching the ratings board Beth? The ISA is currently second only to NASCAR back home and second only to the F1A world as far as sporting events go right now. At the rate our popularity is growing. Those standings will change and change soon.” As Bobbie was explaining the situation for Beth she ground her teeth. “If the major TV networks drop us our fledgling sport dies.”

“Damn that just sucks. So, it’s do or die for us. What are our chances?” Beth asked.

“As long as we don’t delay or cancel too many races. We stand a good chance at having more than two or three seasons. What we need to bring in a large enough fan base are more races at the short tracks. Places like Bristol where we can really bump and grind. These superspeedways are great for showcasing our speed, but they lack that trading paint feeling that made NASCAR famous.” Bobbie explained.

“And the ISA officials are ignoring the facts as usual.” Beth sighed. “They still haven’t approached the short track owners have they?”

“Nope. If what Jennifer was telling me the other night is even halfway accurate. Unless the ISA can add in six more short track races next season. We’ll most likely be dropped by the Corporate sponsors.” Bobbie grunted honestly.

“Then let’s hope like hell we get a long enough break to at least run fifty-one laps today.” Beth sighed as she thought about the impact of losing the Corporate sponsors would have on their sport.

“Your mouth to God’s ears, Beth.” Was all Bobbie said as she picked up her notes. “Not that we can’t always fall back on F-one or Indy if we had to.”

“That’s true. I just hope it doesn’t come to that Bobbie. Sam and Jim don’t have their tickets for either.” Beth sighed. “I’d hate to leave them behind.”

“They won’t be Beth. Mom and dad are still owed a few favors among the NASCAR teams. They’ve already sent out feelers in case we get shutdown before the start of next season. Jim and Sam will be welcomed with open arms if the ISA gets shutdown.” Bobbie told her honestly. “We’ll be the ones looking for work.”

“What are you talking about? Mercedes-Benz will still be our sponsor as always.” Beth asked Bobbie not knowing what her sister was talking about.

“Beth those new contracts we signed were for driving in the ISA. They already found replacements for us on the Formula One circuit. We’ll need to find new sponsors if the ISA gets shutdown.” Bobbie pointed out for her sister the ugly truth. “Right now, we’re two of the hottest drivers on any circuit. Most sponsor are going to shy away from us because of perceived costs.”

“What perceived costs? Just what are you talking about Bobbie?” Beth whined.

“Any new sponsor will look at our fame and think bucks over talent behind the wheel. As much as we try to downplay our skills Beth every new sponsor will look at our record of wins in both ISA and F-One. When they do they’ll see nothing but dollar signs. When it comes to sponsor one of our cars for just one race we’re talking five-hundred-thousand pre-race. Then there is our pay. Last time I checked we’re both pulling down one-point-two-five-million a season. That doesn’t count those endorsement contract payments. You’re getting what nine-fifty from Nike, and eight-hundred from Prada. Thanks to Issy we’re two of the highest paid fashion models that never walked a fashion show runway.” Bobbie bitched while Beth chuckled.

“That’s true. I still can’t believe Issy got Kelly to pose for that maternity line from Levi Strauss.” Beth chuckled at the face Bobbie gave her. “Don’t bitch little sister. She got paid nine-hundred-grand for those pictures.”

“Tell me something I don’t know Beth. If mom and dad hadn’t stepped in when they did Issy would have had our kids posing for fashion pics.” Bobbie grumbled.

“Issy does have a way of pushing things too far.” Beth chuckled. “Though even I have to admit that would have been going way pass the line.”

The knock on the bus door ended their privet talk. Bobbie sighed and yelled out. “Come on in. The door is unlocked.”

“You might as well get comfortable girls. The ISA just got an updated weather report.” Jewels told them as she stepped into the bus.

“How bad mom?” Beth asked her.

“It’s bad enough that if the rain doesn’t let up in the next half hour. They’re talking about canceling our race.” Jewels told them both.

“Shit. Have the ISA officials decided on how they’ll score our standings for Chase?” Bobbie asked her as she moved over to the kitchen area of her bus.

“They’re still working on the actual points, but it will be based on your starting line up positions. As the pole sitter Bobbie, you’ll be awarded the most points. After that who knows. They’ll be holding another drivers’ meeting if it comes to that. Though if I were to guess the officials will award fifty points to the top position and go down from there. Each position being worth five points down to tenth place in the field.” Jewels told her daughters with a chuckle. “Though with the way you two have climbed back into the race for the championship. It won’t make much of a difference in the long run.”

“What does that mean mom?” Bobbie asked her bluntly.

“Roberta Lee McGuire when are you going to start paying attention to your position in the point standings?” Jewels sighed as she gave her youngest daughter a dirty look. “A win here today would put you firmly back in first place Bobbie. With Beth, Sam, and Jim in a three way tie for second.”

“I know that the points chase was tight mom, but not that tight. What the hell happened to change things up so fast?” Bobbie asked in surprise.

“With Rosie John, Nathan Watson, and Seth Fisher out for the rest of the season the race for the championship shifted. All four of you jumped solidly into the top five positions. Now the question is who gets to fill out the rest of the top ten.” Jewels said giving her daughters a hard look.

“Okay mom what are we missing?” Beth asked.

“It all depends on if the ISA officials go with the standards set by NASCAR. If they do then it’ll come down to individual driver standings. If they decide to use F-one-A standards they go by driver standings among the teams. The threat of cancelation due to weather has everything up in the air.” Jewels answered honestly. “The only thing that isn’t up for debate are the top four positions in the race.”

“Attention all drivers! Attention all drivers! Please report to the drivers’ tent. Attention all drivers! Please report to the Drivers’ tent!” The announcement drew a sigh from all three McGuire women.

“Grab your umbrella Beth. I got a feeling that the race just got canceled.” Bobbie said as she headed to the door to her bus. As the two sisters walked down the line of buses they were joined by other drivers. Not just Sam and Jim but other drivers from the other teams. The cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning only served to darken the moods of the drivers. It was almost as if the dark low hanging clouds were pressing down on their very souls.

“I hate to say this Bobbie, but that feeling you had about the race being canceled. Just became a hard fact of life. This rain isn’t going to break anytime soon.” Beth whispered as they crossed the rained soaked garage area.

“I wish that I was wrong, sis. I hate winning like this.” Bobbie bitched.

“We all do Bobbie, but remember what dad always says. A win is a win don’t bitch.” Beth snarked as Bobbie glowered at her.

“Yah, yah, I hear you Beth. I just wish we could have a chance at running at least one stage.” The crack of thunder caused both young women to flinch. “Though with the way the rain is coming down now. I highly doubt that will happen.”

Bobbie’s word could not have been more prophetic if she tried. As soon as she and the other drivers had gather under the drivers’ tent than the Chairwoman for the ISA Irina Stumpfegger stepped up to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen may I have your attention please. I’ll try not to keep you long.”

“Madam Chairwoman, just tell us if we’re going to race or not.” One of the other drivers shouted out at her.

“Very well I’ll get straight to the point. According to the latest weather forecast it is felt that we cannot ask you to risk your lives on unpredictable race conditions. With rain forecasted for the next three days all races have been canceled. With the tight time frame of the individual divisions’ schedules only the Indy car division can realistically reschedule their race for later in the week. Because of this today’s race is canceled. All teams will head for the next race in Warszawa. Points for the canceled race will be awarded down to twentieth qualifying position in the field. The pole position will receive fifty points. Each position below that will receive two less points down to tenth. From eleventh place down to twentieth each position will receive one less point for qualifying.” Stumpfegger explained for the gathered drivers. “As we will not be running a race today no trophy will be awarded ladies and gentlemen. The Board feels that it would be unfair to award the trophy for an inaugural race that wasn’t run. Are there any objections?”

“I got an objection. If you’re not going to present the trophy. Why are you giving out points for qualifying?” Jules Grinda from the French team Les Ailes de Justice.

“The commission felt that it was only fair. Each driver here put their best effort towards placing as high as they could in the starting lineup. It was felt that those efforts should be rewarded. The trophy though is rewarded for the actual race itself. Not for qualifying.” Stumpfegger answered honestly. “Any more questions?”

“Just one Madam Chairman. Is there any chance of rescheduling our race for later in the year? Like after Darlington?” Bobbie asked her.

“I’m afraid not Ms. McGuire. The fall weather conditions for this part of Russia are not conducive for racing. Much like they are in the USA.” Stumpfegger explained.

“Thank you Ma’am for explaining ma’am. Come on guys. Let’s break the news to the rest of the team.” With that Bobbie turned and headed for the exit. Sam, Jim, and Beth were right behind her.

“You’re not going to wait around for the awarding of points?” One of the other drivers asked them as they left.

“I got what I needed. The sooner we get our transports moving. The sooner we can get some practice runs in at Warszawa. The last I heard. With the exception of the length that track is an exact two-point-five-mile copy of Darlington.” Bobbie told the man bluntly. “The last time I checked there are only four drivers here that have the homefield advantage at Darlington. That is us, and we never turn our backs on the Lady in Black. EVER!”

“What does that have to do with the track in Warszawa?” The driver asked.

“Think about numb nuts. If we show an uncommon amount of respect for our home track. Why would we show any less respect for its little sister?” Beth snarked.

“Listen up people.” Jim called out for the other drivers to hear. “The Asphalt Czarina is a monster track just like Pocono. But just like Pocono she has nothing on Darlington Speedway. For those of you who don’t know Darlington is one of the top ten most lethal tracks in America with seven fatalities.”

“There is a reason we call Darlington the Track Too Tough To Tame. If Warszawa is an exact copy but only bigger. Then you’ll get a taste for what is to come at Darlington.” Sam warned them all. “I don’t know about you, but if have to the chance at getting more than one practice run at a track like that. I’ll take it.”

“Are you really afraid of the Warszawa track?” Koychev asked Sam bluntly.

“If you’re not afraid Koychev. Then you’re a damned fool.” Beth snapped. “We’ve all been given the specs for the Warszawa track. Like Bobbie already said. She’s an exact copy of the Lady in Black just longer. That makes her both meaner and deadlier. A combination that only a fool doesn’t respect or fear. Both Sam and Jim have earned their Darlington Stripes. I got a feeling that everyone of us here will be earning a Warszawa stripe before the race is over.”

“What’s a Darlington Stripe?” One of the former Formula One drivers asked.

“It’s paint lost to the walls of Darlington’s turns. For NASCAR drivers it’s a right of passage.” Bobby Parker from Reynold’s Racing chuckled. “The drivers of MRI are right about treating any track even remotely similar to the Lady with respect. You don’t and you’re as good as dead. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I for one am going to follow their example. Besides there nothing more for us here. Mother Nature has won the day and owns this track for now.”

Following Parker’s words, the gathering broke up as drivers headed back to their teams. As Beth, Bobbie, Sam, and Jim walked towards the pit area they could see their cars being moved behind wall. Bobbie just chuckled at the sight. “Looks like dad has already figured out they called the race.”

“Pretty much. You going to ride with your bus or catch a short haul flight?” Beth asked Bobbie as they walked.

“I think I’ll ride with my bus. It’ll give me a chance to see some of the countryside for once.” Bobbie grinned then wiggled her eyebrows. “It’ll also give me some alone time with Kelly and the kids.”

“You know something little sister. That’s a damned good idea.” Beth chuckled as she thought about spending a little alone time with Tony.

“Tell me something Beth. When are you and Tony going to give me a niece or nephew?” Bobbie asked her bluntly.

“We’ve talked about it Bobbie. A lot really.” Beth told her honestly then sighed. “We’ve decided to adopt.”

“Okay Beth what haven’t you told mom and dad?” Bobbie asked bluntly.

“I can’t have children Bobbie.” Beth answered with more than a little pain in her voice. “I found out during my physical at the start of the season.”

“Damn it. When will this family catch a fucking break. First my cancer and now this.” Bobbie said as she grabbed her sister in a tight hug. “I’m sorry Beth.”

“Not your fault Bobbie. Just the luck of the draw. I suspected that something was wrong back when I was dating Tommy.” Beth told her quietly. “Tony and I have talked about fertility treatments, but I would have to take a year off from racing. As much as I would love to do that I still got that contract hanging over my head.”

“Say no more sis. Until our contracts are up. You having your own baby is not in the cards. Then there is the fact that high speeds, massive g-forces, hours of holding it in, are not conducive to becoming pregnant.” Bobbie pointed out with more than a little regret for her sister. “If you want I can buy out your contract. That way you and Tony can start your family now.”

“I could do that myself Bobbie. This is our problem. Mine and Tony’s. We’re happy waiting for now. Besides, there are hundreds of deserving children out there that could use a loving home. Why not ours?” Beth asked with a hopeful smile.

“I can’t think of two better people deserving of a family.” Bobbie told her sister just before hugging her one more time. “When it comes time for the adoption hearing let me know. Kelly and I will stand beside. I’m sure mom and dad will be there as well. Not to mention the rest of MRI and just about every car club member in Darlington county. Plus a few other counties.”

“I don’t know if having a bunch of rowdy street racers as character witnesses about be a good thing.” Beth chuckled. “Then again we’re talking about Darlington County South Carolina. Who knows. Depending on the judge they might be some of the best character witnesses we can find.”

“Hey, some of those same people were guests at my wedding.” Bobbie bitched.

“And your point is?” Beth giggled as Bobbie snorted. “Come on lets get out of the rain. I don’t know about you but after that last meeting. I could use a hot shower, warm meal, and about eight hours of sleep.”

“I know what you mean. I got a feeling that it’s going to take the crews about two to three hours to pack everything up in this rain. Then about two to three hours to clear out the paddock area. I figure the ISA Officials will make the announcement any minute now.” Bobbie sighed then pointed towards the nearest loudspeakers as they crackled. “Here it comes.”

“Attention ladies and gentlemen. Due to the inclement weather today’s inaugural running of the Antimav five-hundred has been canceled. Please exit the stands in an orderly manner. A partial refund will be issued for all ticket holders.” The announcer informed the crowd First in Russian then in English. The announcement was repeated three more times in French, German, and finally Italian.

“Damn the roadways are going to be bumper to bumper in this weather now.” Beth bitched as she looked towards the empty stands. “How many fans do you think are hiding under the grandstands Bobbie?”

“I would say that more than seventy-percent of the fans were still waiting around for a break in the rain. Out of the one-hundred-and-fifty-four-thousand I would say there was close to one-thirty-five to one-forty thousand fans still waiting. Of those I would say that eighty to ninety thousand came here by public transit. The rest drove themselves. Figure twenty-thousand cars.” As Bobbie was running the numbers off Beth was doing the math in her head.

“Figure four to five hours to clear out the parking lot. At least another three hours before traffic smooths out.” Beth sighed. “We’ll be lucky to get out of here before six this evening. Might as well let dad and the crews know.”

“You gals thinking about riding with your buses to Warszawa?” Jim asked he and Sam walked up. “If you are what to convoy our buses? You know make it a vacation trip out of our unplanned cross country trip.”

“Sounds good we could actually make a few stops along the way to sightsee.” Sam suggested with a friendly smile.

“Not a bad idea. How about it Bobbie? You game?” Beth asked.
“I don’t see why not. It’ll give Sue something to write about in that fan blog of hers. I swear that girl has become an uberfan for Stockcar racing.” Bobbie chuckled as she thought about her children’s nanny.

“You can say that again. When she isn’t watching your kids Sue is in the pits learning everything she can about the cars.” Sam chuckled.

“Shit I think she knows more the tracks we’re going to racing at than we do. Ever since we raced at Texas she has been obsessed with the individual tracks.” Jim snarked as he talked about the nanny.

“Guys I hate to say this, but it’s my fault that she’s become an uberfan.” Bobbie sighed then chuckled at her nanny’s obsession with stockcar racing. “I kind of lite the fire for her.”

“Thanks a lot Bobbie. The girl wants to know everything about how we handle each track. She’s worse than my baby sister.” Sam grumbled.

“Speaking of Mary. How’s she doing?” Beth asked him.

“Mary is doing better. She’s finally accepted the fact that she’ll never be the next Misty Copeland or Anna Pavlova. She did get accepted into Julliard on a partial scholarship. I’ll be picking up the rest of the tab.” Sam told them with a smile of pride for his baby sister. “It’s the least I can do for my parents. Especially after all the shit I put them through in high school.”

“Don’t feel like the lone stranger there partner. I’ve already setup college funds for my kid brother and sister. I know I blew my chances at college, but I can make sure Mike and Terra get their shot at college educations.” Jim told them with a grin. “It’s not like I can’t afford it. In the last three years I’ve earned more money than I’ll ever spend in my lifetime.”

“They’re not the only ones Bobbie. Every member of the MRI racing teams is set for life.” Beth told her with a smile. “It’s all thanks you.”

“How do you figure that?” Bobbie asked in confusion.

“You were the one who started it all. MRI won’t be the organization it is today if it hadn’t been for those contracts you and Beth won three years ago.” Jim told her honestly. “And it’s not just MRI Bobbie. Think about all the lives that you and this team have touched in the last three. The Darlington Knights all turned our shit around. The Blue Devils are some of the most respected students in their schools. Those are just two of the car clubs that your influence has bettered.”

“Then there’s all the other kids from our old high school you’ve influenced. Did you know that auto shop enrollment is up by three-hundred percent. There’s a class very period now. The school actually had to hire a second auto shop teacher to give Mr. Yates a break because he was overworked. It’s not just the guys like me and Jim taking the class anymore. They’re got jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, you name it taking auto shop anymore.” Sam chuckled. “All thanks to what you did for the Knights, Devils, and other car clubs.”

“Okay guys I get the point.” Bobbie chuckled then flinched as a crack of thunder rolled across the paddock. Bobbie looked up at the heavy storm clouds with a smirk. “On that note people. It’s time to end this discussion and get out of the rain. Besides Kelly, Sue, and the kids should be back at the bus by now.”

“See you at the first rest stop, Bobbie.” Beth called out as she ran towards her own bus. Sam and Jim were right behind her.

“Welp, Koychev looks like Major Mud won this round.” Bobbie said to no one as she walked towards her bus. Just before she reach for the door Bobbie gave the massive triangle track one last look. “We’ll see you next year Czarina. You better ready bitch. Because one of us will conquer your ugly nasty ass.”

-----tbc-----

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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 24
The Black Lady of Warsaw: Race day

“My God! They really did supersize Darlington. Expect for its size this place is exactly like home. Right down to the turn four minnow pond at the west side of the property. Talk about paying attention to detail.” Beth whispered as she stood next to Bobbie on top of her tailer looking out at the track. “How are we going to crack this big ass mother fucking bitch Bobbie? We sure as hell can’t handle her like Darlington. We learned that the hard way yesterday.”

“We race the track not the field, Beth. We race the same way we do back home. Low on the straightaways high in the turns. The only turn we really got to watch out for is turn four and that stupid kick out of the wall on the exit. We might only have forty laps here, but we got thousands of laps at the real Darlington.” Bobbie grinned. “That gives us the edge. No matter how you slice it.”

“YO! BOBBIE GET DOWN HERE!” Robert McGuire called out.

“Coming dad!” Bobbie yelled to her father. “Let’s go see what pop wants sis.”

Once the two McGuire sisters were down off the trailer Bob McGuire smiled at them in pride. “Okay you two. Time for the prerace safety meeting.”

“Sure, thing dad.” Beth sighed as the two headed for the drivers’ safety tent. They knew that no matter how the race ran today. This meeting would set the standers for safety. Safety was something neither girl would ever take for granted. Even in their illegal street racing days they never took their safety for granted.

As the gathered drivers listened to the safety briefing Bobbie let her mind drift back her practice and qualifying runs. She ran every inch of the track over and over in her mind. She could see Turns 1 and 2 with their 25° banking. At the other end sat the much tighter Turns of 3 and 4 with a slightly lower banking at 23°. Every inch of this track had some banking. Even the Front Straightaway had 3° Banking while the Back Straightaway had 2° of banking.

This track was almost twice the size of Darlington but held no real mysteries for her. For Roberta McGuire the Black Lady of Warsaw was the oversized younger sister of the Lady in Black, Darlington Speedway. There is a reason drivers call it the Track Too Tough To Tame. That track was one of the reasons why her mother and father started their business there. It was the prefect platform for testing any and all of their designs. It was also the reason why the drivers of MRI were so damned good no matter where they raced. The only deference between the two Speedways was their size. She and her team had already found the sweat spot for draft racing. The one and only point around the track they had to worry about was the exit to turn 4. That slight kickout of the wall at the exit comes out of nowhere. One misstep and bang. You’re spinning out of control down the front straightaway. When the prerace safety meeting broke up the drivers headed for their cars on pit road Bobbie looked over at her sister and teammates.

“Guys when you get out there I need you all to remember something. We’re going to be running on the ragged edge out there, even when you’re out there by yourself. Forget what you did during qualifying. During the race, you have to lift a little off the gas going into Turn one. Do everything you can to get your left tires on the inside line. The second you get the chance. Get on the throttle hard and let the car drift up towards the wall. If you got it right you can drive it up there for a second or two. Stay up against the wall until you get to the late apex, go full-throttle and turn left to point the nose straight down the backstretch.” Bobbie knew exactly what she was talking about. Of the four MRI team drivers she was the real Mistress of their home track Darlington Speedway.

“If your car is handling well. Take the entrance to Turn three low or in the middle and let it drift up just a little. You point it straight going into Turn three and get on the throttle a little before turning back left for the front stretch. You’ll be going into something of a controlled slide through both ends of the track. Just like back home this track is going to test your drifting skills like no other track.” Bobbie warned her sister and friends.

“This place is just like home. You have to race the track more than the other drivers. If you get over aggressive and you’re going to get in trouble here. We have to be very patient, take our time, and strike only when the time is right. This place is nothing more than Darlington’s stupid oversized little sister. Just like at home sometimes, going slower will actually help you run faster because you won’t slip and slide as much. That is going to be the key to winning here guys. Control.” When Bobbie finished her team briefing Beth, Sam, and Jim chuckled.

“Once again our little racing genius has cracked this nut before the race has even started.” Beth snarked as she gave Bobbie a one arm hug. “I still can’t believe they copied Darlington Speedway down to almost every detail with the exception of size. Everywhere I look. I see a large scale replica of home.”

“No shit. They even have the grandstands set up the same way.” Joe grunted as he held up a map of the track. “They even copied the names for the grandstands.”

“No shit. What’s up with that crap?” Sam wondered aloud.

“The owner of this place spend ten years in South Carolina as a hotel manager before winning a seven-hundred-eighty-five-million dollar lottery in twenty-fifteen. He invested half that into the stock market. The man is a mastermind of finance.” Wit Zoladz told them as he walked by them. “Around here he is the local hero.”

“You’re from around here aren’t you Wit?” Beth asked him.

“I was born and raised in the area of Warsaw that was once the old Jewish Ghetto. When Aleksy Markiewicz returned home five years ago he started his own construction company. Within three years he was the number one public works contractor. When he first proposed building this track. The city council told that him that it had to be modeled after an American track. That is why he chose Darlington. Markiewicz got tickets to every race at Darlington he could during his time in America.” Wit chuckled as he told the story of Aleksy Markiewicz. “By the way Bobbie. I overheard your talk with your teammates. You’ll find that you have greatly underestimated this track. She is not the stupid big little sister of Darlington. She is a force of nature all on her own.”

“Wit let me be clear about this. This tack holds absolutely no secrets for me or my team. You get in our way out there during the race. We’ll run over your ass. Not even we could conquer the Track Too Tough To Tame. We all grew up racing around that little Lady. Alisky Markiewicz made one mistake with his track.” Bobbie chuckled as Wit gave her a lopsided look. “He copied our home down to the last detail. The only exception is the size. That one change makes no difference to someone who has raced on the real track.”

“If you say so comrade. Though I believe that the Black Lady of Warsaw still holds secrets that even the vaunted skills of you and teammates have yet to face.” Wit chuckled as he turned and head for his car. As he walked away his called back over his shoulder. “Best of luck Yankee. You’ll need it.”

“What an asshole!” Jim snarked.

“Hate to say this but he’s right guys. There may still be a few surprises out there. After all we haven’t actually raced here yet. The track could very well change throughout the day as the race progresses. We only know how Darlington will act. This place could change on us in the blink of an eye. Remember this place might be a supersized copy of the Lady in Black, but she is still a cold hearted bitch with a steel strap on.” Bobbie snarled as she looked out at the track. “And she is just looking for someone to get stupid. Just so she fuck them up.”

“Damn Bobbie. This place really has you on edge. Not like at home either. What’s on your mind?” Jim asked her sharply.

“This place may feel like we’re racing at home, but its not. Remember when I told Wit that Alisky Markiewicz made one mistake?” Bobbie asked them as they all nodded their heads yes. “Well, I lied.”

“What do you mean Bobbie? You’ve never lied about a track in your life.” Beth snapped. “Time to come clean little sister.”

“Simple. If I told Wit the truth. We would have lost our edge. Alisky’s engineers copied Darlington down to the last detail with the exception of size. They took their time and did it right. They even got the asphalt sealant mix down correctly. The second we turn our backs on this big bitch she going to fuck us in the ass with a vengeance.” Bobbie snarled as she explained the situation with the track. “We race the track today not the field.”

“Damn. I thought it was just my imagination.” Sam whispered. Then explained his comment when he saw the looks on Jim and Beth’s faces. “During our practice runs this morning it felt like the ass end was trying to slide out from under me in turns two and four. It was even worse going over the tunnel in turn three.”

“Damn just like back home. With that fresh sealant the track will be even slicker than yesterday during qualifying.” Jim grunted in disgust. “I know that we should have the edge here but why do I have the feeling that we’re racing with a handicap?”

“Because we are, Jim. Like Bobbie said earlier when she was talking with Wit. Even we couldn’t fully conquer the Track Too Tough To Tame. Sure, we know all of her little quirks and faults, but this place is a totally new beast all together. I have a feeling that she’ll soon be known as a more than the Black Lady of Warsaw guys. We can’t let our guard down for one second today.” Bobbie warned them.

“You four! Get your asses over here now!” Jewels McGuire shouted at her team of drivers with some heat. As they ran to the team manager and co-owner of MRI the four drivers chuckled. To see Jewels McGuire down on pit road near the cars was a rare and singular sight among the race teams. As they gathered around Jewels they gave her, their, under dived attention. “Alright you sorry assed lot. Time to get down to business. This track is a rattlesnake waiting to strike.”

“Mom we know that already.” Beth giggled as she pointed her thumb at Bobbie. “Little sister pointed out all the nasty points of this beast for us on our walk back from the drivers’ safety briefing. What we don’t know yet is how are we going to win.”

“The same way you would back home Elisabeth. Take your time and race the track. Forget about the rest of the field. Let them pass you. Give them all the track they want to take. Sooner or later, you’ll reel them back in and overtake them. That or the track will take care of them for you.” Jewels chuckled. “Remember just like the Lady in Black the Black Lady of Warsaw has a nasty side to her.”

“Drivers! To your cars!” The announcement over the load speakers drew a smile from the four MRI drivers. “Drivers! Report to your cars at this time!”

“You heard the man kids. Time to mount up!” Jewels shouted as she held out her hand. “Put them in here kids.”

Once all their hands were overlapping Jewels counted down from three and shouted at the top of her lungs. “Three, two, one. Go Tigers!”

All four drivers chuckled as they headed for their cars. With Beth and Bobbie on the poll. Jim and Sam knew they were racing for third. The rest of the field had no idea of who and what they were facing off against today. Jim and Sam had already figured out that no matter how fast they drove. They weren’t equal to the task of beating either Beth or Bobbie on their best of days. Especially on a track that was nothing more than the little big sister of Darlington.

As Danny helped Bobbie through the driver’s side window her thoughts turned towards her children and Kelly for some reason. She knew that they were safe at home as much as she wanted them here. Bobbie knew it was for the best. Her son was running a fever right now. Her thoughts were brought back to the here and now as her father handed her, her iPod, and earbuds. “Get your head in the game kiddo. This track might not be OUR Lady in Black, but she can still be a nasty bitch.”

“Gotcha dad. Take each turn one at a time. Don’t look more than one lap ahead at a time. Never take my eyes off what is in front of me. This track may be supersized, but she has all the earmarks that made Darlington infamous.” Bobbie told as she put her earbuds in and hooked up her iPod.

“That’s the idea kiddo. Remember she’s a stone cold bitch waiting to strike.” Bob told her honestly as he stood up straight. He handed Bobbie her gloves next. “The tunnel turn isn’t as dangerous here because the slope isn’t as sharp but it’s still a threat to a tired or unexpecting driver.”

“I know that dad. That turn is just as nasty as turn three back home. It’s turn four that worries me.” Bobbie told him as she pulled on her gloves. “That inward kick of the wall is slightly sharper than the one at home.”

“It’s the straightaways where you need to stay alert, Speedy. They’re not as smooth as they look or feel. Just like home those two straightaways are the hidden danger here.” Bob warned her as he handed Bobbie her helmet. “This place is more than just a supersized Darlington, but you know this already.”

“Gotcha dad. Race the track and not the field.” Bobbie sighed as she pulled on her Nomex balaclava. As she put her helmet on Bobbie closed her eyes and visualized the starting lineup. On the front row in the pole position was Sakurazaki Mashai and Mori Unkei from King Night racing. The two Japanese drivers were some of the best. They were able to handle the track far better than everyone else during qualifying. The next four rows were a mix of the European teams. In row six where Jim and Sam. The next seven rows was a mix of all the teams. Finally in row fifteen Beth and Bobbie sat side by side. The last five rows were a mix like the rest of the field.

Bobbie didn’t brother with waiting for the call to start her engine before queuing up her race and hitting the play button. She needed to get her mind on this race not worry about her son. She knew that one moment of distraction could put her in the Infield care center if not the hospital. She had already had one trip this season to the hospital and wasn’t looking for a second trip.

“Listen up Bobbie.” Kathy ordered over the radio. “The field is stacked against you in more ways than one. There is no way for you to work your way through the field without taking undo risks. Every driver in front of you is out to keep you from reaching the pole position. They all know that if you win today there’ll be no stopping you from taking the Championship.”

“They can fucking try, Kathy.” Bobbie snarled as the opening notes of Kenny Loggins’ Danger Zone played in her ears and over the radio. The sounds of Kathy’s laughter reached Bobbie over the music. “What the Hell? That’s not what your dad loaded up!”

“Sorry but I set up a hidden secondary file just for racetracks like today!” Bobbie cackled over the radio. “I got one for Tally and Atlanta as well.”

“OH man! I should have seen this coming.” Kathy moaned and switched over the team frequency. “Heads up people! Bobbie’s got her OWN SOUNDTRACK!”

A collective sigh from her teammates let Bobbie know they all understood the meaning behind Kathy’s warning. But it was Beth who put their feelings into words. “Gab onto your assess and hold on guys. Bobbie is going to take us for a ride.”

“You have a gift for understatement Beth.” Chief Slowcome chuckled over the radio.

“DRIVERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!” Bobbie had already flipped the two battery switches that would power the starter. Bobbie grinned as she mashed the starter button with a vengeance. As the cars pulled off pit road Bobbie let her emotions fall away. Over the last few years, she had been able to train herself to become a purely technical driver. Gone was the wild and unpredictable driver who first roared onto the Formula One circuit. Oh, her emotions would sometimes get the better of her, but they no longer ruled how she drove.

The field made three trips around the track to warm up their tires and to get into their final starting positions. None of this mattered to Bobbie. She knew in her heart that at the end of the day. She would be crossing the finishing line first. Nothing the other drivers did would change this fact. Bobbie started to chuckle as she thought about an old legend from her childhood.

“If the Devil’s Bounty hunter wants my ass today. He better have more than eight-hundred horses under his ass to catch me.” Bobbie knew that she was racing more than just the track and field today. She was racing the Ghostrider himself. She just needed to get to the front of the pack and stay there.

When the green flag dropped, Bobbie shifted gears and dropped to the inside apron of the track. No one expected the move so far back in the pack. Not even Beth expected Bobbie to go to the inside like she did. Instead, Beth went to the outside of the track. Before the rest of the field or fans realized what was going. The McGuire sisters were racing four wide going into turn one at full speed. Neither woman let up on the throttle as they rounded turns one and two for the first lap.

As they rocketed out of the turn two exit the sisters had moved to the seventh and eighth places in the field. Jim and Sam had fallen behind them as their friends passed them at full throttle. The two men knew that the McGuire sisters were headed for the front. If they want to be there at the end of the race. Then they had to be on their assess all the way around the track. The drivers of MRI were going to put on a show for the world to see. They had been cheated out of a race last week because of the weather. Today they were going to regain their honor.

As the field rocketed down the back straightaway the four members of MRI pulled even with the front row. As they pulled along side the front runners Bobbie smiled. She knew that the Japanese drivers would collapse under the pressure of the four wide racing before they reached turn four. As they entered turn three the Japanese drivers let off the throttle. This allowed the MRI team to rocket pass them into the lead. When they first pulled out of line with to go four wide. Bob and Jewels McGuire were screaming over the radio. They wanted them to hold back but Bobbie and her crew were listening. They had one thing on their minds. They were going to race the Warsaw Lady the way they raced the Lady in Black. All out, no holds barred, balls out, throttle to the floor. Trading paint the enter way around the track.

As they exited turn four Bobbie stood on the throttle as she keyed her mike. “Are we clear Kathy? I need to know.”

“The only people around you are Beth and the boys. Drop the hammer Speedy. Forget what you were told earlier. Screw your mother’s prerace briefing.” Bob called out.

As the radio went silent the opening notes of Judas Priests’ Turbo Lover blasted over her earbuds. Bobbie’s smile grew with each note and her lead stretched out even further. By the time they entered turn one for the second lap. Bobbie had dragged her sister and the boys into a single four car pack. A lead pack that had a two second lead that was growing. Just like they had done at Daytona. The drivers of MRI knew they were the ones to beat.

What Bobbie and the other drivers of MRI didn’t know was the effect their sudden rush to the front had on the rest of the field. As they roared around the track MRI laid out the correct path for racing at Warsaw. Sakurazaki Mashai and Mori Unkei from King Night racing, were the first to take advantage of their race line. They may be three seconds behind the leading pack, but they could see the line that they took around the track. They may have seen how the MRI drivers were attacking the track, that didn’t mean they could do the same thing. They were the first ones to realize that trying to follow the MRI line would lead to their destruction.

On lap five Unkei hit the kickout of the turn four exit. This one mistake caused a massive chain reaction. First he spun out of control into Mashi. This in turn turned the two Japanese drivers sideways to the rest of the oncoming field. The resulting wreck quickly claimed an additional fifteen cars. If it hadn’t been for the quick reactions of the former NASCAR drivers the carnage would have been far greater. Of the fifteen additional drivers only one had been a former NASCAR driver. The other fourteen were a mix of Formula One, Indy, Rally, and Drift drivers. The red flag came out just as Bobbie exited turn two onto the back straightaway. The wreck was so bad that the ISA officials didn’t bother with a yellow flag. They could tell that is was going to take the rescue crews a long time to clean up the wreckage.

“That was some wreck Bobbie. Did you except that to happen?” Kathy asked over the radio as Bobbie pulled to a stop.

“I was but not this soon. I figured that if I could force the rest of the field into attempting to follow our line someone would screwup and wreck. I just wasn’t expecting the wreck to be on this scale. I thought that we might lose four or five at the most. Noting like this.” Bobbie answered over the radio. “How many involved?”

“Seventeen in total. So far most of the window nets are down. Only Bobby Parker hasn’t dropped his window net yet. That’s because he’s upside down on his roof. The rescue crews are working to get him flipped over as we speak. So far he is the only one not out of his car yet. Hold on Bobbie.” Kathy’s pause let Bobbie know that something important was happening on the front straightaway. “Looks like the rescue crews are going to remove him now instead of righting his car. What’s up with that?”

“If I had to guess. I would say that Parker is injured Kathy. That is the only reason they would attempt to remove him with his car still on its roof.” Bobbie answered her with just a touch of fear in her voice. “Kathy get with the other spotters. I want up to the minute reports on their drivers.”

“We’re already on it Bobbie. I got Joey working with the Formula One teams. Mom is working with the rest of the teams. Though from the looks of things all the safety measures worked as advertised. That is the good news. The bad news is the medics are going to be busy as hell for the next thirty to forty minutes.” Kathy explained.

“Ouch! How bad are we talking here?” Bobbie asked her.

“There’s at least two broken or sprained legs, three maybe four broken or sprained arms, and one pulled back. By my count any way.” Kathy answered. “I’ll know more once they’ve all cleared the infield care center.”

“Thanks Kathy. Now what can you tell me about the cleanup?” Bobbie asked.

“They’ve got all ten tow trucks and six wreckers the working the cleanup. The street sweepers are rolling out now. It won’t be long before they give the signal to restart engines. Hold on Bobbie.” The long pause made Bobbie wonder who Kathy was talking to. “Okay Bobbie restart your engine and fall in behind the pace car as it comes around. We’re under yellow flag conditions as of right now.”

“Roger that Kathy!” Bobbie called out as she flipped the battery switches and mashed the starter button for her engine. Once the massive V-8 engine roared to life once more her father was on the radio to the whole team.

“Okay people there’s a change in plans. When you pit you’re getting four fresh tires and a full tank of go-go juice.” Bob explained for them. “The competition yellow has been canceled. So don’t hold back.”

“Gotcha dad. We got one-hundred-forty-five laps to go. They still going to hold to the standard fifty-lap stages?” Beth asked over the radio.

“Everything but the competition yellow at lap twenty-five is still in play. In other words, we’ve got a whole new ballgame people.” Bob told his drivers.

“Ah shit! They just had to go playing around with the lap schedule.” Bobbie bitched.

As they rolled onto pit road Bobbie looked for her pit sign. With fifteen of the cars out of the race already. As Bobbie slide to a stop in her pit box she found that the two boxes in front of her were empty. Only Beth’s pit box was filled. Danny and the rest of her pit crew were over the wall the second her car came to a stop. Twelve point eight seconds later Bobbie felt her driver’s side slam down signaling her to pull out. With a screech of her tires Bobbie was gone.

As she drove the length of pit road Bobbie smiled. She was the first one on pit and the first one off. She could tell that everyone else was also taking four new tires and packing their fuel cells to the overflow mark. It would now be a race to see who ran out of fuel first or blew the first tire. Bobbie let her smile turn into that of an apex predator. She and the rest of the MRI drivers were the sharks in this fishpond. Beth was their Great White, Jim was their Tiger shark, and Sam a Bull shark. There was no doubt that Bobbie was the Mako among the sharks. The fastest and most unpredictable of all sharks.

“Kathy let me know who comes off pit road last. I need to know so I can plan how I attack the rest of this stage.” Bobbie radioed.

“That’s easy Bobbie. The last man off pit road is going to be Nathan Watson. His pit crew is having air gun problems. Though how that’s going to of help is beyond me Bobbie.” Kathy told her honestly.

“How many laps do you think it’ll take before we start lapping other drivers Kathy?” Bobbie asked her with a giggle.

“If you can regain and keep the pace that you set before the wreck. It would take you six to seven laps before that happens.” Kathy answered before grunting. “Oh man. Why didn’t I see it? You’re going to use Watson as a blocker for the rest of the field. That’s just wrong on so many levels, it’s not funny.”

“Yeh. All’s far in love, war, and racing.” Bobbie chuckled before turning her attention back to the pace car. “Looks like we’re going to make another few laps under caution Kathy. Have you heard back on the other drivers yet?”

“So far only Sakurazaki Mashai and Mori Unkei have already been released from the infield care center. They’re still checking out the rest. Though they’ve already sent Parker and four of the others to the hospital. Still working on getting the other drivers’ names. Joey and mom are doing their best.” Kathy told her.

“Kathy tell Joey and your to forget about the updates. We need them concentrating on their spotter jobs.” Bobbie ordered her.

“Don’t worry about that Bobbie. Me and Specs got the four of you covered for now. Once we go back to racing Joey and mom will be back to work.” Kathy told her before pausing. “Bobbie just the word from the ISA. They’re going to keep the field under yellow for another four laps. You’ll be going green on lap ten. That’s the plan for now anyway. It all depends on the cleanup crews.”

“Thought they would have the wreck site cleaned up by now. What’s the hold up?” Bobbie asked her bluntly.

“The speedy-dry they put down for the oil and other fluids is taking longer to sweep up than expected. It seems they had to put down more than expected.” Kathy explained what she saw through her field glasses.

“Fine. Nothing we can do about now.” Bobbie grunted then signed off to let her music to calm her down. Even though the song that was playing was anything but calming. After all Ozzy Osborn’s Crazy Train did not promote peaceful contemplation. This was followed by Bat out of Hell by Meatloaf. On lap nine the opening notes for Guns and Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle sounded in Bobbie’s ears as she exited turn two onto the back straightaway. Bobbie smiled as the caution lights on the pace went dark signaling her that they were about to go back to racing.

“Heads up Bobbie. They’re dropping the green this time around.” Kathy warned.

Bobbie’s predatorial smile returned with a vengeance as the pace car dropped onto pit road. Reaching over she grabbed the stick shift and downshifted to second the second the flag dropped. As she crossed the start/finish line she shift into third pulling away from the pack. Bobbie’s sudden move took the entire field by surprise. Not even Beth, Jim, and Sam were expecting her rush of speed.

Bobbie took turn one with no one around her. Not even her teammates were close to her. Only after she cleared the apex of turns one and two did Beth and the boys catch up to her. Because of Bobbie’s unorthodox move at the start/finish line the others were forced to step up their game. They all knew that the only way they were going to catch up to Bobbie was to push the limits of their skills and their cars to the very ragged edge of their performance envelopes. They couldn’t hold nothing back when Bobbie was in this mood.

The next twenty laps went just like Bobbie expected. At lap thirty the performance of her car started to fall off. She knew there were two things working against her at this point in the race. The first was tire wear. With each lap more and more of her tires rubber was being worn away. The second thing working against her was her car was becoming lighter with each gallon of gas her engine burned. As she rounded the exit of turn two Bobbie keyed her radio. “Chief I need tires and fuel.”

“Bring her in this time around Bobbie. I know it’s a green flag stop, but there’s not help for it. Nobody’s gotten stupid enough to blew out a tire, run out of fuel, or spinout.” Chief Hailee told her bluntly.

“Trust me Chief Hailee. I know. I was expecting at least four yellow flag stops before now. Pass the word to the rest of MRI. Four tires and two cans of fuel this time around Chief. We all come in together.” Bobbie ordered over the radio. Only to have Kathy overrule her just a few seconds later.

“Negative! Stay out! Do not come this time! GO HIGH AND STAY THERE!”

“WHAT THE HELL?! WHAT’S GOING ON KATHY?” Chief Slone demanded over the radio.

“Single car wreck in turn four! Elle Harbert from Northern Alliance blew a tire and went into the wall. The yellow flag should come out any second now.” Kathy answered just as the pace car pulled onto the track and the caution lights start flashing.

Bobbie started braking and downshifting the second the caution lights started flashing. She had barely cleared turn four when the pace car pulled in front of her. “Okay Kathy talk to me here. How long before they open pit road?”

“The Officials are waiting until the next time around Bobbie. That’s two laps. You got enough go-go juice?” Kathy asked her.

“That’s up for debate Kathy. I might have enough for three or four caution laps. More than that it is a flip of the coin.” Bobbie told her honestly.

“That’s not good Bobbie. Why are you pushing the edge so damned hard?” Kathy asked.

“Because if I don’t push the edge. I’ll lose this race. The only thing out here that I’m racing is the track. This place is Darlington on steroids.” Bobbie told her as the exited turn two onto the back straightaway. “I got more on the line than just an inaugural win today.”

“What are you talking about?” Kathy asked her.

“My pride as the Mistress of Darlington is on the line.” Bobbie snarled. “There isn’t a driver out here that doesn’t want to take that away from me. They all believe that if they can win here. They can win at Darlington. I’m going to crush that belief. I’m going to grinned it under the heel of my Dover Saddlery Field Boots and let Storm Dancer stomp on their dreams of victory.”

“Damn girl! That’s harsh on whole another level!”

“Like I said at the start of the race. Nothing and no one is going to get between me, the finish line, and the win.” Bobbie chuckled as they entered turn three.

“Pit road is open Bobbie.” Kathy called out quickly as they reached the apex of the turns. “Four tires and fuel right?”

“Give me a tearaway as well. I can barely see out the windshield.” Bobbie complained.

“Heard ya load and clear Speedy. Four tires, as much fuel as you can hold, and a tear away. Anything else?” Chief Hailee asked her.

“I’m good Chief. The car is handling like a rocket sled on rails.” Bobbie chuckled.

“Understood. Any idea why Beth is asking for a half turn down on her sway bar?” He asked her quickly as she rolled to a stop in her pit box.

“If I had to guess. I would say that she’s losing grip in the apex of the turns. That’s the only reason I can think of Chief.” Bobbie answered as Danny raised the right side of her car.

“That explains why Sam and Jim are asking for the same thing. What I want to know is why aren’t you asking for the half turn?” Chief Hailee asked her.

“Because the loser I run the better the car handles for me.” Bobbie cackled as the right side slammed down and the air guns screamed from the left side of the car. Less then two seconds later the left side was in the air and Joseph Chamberlin was ripping the tear away from her windshield. Greg was on the second can of fuel by this point. “Don’t worry Chief. This place is my kind of track.”

“Ah shit! You would love this place. Okay Speedy. Just keep your head on a swivel out there. This place may not be Darlington.” Chief Hailee began.

Only to have Bobbie finish for him as Danny dropped the jack signaling her to leave her pit box. “But she can still bit me in the ass.”

Chief Hailee turned to a chuckling Bob McGuire as his driver took off headed for the exit to pit road. “When we get this race in the books, Bob. Do me a favor and take that daughter of yours off to the side and have her head examined.”

“Don’t need to Chief. I already know that she’s batshit crazy. Why do you think we have a shrink on our payroll?” Bob asked his old friend with a chuckle.

“You know something, Bob. I’m getting too old for this shit.” Hailee sighed and turned his attention back to the race. “One of these days those kids of his are going to drive me to drink.”

“I thought that would have happened already.” Jewels wisecracked causing the rest of the pit crew to chuckle. “By the way did someone get a few bottles of Vodka?”

“Fifteen bottles are chilling in the carriers as we speak ma’am.” Greg Smoke answered with a small chuckle. Greg’s wife and rear tire changer, Sherry Smoke held up a Gold corporate credit card. “We put them on the card.”

“Just make sure the receipt gets to accounting Gregory.” Jewels chuckled. Then turned serious. “Okay people let’s get that gear squared away. I got a feeling that our drivers will be making green flag stops for the next seventy to eighty laps. The rest of the drivers have started to figure out the trick to racing here.”

As her pit crews got to work carrying out her orders Jewels McGuire turned her attention to the track. “Okay baby girls. Keep your heads in the game.”

As Bobbie rounded turn four on lap thirty-five the track went green, and they were back to racing. Once again Bobbie surged ahead of her teammates taking the lead. Beth, Sam, and Jim could hear her music playing over the team network and had to laugh. Beth keyed her radio and called the boys. “Only Bobbie would be crazy enough to play Wagner’s Ride of The Valkyries.”

“Hell! I’m surprised she waited this long!” Sam chuckled.

“Screw that shit! I’m waiting for her to play John Fogerty’s Fortunate Son.” Jim cracked as they rounded the exit to turn two at full throttle.

“All I can is hang onto your ass people. Bobbie is taking you all for a ride.” Kathy warned them all as she chuckled. She knew that once Bobbie was out front playing her music the race was all over except for running the laps. No one could touch her driver now. Not even the NASCAR greats could come near her level when she was in the zone like today. Kathy knew that unless Bobbie blew a tire. Bobbie would blast across the finish line first.

“We got this race in the bag people. Just hit your marks and race the track. Forget about the rest of the field. They might be figuring out how to race here but it will be too little too late. By lap seventy-five the track will start changing as the sun goes down. It’ll start to cool down and get tighter with each lap thereafter. By the time they figure this out we’ll be ahead of the game. We know how to race this type of track. They don’t.” Bobbie told them all over the radio.

For the next fifteen laps everything played out just the way Bobbie said it would. The MRI drivers crossed the start/finish line taking the top four positions of stage one. When the competition yellow flag came out Bobbie led the field once more down pit road. Once again she got four new tires, two cans of fuel, and a tearaway before pulling out of her pit box. When the green flag dropped on lap fifty-two Bobbie was once again pulling her sister and the boys away from the rest of the field in single file by the time they cleared the exit of turn four. With one-hundred laps to go. Bobbie pulled out all of the stops.

On lap seventy the yellow flag came out once more. This time it was a two car wreck between Léonard Carrell and Lilian Picard of Les Ailes de Justice that wrecked on turn one. Lilian Picard blew a tire and clipped the left rear Leonard Carrell causing the teammates to spin out of control into the infield. On lap seventy-two Bobbie led the field once more onto pit road. Even as she pulled onto pit road she was calling for four tires, two cans of fuel, a tearaway on her windshield, and a half turn down on her sway bar. This slight change was enough for Chief Hailee to realize that the track was changing faster than expected.

As she pulled out of her pit box Bobbie started counting the remaining cars in the field. She was surprised to realize that they were down to nineteen remaining cars out of the forty they started with. Keying her mike Bobbie asked her mother what happened to the rest of the field.

“Most were taken out during that wreck back on lap five. Over the last seventy laps the rest blew a tire and wrecked. The downside is the rest of the field have figured out the track and are now racing it instead of either other.” Jewels explained.

“Gotcha mom. How do you see this playing out for the rest of the race?” Bobbie asked as she fell in behind the pace car.

“Between now and the next green/white checkered flag the race is going to be run under green flag conditions. At lap one-twenty to one-twenty-five there’ll be one more major wreck near the middle of the pack. It’ll be a big one Bobbie. I figure there’ll be between seven to ten cars involved.” Jewels told her youngest daughter. “That’s if we’re lucky. With half the flied out of the running already this race has been one of the most costly so far this season.”

“Any word on Parker and the four that were sent to the hospital?” Bobbie asked her.

“Parker is out for the rest of the season. He got his left leg caught between the roll cage and the steering wheel somehow.” Jewels explained for her. “It’s bad Bobbie. They’re already having to operate to fix his leg. From the looks of it he might not race again. The other four drivers are also out for the rest of the season but only because of minor breaks that’ll heal with time.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least no one got other than Parker got hurt badly. I feel sorry for him but he’s a tough bastard. He’ll be back next year and will be a much tougher opponent.” Bobbie told her as the pace car turned off its lights and drooped to the bottom of the track. “Got to go mom. Time to get back to work.”

“I see sweetheart. Watch your ass and keep an eye on the gages. I’m worried about the water temp. You’ve been running hot the ten laps.” Jewels warned her.

“What are you talking about mom? My gages are all showing in the green.” Bobbie told her bluntly as she studied the gages before her.

“Are you sure Bobbie? Because our display is showing your water in the high yellow.” Jewels told her honestly. “Either your gage is off or there is something wrong with the feed from the car.”

“Okay mom. I’ll add twenty degrees to the readout.” Bobbie told her as she down shifted and took the lead once more crossing the start/finish line.

For the next twenty-five laps Bobbie pushed her car to its limits. Every turn was taken at the highest possible speed. Bobbie let her soul go to that place where she was nothing more than an extension of the car. There was only her, the car, and her music. Only the track existed for Bobbie. All else no longer existed. Those twenty-five laps would set the tone for the rest of the race for Bobbie. Nit even Beth could match her once she reached this level of emotion and concentration. Bobbie took the second stage win two full seconds ahead of her sister and teammates.

When Bobbie rolled back out onto the track at lap one-oh-two she was listening to the opening notes of Judas Priests’ Free Wheel Burning. The song was still playing when the green flag dropped signaling the start of the final stage. As she crossed the start/finish line Beth, Sam, and Jim knew they were all racing for second place. Kathy had already told her mother, Joey, and Specs that Bobbie had left the track. That the only way Bobbie was going to lose the race was if she wrecked.

On lap one-eighteen the yellow flag came out one more time. Louwrens Hartman from Northern Alliance blew his engine on the back straightaway. Thankfully he was able to cost around the rest of the track to pit road on the inside apron. Bobbie flew passed him at 222mhp before the yellow flag came out. Hartman was the twelfth driver she had lap in the last seven laps. As Bobbie pulled to a stop in her pit box Danny and the rest of her pit crew cleared the wall. Thirteen point seven seconds later Bobbie felt the driver’s side of her car slam down. With a screech of tires and roar of her engine Bobbie left her box. Once again she won the race off pit road. Only this time she barely beat out Jim as they as they crossed the line. Beth and Sam were scant seconds behind them. As they lined up behind the pace car Bobbie keyed her radio on the team frequency.

“Looks like the fastest pit crew belongs to Jim this time around people. This is the second time his people have gained him at least one spot on the field. The beer is on me this time people.” Bobbie laughed.

“You’re wrong sister dear. I’m buying this time. I have the slowest pit times this whole race. My team just wasn’t on the ball today.” Beth gripped.

“Nope. I got the slowest times Beth.” Sam corrected her. “If we go by total times my pit crew was nine tenths slower than yours and Bobbie’s team. A full second slower than Jim’s pit crew.”

“Damn. That still means our people were turning in thirteen second pit stops across the board on average!” Bobbie told them all in shock. “What the fuck they been doing? Training in their damned sleep?”

“Nope. They’ve gotten faster with every race.” Beth answered honestly then asked. “Haven’t you been paying attention to their overall times?”

“To be honest not really. The only thing I’ve been paying attention to is when Danny drops the driver’s side. I know that the time has been getting faster but I never really paid attention to my time in the pit box. I’ve been too busy concentrating on my job during pit stops. I’ll be honest. I’ve been too worried about screwing up and stalling out the engine.” Bobbie told them honestly. Only to hear a round of chuckles from her friends and sister.

On lap one-twenty the green flag waved, and Bobbie drove away from the rest of the field. This time only Beth stayed with her. Sam and Jim stayed back with the field. They blocked the other drivers from gaining on the two sisters. Kathy came over the radio with a nasty chuckle. “Looks like the race is down to just you and Beth, Bobbie. Sam and Jim are blocking the rest of the field.”

“What the hell is going on here Kathy?” Bobbie her harshly.

“Sam and Jim worked this out earlier this morning. They both know that the only one who can challenge you for the win is Beth. They’re just making sure that the rest of the field stays out of the way. Now drive like you stole the damn thing.” Kathy ordered her with a chuckle. That was all Bobbie needed to hear.

The announcers in the press box couldn’t believe what they were seeing. They had expected the Russian and Swiss drivers to be the ones leading this race. The fact that MRI had taken the lead at the start of the race and never let go was a total shock. If the announcers had paid attention to where the MRI drivers called home. They would have realized that they were the ones to beat from the start. Of those four drivers the winner would come down to the McGuire Sisters.

The sisters ran nose to tail for the next twenty-seven laps. While they were doing that Jim and Sam blocked the rest of the field. On lap one-forty-seven things changed. Beth pulled along side Bobbie trying for the win. Only it was too little too late once more. Bobbie’s music changed once more. This time when Bobbie became one with her car it was to the sound of Bruce Springsteen’s Darlington County. If Beth had known what song Bobbie was driving to, she would have given up. Whenever Bobbie hears Darlington County her skills reach a whole other level. It doesn’t matter what car she’s in. Bobbie will take that car to the edge and beyond. Then take it across the finish line in one piece for the win.

As always when motivated by this song Bobbie was beatable. As she crossed the start/finish line for the final lap Bobbie used the last of her throttle and pulled away from Beth. Beth couldn’t believe what she was seeing at first as Bobbie went high against the outer wall on purpose. Not knowing what Bobbie was doing Beth followed her up against the wall letting her speed and the centrifugal force slingshot her around the turn. As Beth exited turn two she found that she was gaining on Bobbie. That was when she realized what Bobbie was doing.

For the whole race they had stayed low enough to avoid gaining their ‘stripes’. Now that they were out front there was no need to hold back. It was time to earn their Warsaw stripes and leave their paint on the outer wall. Beth was laughing as she followed her sister around the track for the final lap. Instead of racing the two McGuire sisters were having fun and letting it all hang out.

They would take home the inaugural win for the Black Lady of Warsaw. As the blasted across the finish line the roar of the crowd was drowned out by the nose of their engines and laughter. They had done what everyone else said couldn’t be done. They had clenched not only the win but the manufacturers championship as well. All they had to do was show up at the next four races and not wreck.

“Way to go kids. The manufacturers championship is ours. Now all we have to do is see who wins the drivers championship.” Jewels told them all over the radio. Jewels was laughing as she turned to the four Crew Chiefs and her husband. “Well gentlemen. Any beats on who takes the drivers’ championship?”

“Sorry but that race is already won Jewels.” Slow Jake Slone told her bluntly. “As much as I would love to see Jim win that won’t be happening.”

“The same thing can be said for Sam Jewels. The boys are good, but the girls have them beat hands down.” David Slone sighed then grinned. “It’ll be decided between them at home. The only place where they are on equal footing.”

“So you honestly believe that the final race will be the deciding factor. Well I hope you’re wrong gentlemen. Because if it comes down to Darlington. It’s already decided who the winner will be.” Chief Marks told them all. “As good as Beth is, she doesn’t hold a candle to Speedy at the Lady in Black.”

“I hate to say this but I hope like hell Beth pulls out at least one win between now and then. Because if they have to use Darlington as the tie breaker. The bookies are going to forget about the odds. They’ll put everything on Bobbie to win.” Chief Hailee said bluntly. “They all know thanks to today’s race. That Bobbie is the true Mistress of Darlington and might be the first driver to ever truly tame. The track that is too tough to tame.”

“I have to agree with you Hailee. Sometimes I truly fear that Bobbie is just too comfortable on our home. This place confirmed that fear.” Bob McGuire told them all as he watch his youngest daughter take her victory lap. “I hope that today’s win doesn’t go to her head.”

“Why do you say Bob?” Jewels asked with real worry.

“Because Darlington is unpredictable enough to kill our daughter.”

-----tbc-----

PS. Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter. Real life has kept me busy to the point that I haven't had time to write. Now that the weather has let up I have more time to write. The next chapter in The Black Sword coming soon.

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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 25
Darlington SC: 10 days to final race
Home of Bobbie McGuire

Bobbie sat at the family breakfast table drinking a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper. Kelly, and Sue were busy feeding the twins. On the kitchen counter a 1950’s retro style radio played the local Rock Station, WTTT 99.7 on the FM dial. The local morning show ‘Rabbit and Fox’ were having fun with the latest ‘Stupid Criminals’ report. “Okay ladies and gentlemen this one has to take the boner award for the week if not the month.”

“I have to agree Fox. I mean this guy must have been dropped on his head more than once as a child.” Rabbit chuckled before reading the report. “On Saturday night shortly after ten pm. Darlington Police responded to an alarm at the Darlington Raceway Stock Car Museum. Upon entering the museum Officers found twenty-seven year old Dale Litcaff in the act of stealing the Fabulous Hudson Hornet. Yes you heard me right folks. This moron Dale Litcaff was actually trying to steal one of the most famous stockcars in the history of NASCAR.”

“Hold on here Rabbit. Why would someone try to steal the Hudson Hornet?” Fox asked.

“That’s something that Police asked him. It seems that he was doing as part of a fraternity pledge initiation. It seem that the Total Dumb Cunt fraternity is up to their old tricks again. Hopefully our DA won’t let this one go.” Rabbit chuckled. “To salute our good friends at TDC. We give you an oldy but goody by The Clash.”

As the opening notes of ‘I fought the law’ came over the radio Bobbie, Kelly, and Sue chuckled. Bobbie set her coffee cup down shaking her head. “I swear those two have gotten worse over the last year. They’re definitely not the same nutjobs that first open the station two years ago.”

“I have to say that ‘Too Tough To Tame’ wouldn’t be the same without them or Night weaver. Though I am happy that they got rid of that asshole they had working the midnight show. I never did like his confrontational attitude.” Kelly snorted as she spooned cereal into Terry’s mouth. “That’s a good girl. Eat up now.”

“I have to agree with Miss Kelly. Though I prefer Doctor Fever in the afternoon. There is just something about the way he uses music to pick you up towards the end of the day.” Sue chuckled as she wiped Tony’s mouth.

“I hate to say this but for me it’ll always be Smoking Sam in the evening. I don’t know how he does it, but he always finds the right music to help me calm down from a stressful day at the track, office, or shop.” Bobbie told them as she turned the page of her paper. When she saw the headlines for the sports section Bobbie wanted to punch something. “How the hell did they get this information?!”

“What’s wrong Bobbie?” Kelly asked her politely. “What did Barns do this time?”

“Somehow that cocksucker got a hold of the specs for Sam’s and Jim’s cars. He has even promised to post the specs for mine and Beth’s cars tomorrow.” Bobbie snarled.

“Oh shit. That server hack last week Bobbie. We thought we caught them in time.” Kelly grunted then sighed. “This was my fault. We should have never put the specs for the cars on the new server.”

“Is there anything you can do to stop him, Miss Bobbie?” Sue asked her.

“Sadly, it’s most likely too late to stop them printing the specs of our cars in tomorrow’s paper. Not without a ton of legal wrangling and head butting.” Kelly answered with a heavy sigh. “I should have just shoot that asshole of a report last year when I had the chance. But nnnooo! I had to go and show an uncommon amount of restraint for a pregnant woman. If only my mom wasn’t there.”

“You would have been justified in shooting the man. Your mother told me all about how the asshole ambushed you outside of your OBGYN’s office.” Sue giggled. “I know that my mother would have gutted his ass.”

“Speaking of your mother Sue. Isn’t she do in this afternoon?” Bobbie asked their nanny. “I know that she’s busy with the team sponsors.”

“No ma’am. Mom’s flight from Atlanta was delayed by several hours. Between the delay and the traffic on five-oh-one coming out of Myrtle Beach she won’t arrive until late this evening.” Sue sighed as she wiped the baby’s mouth once more. “Any news on the expansion of five-oh-one?”

“The State Congress is still fighting over the funding for the project. I can’t believe those shitheads think that five-oh-one doesn’t need to be widened to four lanes. The last time we went to the beach took us six hours from the time we reach the outskirts of Conway.” Bobbie bitched before taking a drink of her coffee. “And that was in the offseason. Unless they widen that stretch from Conway through Carolina Forest to Myrtle Beach. They’ll never alleviate the traffic congestion.”

“I noticed that you always take five-oh-one to twenty-two over to seventeen south into Myrtle Beach. Do you take that route to avoid the traffic?” Sue asked politely.

“We learned that route growing up here in Darlington county. Only the locals know about it and use it. Mostly because there isn’t a lot of tourist shit, on those roads. Though the main reason is it is slightly longer.” Bobbie explained for her as she folded the paper and set it down on the table. “Kelly I need to let mom and dad know about this shit. Before they find out on their own.”

“If dad follows his normal routine Bobbie. They already know.” Kelly said as she took a drink of her own coffee then chuckled. “As does more than half the county.”

“I wouldn’t put it pass the Stones to know about this mess already as well.” Sue told them with a small smile. “What I’m worried about is when the car clubs find out. They might take things a little too far seeking their vengeance against that reporter. The last one to piss them off is still eating through a straw, walking with a cane, and pissing in a bag.”

“What did that asshole do to piss off the clubs, Sue?” Kelly asked her.

“I was taking the twins for a walk through the downtown park. Normally I can take them anywhere and no one will mess with me. But this guy ambushed us taking their pictures and mine. When I screamed three members of the Blue Devils jumped his ass. Before the cops arrived. They had shoved his ass into the trunk of a car and drove off. Four hours later they found the reporter tied up to the local high school’s flagpole butt naked with the shit beaten out of him.” Sue answered with a grin.

“Just remember Sue that you’re never alone Sue. Bobbie is one of the reasons that most of those clubs are still around. She and Beth are more than just local celebrities. They’re actual legends. To those clubs our two children are the closest thing to royalty. The car clubs will protect you and the twins with their lives. While showing no mercy to those who dare to threaten you or them. Remember that whenever you’re out with them for a walk.” Bobbie warned her.

“Yes ma’am. Oh, by the way before I forget. A Josie Honeywell for the Pink Panther Car Club invited me to something called the Paint Swap.” The second Kelly and Bobbie heard this they both started to laugh. “Why do I have the feeling that I just became the butt of someone’s joke?”

“Unless you’re into girls Sue. I suggest you turn her down. The invitation was real make no mistake about that. It’s just that the Paint Swap is a dance that is held only for LGBTQ.” Bobbie explained for a now blushing Sue.

“Oh wow. I never expected to be invited to LGBTQ function in the heart of NASCAR. Especially not one ran by a Car Club.” Sue said in surprise.

“Sue the Pink Panthers are more than just an all-women’s car club. They’re one of the largest lesbian organizations in South Carolina. Thanks to the Darlington Knights’ street track. More and more car clubs with alternative lifestyles have been formed over the last few years.” Kelly told her with a smile. “The funny thing is until the Knights bought and restored that old test track. Most of those car clubs were pariahs even among street racers.”

“Um… I know this is going to sound vulgar Bobbie. Why are there so few LGBTQ professional race car drivers? I know that there are a lot of very talented racers that come from all over North and South Carolina to race the Knight. Why aren’t the scouts for the major racing teams trying to recruit them?” Sue asked. “I know that I’ve seen them at the track watching the other street racers.”

“It’s the old problem with public opinion and perception Sue. The only reason that Bobbie has gained acceptance in the professional world of racers is her skill behind the wheel. She is a rarity in the fact that she wins on some of the deadliest tracks in the world. In not just one professional motor sport but two.” Kelly explained as she sniffed the air the picked up Terry sighing. “Looks like I was a little late on the upshift. Someone needs a fresh diaper.”

Bobbie watched as her wife took their daughter to the nursery. “Say Bobbie. Have you thought about retiring any time soon? The only reason I’m asking is something that my mom said the other day.”

“Let me guess. Your mother made a comment about me having a death wish or something. Am I right?” Bobbie asked with a chuckle.

“Something to that effect.” Sue giggled then turned serious. “Bobbie I know that it’s not my place, but mom is worried that you’re pushing the edge.”

“That’s why she’s wondering if I’m planning on retiring.” Bobbie sighed. “Sue there a few things you need to understand about the way I race. The first of which is I never push my car past its limits. I know every last detail of the design and its specs like the back of my hand. The second thing you need to know is that no matter what happens on the track. I always trust in my team. That means everyone on my team. People think that stock car racing is a solo sport. It’s not. Drivers relay on the pit crew to fuel and maintain the car. The spotters keep an eye on not only their driver but every other driver on the track and pit road. The Crew Chiefs have to watch over everything and plan our strategy throughout the race. The last thing you must understand is the reason why I race.”

“No offence Bobbie, but I’m pretty sure that I know the answer to that one already.” Sue told her with a chuckle as she picked the baby up from the highchair. “I’ve seen you drive remember. You’re just like every other adrenaline junkie I know.”

“That is where you, your mother, and so many other people are wrong Sue. Bobbie isn’t an adrenaline junkie. If anything, my daughter knows exactly how far she can push her car and skills.” Jewels McGuire said as she entered through the kitchen door. “Professional Racecar Drivers are anything but adrenaline junkies.”

“Mom’s telling you the truth Sue. Adrenaline junkies have no place in professional motorsports. It’s people like that who get professionals killed. They make stupid and irrational mistakes. Their biggest mistake is they don’t know when to pull back from the edge. They push their cars and skills beyond the breaking point. Professionals may do the same thing but there is a major difference. Professionals know when to pull back. They take in more than just the condition of their cars. They know and understand the track, the weather, the other cars, and so much more. Adrenaline junkies only see the need to fill their habit and care nothing for their environment. The best they’ll ever be is lucky amateurs.” Bobbie told her honestly. “I’ll be very honest with you. Until five years you would’ve have been right to place me and Beth with those individuals.”

“What changed?” Sue asked her quietly. She knew that the key to Bobbie’s success had to be something that happened five years ago.

“I made promise to a someone very dear to me.” Bobbie told her and got up from the table then grabbed her purse on the way to the garage. “Mom I’ll see you later.”

With the sham of the door to the garage Sam looked over to Jewels in shock. “Mrs. Jewels, what kind of promise could drive Miss Bobbie to race the way she does?”

“She made a promise to a dying friend. One that she has yet to break.” Jewels answered with a heavy sigh as the sound of Bobbie’s Viper’s engine turning over, reached her ears. “Not good. It seems that my daughter needs time alone.”

“What does that mean ma’am?” Sue asked her.

“Was that Bobbie’s Viper I heard pulling out?” Kelly asked as she returned with the baby. The sound of the RT/10 V-10 engine roaring down the driveway drew a sigh from Kelly. “What the hell happened to piss her off even more?”

“Sue asked what happened to change the way Bobbie drives.” Jewels answered her.

“Oh, fucking shit.” Kelly groaned as she sit the baby down in the playpen. “Did she have her iPod with her mother?”

“Not that I could tell honey. All we saw was her purse. Unless she took her iPod out to upload new music. Then she has it with her.” Jewels answered as Kelly sighed.

“I hope like hell no one is on the Knight right now. Because if the track is full. Bobbie will be heading for Mill Pond Road.” Kelly sighed as she fixed herself another cup of coffee before sitting down at the table. Kelly looked over at Jewels with a sad smile before asking. “Got a spare cigarette mom?”

“Sure kiddo. This is one time I’ll look the other way.” Jewels answered as she pulled out a pack of Winston lights and a lighter out of her purse. After lighting a cigarette for herself Jewels handed the pack and lighter to Kelly. “I need one myself. I haven’t seen that look in her eyes in a long time.”

“Look? What look?” Sue asked in confusion.

“Normally when Bobbie is out to blow off some steam. She has the look of a hunting dog about her. When she left she had the look of a wolf with its jaws on the throat of its prey wanting blood.” Jewels explained with a sad smile that equaled Kelly’s. “I hope like hell you’re right Kelly. We don’t need her rat racing on the streets. Not this close to the final race of the season.”

“It’ll be hellfire and brimstone for anyone she faces on the track or the streets. If Bobbie is in full on wolf mood nobody will be able to stop her. Except for Beth and maybe Jim and Sam.” Kelly said as she took a drag from the cigarette.

“What about that one boy from Columbia? What’s his name? Brian something.” Jewels asked of her with a faint smile.

“If you’re talking Brian Stillwater mother, forget about it. He has good instincts and a fast car but shit for actual skills. He realize too much on the power of that Mustang Cobra’s engine for his wins. On a straight oval track Brian stands a good chance of wining against those monsters of Bobbie’s or Beth’s.” Kelly answered as she took a drink from her coffee. “On a road course of any type. Bobbie and Beth win hands down. The only people who actually stand a chance against those on a road course are professional Formula One drivers. Even then I would still put my money on the McGuire Furies every time.”

“I got a question to ask. What happens if Bobbie losses her temper during a race?” Sue asked the two McGuire women. Their response was a dark chuckle as Kelly answered her question with an evil smile.

“When that happens even the Devil’s own Bounty Hunter runs for the hills.” The smile that Sue saw on her employers lips sent chills down her spine.

The Darlington Knight racetrack.

Minnie Blake could heard the sound of the Viper’s engine before she ever saw the car. As the Viper rounded the bend heading towards the entrance to the track Minnie recognized the car instantly. She snatched the gate open allowing Bobbie McGuire to pass through unhindered. As the midnight black 1996 second generation Dodge Viper GTS passed through the gate Minnie felt an unnatural spike of jealousy for the owner. That was the car of her dreams.

“Was that Bobbie McGuire?” The other gate guard asked.

“Pretty sure it was Dave. From the sounds of her engine and the way she’s driving. We need to clear the track and fast.” Minnie said as she closed the gate.

“Nobody’s out there right now. So, she’ll have the track all to herself until noon.” Dave Martian told her with a smile. “That’s the good news.”

“What’s the bad news?” Minnie asked him.

“Nobody’s out there but her. That means she’ll be tearing up the track in ways that only she’ll ever know. Bobbie will do things with that Viper of hers that no one will ever see today. Thanks to the delay in the security cameras, we won’t even be able to see what she’s doing out there.” Dave sighed as the first sounds of squealing tires and an uncontrolled roaring engine reached their hearing. “Damn she’s going all out. Holding nothing back. I haven’t heard her driving like this in a long time. Not since we first open the track.”

“Oh wow. How the hell did she ever make it on the pro circuit?” Minnie asked him.

“There’s a legend about the McGuire sisters, Minnie. You’ve heard it haven’t you?” Dave asked her as he took out a zippo lighter and pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Minnie just nodded her head as he lite up his cigarette. “Well, the legend is true. Those two ladies really did earn their rides the same day. Some say that it was nothing but luck. I knew the truth. I was there that day. They put on a show that impressed the people from Mercedes-Benz in a way no one else could.”

“Holy shit. They’re really that damned good?” Minnie asked in shock.

“The McGuire sisters are a force of nature behind the wheel. You give them a racecar and they’ll take it to the limits of its performance envelope every time. It doesn’t matter which sister is behind the wheel. Though they do have two very deferent driving styles. Beth is as cold and calculating as them come behind the wheel. She is a fucking machine. While Bobbie McGuire is pure emotion and instinct. There can’t be two sisters more dissimilar when it comes to driving.” Dave told her before he took another drag off the cigarette. As he exhaled Dave gave her another piece of wisdom. “Though there is something about Bobbie McGuire that sets her apart from her sister. What that is I have no idea. My Uncle Danny tried to explain it to me one night while we were having a few beers last year.”

“What did he tell you? And who is this Uncle Danny of yours?” Minnie asked.

“Hopefully I can boil it down in a way that you’ll understand. Bobbie McGuire is that one in a million driver who can read more than just the car. She can read the track in ways that no other driver can think of doing. It’s like she enters this mind set that allows her to bypass normal thinking.” Dave told her with a chuckle. “At least that’s the way my uncle tells the story. As for who he is that has to remain a family secret for now. I will tell you that he is very close to the McGuire family and one of their most trusted employees.”

“Damn. Say do you think your uncle could get her autograph?” Minnie asked sheepishly.

“Are you shitting me?” Dave laughed out load. “If you really want Bobbie’s autograph just wait until she comes back out. She’ll most likely give it you for letting her onto track this early in the morning.”

“You’re kidding me.” Minnie grunted in surprise.

“Nope. You got to understand something Minnie. Whenever the McGuire sisters show up here they’re out to blow off some steam. They can’t use their personal cars on the Lady, but they can here.” Dave hooked his thumb over his shoulder towards the track. “I don’t know what pissed her off. Don’t really care. But the McGuire sisters and their teammates get a free pass for whenever they show up, Minnie. That ani’t me talking but the owners of the Knight.”

“So what do we do now?” She asked.

“Log in her arrival like normal then call the track office and let them know. They’ll decide what happens next. We’ll either keep the track open or close it down until after she leaves. Either way we don’t get paid to make that call. Like the old army saying goes. It’s way above our paygrade.” Dave told her as he reached over and grabbed the gate’s logbook. As he wrote down the time and name Minnie called the main office. When she hung up the phone Dave asked her. “What they say?”

“Lock down the gate. We’re closed to the public until Bobbie leaves. Only MRI drivers allowed in until then.” Minnie told him in confusion.

“Good enough for me.” Dave said as he hit the switch for the electronic lock on the gate. “I figure that we’ll see Beth, Sam, or Jim before long.”

The sound of three highly tune high performance engines could be heard rounding the bend in the road. Dave looked up out the window of the guard shack. He hit the release on the electronic lock before calling out to Minnie. “Get the gate open!”

Minnie ran out the guard shack to snatch open the heavy chain-link fence gate. She barely got the gate open as a Dodge Charger, Ford Mustang Cobra, and Pontiac Firebird blasted through. All three cars were the same midnight black of Bobbie’s Viper. On the driver side rear corner panel flashed a red and white sticker. Minnie had seen similar stickers around Darlington county. Though they were very rare. To see three of them at once was even rarer.

“Say Dave who are the Steel Rats?” She asked as she entered the shack after closing and relocking the gate. “I’ve seen their club stickers around town from time to time but exactly who are they?”

“That’s Street Rats Minnie.” Dane chuckled. “They’re the smallest car club in all of Darlington county. They’re real exclusive and most likely the best skilled bunch of rat-racers in all of South Carolina. I doubt that anyone can touch them. Before you ask. There’s only ten Street Rats and they’re all Pros in real life.”

“Wait! Are you saying that those three cars and Bobbie’s all belong to the Street Rats?!” Minnie asked in shock.

“Yup! And there’s six more members. All of them are Professional Racers to boot. Four are currently on the Formula One circuit and two are on the Indy circuit. The fact that we have four at home right now is a rarity.” Dave chuckled. “The fun will happen this January when all ten are here.”

“How the hell do you know all this shit Dave?” Minnie asked him bluntly.

“Simple. What is the first rule for any good security guard?” He asked her with a sly smile. After giving her a few second Dave answered. “Observe your surroundings.”

The sound of screeching tires and roaring engines reached their ears as the three new cars entered the track. They were soon joined by the sound of a fourth set of screeching tires. Dave smiled up at his fellow guard. “Now is the one time I really whish we had cameras on the track. By the way you need to call the office again.”

“Can’t have them blasting around the track without reporting them to the bosses.” Minnie chuckled. “Free run of the place, but let the bosses know. Gotcha.”

“Now you’re getting it. Stick with me kid and you’ll learn a few things about how the racing world really works.” Dave chuckled.

“Who are you calling a kid? You’re only four years older than me.” Minnie huffed.

“I hate to tell you this Minnie, but I’m in my early thirties. Do you know why I’m a security guard instead of a cop?” He asked her with a cocky grin as he rolled up his pant leg. Once the prosthetic leg was showing Dave grinned even wider. “I earned this in a little place called Kandahar. Before you ask I joined the US Marines right out of high school fourteen years ago.”

“Damn. I’m sorry Dave I didn’t know. You look so young. I thought that you were only in your early twenties at best.” Minnie told him with real respect.

“It’s called clean living kiddo. Now.” Dave said as he rolled his pants leg back down and pointing towards the bookbag. “Let’s have a look at that homework. I may not have my degree, but I do know a few things. What are you studying?”

“Just basic core courses right now. I want to be a history teacher when I graduate.” She told him as she opened her bookbag with her college textbooks. “Though I don’t think that the track manager will like us setting around going off my homework.”

“Screw that little shit. Last time I checked. She is still my younger sister.” Dave told her with an evil smile that caused Minnie to laugh. “Before you say it. Yes this a case of the ‘good old boy’ system at work at its finest.”

For the next three hours the sounds of squealing tires, and roaring engines would occasionally reach their ears. Dave did his best to help Minnie with her homework. Minnie was actually surprised to find that her boss was a well educate man. Dave explained that during his time in the Marines he took several college courses for the promotion points. She was even more surprised to learn that he was just one semester short of having his Bachelor’s degree in history. Just after 11:30 the sounds of squealing tires and roaring engines dying down. Dave and Minnie looked up from her English 101 textbook.

“Open the gate Minnie. They’re on their way out. They should be here in about five minutes. I figure they’ll head for MRI next after a short stop a Billy’s Big Barn. If they don’t hit DQ or Micky D’s for burgers and fries.” Dave told her as she stood up. “Oh, and Minnie. If they stop you can get that autograph you want.”

The twenty year old young woman blushed as she headed out to take care of her orders. Dave just sat back and lite one more cigarette looking up at the security monitor. “She’s a good kid. Got her head on straight.”

As the four cars neared the gate they all rolled to a stop. One by one they shut down their engines and climbed out. Dave was surprised to see the whole MRI ISA team at the same time. He was surprised by them all agreeing to sign their autographs for Minnie. Then again the MRI drivers were a breed apart. He was only slightly surprised as the four drivers handed the two of them $100.00 dollars apiece before leaving. “Damn that’s a first. Bobbie must have been really pissed off today.”

“Why do you say that Dave?” Minnie asked him.

“The Steel Rats have only stopped and paid for using the track five times in the past. This is the sixth time and they have never paid this much. Between the two of us there’s eight-hundred bucks. That’s six-hundred over the standard free for four cars. Whatever it weas that pissed her off must have been major.” Dave told her with a faint smile. Dave handed her a hundred dollar bill saying. “Put that and a hundred of yours in the crash draw. Keep the rest.”

“Sure, thing boss.” Minnie answered as she did as ordered. “time to get back to my homework. I wish I knew why we have to study Dylan Thomas.”

“While Dylan Thomas is most notably for his works as a poet. He earned his popularity for his voice acting during radiobroadcasts with the BBC. He became widely popular in his lifetime and remained so after his death at the age of thirty-nine in New York City. By then he had acquired a reputation, which he had encouraged, as a ‘roistering, drunken and doomed poet’. Though of all his literary works ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’ and ‘And death shall have no dominion’; are count as his greatest works. Due mostly to their impact on the way people view life and death.” Dave told her as she sat back down staring at him in awe. “My Drill Sergeant in Basic used to quote the man during road marches and other heavy training.”

“Oh.” Was all the young woman could say. “I would never have thought about it like that. I can see where Thomas would appeal to soldiers when you put it that way.”

“Good now. Take what I just explained about Thomas and put it into your own words.” Dave told her as he tapped her notebook. Over the next fifty-minutes Dave explained how the poet’s work fit into today’s society. They had just gotten to Thomas’ work in radio when a delivery car pulled to a stop at the shack. Dave and Minnie enjoyed a large pizza with everything from Billy’s Big Barn. Curtesy of the Steel Rats.

MRI Garage 1330

The arrival of a pizza delivery from Billy’s proceed the appearance of Beth, Sam, and Jim by ten minutes. Bob McGuire looked out at the parking when Bobbie failed to show up. “Beth where’s Bobbie? She’s normally here first.”

“She said something about visiting Doctor Sharron before coming here dad.” Beth told him honestly. “Dad something is bugging her bad.”

“I was afraid of that. Damn it.” Bob snarled and turned towards Chief Hailee. “Dale go ahead close the hood on Bobbie’s car for now. John needs a hand with Sam’s car.”

“Gotcha boss. Any idea on when Bobbie will be coming in today?” Chief Hailee asked.

“It’ll be late Dale. If at all. She’s visiting Sharron.” Bob told him honestly with a heavy note of sadness and anger in his voice.

“Understood Bob. Who do I need to take my favorite cheater bar to?” Dale snarled. He knew that if Bobbie was visiting Doctor Sharron that it was bad. In the last few years Bobbie’s visits to Doctor Sharron Kelly had greatly decreased. Dale didn’t like the idea of someone pushing Bobbie to visiting her this close to a race.

“You can put the cheater bar away Dale. You too gentlemen. This is one time that Bobbie’s past has caught her off guard.” Bob explained to the four crew chiefs before turning back to Beth. “Do you know what set her off honey?”

“I don’t know the whole story dad, but it was bad. Mom called me at home and warned me that she was headed for the Knight in her Viper.” Beth turned to look over at Jim and Sam. “The guys joined me halfway there.”

“I got a call from Mrs. Jewels ordering me to meet the other drivers at the Knight.” Was all Jim said before chuckling. “She said it was a training run.”

“I got the same call from Kelly. Only she told me that Bobbie’s was pissed and needed someone to race against.” Sam answered with his chuckle.

“Seems that my wife and daughter-in-law have all the answers. We’ll just have to wait on Jewels and Kelly. That or wait for Bobbie get here in her own time.” Bob told the gathered drivers and crew chiefs with a grunt.

“Sir, I got a feeling that Bobbie won’t be showing up today.” Sam told him.

“How do you figure that Sam?” Bob asked him.

“It’s just a gut feeling sir. There was something about the look in her eyes. I think we might need to start looking for a replacement driver for next season.” Sam explained as he looked out at the parking lot.

“Shit that wreck at the Atlanta must have tripped something in her.” Chief Hailee bitched. Only to get a look from Bob. “I know none of our people were involved boss, but I got this feeling when she climbed out of her car at the end. I think it was the way that Oscar Johnson went flipping end over end that reminded her of the wreck at Mitsubishi Speedway in Chiba.”

“It was more than that Sam.” Kelly said as she entered the building from the side office door. Jewels was right behind her. “She won’t say it, but that wreck at Mitsubishi fucked with her more than she’ll admit.”

“Kelly Wallen McGuire you better start talking girl.” Bob snarled.

“You will calm down right now Robert Leland McGuire.” Jewels snarled grabbing everyone’s full attention. “As for Kelly not informing us of Bobbie’s mental state that is not her fault. For the majority of the season, she has been stateside looking after her children and this business.”

“Fine. I can understand that. Though why hasn’t Bobbie come and talk to one of us?” Chief Hailee asked her kindly. “She always did in the past.”

“Bobbie’s not the same driver she was three years ago. That teenage firebrand that shocked the Formula One world has been replaced by a grown woman with a family.” Jewels told them all firmly. “She has a future now.”

“Oh shit. Why didn’t I see it before?” Bob sighed.

“How does her having a family now change things boss?” Jim asked Bob.

“Simple. Before the babies were born Bobbie never expected to have a family. Now that she does. She has realized that more than just Kelly is depending on her. Haven’t you guys noticed that Bobbie has become more calculating in her driving. The days of her driving on her emotions alone are pretty much gone.” Beth answered for her father with a small chuckle. “I hate to say this, but Bobbie has grown up. In doing so my little sister has become harder to beat. The driver she is now is three times the driver she was when she first started out.”

“Why do I have the feeling that she’ll just get better and better with every race we run?” Jim groaned as Beth, Kelly, and Jewels just nodded their heads smiling.

“Excuse me but can we get back on topic here? Namely do I need to worry about my driver?” Chief Hailee asked the McGuire women.

“No Chief Hailee you don’t need to worry about Bobbie. She’s just dealing with shit from her past. Nothing more than that. To be honest. I think I’m the only one who could have spotted the signs before now.” Kelly informed him kindly.

“Well, then it’s a good thing that you and the kids will be traveling with us next season.” Chief Hailee snorted then smiled. “Just don’t go asking me to change their diapers or do any babysitting.”

“That’s what we have Sue for Chief. Speaking of Sue. Mother Jewels do we have any contacts in the State Department?” Kelly asked her.

“We have a few. Why?” Jewels asked her.

“Sue is still having problems with her passport. Any chance Senator Scott or Graham can help us out? I know that Congressmen Norman and Rice have offered to help.” Kelly told her mother-in-law with a friendly smile.

“I won’t trust Graham as far as I can throw his ass to order a box of paperclips, but when it come to straightening out paperwork screwups no one is better.” Slow Jake snorted as he refilled his coffee cup. “Contact Scott. You might have a better response time from him. As for those limp dick Congressmen. Don’t get your hopes up Kelly. Norman and Rice are just too new to the Hill.”

“Damn boss man that’s harsh. What about Clyburn? He any good?” Jim asked him.

“He does alright for a Democrat, but I won’t vote for him. I just don’t trust anyone who has been in office for more than eight years. I’m a firm believer in term limits for all political figures. The longer they’re in office the more chance of them becoming corrupt. I don’t know who said it but the old saying about how political power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely is very true.” Slow Jake told them as he took a drink of his coffee. “Before you ask. I’m an Independent. I lost faith in both of our political parties long ago.”

“Damn that’s pretty sinical there Chief.” Kelly smirked.

“Better to be sinical than blindly flowing the pack kiddo.” He told her with his own smirk before taking another drink of his coffee. “Boys you’re with me. Bill and I want to get those new seats adjust for you today.”

As the four men left the office Bob turned to Beth. “Honey I don’t know what Chief Marks has on the charts for you today. I suggest you get with him now. Dan why don’t you go with them.”

Once he was alone with just his wife and Kelly, Bob got down to business. Kelly showed her two in-laws what she had been doing while they were out of town. Bob and Jewels were amazed by how well Kelly was running the family business. They were especially surprised at how well she had reorganized and streamlined the parts ordering. Not just for the Stockcars, but all the motorsports that MRI did business with. Then there was the way she had organized the scholarship program. The biggest surprise came when Kelly showed them the plans for a new scouting program.

“Kelly how in the world did you ever think of something like this?” Jewels asked.

“Back when I was working as part of Bobbie’s pit crew one of the things that Couch Hall always harped on was PT. Seeing as how most of the girls on the pit crew were from the Cheerleaders it was a real bitch getting them into shape. The same could be said for the boys that we recruited from the football team. As for new drivers. That part was all on Bobbie and Mac. I kind of figured that with Bobbie starting the new F-one teams. Sooner or later, we would be needing replacement drivers and pit crew members for the Stockcar teams. I know that injuries are a fact of life for our sport. Sometimes those injuries are minor, but they can put a driver out for weeks to months at a time. Sometimes they’re bad enough that they can put an end to driver’s career. I know this all too well mom.” Kelly explained for Jewels. “Bobbie has already had one too many extremely close calls. If not for the safety features of the cars. She would be dead at least three to four times.”

“I got to say Kelly. You have put a lot of thought in this recruitment program. Where have you been searching for potential members?” Bob asked her.

“I thought about going to the colleges and universities first. Then rejected that idea. I remembered how all of our original pit crew members came straight out of high school. So, I sent our recruiter to all the smaller high schools in South Carolina. They normally don’t get the same attention as the bigger schools from the college and university scouting programs. There’s a lot of great athletes that get overlooked in those smaller schools.” Kelly explained with a smile. “With the amount that we’re paying them for two or three seasons. They don’t need college scholarships to get their higher educations. They don’t have to rely on grants and loans either. They can pay their way with their own money. Because of our new recruitment and training program we’ve been approached by other motorsport teams.”

“Don’t tell they’re actually trying to poach our people?” Bob asked with a snarl.

“They sure are dad. And they’re welling to pay big money for pit crew members that we’ve trained. Last week DEI recruited four of our tire changers. While paying us a hundred-fifty-grand per contract. The real surprise is the number of teams that are interested in the girls as air gun operators.” Kelly was on a roll now and decided to drop a bomb on her in-laws. She held up a stack of paper. “This is a contract with Porsche for us to assemble and train three full F-one pit crews for next season. They’re offering five-million for the teams.”

“Holy shit. How the hell did that happen?” Bob asked for his stunned wife.

“When McNair started up his new Formula One teams he did all of his recruiting from the local talent pool. When those pit crews started turning in pit times that made the ‘professional’ pit crew look sad things changed. We now got Formula One teams coming to us looking for new members. That’s the main reason I started the new recruitment and training program. I figured if they want us to do their scouting for them. Then they can pay us.” Kelly giggled.

“Damn. Jewels I think our daughter Kelly is trying to put us out to pasture.” Bob snarked then hugged Kelly. “Well done dear. You just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I know that I’ve done a lot without your permission mom, but with you guys on the road. The office and garage staff have been coming to me to answer their questions.” Kelly told them with a sly smile. “I figured that if I made the decisions then I’m the only one who can be blamed. That and it got shit done around here that needed to be done. I know that I might not have done it the way you would have.”

“Stop right there Kelly. When Jewels and I retire this business will go to you kids with Bobbie in charge of the racing teams. Beth will be the overall manager with Joey in charge of fabrication shop. We’ve been talking it over for some time. We feel that you are the best for running the day to day operations of the office. If starting a training program for new drivers, and pit crews for other teams. Then go for it.” Bob told her with a friendly smile. “We won’t get in your way.”

“Bob is right honey. Besides thanks to the way you’ve taken over the office. We get to spend more time doing our actual jobs.” Jewels told her with a smile of gratitude. “I just wish that you could travel overseas with us more right now, but we understand that the babies come first.”

“Thank you mom. I just wish that we didn’t have relay so much on Julie for dealing with the sponsors.” Kelly bitched as Bob and Jewels chuckled. “Okay mom what have I missed? What do you know that I don’t?”

“Just let Julie do her thing. Sponsors are a necessary evil in our sport. Think of them as pissed off king cobras. They take a delicate hand in dealing with them. As such we need a trained snake handler. That is where our lovely Julie comes into play.” Jewels told her with a slight giggle. “That woman knows how to make our sponsors dance to her tune with easy.”

“Okay mom. I’ll leave her alone.” Kelly looked over at the clock on the wall. “Look’s like Bobbie’s not coming. I guess I’ll you set her off.”

“If it was that article in this morning’s paper forget about it. I already figured as much. Though I’m not worried about the information that asshole printed.” Bob chuckled. At the blank looks he was getting from Kelly and Jewels he knew that he would have to come clean. “That was a dumb-dumb file with a worm attachment.”

“Robert McGuire what have you been up to?” Jewels asked with an evil grin.

“For the last four or five weeks our servers have been getting attacked by a hacker trying to get into our secured files. Mercedes-Benz has delt with corporate hackers before. We contacted them after the first attempt. They sent two of their best white hats to handle our little problem. The FBI should be arresting our little pests some time in the day or so.” Bob chuckled.

“Hopefully they’ll sweep up that so called reporter in their arrests.” Kelly sighed.

“Why do you say that Kelly?” Jewels asked as she heard the concern in her voice.

“Because it might give Bobbie some small peace of mind. Before you ask the answer is simple. Of all the local reporters. Only Eric Barns actually knows Bobbie’s secret. At he thinks he does. The man has been trying for the two and a half years to find proof. I don’t know why but Barns hates Bobbie for some reason.” Kelly grunted as Bob and Jewels chuckled. “What don’t I know this time?”

“Four years ago Eric Barns gave his son Mike Barns a classic nineteen-sixty-eight Camaro SS three-fifty for a birthday present. Five days later Bobbie auctioned off that Camaro SS at the local swap meet.” Bob told her with a chuckle. “The stupid little shit thought he could challenge Bobbie to a one-on-one rat race.”

“Oh shit. They raced for pink slips.” Kelly groaned. “Did Mike know that Bobbie never lost a rat race with her old GTO?”

“Yup. He had actually lost to Bobbie once before. Mike blamed it on the car he was driving at the time. Bobbie told him the truth. That he lost because he was out driven not because he had an inferior car. Mike twisted the facts when he lost the second time. Needless to say, Eric Barns feels that he has to get even with Bobbie for his son. To achieve his goal, he’ll do whatever it takes to expose Bobbie as a fraud. That includes exposing her personal medical history.” Bob sighed. “I whish your mother had let you shoot that asshole when you had the chance.”

“You’re not the only one Robert. I should have shot his fucking ass when I found him on the maturity ward after the twins were born.” Jewels snarled. “Damn security.”

“Hi guys.” Bobbie said as she entered Kelly’s office. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Thought you were going to see Sharron kiddo?” Bob asked her.

“She’s in Charleston on an emergency call. One of her clients tried to commit suicide last night.” Bobbie explained with a sad smile knowing exactly what Sharron was facing. “I got a feeling she has her hand full this time.”

“Why do you say that Bobbie?” Jewels asked knowing how a lot of Sharron’s cases affected her daughter. “Is it a bad one?”

“Kid was an Olympic hopeful. She lost her legs in a car crash last June.” Was all that Bobbie told them as she headed for the coffee pot. “From what the receptionist told me the girl was a gymnast. This is one time that I doubt Sharron will be able to help. The girl had to have spend years training to go to the Olympics. Only to have her dream ripped from her grasp by a drunk driver.”

“Damn. That’s totally fucked up.” Bob sighed as Jewels gave him a dirty look. “So, what are you going to do Bobbie?”

“What I always do dad. When Sharron calls. I’ll make a tripe to Charleston.” Was all Bobbie told him before turning to leave Kelly’s office. “Until then I got a race to get ready for. I may have locked in the championship with my win at Warsaw and Talladega. That doesn’t mean I can turn my back on the bitch known to the world as the Lady in Black and The Track Too Tough To Tame. Darlington Speedway may be my home, but that bitch shows no favoritism. She’ll chew you up and spit you out if you make the mistake of believing you’ve become her master. Just ask the top drivers for Darlington. They’ll all say the same thing.”

“Just who are the top three winners at Darlington?” Kelly asked.

“We really need to work on your racing education child. The top three winners for Darlington are as follows. David Pearson is number one with ten wins, Dale Earnhardt Sr in second has nine, and Jeff Gordon in third with seven. They’ve all said the same thing. Race the track not the pack.” Jewels told her with a slight giggle. “You know for the wife of a professional racer your knowledge of the sport is rather stunted. I believe that we’ll be spending time together this off season correcting that shortcoming. You need to know about more than just the cars and tracks dear. You need to know more about the sport’s history and it’s leading figures.”

“Yes ma’am.” Kelly squeaked as Bobbie chuckled.

-----tbc-----

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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-----

---

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 27
Darlington Speedway, Darlington, Sc: Sunrise, Sunday: Championship Race

Bobbie McGuire sat on top of her car transport trailer looking out at the one racetrack that she knew better than any other in the world. This was her home track. She earned her first ticket on this track. She also earned her first contract at this track. She had put down more unofficial laps around this track than any other driver currently on the NASCAR circuit. Not even the greats had has many laps here as she did. Over the last six years Bobbie had run more than 10,000 laps around this track in all kinds of weather with two exceptions. She had never raced here during a snow or ice storm.

She had tested rally cars, stock cars, formula one cars, drift cars, outlaw cars. You name it she had driven the car around this track with the exception of top fuel dragsters and funny cars. She had tested all types of engines, transmissions, full powerplants for race cars. Bobbie had tested every type of car part imaginable for her parents on this track. Thanks to all those hours of testing. Endless laps driven at high speeds. Always pushing the boundaries of those cars and her skills. She had done the one thing that no one thought possible. Roberta ‘Bobbie’ McGuire had done what others had thought impossible. She had mastered the Track Too Tough To Tame. Yet even she knew that the Lady in Black had a habit of reaching out and snatching defeat out of the hands of victory.

The sounds of a tractor trailer drew her attention to the tunnel entrance for the infield. A small smile came to her face at the sight of the truck. When the truck turned to show the side of the trailer Bobbie smiled. Out of the twelve cars that had wrecked over the last week MRI was able to rebuild eight of them. Thanks to the men and women of the fabrication and powerplant shop the ISA was able to field thirty-six out of forty cars for the final race of the season. When a second tractor trailer followed the first one out the tunnel Bobbie’s smile grew. Standing up and watching the tunnel entrance Bobbie began to count car haulers. When she reached five and the last car hauler pulled into the infield of Darlington Raceway Bobbie turned to count the rest of the trailers in the garage area. When she reached forty Bobbie’s smile was one of absolute pride in MRI.

“I’ll be damned. The guys and gals pulled it off. A full field of cars for the final race of the season. Now we got to get the Marshals to approve those cars for the race.” Bobbie said into the empty air around her.

“Already taken care of Speedy. The Marshals approved their participation in the final race of the season.” Not expecting a answer to her comment Bobbie jumped in surprise and looked down to find Chief Hailee staring up at her. “What? You think you’re the only one who comes out here at oh-dark-stupid to think?”

“Never really thought about it Chief. I figured you would have still be home in bed. It’s not like there’s anything you can do until ten am. The Marshals have the garages locked down until then. No crews allowed until four hours before the race. How come you’re here now?” Bobbie called to her Pit Crew Chief.

“I always walk the track before a race Bobbie. You would know that if you spent more time around the pit areas.” Chief Hailee called back as he climbed the ladder on the side of the trailer. Once he reached the top he climbed onto the trailer beside Bobbie. “I got to say that the shop teams did a fantastic job rebuilding those cars Speedy. They did MRI proud.”

“That they did Chief. I have to admit that I was surprised when mom and dad offered to rebuild those cars for the other teams. I mean all of them are the competition.” Bobbie snorted as the trucks lined up in their respective positions.

“I think that your parents are wanting to end the season on more than the just a win but a moral high ground of some kind. They’re not satisfied with walking away with the top four driver positions for the Drivers’ Championship and the Manufacturer’s Championship. They want to show the whole world that you and the others are the best in your field.” Chief Hailee told her with a sly smile. “Good enough that NASCAR should never have turned their backs on you girls.”

“Chief Hailee I could give a shit less about what those redneck cock suckers think about me. I proved myself two years ago. I’ve gotten invites from almost every NASCAR Team there is to drive for them next season.” Bobbie chuckled. “I think I had too much fun in turning them down.”

“Damn girl. I knew that you could hold a grudge, but that is just wrong. When are you going to let them off the hook?” Chief Hailee chuckled knowing that Bobbie had her reasons for being cold towards the NASCAR Teams.

“About five days before my contract with Mercedes runs out.” Bobbie snarked. “Anyway, it does make me feel good to be running against the full field. I didn’t want to win against just two thirds of the field. More than a few of those monkey nuts would stand back shouting that they were rob of the chance to prove they could beat me on my home track. If the Marshals had only let them race. They would have beaten me by a full lap or some shit. We both know who I’m talking about.”

“True they would pull some shit like that. Hell, I heard a few of the frogs bitching about MRI stepping up and helping them rebuild their cars. That our people would pull some shit with their cars. Like you, Beth, Jim, and Sam need to cheat.” Chief Hailee snorted. “I still can’t believe that you actually set an official track record for Qualifying yesterday. Hell, you beat all the old track records by four tenths of a second and two more miles on the speed record. I don’t know how you squeezed two-forty-one-point-seven out of that engine not blow it sky high, but you did. By all rights if they put restrictor plates on the engines now it won’t matter. You’ll still own the record for the fast Qualifying lap at Darlington.”

“That may be true Chief.” Bobbie sighed as she turned to look at turn 4 of Darlington. “But right over there is the great equalizer. That turn has ended more run for the checkered flag than any other in the world.”

“That may be true Bobbie.” Hailee chuckled. “But you know its history. So, you have the advantage. You know this track. You know what she’ll do. You know how she’ll change through the day. She might be unpredictable, but you know her moods the way you know your own. The Lady holds no mysteries for you. This race is yours.”

“Say that after I have completed four-hundred-and-sixty-two laps around this monster this afternoon.” Bobbie sighed as she looked towards the exit of turn 4. “That exit is going to eat cars like a chef that’s been on a starvation die for three days.”

“I don’t know Bobbie. There’s a fine group of drivers out here today. They’re all professional. They’ve learned that the Lady is an unforgiving bitch.” Chief Hailee told her with a heavy chuckle. “Especially those chuckleheads over at Reynolds.”

“They’re not the ones I’m worried about Chief. It’s Seth Fisher and Joel Franz that really worries me. Those two dumbasses are itching to prove that they’re the best. The only way they can do that now. Is to beat me on this track.” Bobbie sighed.

“That won’t be happening any time soon. There’s only three people that can possibly beat you on this track and they’re your teammates.” Chief Hailee snorted then corrected himself. “At least in the ISA. When it comes to NASCAR there are a few drivers that would give you a solid run for the money.”

“You just said a mouthful there Chief. I know I’m good. Hell. We both know that I’m one of the best.” Bobbie chuckled. “But I would have loved to go up against someone like Smoke, Rainbow Warrior, Rowdy, or Little E.”

“They would have given you a real challenge that’s for sure Bobbie.” Chief Hailee told her honestly then gave her a funny look. “What’s really on your mind kiddo?”

“I want your word Chief. Nothing goes back to the others.” Bobbie told him.

“Given kiddo. Now what’s eating you? For the last few weeks, you’ve been on edge.” Chief Hailee told her bluntly.

“I’m not positive but it might be back, Chief.” Bobbie whispered. It took Chief Hailee a few seconds to understand what Bobbie was talking about. “I haven’t even told Kathy yet. Not until I’m positive.”

“When did you find out?” Hailee asked her softly.

“Three days after the race in Atlanta. I wasn’t feeling too hot after the race. So, I went to the hospital the next morning. I was able to talk with one of their staff Oncologists. He ran some tests. He told me that he would contact me once I was back in Darlington with the results.” Bobbie sighed. “The results were inconclusive.”

“What has your Oncologist here said?” Chief Hailee asked her.

“I’ve already talked to Doctor Hathaway. He’s scheduled me for more tests next week. That’s the upside Chief.” Bobbie told him honestly then sighed once more. “The downside is that after today. My racing carrier is most likely going to be over. The Commission will never let me behind the wheel again.”

“Are you sure about that kid?” Chief Hailee asked her quietly.

“Pretty much. If I’m positive this will be the third time around for me. I barely got my ticket to begin with. There is no way they’ll let a third time slide.” Bobbie grunted. “Besides I got a feeling that this is the way I’m meant to go out. On top and all that shit. You know what I mean?”

“Sure kiddo. Anything I can do for you?” he asked her kindly.

“Just keep this between us for now. At least until the end of the race. If mom and dad find out before then.” Bobbie sighed.

“Yeah they’ll pull your ass out of that car faster than you can run a lap around this track.” Chief Hailee told her with a chuckle. “You want this win for more than just the championship. You want it to be the one you remember for the rest of your life. The one that didn’t get away. Is that it?”

“In more ways than one Chief. This is my home. I got to prove to myself that these last few years were more than just a dream. Sure, I got those trophies from all over the world in my home office to prove that they weren’t a dream.” Bobbie told him as she pointed towards where victory lane would be held later in the day. “But I don’t have one from here.”

“The one that counts. I get it now. This track has been your Moby Dick for so long that it drove you to be one of the best. Even your sister has commented on how much you have obsessed over the Lady. You’re the only driver I know that has colored photographic layouts of every track they’ve ever driven to a win at hanging from their garage walls. With one exception.” He told her as he waved towards the track around them. “Darlington Speedway is more than just your dream. It’s in your DNA. A trophy from this is place is more than just a hunk of shiny metal to you. It’s a validation of your skills and life as a world class professional driver.”

“It’s more than just that Chief Hailee. A trophy from this place is the only one that matters to me. Not even that four-foot tall monstrosity they call a championship cup. It might have my name on it already, but it holds nothing for me. I want that Darlington six-hundred inaugural cup for my trophy wall. It’s the only one that matters.” Bobbie giggled honestly. “I got a spot all measured out for it already.”

“Shit kid that cup is practically yours. They might as well hand it over to you and save the fuel. No one else can match your speed or control around this track.” Hailee chuckled. “Not even your sister was able to squeeze out the speed like you did yesterday. Hell, I don’t think anyone could have done what you did. Not even the greats of NASCAR could have done it. You set a record here that is going to stand for a long, long, long, time kiddo.”

“I don’t doubt that Chief. The Commission is already talking about restrictor plates for next year on some of our tracks. Not that I blame them. We have constantly been breaking the two-hundred mile mark on this circuit. Not that, that’s a bad thing. It’s just been us pushing our cars to their limits on tracks that are designed for those speeds.” Bobbie snorted as she waved her hand at the track. “Let’s be honest with each other. As much as I love this place. Darlington was never designed for two-hundred plus speeds. You make a mistake at this place at those speeds. You’re either in the hospital for a long time or dead.”

“That’s true. The Lady in Black is an unforgiving bitch on her best days.” Hailee snorted then chuckled. “Though you’re the only driver that I know of that has ever been able to sweet talk this whore into behaving like a lady.”

“Who ever said that I sweet talked this big bitch?” Bobbie snarked.

“Then what did you use?” Chief Hailee asked her waiting for the punch line.

“Whips, chains, ball gags, and a big assed strap on dildo.” Bobbie snarked. Chief Hailee knew Bobbie’s answer was going to be good, but he never expected this from her. Of all the things she could have said that wasn’t what he ever expected Bobbie say. Then again when it came to his driver. Chief Hailee never knew what she was going to do from one minute to the next. Bobbie chuckled along with her Crew Chief at her own joke. “The truth is I never got this bitch to give up her secrets Chief. She still holds more than just a few secrets. The biggest of which is turn four. For starters that wall kickout in the exit is a nasty bitch that will reach out and snatch a knot in your ass if you’re not looking.”

“Then there is the hump going over the tunnel in turns three and four. Seeing as how we’re working our way around the track let’s look at the other end. Sure, turns one and two are wider but the apex is an unforgiving bear trap waiting to snap. I won’t even go into the straightaways. We both know that there has been more than one unexplained wreck on those.” Hailee snorted. “Yet for some reason. You have always been able to put down constantly clear laps around here.”

“That’s because I respect this track more than any other, Chief. I know the name of every driver that has died here. Jessie William Stansell Jr. in fifty-two. Bob Scott in fifty-four. Bobby Meyers in in fifty-seven. The three support personnel in sixty. Paul McDuffie and Charles Sweatland, both mechanics for Joe Lee Johnson's team, and NASCAR official Joe Taylor. Whitson Buren Skeen in sixty-five being the last. The Lady may not have claimed as many lives as Indianapolis Motor Speedway or Daytona International Speedway, but she still has blood on her hands. Not all of that blood comes from deaths on her dress but more injuries than I care to count. A lot of them career ending.” Bobbie told her Crew Chief with a note of sadness. “I would have loved to race against just one of the greats here just once.”

“They would all have given you a real run for the money kiddo. Especially David Pearson, Dale Earnhardt Sr., and Jeff Gordon.” Hailee told her with a real smile of pride for his driver. “But only one of them has ever been considered a true master of the Lady like you. That’s David Pearson.”

The sounds of the garage area coming to life ended their conversation. Chief Hailee knew that he had to get his driver’s mind out of the dark place it had gone this morning. He elbowed her in her left arm and nodded towards the ladder.

“Do me a favor Speedy. Go spend the rest of the morning getting out of your head. You go out there thinking the way you are now. You’ll end up in the wall. We both know that this track will eat you alive if you don’t have your head in the game.” Hailee told her honestly. “I don’t want attended your funeral because your headspace and timing is off. If I see you before the drivers’ meeting and introduction. I’ll pull your ass and put Angelika Schellscheidt in for you.”

“Now that is uncalled for!” Bobbie snapped at the mention of the one female replacement driver that she couldn’t stand. Then she saw the grin on Chief Hailee’s face. “You are an evil, evil man you know Chief.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” He snarked then pushed her towards the ladder. “Go! Get your head straight.”

“Fine. I’m going already. No need to get pushy.” Bobbie grumbled as she headed for the ladder before she started chuckling. “I think I’ll go for a right on the Knight. That always gets my head in the right place for a race. Besides, I know of a few other drivers that will be heading that way today.”

“Care to let me in on this little get together?” Hailee asked her grinning.

“Let’s just say that the clubs have been spreading the rumor that there’s more than one track in Darlington County that I’m the BTB.” Bobbie answered with a grin. Before she climbed down the trailer’s rooftop ladder.

Once they were on the ground Chief Hailee watched as his driver headed for the infield parking area for the drivers’ personal cars. His son Danny walked up behind him. “Was that Bobbie dad?”

“Yup. Found her on top of the trailer as usual.” Hailee told his son. Then sighing he turned to Danny. “Do me a favor today during the race Danny.”

“Sure, thing dad. Whatcha need?” Danny asked him.

“Pass the word to Kathy to keep an eye on Bobbie during the race. Bobbie’s got a lot on her mind. She needs this race in a bad way. I know the reason. I can’t share the reason, but it is a good one.” Chief Hailee told his son.

“Can do dad. I know that Speedy means a lot to you and this team. I’m not the only one that owes her. This whole team owes that little lady more than we can ever repay. I won’t even go into what the Formula One side of the house owes her.” Danny told him honestly. “Where is she heading now?”

“Where else. The Knight is about to get a new layer of rubber.” Hailee chuckled.

Darlington Knights Speedway

Beth, Sam, and Jimmy had been at the road course scene sunrise. They were slightly surprised that Bobbie wasn’t already at the track. All three of them had been putting down some of the hottest laps for the Knight. They kind of had too. When every former Formula One Driver had shown up with their personal cars they accepted the challenge they represented with a smile. No one was going to say that the Street Rats ever back backed down from a challenge. Even if one had never been issued.

It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be facing the same drivers later in the day on the Lady. It was simply the priceable of the matter. This was their real home track. The one that they had gone out of their way to restore and expand the old AMC test track. They had turned it into a true road course track befitting found on the professional circuits. No one knew that they were the real owners of the track. The Darlington Knights car club may have been the original owners, but it was thanks to McGuire sisters’ quiet donations in the first year that helped to finish the restoration and expansion. The so-called board of directs were the presidents of the local car clubs, and they handled the day-to-day business of running the track.

They all got a laugh out of how the local talent was showing their skills on the track by trouncing the professional Formula One drivers. More than one of them had lost a head-to-head race against the local car club drivers. Then again the locals all had the advantage of actually knowing the track. They weren’t showing the pros any respect. They had all heard of the treatment that the F1 drivers had shown towards their heroes. There was one thing that all of the car clubs didn’t put up with from outsiders. That was disrespecting the drivers of MRI. The only F1 drivers that didn’t disrespect the MRI drivers were the Mercedes-Benz drivers. Then again those drivers were members of the MRI family.

One of the more friendly F1 drivers walked up to the trio asking with a heavy Italian accent. “Beth! Bello! Where is your sister? We all want to race her.”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Gerino.” Beth answered the Italian driver from Prototype Outcasts with a chuckle. “Though if I know her Gerino. She’ll be here in about ten to fifteen minutes.”

With Beth answer the Italian smiled and turned around heading back to his car. Beth smiled as she took in the four Italian sports cars. She wanted to chuckle at how all four of the Italian drivers driving Vector M12s. Sports cars that were built in America by Vector Motors Corporation. Originally an American owned car company that was bailed out by Lamborghini owned Megatech. Beth could see the attraction of the cars. They’re fast, nimble, and fun to drive.

“Hey Sam! Where is Bobbie? I see all the other Steel Rats. Where the top dog?” Asked the president of the Ridge Runners.

“She’ll be here shortly Jimbo. Give her time. You know that Sundays are always her decompression days.” Sam answered the driver’s question with a wave that sent him on his way. “Damn! Beth where the hell is Bobbie?”

“She’ll be here Sam. Just give her time.” Beth told her friend and fellow driver.

“Beth I got to ask. Has Bobbie seemed like she’s been off her game lately?” Jim asked her with real concern in his voice.

“Don’t worry guys. Bobbie is fine. She just wants today’s win in a major way.” Beth told her friends with a heavy sigh. “Let me correct that. She needs the win today.”

“What’s going on with her Beth? Why does she need the win today?” Sam asked her.

“Darlington is her Moby Dick guys. Our home track is her great white whale. She has a place in her office for the trophy that sits center place. Not even that monster for winning the Drivers’ Championship holds the same meaning to her. The only trophy that holds even more meaning for her. Is the Southern Five-hundred.” Beth explained.

“Tell me something Beth. Does Bobbie really have the colored photographic layouts for every track she has a win at?” Sam asked her kindly.

“You mean to tell me that neither of you have ever been out to my sister’s farm?” Beth gasped in amazement. When both men nodded their heads Beth could only chuckle. “Next weekend we’ll all go out to her place for a Bar-B-Q. I’ll get her to show you her pride and joy out in her privet garage. I love my sister, but she has a twisted way of celebrating her wins. Those printouts are like the heads that hunters mount on their walls. Each one has the date and time of the win printed on them.”

“Damn that sounds cool as shit. I know that I got eight trophies and Jim has seven in our offices from our time in Sprint cup.” Sam chuckled. “But Bobbie has to have more than twice that number from all over the world.”

“Bobbie has one win at all most every track in the Formula One circuit plus the eight for this season. When you count her Rookie of The Year trophy for Formula One and this year’s Championship trophy. That brings her total to twenty-nine trophies. She only needs today’s win to give her thirty.” Beth chuckled.

“How many do you have Beth?” Jimi asked her.

“Fifteen and counting, Jimmy. I really hate to say this, but Bobbie has always been a better driver than I ever dreamed of being. She is the only person that know that can constantly out drive my ass. You guys have never really seen her go all out behind the wheel. Not even the times when she has been pissed off has she gone out all.” Beth told them honestly. Then turned thoughtful as she gathered her thoughts. “Something comes over her when she goes all out. I’ve seen her take a car and turn it into a demon of speed come straight from Hell.”

“Beth I hate to say this, but Bobbie does that all the time. It doesn’t matter if it’s behind the wheel of a Formula One car, Stockcar, or her Viper. The second she gets behind the wheel to race. All bets are off.” Jim chuckled.

“Guys. Trust me on this matter. You’ve never seen her go all out. I have. Yesterday was only the warmup for what she’ll do today.” Beth warned them.

“What does that mean lassie?” The question drew the attention of the three drivers. As one they turned to find Robert McNair standing behind them. “What do you know about my boss that we don’t?”

“How’s it going Robert? We were expecting you to be here this morning.” Sam said as he held out his hand in greeting to the retired driver. After shaking hands with each member of the MRI Stockcar team McNair chuckled.

“Our season is over with, and my drivers were wanting to do something fun to relax.” McNair chuckled as he looked out at the track. “Why they would consider racing around this place as relaxing is beyond me.”

“Have you ever run a lap around the Knight Mac?” Jim asked him with a sly smile.

“Can say that I have had the pleasure. Why?” McNair asked in confusion.

“Here. Take mine. Do a lap or two. Then ask me that question again.” Sam said as he hand the retired racer the keys to his Ford Mustang Cobra.

“Okay lad. See you in about ten to fifteen minutes.” With that McNair walked over to the Ford. Once he was behind the wheel of the car McNair took off.

The distinctive sound of Bobbie’s 8.0L; 487.6 cu in Viper V10 engine could be heard shortly after McNair left pit road. All three turned to face the direction of the main gate. The sound of that engine also drew the attention of the other drivers in the area. The ones wearing car club jackets smiled while the professionals just wore looks of confusion. For the three senior members of the Street Rats, it was the sound of their club’s president arriving.

“Here comes the Knight’s Queen. Our resident HBIC.” Tony More snarked as he walked pass them towards his own car. “Time for me to get the Ridge Runners off the track.”

“Right behind you Tony. The Flying Werewolves want nothing to do with racing that crazy bitch. McGuire has a bad habit of auctioning off high-performance cars for fun. I think the last time Bobbie showed up out here she left here with ten of our cars.” Steve Whitmire called out as he ran towards the track wall.

“Guys you can relax. Bobbie promised Kelly not to go wining any more cars.” Beth called out to the other car club presidents. Her yell brought about a round of laughs from the gathered drivers. They all knew that Bobbie only backed down to her wife. “Besides if she wins anymore she’ll have to open her own dealership to avoid the extra property taxes and insurance bills.”

“You can say that again.” Jim snarked then chuckled. “By the way how much did she raise at the auction she held?”

“Four-hundred-and-ninety-seven-thousand.” Judy Hightower said as she walked up to Beth and gave her a hug. “How’re you doing sis?”

“Not bad kiddo. If you’re looking for your brother. He should be over Darlington Speedway with the rest of the pit crew.” Beth told her kid sister-in-law.

“I’m not out here for that lug head brother of mine. I’m out here to test out my new car.” The teenager giggled as she pointed to a dark blue 1974 Lancia Stratos. “I found it on the back lot of Summerset Junkyard in Arizona. I paid three-hundred for the chassis. Another two grand shipping it home. Plus, another eight grand in pairs, parts, and paint. Not to mention a six months of blood, sweat, and tears to get her running again.”

“Way to go kiddo. Has Tony seen her yet?” Beth asked her with real pride.

“Nope. Today is the first day that Blue Bell has been out of the garage.” Judy giggled with pride in her hard work.

“Hi guys. Whose POS Stratos is that cluttering up our track?” Bobbie asked with a knowing smile as she pulled Judy into a hug. “You did a good job on the restoration kid. I can tell that you put in a lot of hard work.”

“Got the bloody knuckles to prove it.” Judy chuckled. Then jiggled the keys. “What to go for a test ride Bobbie?”

“Not this time Judy. There’s a tradition here at the Knight. The first time a driver brings a fresh car to the track. They make the first round around the track on their own. No riders, no other drivers, and no spotters. It’s all down to just your skills and your car against the track. It is a solo run.” Bobbie told her kindly as she pushed the teenager towards her car. “Now get ready for your run. We’ll clear the track for you.”

“Tim throw the yellow/blue flag and clear the track.” Sam called out to the current flagman at the end of the pit road. “Got fresh meat making their first run.”

Tim Conley just pulled out the yellow flag with blue diagonal strip and waved it. All the drivers that came to the Knight were given a list of the flags that were used there. The yellow/blue meant to clear the track. As Judy was getting her car ready for her first run around the track every driver cleared the course. Bobbie walked over to Judy’s car carrying one of her spear helmets and gloves. Bobbie was surprised to find that Judy already had a pair of gloves and helmet.

“Tony told me that if I wanted to be taken seriously as a driver. I needed my own helmet and gloves.” Judy giggled as she pulled on her helmet and started the engine for her car. She gave Bobbie a thumbs up when she pounded on the roof of the car. With a smile Bobbie pointed towards the exit of pit road onto the track. The sound of the 148 cu in Ferrari Dino V6 engine brought a smile to Bobbie’s face. Judy must have scoured every junkyard, and after market parts manufacture for the engine. As Bobbie returned to her sister and friends she couldn’t believe the detail lengths that the teenager went to for her car.

“Beth, Sam, Jim, when she gets back in here. We go over that car with a fine toothcomb. That girl put a shit load of hard and detailed work into that car. That paint job is just the starters. That is the original dark blue that Lancia put on their cars in the seventies. I don’t nowhere she found the formula for the paint, but it must have cost her an arm and a leg.” Bobbie pointed out.

“She had to special order the paint from Valspar.” Stephany Slone said as she walked up with Bobbie’s younger brother Joey. “We had to go with an aftermarket supplier for her engine and transmission. Getting the electrical system sorted out was a real bitch. We had to search more than twenty websites before we found the schematics for the bitch. I won’t even go into the sheer amount of bodywork that had to be done. It might have been mostly intact, but it was missing the hood and front finders. Those we had to fabricate from scratch.”

“Damn girl. Your Blue Devils have real turned your family’s shop into a real restoration shop. What got you started on doing restorations?” Jim asked her.

“The club’s GTO.” Stephany told them with a smile as she pointed to where Bobbie’s old 1969 GTO J model sat. It was no longer painted blueberry black but a deep neon blue befitting its place as the club for the Blue Devils. “She might not be the fastest anymore, but she’ll still turn heads at the dance.”

“That she does, Stephany. She looks really good. How long as she been on the road?” Beth asked her soon to be sister-in-law.

“We finished off the restoration shortly before you guys raced at Atlanta. We took her back down to the frame after Bobbie signed over the pink slip. The guys wanted to do her up right. We reenforced the frame then went from there. The guys did get a little carried away. They really wanted to rebuild her the way you had originally set her as a street racer. I had to point out that the frame won’t stand up to the stresses of racing after the firebombing.” Stephany told them. “Though she’ll still handle like the family cruiser that she was designed to be.”

“Can she handle her old lover behind the wheel for two laps?” Bobbie asked with a grin. “or is she ready to be put out to pasture?”

“Bobbie if anyone can handle the Beast on this track it is you.” Stephany chuckled as she hand her the keys to her old car. “Gone on and take her for a spin once Judy comes back in from her run.”

“Sorry but that’s not going to happen Stephany. Bobbie owes us a race around this track in her own car first.” Raniero Accomando told her as he walked up smiling to the MRI drivers. “Good to see you Roberta. We were being to think you would not show. We know that we don’t stand a chance against at Darlington. This is the only place around that puts us all on equal footing.”

“We race for pink slips or green backs around here Raniero. You can only use what you arrived in. You know what that means right?” Bobbie said.

“Winner gets the loser’s car or cash. You can only use the car that you drove here in. No ringers as you say Americans say.” Raniero answered with a grin. “It also means that if you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.”

“I always knew that you were smarter than you looked, Raniero.” Bobbie grinned. Then pointed to the four M12s. “Which one is yours?”

“Why do you want to know?” Raniero asked her with his head cocked to the side.

“Because I have always been partial to purple.” Bobbie told him knowing that the purple M12 was Raniero’s car. “It’ll look nice next to other purple classic cars.”

“You consider a ninety-seven Vector Motors Corporation M-twelve a classical car?” The Italian driver asked her in surprise. “It is barely twenty-five years old.”

“By American laws and tradition any car that is more than twenty years old or no longer in production is classified as a Classic. The Victor M twelve fits both of those categories. As it stands right now I currently own twenty-seven classic sports cars. All of which are American made. Your M twelve will be right at home with the rest of my collection.” Bobbie snarked as she eyed Raneiro’s car.

“What will you be putting up?” Raneiro asked her bluntly.

“Just a Second generation Dodge Viper GTS ‘double bubble’ coupé.” Bobbie grinned evilly as Raneiro’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Still wanting to race for pinks?”

“Before you make up your mind Ranerio. You should know something about Bobbie’s Viper. That beast might look like it came off the assembly line yesterday.” Sam told the Italian with a grin. “But it has been heavily modified for street racing.”

“How heavily modified?” Ranerio asked him.

“Let’s just say that Bobbie could put her Viper on any Formula One track in the world and win. Without breaking a sweat or pushing her car to the limits.” Jim told the man with a heavy chuckle. “Look take some advice. Just walk away before from the challenge before you lose that car of yours.”

“And Ranerio you also know that no one, I do mean no one; has ever beaten Bobbie McGuire on the Knight.” Beth told the man with an evil grin. “That includes me.”

“Someone who has never beaten her on equal footing on the Formula One tracks has zero chance against her here. Especially if she is driving her own car. A car that she has spent more than thirteen grand in modifying.” Stephany told the professional driver with a wicket grin. “I think I’m the only person who has even half an idea of what all she has under that chassis.”

“And if I don’t walk away?” Ranerio asked her.

“Save yourself the trouble and just sign over the pink slip to your car.” Stephany told him bluntly. “Because she’ll be loading it onto the back of a flatbed at the end of the day. That is a fact not wishful thinking.”

“Is Bobbie really that good of a street racer?” Sabina Altimari asked as she walked up to them. When all five nodded their heads yes Sabina turned to Ranerio. “Let’s go Ranerio. Before we end up walking to the speedway this afternoon.”

As the two Italian drivers returned to their friends Stephany chuckled. “Damn. I was hoping they would have kept pushing for a race against Bobbie. Those M twelves would have been prefect for the next auction.”

“Forget about it Stephany. I knew those four wouldn’t put up their cars. They got way too much invested their restoration. I found an M twelve on the back lot of Batesburg Leesville Pick-n-Pull a little over five years ago. It would have cost me two grand for that rusted hulk just to pull it from the yard. Another fourteen to fifteen grand to restore it to running condition. Plus, twenty to thirty grand to bring it up to safety standards.” Bobbie told her honestly.

“I found one outside of Phoenix, Arizona in twenty-fifteen that needed a full rear end. Just to buy it off of the yard would have been fifteen grand.” Sam told her. “I won’t even go into how much it would have cost me to restore it.”

“That’s why I wanted those four cars. Each of them is worth seventy to eighty thousand in fully restored condition.” Stephany snorted. “The purple one is worth at least a hundred grand. That would have been a nice boost to the Children’s Hospital found. Which is running a little low.”

“How low Stephany?” Jim asked for Bobbie.

“We’re down to less than one hundred grand.” She answered honestly.

“Would a five-hundred grand donation help?” Bobbie asked thinking about the winner’s purse for today’s race. She knew that she or one of the others would be today’s winner. “Along with a matching donation from my personal account?”

“I’ll match that donation Stephany.” Beth told her.

“Same for us.” Sam told her after looking over at Jim who was nodding his head.

“I’ll give as well Stephany.” Violet Knight told her as she and the rest of the Bisbee Snider drivers walked up to them. “Bobbie when you said that the Darlington Knight was a nasty piece of work. You weren’t kidding.”

“I warned you.” Bobbie told her with a giggle. “If you think this place is bad. Wait until this afternoon. I’ll tell you now guys. The Lady is going to go through a massive change throughout the day.”

“Violet, there used to be a joke about Darlington Speedway and the races that are held there. If you want to place a bet on the winner. Pick one of the tow trucks.” Jim told them with a grin.

“Were there really that many wrecks in the old days?” Caleb McLean asked.

“Who said anything about it being the old days. Last year during the Southern five-hundred there were sixteen wrecks. Out of the forty cars that started the race only nineteen crossed the finish line on the lead lap.” Sam snarked.

“What odds are you giving for the number of cars that finish today’s race?” Caleb asked both Jim and Sam. The two men looked over at Stephany.

“Maybe twenty five at most. The way I got it figured. You’ll have five to six single car wrecks in the first stage. Stage two will run relatively clean with only two or three single car wrecks. At the being of stage three around lap four-fifty to four-seventy-five the Big One will happen. At least half the remaining field will get caught up in the wreck. If I got my calculations correct.” Stephany told them.

“I got a c-note that says we have at least thirty crossing the finish line on the lead lap.” Bobbie told her as she pulled out her wallet and the forementioned bill.

“Not happening Bobbie.” Stephany giggled. “You would make sure that at least that many crossed the line to win our bet.”

“Now why would you say such a mean thing?” Bobbie pouted. Only to get a laugh from her friends and sister. “okay yeah I would do something like that.”

“Bobbie you do know that you are the odds on favorite to win today’s race. Hell, every bookie from Monti Carlo to Shanghai to Las Vegas is refusing to take bets placed on you wining. They’re only taking bets for you losing.” Stephany told her honestly. “Which are one-in-one-hundred-and-forty-seven. So, if you do happen to loose. Everyone and their brother-in-law is going to scream that the race was fixed. At least that is what I see happening.”

“Holy shit. Talk about staking the odds against interference by outsiders.” Beth griped. “Just think about the sheer number of pissed off bookies. If someone screws with today’s race like they did in Japan. I really don’t even want to be on the same continent let alone in the same county.”

“It’ll be far worse than what happened in Japan, Beth. If someone were to screw with today’s race. Every mob in the world will be after the knuckleheads.” Jim snorted. “It’ll be the hounds of hell raging across the world.”

“Then I guess we need to ride four Demons of Speed straight down the throats of the competition.” Bobbie told the gathered drivers as she looked over into the faces of the Bisbee Snider team. “Sorry about this guys but that means you.”

Violet looked at her friends and grinned. “You know something guys. I think we were going to get our asses handed to us on a silver platter this afternoon.”

“If you’re smart. You won’t get in Bobbie’s way.” Beth told them all with a smile.

“Because we sure as hell won’t be in her fucking way. Pick any other track in the world I would challenge her.” Jim told them as Bobbie blushed. “But not here and definitely not at Darlington Speedway. You’re good Violet. I’ll give you that much.”

“But you’re nowhere near good enough to take on Bobbie McGuire at either track in Darlington County.” Sam told her bluntly. Then when in for the kill. “The only driver in the ISA that stands a chance against her here or over at the Lady is her Beth McGuire. Anyone else is just marking time doing laps.”

“Not even I’m going to take bets on that outcome.” Stephany snarked. “Beth’s good, but Bobbie has always been better.”

“Today she’ll prove that fact to the world.” Bob McGuire told the gathered drivers as he walked up to them. Bob gave the Bisbee Snider team a harsh look. “I suggest that you all head over to the Lady now. You’ll need all the time you can get to be ready for the race today. Six-hundred miles at Darlington Speedway will unlike any other track in the world. She is a one of a kind, unforgiving, ice-cold, heartless, bitch with a ten-inch stainless steel strap on. She’ll be looking to ruthlessly fuck one of you in the ass.”

“Damn Chief McGuire. You make it sound like Darlington Speedway is some kind of monster.” Seth Fisher snarked only to get a death glare from Bob.

“Listen up you ignorant ass. You’ve already plowed it in once already. The Lady doesn’t forget those who disrespect her. She has ruined more than one driver’s dreams of glory. You have already felt her displeasure, boy.” Bob snarled as he got right up in Seth Fisher’s face. “You got lucky the first time. You got off with just a blown tire, and most bent sheet metal. Next time. She might take your life.”

“Seth take some advice. Pull you head out of your ass. You go out there today thinking that you can just out race the field. You’ll end up dead. This speedway you race the track not the field. You forget that and you’ll never finish the race.” Bobbie told him bluntly. “The Lady will change throughout the race. Sooner or later, she’ll get tired of us running around her dress. That is when she come after you. It be so fast that there’ll be nothing you can do but hang on for the ride.”

“Chief McGuire will the track really change that fast?” Caleb McLean asked Bob.

“Faster than quicksilver lightning Caleb.” Bob answered honestly.

“Guys I know that I’ve tried to warn you over the pass week about the Lady. You’ve all ignored me. Well, this is the last time I’m going to warn you. Race the track and not the field.” Bobbie told them before turning to the rest of MRI. “Time to get going guys. We’ve got a race to win.”

-----TBC-----

P.S.- Sorry for the delay in postings. For the last month I’ve been traveling with the junior and senior members of my 4H club. We did not get home until Friday. I’ll be back to my normal posting schedule within a few days.

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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 28
Darlington Speedway, Darlington, Sc.

Bobbie stood at the very back of the Drivers’ Tent. She barely paid any attention to the Prerace Drivers’ Safety Briefing. Of all the drivers in the tent. She knew the dangers that the Speedway presented. She knew her chances of winning from the pole position better than most. She also knew that after today she stood a good chance of joining a number of Stockcar Champions who had never won at this track.

“Thinking about your upcoming win?” Jim asked quietly from behind her.

“I haven’t won yet.” Bobbie sighed.

“Forget about it Jimmy. Bobbie won’t accept the fact that nobody here can touch her.” Beth chuckled. “At least not on this track.”

“Before we get caught up in the excitement of today’s race ladies and gentlemen. I would like to thank you all for an exciting opening season for the ISA.” The Chairman’s announcement drew every drivers’ attention to the front of the tent. “I can honestly say that our inaugural season has had its ups and downs. Its thrills and spills, everything that makes for truly great racing. We have seen the birth of truly historical rivalries between both teams and drivers. You have all shown a level of skill and professionalism that speaks to the very core of our sport. You have all exceeded my greatest expectations for our fledgling sport.”

“Like that was ever in doubt. Get on with old man. We got a race to run.” Seth Fisher shouted from over by the water jug. “And I got a win to take home.”

“Like you have a chance in hell Seth. Sit down and shut up for once.” Violet Knight snapped from her place in the tent. “We’re all racing for fifth place today.”

“Speak for yourself Violet. The rest of us aren’t going to just rollover and let MRI take the top four slots.” Siegmund Kühne from Thunder Valley shouted.

“Save your breath Siegmund, and your energy for the race. We’ve all seen what the local heroes can do at this track. You’re nowhere good enough to challenge MRI here.” Hitarashi Sukejuro from King Night racing snapped before turning to face the rest of the gathered drivers. “With the exception of Red Star Racing. We have all had the chance to race against MRI on our home tracks. We have all had the ‘homefield’ advantage this season. Every time that one of us should have won. We have lost to MRI. That is fact ladies and gentlemen. Now that they have the ‘homefield’ advantage. You would sit here and cry foal. That you can actually beat them on their home track. For once let us face our fans with honesty and honor.”

“You and the rest of your team might be willing to just let them win Hitarashi.” Seth yelled as he stood up. “But Bisbee Snider isn’t going to give into a bunch of no name drivers from the Americas.”

“Seth, do yourself a favor. Don’t get in my way. Not today, not here.” Bobbie snarled as she walked slowly through the gathered drivers. “You got a beef with me that’s fine. Leave your beef on pit road. You go out there believing that you can take your grudge with you. This place will kill you. Not me. The track itself. I have tried to warn you and the others here. This track will change throughout the day. One lap it can be your best friend, the next it will eat you and your car alive. We don’t call this place the Track Too Tough To Tame for no reason.”

“Bullshit! How long are you going to try and scare us with these tall tales? Racetracks do not magically change during a race. The stay the same from the start of a race to the end. The only change is if the weather changes and it rains. Only then does a racetrack change.” Seth snorted as he waved away Bobbie’s warning.

“On second thought. Fuck you Seth. I hope you do go out there with that chip on your shoulder. Because you won’t finish the race.” Bobbie finally snarled as she turned to the gathered drivers. “Got a one-hundred Euros that this dumbass doesn’t clear the first stage. Any takers?”

“I’ll take some of that action. I say that he won’t make it beyond the first seventy-five laps.” Caleb McLean called out as he looked up at his teammate. “Sorry partner, but you don’t stand a fucking chance of winning here.”

Before Seth could say anything in response to his teammate’s comment the Chairman called the gathered drivers to order. “Ladies and gentlemen! Order Please!”

Once everyone calmed down and returned to their seats he took a deep breath. “As Darlington Speedway is a home racetrack for one of our teams. They shall be the last drivers introduced. As has been our tradition from the start of the season. This in no way points to their standing in the starting lineup.”

“Bullshit! You’re just trying to rub our noses in the fact that MRI holds the top four positions in the field.” Léonard Carrell yelled out in disgust.

“Shut the fuck up Carrell! When we raced at the Paris Superspeedway, Les Ailes de Justice were the last ones to be introduced. Just as King Night were the last to be introduced at the Mitsubishi Speedway. We have been doing this at every homefield racetrack from the beginning of the season. There isn’t one team here that hasn’t been given the honor. Yet you want to deny MRI the honor because they hold the fist four pole positions on the home track. God you’re pathetic!” Nazarova Grigorievna roared from his place with team Red Star. When Carrell sat back down Nazarova looked back up at the Chairman. “Please continue sir.”

“Thank you sir. As I was saying MRI will be the last set of drivers to be introduced. As it has been pointed out already team MRI does hold the top four positions in the starting lineup. We will be making one change to the introductions. For the first time we will start at the back of the field and work our way forward announcing each driver with their corresponding position. There is a tradition for the introduction of drivers here at Darlington Speedway. A tradition that we will honor. As you know each of your teams received a request for your favorite song.” The Chairman was interrupted by a round of laughter from the drivers. Holding up his hands to regain order the Chairman chuckled. “Yes I know that most of you do not have a favorite English song. So, to accommodate our American hosts. The Broad of Directors for the ISA has picked a select few songs for you. When you hear the music starts please standby to make your entrance onto the runway. That is all I have for you ladies and gentlemen.”

As the Chairman and the rest of the Marshals for ISA left the tent Bobbie reached into the breast pocket of her racing leathers. With a smile she pulled out a tin of Copenhagen tobacco. As she thumped her index finger against the lid to pack the tobacco her grin grew. “Don’t worry guys. I got enough for everyone.”

“You going to join us Beth?” Sam asked her smiling.

“Normally I’d tell you guys to piss off.” Beth told them with a sly grin. “But not today. Today I think I’ll let my country girl flag fly high. Give me that dip.”

After placing a pinch between her cheek and gum Bobbie handed Beth the tin. “Don’t tell Kelly shit. She hates it when I slip out to the barn for a dip.”

“Are you kidding?” Jim snarked with a sideways grin.

“Come on Bobbie. Kelly will know the second she sees you. We don’t have to tell her shit.” Beth snarked as she put her pinch in between her cheek and gum then passed the tin to Jim. “Don’t Bogart half the tin.”

“Are you kidding me? No way am I going to waste good tobacco. You know that once we reach our cars. We’ll have to spit these dips out.” Jim sighed as he took his pinch and passed the tin to Sam. “We got to figure out a way to dip and drive.”

“Use an open face helmet bro.” Sam told him bluntly as he took the tin from Jim.

“No can do partner. Not with the regulations on PSE stating that all helmets must be full face covering. After that wreck in Atlanta, we can expect even more changes to those regulations.” Bobbie told him. Before she could say more the opening notes of Glenn Frye’s Smuggler Blues reached their ears. “Oh man this is going to be good. You know Grinda and Picard are going to ham it up with that song.”

“And then some.” Jim chuckled. “I may not like some of the F-One Drivers but those two really got their shit together this year.”

As the four MRI drivers stood at the back of the tent waiting for their names to be called. They would share their opinions on their competition. For the most part there was no nasty digs towards the other drivers. With only two exceptions. Those two drivers were hated by everyone in MRI. When their names were called the four drivers reacted as one.

“Bloody Hell! Watch where you Yanks spit that shit!” Oscar Johnson snapped then chuckled. “Though I fully understand your feelings.”

“Sorry about that Oscar. Do us a favor. Pass the word among your teammates. Tell them to give those two yuck nuts a wide birth on the track. At least until after they spin out and wreck. Then you do whatever you want.” Beth told the Englishman.

“We’ve already discussed the matter Beth.” Oscar told her as he looked around at the remaining drivers. “Most of us have already decided to let those two hang on their own. The only drivers that are even thinking about helping them are their fellow dumbasses. Not even their own teammates are looking to help them on the track. They’re just pissed that after today they no longer have a ride.”

“What do you mean?” Bobbie asked him quickly.

“After today the following drivers will have their licenses pulled for Stockcar Racing. Seth Fisher, Nathan Watson, Jules Grinda, Léonard Carrell, Lilian Picard, Elco Schrijvers, Marc Wimmer, and Koychev Fyodorovich. The driving factor behind this is their attitudes towards other drivers. Especially female drivers.” Oscar told the four of them. “By the way. They place most of the blame on the four of you for most of their failures. Both on and off the tracks.”

“So, the ISA Commission has finally decided to take the matter of those chauvinistic pigs seriously. About damned time.” Beth snarled. “Those eight asshats have been running roughshod for too damned long. I think Tony was going to break Wimmer in half at the Talladega meet and greet.”

“I don’t think, I know he was going to break him in half.” Sam chuckled.

“I must ask Mrs. Tower. Would your husband and jackman really have beaten Wimmer?” Mori Unkei from King Night asked with a sly smile.

“Mori if there is one thing that can be said about my husband it is this. Don’t ever piss him off. He may not act like it, but he is one of the deadliest jackmen in all of the ISA. Before he joined our Formula One put crews. Tony ‘the Tiger’ Towers was a mixed martial arts champion.” Beth chuckled then gave the Japanese driver a nasty grin. “When he gets going. No one can stop him.”

Before Mori could comment the opening notes to Imagine Dragons’ Thunder rocked the air. When her name was called shortly there after Mori smiled. “Looks like I’m up. I’ll see you out there Bobbie. I’ll be the one out front after twenty laps.”

“Keep thinking that Mori. It’ll make for a fun filled day.” Bobbie snarked as the Japanese driver left to take her place on the stage. “That gal is going to be one hell of a driver and champion next season.”

“That might be true Bobbie, but she’ll still have to get passed me and the others. If you think I’m just going to let that happen without a fight. Think again.” Jim snarled. With a smartass smile Jim waved his hand at the remaining drivers. “The same can be said for the rest of the drivers here. You may be our inaugural Champion. But next year is another matter. We all know how Fate’s dice roll.”

“Screw Fate and her dice, Jim. There are only two things that matter behind the wheel of a Stockcar.” Bobbie chuckled. “Skill and who has the biggest balls.”

“The last time I looked. You got the BIGGEST BALLS OF THEM ALL!” Sam snarked.

“I’ve got big balls. I’ve got big balls. And they’re such big balls. And their fancy big balls.” Bobbie couldn’t help herself as she began to sing the lyrics to AC/DC’s famous song. As she sang Bobbie pointed towards her teammates before throwing out her arms wide. “And he’s got big balls. And she’s got big balls. But we’ve got the biggest balls of them all.”

“Oh god! You had to go and give her the ammunition didn’t you Sam.” Jim sighed as the remaining drivers laughed at Bobbie’s antics.

“Knock it off you jughead. We got introductions happening. No need in setting everyone off before they have to go before their fans.” Beth sighed before elbowing Bobbie in the ribs.

“Beth’s right Bobbie. Remember we’re supposed to be presenting a professional appearance. Not acting like a bunch of backwoods rednecks.” Jim said before spitting out a wade of tobacco juice on the ground. As the four drivers of MRI laughed at Jim’s comment and actions the rest of the drivers paid them little attention. They all knew that Bobbie and the others were the top dogs to beat. Bobbie wanted to laugh when the next song began to play and the two drivers that were introduced.

“Now that song fits those two and this track. Hitarashi Sukejuro and Kuno Junzo are going to do more than get a little Sideways.” Bobbie crowed. When the next two drivers to be introduced came from Bisbee Snider the Australia team. The MRI team damned near fell on their collective asses laughing. “My GOD! That song fits Joseph Lachman and Violet Knight perfectly. Those four drunks deserve that song.”

“You can say that again. Though I do have to say they never let their drinking affect their driving.” Siegmund Kühne of Thunder Valley put in just before his name was called. “Looks like it’s my turn.”

“Guys there goes our biggest competition today. He may not have the fastest car, but his setup is by far the best for Darlington.” Bobbie whispered for her friends.

“What are you talking about Bobbie?” Sam asked her.

“Simple. Siegmund was a drifter before coming over to the ISA. He’s already figured out that the best way for him to attack Darlington is a with a loose car.” Bobbie explained as the next song began. “Oh man can they get any more predictable?”

As the notes of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell filled the air. Bobbie and the rest of MRI watched as the last four drivers took their places on the walkway. As the final four drivers to take the stage Bobbie knew that the owners of Darlington Speedway was holding back a special song just for them. With a smile she looked over at her family with a soft and knowing smile.

“Almost time guys. No matter how this day turns out. Remember one thing. We carry the hopes and dreams of every last gearhead in Darlington. Our cars are more than just the apex of MRI’s engineering design and skills. They are a promise to all of our fans. Today we earn our Darlington Stripes.” Bobbie told them honestly as the opening notes of Bruce Springsteen’s Darlington County. As one the four Darlington County natives started laughing. “This rock this JIONT!”

“He’s the demon of the backroads! He’s the man with the Devil’s Own Luck! On row two in the outside position! He’s Darlington’s own Jim Fields!” The announcer called out over the loudspeaker. Jim gave his teammates a wicket grin and rushed up the stairs leading to the walkway used to introduce the drivers.

“Oh god. His ego just got a massive boost.” Beth sighed then giggled.

“They say fallow the trail of smoke and you’ll find his victims! He burns down the roads of Darlington and takes on all challengers equally! He is the gentleman of speed! He’s your one of your own Darlington! He’s Sam Hurley!” The second the announcer finished Sam flipped Beth and Bobbie a friendly salute before rushing up the stairs to walkdown the stage for their fans.

“Bobbie you know that after this every driver out there is going to be gunning for us.” Beth told her sister who just nodded her head grinning. “Oh shit! You knew that they were going to pull this shit didn’t you.”

“Yup!” Bobbie grinned then at Beth’s look of frustration sighed. “Think about it sis. In all of NASCAR history there has only ever been five drivers from Darlington. We’re more than just heroes around here. The last driver from Darlington County to actually driver at this track was Dange Hanniford in oh-seven.”

“They called her the Ice Fury in Formula One! They call her the Borg Queen! Because resistance on the track is futile! Her beauty is only match by her skills behind the wheel of a car! Starting on the front row in the number position! Put your hands together for our very own Beth McGuire-Towers!” The announcer called.

“That’s my cue sis!” Beth giggled as she gave Bobbie a fast hug and bounded up the stairs to take her place on the stage. Bobbie smiled as she walked up the steps to take her place behind the curtain and watch as Beth danced her way down the walkway.

“She’ll never change. Give her a chance to ham it up and Beth will jump all over it.” Bobbie chuckled as the last notes of Darlington County played through the air. Bobbie looked over at the event coordinator and quickly asked. “What the hell? Did they miscalculate the length of the song?”

“Not at all Mrs. McGuire. Please wait for just one moment.” The coordinator told her with a friendly smile. The sounds of synthesized bagpipes infused the air. It was a very familiar sound for Bobbie. She knew the song before the first words were ever sung. She knew that to most American Stockcar racers this song harkened back to the very roots of their sport. The coordinator smiled over at Bobbie nodding her head smiling. “We talked with your wife earlier this morning. She suggested the song. She said that Copperhead Road holds a special meaning for you.”

“You could say that ma’am.” Bobbie chuckled as she listened for her name to be called by the announcer. She didn’t want to miss her cue.

“Starting on the front row! She’s not only number one in the International Stockcar Association’s Drivers’ Championship, but she is also Number One in our Hearts! She has been the Baine of the Highway Patrol in big black Dodge Viper! She tamed the Darlington Knight! She is Darlington County’s very own Queen of Speed! She’s our very own hometown girl that brought pride back to Darlington! She earned her Formula One ride at the tender age of eighteen! She’s has been warming the hearts of fans around the world ever since! She is the woman! She is the Myth! She is the Legend! Ladies and gentlemen put your hands together for our very own Bobbie McGuire!”

“Oh god! Could they have been any more over the top?!” Bobbie whined in embarrassment then put on a smile for the crowd. Before she stepped out onto the walkway Bobbie looked over at the coordinator. “Time to put on a show!”

As she danced her way out onto the walkway the coordinator chuckled. The woman knew that Bobbie would give her all for the fans. In a stadium filled with her hometown citizens Bobbie would give even more. This was her track, and no one was going to take that away from her. This little show was nothing to the formidable young woman. Harriet Marsh may have been born in Pelion South Carolina, but she had heard of the mysterious young lady who had begun her professional life as a Formula One driver. Bobbie McGuire was considered an outlaw by most respectable people, but she was still a hero to most of the people in South Carolina.

Pit Box for Bobbie. Pit Road.

As these thoughts ran through Harriet’s mind three people stood on top of Bobbie’s pit box watching her dance down the length of the walkway. To these three people the young woman held separate places in their hearts. To Robert McGuire, Bobbie’s father, she was his baby girl not his top driver that danced before the fans. For Julianna, Jewels to her friends, McGuire the young woman was only one of her three greatest accomplishments. The other two were Joey and Beth. The last person on that lonely pit box held the heart of Bobbie McGuire. For Kelly McGuire the young woman was far more than she appeared to be. To her Bobbie was the more just a Stockcar driver, the ISA’s inaugural Champion and the biological father to their children. Bobbie was nothing less than her hero in every sense of the word.

“They had to go and use that song for her intro.” Bob sighed as Jewels and Kelly chuckled. “Hope like hell she doesn’t let it go to her head.”

“Don’t worry dad. Bobbie may play the part of the clown at times.” Kelly giggled at the look Bob gave her. “But she’s always professional behind the wheel.”

“I know that Kelly. I’m just worry that she’ll get out there today and forget that this track can change at the drop of the hat.” Bob sighed as he voiced his concerns.

“Bob when was the last time our daughter ever turned her back on this track?” Jewels asked her husband with a grin. “The answer is never.”

“Mom’s telling you the truth dad. Of all the racetracks in the world. Darlington will always have Bobbie’s full attention. She knows that this place can end a winning run in the blink of an eye. I think her and Beth are still the only drivers that have test driven Formula One cars around this beast.” Kelly chuckled.

“Not quite Kelly. A few other F-One drivers have used Darlington for a test track, but they hardly ever do it more than once.” Bob corrected his daughter-in-law then chuckled. “Though Beth and Bobbie are not your normal drivers.”

“You can say that again.” Chief Hailee snarked as he joined them on top of the pit box. Turning serious Chief Hailee looked over at Bobbie’s car on pit road. He knew that he was about to break his word to Bobbie but felt that her parents need the truth. “Boss I think you should know something before the race starts.”

“Bobbie’s mind isn’t on the race. She’s worried that her cancer has returned. I’m I right Chief?” Kelly asked out of nowhere.

“Um… how the hell did you know that Kelly?” Hailee asked in surprise.

“Bobbie forgets that I get all the mail at home.” She said holding up a letter from the hospital in Atlanta. “This came in the other day.”

“What does it say dear?” Jewels asked with real fear.

“The results were inconclusive, mom.” Kelly whispered. “But I know what those tests are for. Bobbie is afraid that her cancer has returned.”

“And she her career as a driver is coming to an end.” Chief Hailee told the McGuires bluntly. “Which she has every right to be afraid of.”

“She’ll always have a place with MRI Chief. In the meantime, we say nothing to the rest of the team and Bobbie. We let her run this race the way she wants.” Bob ordered his senior Crew Chief and family. “I got a feeling that Bobbie is going to put on one hell of a show for us today.”

“Why’s that dad?” Kelly asked as she hide the letter in her purse.

“More than anything she wants that trophy for her wall.” Bob told her bluntly as he looked towards where the two-foot tall black crystal goblet sitting atop the black cherrywood base stood on the walkway. There stood Bobbie’s unicorn. “I never thought that a simple piece of crystal would hold so much for our daughter.”

“Dad that cup is more than just a piece of crystal. It’s her validation.” Kelly sighed as she watched Bobbie climb into her car. “In her mind ten minutes from now. Everything that she has ever been and ever will be. Will come down to four-hundred-and-sixty-two laps. Six-hundred miles at breakneck speeds and total insanity. She is going to be dancing three-wide into turn three looking for the outside wall.”

“With her ass on fire going for broke.” Jewels chuckled then sighed. “The one thing that will always hold true for my daughter. She will always be at home behind the wheel of a car. It is the only place that she is at home and truly feels alive.”

“The cancer damned near took her soul Kelly. The one thing it couldn’t touch was her will to survive. The moment she sits down behind the wheel of a car. It doesn’t matter if it’s a racecar or her own personal car. She’ll always push it to the limits. The only thing that lets my daughter knew that she is alive is pushing the edge.” Bob explained for Kelly. “Today will be here crowning glory.”

“One way or another, dad.” Kelly whispered to herself. Looking up at the clear blue sky Kelly felt a disquieting uneasiness come over her. For some unknow reason she knew that Bobbie would face more than just the other drivers today.

Bobbie’s Car. Pit Road.

Bobbie sat behind the wheel of her car pulling her personal protective gear. As she placed the earbuds in for her iPod Bobbie knew that today’s race was most likely her last chance. Bobbie looked out the windscreen of her car and sighed. “I guess it’s time to make the doughnuts.”

“Hay Bobbie! You here girl?” Danny asked her as he handed her, her helmet.

“I’m here Danny. All systems are go. Five-by-five and in the green.” Bobbie chuckled.

“Bullshit. I know that look on your face. Get your head in the game. The Lady is waiting for her dance partner.” He told her bluntly as he pointed towards the exit of pit road. “Today that dance partner is you. Now go out there and prove it.”

“Okay already.” Bobbie chuckled then smiled up at her friend and jackman. “Time to dance with the bitch in the black dress one more time.”

“Now that’s what I want to hear from my favorite Hellion. Go get them Speedy.” Danny told her as he pulled up her window safety net. Danny knew as he watched Bobbie pull on her helmet that the fire to win had returned. There would be nothing and no one standing in her way today. As Danny walked towards his place behind the pit road wall he looked back over his shoulder at Bobbie and her car. “Today will mark a turning point in racing history. Today a Valkyrie rides towards victory.”

If Bobbie heard her jackman’s comment she wasn’t paying attention. She had already let her mind to go that place where there was only her, the car, and the track. She knew that the championship cup was hers. Now all she had to do was win the race that meant the most to her. When the most awaited four words came.

“Drivers! Start! Your! Engines!” Bobbie flipped the two battery switches and mashed the starter button. With a nasty smile Bobbie pressed one last button in her cockpit. It was the one that would calm her nerves and drive her to victory. Bobbie chuckled as she led the field to rolling off pit road. She knew that Joey had been playing around with her playlist again as the opening notes of Judas Priests’ Turbo Love sounded in her ears.

Bobbie keyed her radio so she could talk with her little brother in the spotters nest. “Joey when I get out of this car. Be prepared to get your ass beat.”

“You wish! The only way you can beat me any more is behind the wheel of a car!” Joey chuckled. “But if you can last all six-hundred miles. I got a fresh jug of old man Horner’s best shine to celebrate with.”

“You on little brother.” Bobbie laughed as they rounded turn 1 for their first of five warmup laps. “Kathy what’s the track conditions like?”

“Like you don’t already know!” Kathy laughed out aloud before turning serious. “Though you do need to watch yourself on turns three and four. That area of the track is still slight damp from this morning’s dew. It should be dry enough to push one-eighty to one-ninety. No more than that though.”

“Don’t worry Kathy. By the time the green flag drops everybody will realize the danger that end of the track represents.” Bobbie told her as they entered the back straightaway. Bobbie knew that the track might look slick from their position, but it wasn’t. Bobbie knew there was one constant at Darlington. It didn’t matter what the track looked like it was always the opposite.

For the next five laps the field of forty drivers did their best to warm up their tires. It also took that long for Judas Priests’ Turbo Love to play out. As they rounded turn 3 the pace car turned off its lights and dropped to the inside of the track headed for pit road. The race was just moments away. Bobbie reached down and pulled her straps tight one more time. It was time to go racing.

When the green flag dropped Bobbie didn’t think twice as she started shifting through her gears picking up speed heading for turn 1. As she was doing this the opening notes to Swedish House Mafia’s Greyhounds blasted out of her earbuds. Hearing this Bobbie only had one thought run through her head as she drove to the bottom of the turn. Today she was the rabbit and the rest of the field the hounds.

With each passing second of the song Bobbie’s world fell away. Until there was only her, the car, and the racetrack known as Darlington. Even as Kathy called out her markers she knew that Bobbie was barely paying attention to her. “Bobbie slow down! You’re pushing things too fast for the track!”

“I’m fine Kathy. Just let me know when the first wreck happens.” Bobbie ordered her over the radio. “It should come around lap twenty-five to thirty.”

“Who do you think is going to buy the farm?” Kathy asked.

“It’s going to be either Seth Fisher, Nathan Watson, or Jules Grinda in turn two. Those three chuckle heads haven’t figured it out yet that you can highline that corner without pushing the edge of their cars.” Bobbie chuckled.

“Are you telling me that one of those three is going to earn their stripe the hard way?” Kathy asked over the radio.

“Let’s just say that they’ve watched one too many Southern five-hundred recordings. They’ll go high into turn three hoping to stay off the wall. Not wanting to let any of their speed drop off. That’ll be their mistake. They’ll overcompensate for the angle of the of the turn. The second they do they’ll hit the outer wall.” Bobbie told her as she exited turn 4 onto the front straightaway. For the next 5 laps Kathy said nothing. Then on lap 10 as Bobbie entered turn 1 Kathy yelled out.

“Bobbie! GO LOW AND STAY THERE!” Bobbie had no sooner exited turn 2 than she saw what Kathy was screaming about. There before her eyes was Bobbie’s worse nightmare. The eight drivers with the most to lose were wrecking. As she wove her way through the wreck Bobbie spotted the cars belonging to Seth Fisher, Nathan Watson, Jules Grinda, Léonard Carrell, Lilian Picard, Elco Schrijvers, Marc Wimmer, and Koychev Fyodorovich. The one that worried her the most was Jules Grinda. His car was tumbling end over end down the back straightaway.

When the yellow flag came Bobbie was clear of the wreckage. With a shacking hand she keyed her mike. “Kathy did the rest of the team make it through?”

“Everyone cleared the wreck Bobbie. Only the last eight cars in the field were caught up in the actual wreck. It happened just the way you said it would Bobbie.” Kathy told her honestly. “If it matters. Seth Fisher was the one to cause the wreck. He pushed things too far in turn two and ate the outside wall.”

“Not surprising. I knew I shouldn’t have repaired that asshole’s car.” Bobbie sighed as the red flag came out stopping the race after only 10 laps.

“Damn talk about your memorable starts to a race.” She grumbled as she pulled to a stop behind the pace car on the front straightaway. Shutting down her engine Bobbie knew that this was going to be a long stop. “How long do you figure this one will be for Kathy?”

“At least thirty minutes Bobbie. The emergency crews are having to roll a few of the wrecks back onto their wheels. From the looks of things, they’ll also need the jaws for a few of the cars.” Kathy told her honestly.

“Damned fools. Just had to do things their way. Are any of them hurt?” Bobbie asked.

“Won’t know for another twenty to thirty minutes Bobbie. For now, sit back and enjoy the break.” Kathy told her with a chuckle in her voice. When the signal to restart their engines came Bobbie had to laugh. “Fire it up Speedy. Your breaktime’s over. We’re going green in five laps.”

“What’s the word on the drivers involved in the wreck?” Bobbie asked her.

“With the exception of Seth Fisher everybody is fine. Seth on the other hand is on his way to the hospital. Nothing serious, just a broken left arm and leg. He got slammed hard by Jules Grinda. That is what sent Jules cartwheeling.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer shitbird.” Bobbie snarked as she rolled out behind the pace car. Bobbie want to smile as Sam pulled along side her in the outer pole position. “When did Sam pass Beth?”

“He pulled an inside slide on her just before the wreck on lap nine. Speaking of that Bobbie you want the lineup as it stands?”

“Give it to me girlfriend.” Bobbie ordered her spotter. She wasn’t surprised to realize that Beth was in 3rd place right behind her, and Jim holding steady in 4th. From there going back the field was a mix of the teams. With almost no two teammates anywhere near the other to help them out. Today’s race was shaping up just the way Bobbie had expected it. With on exception. The wreck on lap 10 had thrown off her calculations for the first segment.

As they rounded turn 4 onto the front straightaway Kathy gave her the bad news. “Bobbie the Marshals are not counting these five laps towards the race total.”

“What the hell?” Bobbie asked in confusion.

“The ISA has decided to exercise that stupid Championship points clause. You know the one where they count the number of laps run for each race.” Kathy told her.

“Oh man. We go a whole season without using that clause. Then on the last race of the season they pull it out. That doesn’t make sense.” Bobbie bitched.

“This way they can put to rest any arguments over your claim to the championship title before they start kiddo.” Jewels told her coming up on the radio. “So I don’t want to hear you raising any fuse.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bobbie grumbled as she lined up for the restart. When the green flag finally came for the restart Bobbie took off to the sound of Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For A Hero. Even as she entered turn 1 Sam was struggling to stay along side her. As they exited turn 2 onto the back straightaway Sam gave up the fight and fell in behind Jim. Bobbie never looked back as she powered down the straightaway into turn 3. Unlike the rest of her family, she never let up on the throttle. Bobbie did what Seth Fisher and the other eight drivers involved in the wreck tired. She took the track at full throttle.

As she powered her way around the track Chief Hailee along with her parents and wife could only watch in wonder. They all knew that Bobbie was a fantastic driver. Yet none of them knew the true level of her skills. Bobbie soon had a 4 car lead on the rest of the field. Not even Beth could catch up to her. When Chief Hailee radioed her to slow down Bobbie just pushed her car even harder. After her father called trying to slow her down Bobbie ignored him. When her mother tried Bobbie didn’t even answer the radio. It took Kelly getting on the radio to slow her down.

At the end of stage One Bobbie crossed the start/finish line with a 5 car lead. Even as she was pulling onto pit road for her second pit stop of the day Bobbie was chopping at the bit to be back out on the track. She had to win. The need had become an obsession. With 312 laps to go Bobbie knew she had a long way to go yet. As she pulled to a stop in her pit stall Bobbie grinned at the sight that greeted her. she had even gotten stopped good before her pit crew was over the safety wall. Twelve point nine seconds, four fresh tires, two cans of fuel, and one tearaway later Danny dropped the left side of the car and Bobbie was off.

“Great job guys. That time has to be a record breaking pit stop.” Bobbie called out over the radio as she pulled onto the track.

“We’re close Bobbie. They need to drop another eight tenths of our time before we break the record.” Chief Hailee told her as she lined behind the pace car.

“What is the record Chief?” Bobbie asked him.

“The fastest four-tire and refuel pit stop in NASCAR history was done by Alex Bowman’s team at twelve-point-one-seven-seven-six seconds.” Bob McGuire told her with a nasty chuckle. “Our teams are good, but they still have room to improve.”

Thankfully only Bobbie could hear her father’s words. They would most likely have caused a fight in the pits between the already four competitive pit crews. When the race restarted on lap 155 Bobbie took off as if the Hounds of Hell were nipping at her heels. Only her three fellow drivers from MRI could keep up with her. as the four of them powered away from the rest of the field they fell into a very familiar lineup with Bobbie out front leading the charge. Beth was right behind her followed by Jim then Sam bringing up the rear. They would hold this line for all of the second stage of the race. Even when they came in for their pit stops nothing changed. Not even the two yellow flags for single car wrecks affected them.

Only when Bobbie took the green/white checker flag for winning the second stage did she slack off on her drive for the win. As they pulled onto pit road Bobbie paused her play list. As she came to a stop for her sixth pit stop of the day Danny was shouting at the rest of the pit crew. “Let’s go! Move it people. Go! Go! We got eleven point one seconds to get this car moving!”

“What the hell?” Bobbie asked as the right side of her car bounced into the air over the sounds of screaming air guns. She quickly realized what was going on and checked the one readout that most cars didn’t have. Her pit clock. Just as the clock reached 5.979 Danny dropped the right side. At 6.78 seconds Danny had the left side of the car in the air. Bobbie knew that is was going to be close. How close she wouldn’t realize until Danny dropped the jack signaling her to leave. At 12.1778 Bobbie pulled out of her stall. As she exited pit road onto the track she keyed her radio. “Sorry Chief. I got a bad exit coming out of the stall.”

“Don’t worry Speedy. It was close enough that we knew we can break the record.” Chief Hailee radioed back to her with a chuckle. Bobbie just sighed and lined up behind the pace car. She swore that she would do her best to help her pit crew break that record on the next stop. With the last stage of the race being 162 laps long. Even as she was lining up for the restart Bobbie was doing the calculations in her head. Bobbie knew that she would have to have at least three more pit stops today. She could make on just two more but that was cutting things close.

“Forget it Bobbie.” Kathy told her over the radio. “I know what you’re thinking. You’ll need at least three pit spots to make the full distance. Even with two four tire and fuel pitstops you’ll be short. You’ll need at least one splash and dash to make all the way. That doesn’t take in the fact the track is changing.”

“What are you seeing Kathy?” Bobbie asked her quickly.

“Turns three and four, plus half of both straightaways are already in full shadow Bobbie. By lap three-seventy-five they’ll be turning on the lights. The track is going to cool down and tighten up fast. I figure there will be at least two to three single car wrecks and one eight to ten car wreck around lap four-hundred.” Kathy told Bobbie with all the confidence of someone who had studied Darlington Speedway for a lifetime. Darlington would soon show the world why it was called the Track too Tough to Tame as it changed with the fading sunlight.

“Woah there Kathy. That’s a lot of speculation.” Bobbie snorted over the radio.

“Fact not speculation Bobbie. The air temp is dropping fast. It’s already down to sixty-three and the sun isn’t even down yet. Once it is down the temperature is going to fall like a rock off a cliff. Track temp will fall just as fast. The cooler air will suck up all that heat from the day in a hurry. You know what happens then.” Kathy warned Bobbie with a nasty chuckle.

“Damn I knew we were going to pay for that red flag.” Bobbie grumbled over the radio. “Kathy let me know when the shadow reaches the entrance to turn one.”

“Then start counting Bobbie. I figure you got fifteen laps before turns one and two are in partial shadow. Another five laps after that before the whole track is dark.” Kathy warned Bobbie quickly. She didn’t need to make any calculations. She just knew. This was the track that her mother had them running laps around in the off season. She knew Darlington better than any driver out there. That included Bobbie. “Heads up Bobbie. They’re holding off on the restart.”

“What’s up Kathy?” Jewels asked over the radio on the team frequency.

“Don’t know yet, ma’am. Okay just got the reason for the hold. There is debris on the exit to turn four. Looks like someone threw a cooler at one of the other drivers. If I had to guess I would say that we got a fan pissed off at the Brits.”

“Nope it was one of the Aussies that got the cooler. Violet Knight cut Alexa Peters off on pit road.” Joey told them on the team frequency with a chuckle. “It seems that the Ladies of the ISA are bigger fan favs than the guys.”

“Not surprising Joey. Beautiful women are always a bigger draw than scruffy men.” Jewels told them all with a laugh.

When the green flag finally came to restart the race on lap 310 the track lighting had been turned on. Bobbie took off for turn 1 to the opening notes to the main theme for Days Of Thunder Soundtrack by Hans Zimmer. Even as she was hugging the inside line Bobbie felt like she was that mythical stockcar driver Cole Trickle come to life. Without even thinking Bobbie keyed her radio and piped the music to her teammates. As they thundered down the back straightaway off turn 2 the four MRI drivers pulled away from the rest of the field.

Their closest competition came from Sakurazaki Mashai and Mori Unkei from team King Night. Even then they were four car lengths behind the foursome. As the race wore on the field began to spread out as the sun set in the west. On lap 363 Violet Knight blew a right front tire going into the wall on turn 3 bring out the yellow flag. Bobbie breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the flag. She was pushing the edge of her car’s fuel and tires. When they opened pit road two laps later Bobbie led those still on the lead lap in for their pit stops. The second Bobbie pulled to a stop in her stall she hit the button that would start the clock.

When she felt the left side of her car hit the ground Bobbie was off and racing for the exit to pit road. Once again winning the race but only by a few feet in front her sister. As she pulled in behind the pace Bobbie checked the clock. She had to blink her eyes and shack her head. The clock had to be wrong. “Kathy did you keep my pit time? Please tell that you did?”

“I kept Bobbie. I hate to tell you this, but you owe your pit crew a case of beer.” Kathy chuckled as she thought about Bobbie’s standing bet with her pit crew. In three season they had never won the bet. They had always come close but today they broke the record for a 4 tire, and fuel pit by a full second at 11.1776.

“To hell with beer. They earned a case of the good stuff.” Bobbie cackled. “Champagne for the whole crew. I never thought I would be paying off on this bet.”

“I heard that Bobbie. Putting in the order now. By the way. You aren’t the only one who has to pay out. Beth, Sam, and Jim are buying for their pit crews as well.” Chief Hailee told her with a nasty chuckle.

“Just send me the bill Chief Hailee. I’m the one who made the bet.” Bobbie told him feeling that the other drivers shouldn’t have to back up her bet.

“Not happening Bobbie. They opened their mouths now they pay.” Chief Stone chuckled.

“If you’re done complementing the pit crews Bobbie. It’s time to get back to your job. They’re dropping the flag this time around.” Kathy snapped. “It won’t be the walkaway like the rest of the day. This time the Rising Sun drivers will be on your backside like a school of pilot fish.”

“They can try Kathy. They’re more than welcome to, but this is Darlington. Here only the strong and lucky survive their stupidity.” Chief Hailee chuckled.

When the green flag came on lap 368 Bobbie dropped the hammer pulling away from Beth, Jim, and Sam. It took exiting off turn 2 onto the back straightaway before they caught up to her. Not that Bobbie cared. She knew that this was the most dangerous time in the race. With 76 laps to go Bobbie knew that someone was going to make a desperate move. One that would end up in a major wreck if they weren’t careful. Bobbie wanted as much distance between her and the rest of the field as possible. She may want to win the race, but she had to finish it first.

For the next twenty laps Bobbie let her music take her away and raced the track. She started weaving her way through the back of the field on lap 395. By lap 400 there was only twelve cars still on the lead lap with her and her teammates. Of those twelve drivers only four were male. The other eight were the ladies of the ISA. Today in this race, the ladies were proving that there was no deference between the sexes in automotive sports. The only female driver that was out of the race was Violet Knight due to no fault of her own skill. Her blown tire was just bad luck and that is part of racing.

“Bobbie back it down. The yellow flag is out.” Kathy told her on lap 402. “Before you ask pit road will be open in two laps.”

“How many are coming in Kathy?” Bobbie asked her quickly knowing that she needed a fuel stop and fresh tires.

“All sixteen drivers on the lead lap will be making a pit stop Bobbie.” Kathy answered quickly. “No body has the fuel to go the distance. You want four or two?”

“Give me two tires and one can of fuel.” Bobbie told her after thinking it over. She knew that is was a gamble. But those six seconds in the pit would mean all the deference this close to the end of the race.

Though for Bobbie she knew it wasn’t much of a gamble. She knew how far and how hard she could push her car on two fresh tires and one can of fuel. So long as they didn’t have more than one overtime restart. Bobbie knew she would be fine. If they went to two or more she would be pushing her luck.

“Wrong kiddo. You’re getting four tires and two cans of fuel.” Bob ordered over the radio. “We’ll have fifty plus laps to run. Even then we’ll be pushing your fuel window. If we go into overtime restarts you’ll be good for only one.”

Bobbie wanted to argue with her father but knew that it was a hopeless situation. Once Bob McGuire made a decision about the cars. No one changed his mind. As she pulled in for her pit stop Bobbie grinned at his pit crew’s professionalism. Here was the backbone of Stockcar racing. They were the often unsung heroes of the sport. A pit crew could make or break a racer’s chance at a win. When the car slammed down Bobbie didn’t waste time. She barely beat Beth off pit road by inches.

As they lined up for the green flag to drop restarting the race on lap 410 Kathy gave her the update on the drivers that wrecked. “Okay Bobbie here’s the deal. Nazarova Grigorievna blew a rear then spun out clipping his teammate Koychev Fyodorovich. They’re both out of the race. Also, you should know that leaves only Rokossovsky Aleskeevich from team Red Star and she is barely holding.”

“How bad of a situation is she in Kathy?” Bobbie asked her.

“Unless someone decides to play nice with her. Aleskeevich will get shoveled to the back of the field in no time.” Kathy told her honestly.

“Screw it. Get with the Reynolds Racing team spotters. Tell them that I’m calling in their marker. If they let her get screwed over I’ll make sure that none of them cross the finishing line.” Bobbie ordered Kathy with a snarl.

“Consider it taken care of Bobbie. Good luck sister.” Kathy told her before dropping off the radio. She knew that Bobbie no longer needed her.

Bobbie smiled to herself as the green flag waved and floored the throttle. She passed under the flag stand to Weird Al Yankovic’s Smells Like Nirvana. Bobbie couldn’t help herself as she screamed into the empty air of the cockpit for her car. “I’m going to kill Joey when I get my hands on HIM!”

She knew that Joey had to laughing his ass off just then. Because of all of the spotters he was the only one who would dare to load her iPod with a song like this. As she powered off the turn 2 exit Bobbie gave up and started to laugh. Joey finally had the last laugh in their little game. He had warned her that he would upload at least one of Weird Al song before the season was over.

As she blasted down the back straightaway Bobbie also felt something else with her laughter. Release. Release from the pinned up tension she had been carrying over those medical tests. It was with a renewed hope for the future that Bobbie McGuire would face the rest of the race. A hope that nothing could squash. Not even a last second lose would destroy her newfound hope for the future. Not that a lose would be happening today. Throwing caution to the wind she unleashed the last amounts of power her engine held. As the massive V-8 demon that was her engine roared Bobbie took the fastest way around the Track Too Tough To Tame.

When she finally crossed over the finish line on lap 462 Bobbie had a lead over the enter field of more than five seconds. No one was near her as she blasted under the black and white checker flag for the win. Not thinking Bobbie let herself go to the outside wall and drag the right side of her car through the turns. After she repeated the stunt on turn 3 and 4 Bobbie keyed her radio. “I did it! I finally did it! I got my Darlington stripe and a win to go with it.”

“YOU’LL BE POUNDING OUT THOSE DENTS!” Bob McGuire hollered over the radio as he laughed at his daughter’s antics. “Don’t forget you got a burn out to do.”

“Already setting up for that daddy!” Bobbie shouted back as she laughed. Once she had stopped in front of the grandstands. She revived her engine then popped the clutch while holding the breaks down. The smoke coming off her rear tires filled the air of the grandstands. When she finally stopped Bobbie had blown both rear tires. After claiming the checker flag from the flagman. Bobbie limped her car onto pit road where her pit crew was waiting to push her into the Winner Circle.

As Bobbie climbed from her car the members of MRI gathered around her. Danny Hailee naturally had to ham things up by lifting Bobbie onto his shoulders. Even as the ISA Chairman was bring out the Drivers’ Championship Cup Bobbie was changing the script. “Screw that ugly as thing! I want my Black Diamond!”

“Hold on Speedy! We got it right here!” Jewels shouted as she pushed the ISA officials out of her way. In her hands was massive 4.5L bottle of champagne. She was going to celebrate this win with her youngest daughter come hell or high water. In her mind she was already thinking screw the ISA officials and their bullshit. This was more than just Bobbie’s win. It was a win for their hometown. Jewels wasted no time in filling the black crystal chalice as she walked towards Bobbie. Once she reached her daughter who was still held high by Danny Hailee she just handed Bobbie the trophy. “DRINK UP BABY! YOU EARN THIS ONE!”

Bobbie decided to just go with the flow. After downing half the champagne Bobbie upended the rest over her team. Laughing the whole time as she did so. When the cup was empty Bobbie raised it to her lips and kissed it fulfilling one last long held promise. “I did it Lisa. I really did it.”

-----tbc----

Hello everyone. As you can see there is still more to come. Sadly there only one last chapter to this story. Until then remember that comments feed the muses.

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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 29, Epilogue
South Carolina, February 21, 2036
WBTW Morning Show Studio, CBS, Florence Sc.

Beth and Tony sat across the desk from the Morning Show’s hostess Alexis Martin. They both knew that Alexis was just as surprised as her producer was at them agreeing to be interview on live TV. Especially considering the topic of today’s interview. When the book first came out nine months ago no one was expecting it to reach the Best Sellers list in its first week. With the exception for maybe the book’s two authors. Who were currently sitting in the TV studio.

“Good morning South Carolina. This morning I have the pleasure of hosting two remarkable people. With me are Beth and Tony Towers authors of the biography for one of our State’s most iconic figures Bobbie McGuire. Beth, Tony, welcome to the show.” Alexis said as she turned from the camera to face them.

“The pleasure is all ours Alexis.” Tony answered with a friendly.

“As most of our audience already knows Beth you’re more than just the coauthor for your late sister’s biography but you’re a professional racer yourself. I have to ask what has to be the burning question of the hour. What is it like to drive at over two-hundred miles per hour?” Alexis asked with a chuckle.

“All I can say don’t try it at home. I’m a trained professional.” Beth chuckled. “But to be honest with you Alexis. I would never have known the feeling of living that close to the edge had it not been for my sister Bobbie.”

“Is that why you and Tony wrote her biography? To let the world, know what drove your sister to become a professional racer?”

“Nope. Beth wasn’t the one who first started writing Bobbie’s biography. That was me.” Tony told Alexis honestly. “The reason behind the book was so that our nieces would have a way to know about their mother. Without having to hear the stories from her mother’s friends. As much as I admire my teammates they tend to stretch the truth when it comes to Bobbie.”

“Talk about stretching the truth. Tony you need to look in the mirror.” Beth snarked as she punched him in the arm as Alexis chuckled. “Don’t listen to him Alexis. Tony has a bad habit of BSing the troops. He was notorious in the garage and pits for spinning a wild one just to drive our sponsors crazy trying to figure out if he was BSing them.”

“How much of the book is the truth then?” Alexis asked them.

“In the interest of full disclosure Alexis. The book is as close to Bobbie’s own words as possible. There are a few chapters in Bobbie’s life that are missing from the book. Before you ask most of the book was transcribed from Bobbie’s own journals. She had left them to Beth, but I was the one to actually sit down and read them. I know that this is going to sound crazy, but I wanted to more about my sister-in-law.” Tony told Alexis honestly. “It was only after reading the first of her journals that I realized that I needed to tell Bobbie’s story.”

“Beth how did you come to be involved with the book? After all it states right on the cover that you are a coauthor.” Alexis prompted already knowing the answer.

“I only came to be involved after Tony had written the first draft of the book. Knowing my sister, the way that I did. I knew that there were certain things in her journals that she never wanted to be made public.” Beth answered with a sigh. She knew that Alexis was going ask about the parts left out.

“If it is not too personal may we know what those were Beth?” Alexis asked hoping for answer to the question.

“I can honestly say that Bobbie had her demons. Demons that drove her to become the best driver that she could be. She never let her illness get in the way of achieving her dreams or keeping her promises. Just like all people who survive a deadly childhood disease it affected Bobbie in ways that I never really understood. Even after she had achieved so much on and off the racetrack Bobbie still had her down days. While we did put a good number of those times in the book. There were days, even months that we left out. Mainly to protect Bobbie’s privacy. I know that sounds stupid protecting a dead person’s privacy.” Beth sighed as she stopped before she said too much.

“Understandable. There are just certain things that your nieces don’t need to learn about their mother.” Alexis said as she jumped in to provide a way out for Beth and Tony. There was no way she was going to let her one chance at a nationwide scoop walk away in anger. “Tony you said that you only starting writing the book after reading the first of Bobbie’s journals. What was it about that first journal that prompted you to write her biography?”

“About a quarter of the way from the end there is a quote. ‘The only person standing between you and your dreams is you.’ It took me the rest of that journal to realize what that quote meant to Bobbie. Especially at the time that she wrote that quote. You see Bobbie wrote that in her very first journal. It was during one of the lowest times in her life. She had just begun her first round of experimental cancer treatments. Treatments that had just as much of a chance at killing her as curing her. She was only fifteen at the time and just beginning her life. That was also around the same time that she met one of the people who had the greatest impact on her professional life as a racecar driver. If not for her friend I doubt that Bobbie would have gone as far or did as much in her career without making a promise to Lisa Hill.” Tony knew that he might have gone into more detail than Alexis expected but he felt that he had to give credit to the girl that pushed Bobbie to be one of the best. Even from her grave Lisa had been a major influence on how Bobbie faced her career and rather short life.

“Is that the reason behind the title for your book? Racing with an Angel on my Shoulder.” Alexis asked Tony quickly. She like everyone who read the book wanted to know the answer to the reason for the title. Mainly because it is not mentioned anywhere in the pages of the biography.

“It is but neither Tony nor I came up with the title. Hell, we didn’t even know why Bobbie left Tony and me her journals. It was Bobbie’s wife Kelly that gave us the title and the reason why we got the journals.” Beth chuckled. At the confused look on Alexis’ face Beth knew she had to explain. “I loved my sister with all the love I could have for a sister. But she had one quark that tried my love for her. Bobbie was the consummate practical joker. Even during the worst of her illness, she always found a way to get one over on me or my brother Joey. I naturally thought us getting her journals was another practical joke. As much as I hate to say this about her, but Bobbie had a twisted sense of humor.”

“Care to give us an example?” Alexis asked her kindly.

“I don’t think one story will do any harm love.” Tony told Beth has he took her hand. “It’s not like she wouldn’t get a kick out you recounting one of her jokes. Especially if it concerns a time when she needed a laugh the most.”

“True. If Bobbie was here she would be sitting there giggling her backside off over me embarrassing myself before the whole nation.” Beth chuckled. “Okay then. Back during her second, no it she was on her third round of standard chemo treatments. She was sicker than a dog ninety percent of the time, and as much as I hate to say this about her, Bobbie was meaner than a junkyard dog. Any way during one of the times she was worshiping at the porcelain alter I lost my temper with her. Mostly because my bedroom was right next to the bathroom that the three of kids shared. I screamed through the door at least give us curtesy flush. If you have ever been around someone suffering from the side effects of chemo. You know how vile their vomit smells. Needless to say, Bobbie decided to get even with me in a very unique way. That night while the everyone else was asleep Bobbie rigged the toilet to automatically flush every half hour starting at just after two in the morning.”

“Don’t tell me that you were woken to the continuous sounds of the flushing toilet.” Alexis chuckled as Tony smiled as he remembered reading about the joke in Bobbie’s journal. “I take it that the toilet was one of those old ones with the thunderous rush of water. The type that you can hear throughout the house.”

“Even with the bathroom door closed. It’s still there to this day in my parents’ house. I think my father refuses to remold or replace that toilet because of Bobbie’s practical joke. Not that I blame him. Bobbie just had a way about her. It made the people around her either love her to no end or it drove them crazy.” Beth chuckled as she thought about her sister. “Though there was one place that Bobbie left her sense of humor on the sidelines.”

“Where was that?” Alexis asked kindly.

“When she got behind the wheel of a car. If she was in a racecar she would just put in her earbuds, turn on her racing mix, tune out the world, and become this unmatched professional driver. If she was in her Viper. She would just punch the play button on her CD player and let the world fall away. After the Darlington Knight racetrack opened Bobbie would often spend her weekends there just doing laps. It was her way of unwinding. Pushing her Viper to its limits.” Beth and Tony both started chuckling at Beth’s description of Bobbie’s time on the Knight. “I think that she logged more laps there than on any other track in the world.”

“I know that we got a little off the subject, but it was worth it. I would like to return to how you came up with the title.” Alexis said steering the conversation back to the topic of the biography and its title.

“As I said earlier it was Kelly who gave us the title for Bobbie’s biography. Besides her sense of humor Bobbie had an overdeveloped sense of honor. If she gave you her word that she was going to do something. You could take it to the bank. Shortly before her first win at Silverstone Bobbie visited Lisa Hill in the hospital. She made a promise to Lisa that she was going to win Silverstone in her honor. Well Lisa got a few more promises out of Bobbie. Sadly, Lisa never got to see Bobbie win her first Silverstone Gran Prix. She died just a few short weeks before our first race at Silverstone.” Beth answered sadly. Tony could see that Beth was getting upset thinking about those promises made to Lisa and took over.

“I only found out about the other promises Bobbie made to Lisa as I read Bobbie’s journals. When I say that Lisa was the driving force behind all of Bobbie’s biggest wins. I’m not lying. She got Bobbie to promise her that she would win at least two Formula One championships, and three NASCAR championships. She also got her to promise her that she would be the first driver to ever win both the Indy five-hundred and the Coco-cola six-hundred in the same day. Bobbie had to wait to sign her NASCAR contract before she could even attempt the grueling double. But when she did Bobbie tried three times before keeping her promise.” Tony told Alexis and the audience with a smile of pride in his late sister-in-law. “It was also a promise that drove Bobbie to win a Daytona five-hundred, and a Southern five-hundred at Darlington. Those trophies all hold special places of honor in Bobbie’s home garage office. Right next to her car collection.”

“Is it true that Bobbie has not only her first car in that collection but one of her racecars from each year she drove?” Alexis asked him.

“That rumor is true. Though you should know the racecars are from each race that is tied to a promise. Bobbie was funny that way about her racecars. If it was one that she drove to a win keeping a promise it never saw another racetrack. I think she spent upwards of several million dollars for cars that couldn’t be use anywhere but on a racetrack.” Tony chuckled as Beth nudged him in the ribs. “Though I have to say that her pride and joy was her very first car. A nineteen-sixty-nine blueberry black GTO J model that she won back from the Darlington Devils in a race for pink slips.”

“Wait are you telling that she lost her first car in an illegal street race only to win it back at a later date?” Alexis asked in surprise. Alexis realized at that point she really should have read the book and not skimmed the highlights.

“Bobbie McGuire never lost a rat race in her life Alexis. No, her Judge was damaged in a firebomb attack by a group of local thugs that are still awaiting probation. When the insurance company refused to pay for the restoration of her car. Bobbie signed the title over to the Darlington Devils for it to be a club car. Everyone believed that the car would never be the street racer it once was, but when Bobbie saw it racing around the Darlington Knight racetrack she just had to get her back. Sure, she could have bought the car back without a problem but that isn’t the way with rat racers. Once it was back in her position Bobbie did the one thing none of expected. She had it painted neon black.” Beth laughed at the look of confusion that crossed Alexis’ face at the name of the color.

“If you ever want to see the car you can Alexis. All you have to do is come to Darlington County on any weekday and park outside the student parking lot for Beauregard Smith High School, Darlington. There you will get to see five very special cars belonging to students.” Tony chuckled as he thought about the cars of his son, nieces, and two best friends.

Their parents may have retired from the street racing scene, but the Street Rats Car Club was still alive and well as was their legendary founders. The legends behind the Dodge Viper, Pontiac GTO J, Dodge Charger, Ford Mustang Cobra, and Pontiac Firebird plus the founding members of the Street Rats was the main reason behind those five cars being driven by the clubs current members. To say they held a special place in the school’s parking lot is an understatement.

“I still cannot believe you signed my Charger over to William like that on me.” Beth grumbled only to get a funny look from Alexis. Beth gave Tony a dirty look as she huffed out. “My husband gave my car to our son as a birthday present.”

“Beth I think you can afford a new car. What’s so important about letting your son have your old car?” Alexis asked in her confusion.

“Alexis that car was one of the founding vehicles for the Street Rats Car Club. It along with Bobbie’s Viper and GTO were the first cars ever to carry the Street Rats logo. Along with Jim Fields’ Mustang, and Sam Hurley’s Firebird.” Tony chuckled as Beth glared at him. “My wife is just peeved that our son, nieces, and their two friends are now old enough to drive their old cars.”

“Never remind a woman of her age sir.” Alexis snarked as Beth snorted in righteous indignation as Tony chuckled. “So, the title came about from promises to an angel in Bobbie’s past. One that rode on her shoulder during her races.”

“In more than a few ways Alexis. I know that Bobbie would often write about her promises to Lisa in her Journals. Especially when she was able to carry one out. I know that in her final days my sister wrote a lot about being able to see her old friend and all of the kids she helped through the year again in her journal.” Beth sighed sadly. “She did write that she had more than a few regrets concerning her two girls and her wife Kelly. The biggest of which is not being able to see them fall in love and fins their way in the world.”

“Near the end of the book you mention that Bobbie wanted her daughters to be something other than racecar drivers. Yet you never go into detail on what her wishes were. Care to explain why?” Alexis asked them hoping to get some inside information on the mysterious Robert Lee McGuire.

“Because Bobbie never said what she wanted her daughters to become. It’s that simple. Even if we did know. We won’t have put something like that down in what could be considered public record. There was one thing that Bobbie was deathly serious about when it came to her daughters. That they should find their own way in life.” Tony answered quickly. He knew that Bobbie would never want her daughters to know that she didn’t want them to follow in her footsteps.

“We have time for one last question. This one concerns you Beth. Is it true that you have finally retired from professional racing?” Alexis asked her.

“Yes it is true. I’ve accomplished everything that I wanted in my twenty years behind the wheel of a racecar. It is a young person’s sport Alexis. I just don’t have what it takes to keep up with the young guns out there now days. In the words of Sir Robert McNair ‘It’s time to let the next generation have their fun. I’m going fishing.” Beth chuckled as Alexis laughed outright. “While I may not actively drive for MRI anymore. I will still have a hand in managing the actual racing teams. Which to be honest is something I’m looking forward to doing.”

“Oh. Which teams will be managing? The NASCAR, ISA, or Formula One?” Alexis asked with more than a little surprise.

“I’ll be heading back to my roots with the Formula One teams now that McNair has retired to his country home in Scotland. Jim has agreed take over managing our NASCAR teams, while Sam has agreed to take care of the ISA team. Thankfully neither one of them have to deal with my niece Robbie. I get to have that fun filled pleasure.” Beth snarked as Tony just sighed.

“Let’s hope she’s not as bad as her mother.” Tony snarked.

“So, one of Bobbie’s daughters decided to follow her in footsteps?” Alexis asked.

“You could say that Alexis. Though I can honestly say that both of my nieces are their own driver. Lisa Ann McGuire is without a doubt one of the finest up and coming Stockcar drivers to grace the ISA. Sam Hurley won’t have to deal with the firebrand that is her sister Roberta Lee McGuire Jr.” Beth chuckled then looked straight into the nearest camera. “Robbie is very much her mother’s daughter. All we could do was put her behind the wheel of a Formula One and let her run. If you’re watch this Raniero Accomando. Tell that brat of yours we’re coming for him and that motley crew you call a team.”

“And with that not so friendly warning to the current Formula One champion we must say have a good day.” Alexis said the camera before turning back to Beth and Tony. “Thank you for being on my show Beth and Tony.”

“It has been our pleasure. Remember that you can only find Racing with an Angel on my Shoulder the official biography of Roberta Lee McGuire in your local bookstores. Hurry because they’re flying off the shelves as we speak.” Tony called out before the station went on commercial break.

“We’re off! Good job Alexis.” The studio producer called as Beth and tony stood up taking off their microphones. “Mister and Misses Towers it has been a pleasure having you here in our studio.”

“Like I said it was our pleasure.” Tony told the man before turning to Beth. “Come on love. If we push it we should make it back in time to see Robbie’s test run this afternoon. How do you think she’ll do?”

“She’s her mother’s daughter. She knows Darlington like the back of her hand.” Beth chuckled as she thought about how her niece drove. “For the first time in almost twenty years Bobbie’s unofficial record might actually be broken.”

“Excuse me. But what are you talking about Beth?” Alexis asked her.

“Just a little family history Alexis. Nothing you need to worry about. If you really want to know though. What we’re talking about can be found in our book. You know you really should have read it before the interview. You would have had better understanding of the person behind it.” Tony told her bluntly as they walked out of the studio holding hands.

The home of Kelly McGuire, Darlington County

Roberta Lee McGuire II, Robbie to her friends and family, stood in her late mother’s garage office looking at the trophies covering the walls. On the wall behind the desk were her mother’s Championship Trophies. To the far left hand end stood the 3 ISA Drivers’ champions. On the right hand end of the wall was the 3 NASCAR championship cups. In the middle of the wall were the 2 Formula One championship cups. Hanging on outside office wall were six trophies placed in a specially framing boxes. Those six trophies had small brass plaques at the bottom of their boxes. The plaques had a simple two word inscription ‘For Lisa’.

“I thought I would find you out here kiddo.” The voice of her grandfather drew Robbie’s attention away from the trophy wall. Robert ‘Bob’ McGuire smiled kindly at his granddaughter. “What’s bothering you today?”

“Nothing really papaw.” Robbie told him trying her best to hide her nervousness. She didn’t want him to know how nervous she was over today’s test run.

“Okay munchkin I’m calling bullshit on that one. It’s the test run isn’t it?” Bob chuckled as Robbie nodded her head blushing. “Don’t worry you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know papaw. I wish that mama was here. She was never afraid behind the wheel of a car.” Robbie told her grandfather then admitted the one thing she didn’t want him to know. “I don’t think I can live up to her standards.”

“Oh sweetheart. Come here. I think it’s time for you to know something about your mother Bobbie.” Bob told her as he held out his arms to pull his granddaughter into a rib cracking hug. As she let the aging engineer hold her tight to his chest Robbie she felt a him chuckle. “If you think your mother was never afraid behind the wheel of a car. I suggest that you think again.”

“What do you mean papaw?” Robbie asked in confusion.

“Your mother may have been one of the best drivers anyone has seen in decades, but it was for a reason. You know how your mother was a survivor of childhood Leukemia?” Bob asked her only to feel her nod head her against his chest. “Even though she learned to face her fear of death in those hospital wards at a very young age that fear really never left her. Instead of letting that fear rule her life as so many do. Your mother used her fear. She channeled it into the one place she had control. Behind the wheel of a racecar. It didn’t matter if it was a Stockcar, Formula One, or her personally modified street racer.”

“Was that really why she was so good papaw?” Robbie asked as she looked up into her grandfather’s loving face. She could tell by the look in his eyes her grandfather was somewhere else in time. When that was she didn’t know.

“Not hardly sweetheart. The reason your mother Bobbie was so damned good was because she knew herself, her limits, and what she wanted.” Bob told her with a smile as he tapped the end of her nose. “Just like you Robbie. When you girls said that you wanted to earn your Super Licenses like your mother Bobbie. Your mother Kelly came to your grandmother and me in tears. She couldn’t figure out how she failed your mother Bobbie in such a spectacular fashion.”

“I don’t understand papaw. What did she mean by that? We were the ones who wanted to become a professional racers.” Robbie asked as she pulled away from the man who had been more than just a grandfather to over the last ten years of her life.

“Robbie you were too young to remember your mother’s feelings on this matter. I can honestly tell you that she never wanted for you or your sister to follow in her footsteps. She want you girls to become Doctors, Lawyers, anything in the world but racecar drivers. To her driving a racecar was a way to put a roof over your heads, food on the table, and money in the bank for when you girls go to college. You have to remember that she always knew that her Leukemia could return. From the time you girls were born everything Bobbie did was for you and your sister.” Bob told her as he held her in his arms. “When the Leukemia finally did return Bobbie knew that both her career and her time on this earth was over. She accepted her fate the same way she raced. Head on, no holds barred. That is what made her such a great driver.”

“Never holding back. Really papaw? Was that really her secret.” Robbie asked her grandfather with more than a little confusion.

“Yup. Your mother lived life to its fullest. In your mother’s mind she felt that she was living on borrowed time from the time she was sixteen. That was why she drove so hard. Well, that and to keep a promise she made to a friend.” Bob told his granddaughter with a heavy heart looking over at those six special trophies. “She always kept her promises. It didn’t matter how long it took.”

“Papaw why are those six trophies so important?” Robbie asked him kindly. She knew that they were very special but had no idea why.

“Back when your mother was first undergoing treatment for her Leukemia. She made a friend in the hospital. A young girl by the name of Lisa Hill who was suffering from cancer herself. The two of them became fast friends bonding over their shared loved of Formula One racing. Anyway, during one of the lowest time in your mother’s young life she made the first of several promises to Lisa. That promise was to earn her Super Licenses and become a professional racecar driver. A few years later after your mother earned her Super Licenses Lisa challenged your mother to go out and win certain races.” Bob let her go and walked over the wall of trophies. He placed his right hand on each trophy as he named them off for his granddaughter. “They were the Silverstone Gran Prix, the Indy five-hundred, the Daytona five-hundred, the Coco-cola six-hundred, the Darlington Southern five-hundred and finally the Coco-cola six-hundred. Out of all her trophies two of her most prized trophies she won on the same day. She did it by pulling off what most saine drivers consider to be the truly insane and impossible.”

“Which two are those papa?” Robbie asked in excitement.

“The Indy five-hundred and the Coco-cola six-hundred. She is one of the few drivers to ever attempt to run the grueling double. As it stands she is the only driver to have ever won both races on the same day. It took her three attempts to pull that one off. That stunt also damned near killed her each time she did it. When she finally climbed out of her car on victory for the Coco-cola six-hundred she collapsed into your Uncle Danny’s arms.” Bob told her with a heartwarming smile. “He literally had to hold her up as she accepted the trophy.”

“Oh, my god! Mama won both races for the grueling double! She had to be a monster behind the wheel of a racecar.” Robbie gasped. Then turned thoughtful asking in a defeated whisper. “How can I even begin to live up to that kind of legacy?”

“You don’t have to munchkin. If your mother was still here. She would tell you to live your own life, drive the way you want, to build your own legend, and tell everyone else to go fuck themselves.” Bob’s very blunt language had the desired effect on his granddaughter. She stood there with her mouth hanging open for five seconds then started laughing. “That’s better munchkin. Now go get into your leathers. Your grandmother is waiting for us over at the Lady.”

“Can we take my car?” Robbie asked as they walked out of the office into the garage area. “I just give her a full tune up. I also got those new seats put in.”

“Go get changed munchkin. Let me double check your work on the Viper. If it is up to MRI standards. Then yes we’ll take your car.” Bob told her with a sly smile. Robbie returned the sly smile, stood on her toes, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran for the house. As he watched his granddaughter run towards the house Bob had to grab the door frame of the garage. “My god. She looks more and more like her mother every day. I think I’ll accompany the F-One teams this year and have Jewels go with the ISA teams.”

“Talking to yourself Bob is the first sign of going crazy.” The sound of Jake Stones’ voice drew Bob’s attention to the far side of the garage area. Bob turned to find his friend and senior Crew Chief by Bob’s Coco-cola 600 stockcar.

“What the hell are you doing here Jake?” Bob asked in surprise.

“It’s my turn to check on the babies.” Jake told him as he patted on the hood of the car. “Figured that I would come by early do my maintenance checks then head over the Lady and watch Robbie do her test run. What about you?”

“Kelly called me about an hour ago.” Bob told him as he looked over at the house. “She’s worried about Robbie. She knows just how important this test run is for her. After all it is Bobbie’s last engine design that Robbie is testing today.”

“Wait a fucking second here boss.” Jack snarled as he stormed around the car and across the garage floor. “Are you telling me that monster was designed by Bobbie? I thought it was Robbie’s design. Where the hell did Bobbie have it hidden?”

“That’s just it Jack. It wasn’t hidden.” Bob chuckled. “My daughter hung the design in plain sight on her office wall. It was Robbie who brought the design to me. The poor girl didn’t know what she had in her hands when she gave it to me.”

“You have got to be shitting me boss. How could she not know? Robbie has helped each of us tear down and rebuild every powerplant in this garage. She tore down and rebuild the Viper’s engine and transmission on her own. No one helped her. She threatened Stephany with a torque wrench when the Blue Devils tried to help out with the rebuild.” Jack told Bob in surprise and respect for the teenager. “That was no little feat either.”

“Just like her mother would have, God rest her soul.” Bob chuckled as he looked around the one acre building with its six car lifts, paint booth, body shop, and mechanical work area. As he did so Bob let his eyes linger on the collection of class sports and muscle cars then finally the six professional racecars. “I remember when Bobbie first had this place built. I thought it was nothing more than a huge waste of time and money.”

“You weren’t the only one Bob.” Both men turned to see Bill Stone coming out of the garage’s parts room. “I thought I heard you out here Jack.”

“Doing inventory Bill?” Jake asked his brother with a smile.

“Nope just delivering some parts that Lisa ordered for a project car.” Bill told them as he point over at a tarp covered car in one of the work bays. “Though why they’re bothering with a seventy-five Lancia Stratos kit car is beyond me.”

“Did you say a Lancia Stratos kit car?” Bob asked with a heavy chuckle. When Bill nodded his head yes Bob knew that he would have to tell his two Crew Chiefs what was going on. “It’s probably going to be a birthday gift for their grandmother.”

“Wait a second here boss. Why would they be building a kit car for Jewels?” Jake asked him with real confusion.

“For starters Jewels very first car was a Lancia Stratos HF. It was a hand me down from her father. He originally bought the car while he was a US Airman stationed at the RAF Lakenheath airbase, outside Brandon, England. Jewels has a picture of her with her father standing in front of that car hanging in her home office. The picture was taken on the day that he gave her the keys and title.” Bob chuckled as he thought about that picture.

“Well, it won’t be ready in time for Jewels birthday this year. They got far too much work to do on the car yet.” Bill told him honestly.

“I won’t say that Bill. The only time those two girls tarp a project car is if they’re near completion and are protecting the paint job.” Jake told them both.

“I looked under the tarp Jake. They’re nowhere near ready for paint. That car is still bare steel sheet metal. I think the only reason they’ve got it covered is so that Jewels and Kelly don’t find out.” Bill told his brother smiling.

“If they’re still working on the body. I highly doubt that they would want either of them seeing the car just yet.” Bob chuckled.

“Papaw! I’m ready!” Robbie called out as she entered the garage. When Bob, Jake, and Bill saw her in her purple family racing leathers they all thought they were seeing a ghost. “Did my car stand up to inspection?”

“Um… yah… um… what?” Bob asked trying to get over how much Robbie looked like her dead mother just then. Shacking his head to clear his thoughts Bob smiled at his granddaughter. “Grab your purse and keys. You’re driving.”

“YAH!” The teenager shouted as she ran back to the house to grab the rest of her racing gear, purse, and car keys. As she ran across the yard Bob turned to his Crew Chiefs. “We’ll met you two at the track. Is Dale coming?”

“Naw. Whish that his was. Him and Danny had to be in Charlette today for that ISA/NASCAR incorporation vote. Do you think they’ll finally agree to terms?” Jake told him. Only to get a grunt from Bob. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“As much as you and I would love to see the two leagues incorporate I doubt that it will ever happen. There are too many points of contention between the two chairmen to ever see eye to eye. It won’t matter how the Chiefs’ vote turns out. They’ll never let the ISA and NASCAR combine into one sport.” Bob sighed. Then she spotted Robbie going out of the house. “Got to go guys. It looks like munchkin is finally ready to prove to her mom that she is a McGuire.”

“She did that already Bob. Kelly just doesn’t want to accept the fact that her little girls are just as much Bobbie’s girls and hers. They got their good looks and brains from her.” Jake said as he looked over at the teenage girl over by the black Dodge Viper. “But their driving skills and drive to win came from the one place that none of us expected. Their father, Roberta Lee McGuire.”

“Tell me something I don’t know already, Jake.” Bob chuckled as he walked out of the garage. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

As Bob climbed into the passenger seat Robbie was already starting the engine. As the racing-tuned V-10 monster roared to life under the hood. Bob suddenly knew that his youngest daughter maybe gone but her spirit was still alive. Alive and well in his granddaughters. “Keep it under the speed limit munchkin. No need to go pissing off the locals. Remember they’re not prepared for this car or you.”

“I know papaw.” Robbie giggled as she headed down the driveway to the road. “I’ll behave. I won’t say the same about them.”

Bob looked towards the farms driveway entrance and chuckled. Sitting there on the side of the road were the rest of the Street Rats car club. All 17 members and they weren’t alone. The Darlington County Sheriff’s personal car was parking in front of them. As Robbie rolled onto the hardtop of the road the Sheriff lipped on his lights before peeling out in front of her. As the car club lined up behind her and the Sheriff. Bob reached over and hit the play button for the CD player.

As the music of Bobbie’s old street racing mix filled the air of the car Robbie grinned. With that simple act the unofficial race through Darlington County to Darlington Speedway was on. Robbie knew that her friends were letting her win but that wasn’t the point. This race was in memory of her mother Bobbie McGuire. As they rolled through the countryside Bob knew that the Sheriff Patrol cars had to be bocking the crossroads and keeping the ‘racecourse’ clear. When they finally reached Darlington Speedway, with the exception of the five leading car, the Street Rats all stopped in the parking lot.

“Not bad munchkin. You’ve really learned how to handle this monster.” Bob chuckled as they pulled to a stop in the infield garage area of Darlington. “Before we get out sweetheart. You should know that no matter what happens out there today you’re not alone in that car. I’m going to tell you a secret. Behind every successful racecar driver there is a full team. They may get all the attention like a winning pitcher or quarterback, but they’re nothing without the rest of their counterparts. Their catcher and receiver. There something similar in racing. Your counterpart out there during a race is your spotter.”

“Um… papaw I hate to tell you this, but mama already told me all this. Do you know who is supposed to be my spotter for the test run?” Robbie asked him.

“Well, it was supposed to be your Uncle Joey, but he got called away. So, I have no clue as to who your grandmother wrangled to fill in for him.” Bob sighed. “Just remember that whoever it is in the nest. You listen to them. Do what they say. Don’t argue with them. Your spotter has a better view of the whole track.”

“Yes sir.” Robbie told her grandfather before climbing out of the car. Before closing the door, she reached door and popped the trunk. Bob watched as she pulled her equipment bag from the trunk. Bob could tell that it held her HANS device, helmet, and other personal protection gear. As the two of them walked over to pit road Robbie spotted four elderly women standing of to one side. “Say papaw. Who are those old ladies? Friends of yours and grandma?”

“Those are the COWWs of Mercedes-Benz munchkin. Head on over to the car. Let me and your grandmother deal with them.” Bob snarled as he stormed over to the four.

“They’re who papaw?” Robbie asked in confusion.

“In the words of your late mother. Those four ladies are Crazy Old White Women.” Bob chuckled as he pushed her towards pit road. As Robbie headed for pit road Bob headed for the granddames of Mercedes-Benz. Jewels met him halfway to the four ladies. “First of all, ladies. Thank you for coming today.”

“NO thank you for inviting us Robert. When we lost Bobbie we thought for sure that we would never again have the pleasure of sponsoring MRI.” Mercedes Jellinek said as she held out her hand to Bob. “Now we have the honor of watching her namesake test the very engine her mother designed.”

“Don’t worry Mercedes. Roberta junior is just as talented as her mother.” Jewels assure her with a welcoming hug. “Trust me you are all in for a real show today.”

“From what we’ve been hearing Jewels that was never in doubt. The same thing can be said about the engine. Is it truly that remarkable?” Bertha asked.

“Why don’t we head over to the trailer. You can see for yourself. We have your usual seats prepared.” Bob told them as he pointed to the top of the MRI car hauler. “And ladies please do go pulling that bullshit line about being too old to climb the ladder. I damned well know better.”

“Oh, very well Robert. No need to go getting snippy about things.” Bertha snorted then chuckled. “It’s not like we’re not dressed properly.”

As they were climbing the ladder for the trailer. Over on pit road Robbie was stopped by her mother. Who was looking over at the gathering of COWWs and grandparents. “Put that out of your mind sweet pea. Right now, you need to focus on two things. The track, and your driving.”

“Yes ma’am.” Robbie breathed out as she looked down at her equipment bag. “I just have to figure out what mama Bobbie would have done with this engine.”

“Take these and forget what she would have done.” Kelly told her daughter as she hand Robbie an old iPod, earbuds, and Hamalton® steering wheel. “They were hers.”

“Thank you mama.” Robbie told Kelly as helped her to put her hair into a ponytail for the Nomex balaclava head covering. Robbie put in her earphones for the radio and pull on the balaclava. Next come her glove liners and gloves. The last thing she put on was her helmet before climbing into the car’s cockpit. Bobby Joe jr. the left rear tire changer helped Robbie strap into her custom-made seat. She quickly hooked up the iPod to the radio and turn on the music. She give Bobby Joe the thumbs up, and he stepped away smiling.

Robbie flipped the ignition switch and waited for the team to kick the engine over. Unlike with Stock cars, F-1 cars have to be started by an external crank that is connected directly to the engine in the rear of the car. When the engine turned over Robbie felt her first rush of the day. She slowly flex her hands on her mother’s Hamalton® steering wheel. When the signal to pull out came Robbie pushed in the clutch and shifted into first gear. She felt the power of the V-6 turbo charged engine feed the massive 8 speed transmission. She almost missed shift into third gear when the voice of her mother Bobbie filled her ears.

“Hello kiddo. If you’re listening to this that means you have decided to follow in my footsteps. As there are two of you I made this recording for the both of you. So, when you get out the car pass it onto your sister. I had hoped that you girls would get behind the wheel of a racecar like me and your aunt. I actually wanted something better for you girls. But you’re here now. Just know that I couldn’t have prouder of you. You decided what you wanted to be. On this iPod you will find all seventy-seven of my personal racing play lists. Each play list is especially compiled for a certain racetrack. They are listed by track name. Just cue up the track and let the music take you away. Those play lists are how I was always able to race the track and not the field. Remember these two pieces of advice kiddo. First race the track, never the field. Second never trust the track conditions to stay the same throughout the race. Remember those two pieces of advice when you’re racing, and you’ll never lose a race. You’ll also find that it applies to life as well.” As Bobbie’s voice fill her ears Robbie had to fight back the tears at hearing her mother giving her advice for racing and life. “Just remember that whenever you use this iPod to race. That I’ll be right there in the car with you. Consider me your personal racing shoulder Angel. Never forget that I love you kiddo.”

As Robbie rounded the track for her fifth and final warmup lap the first notes of music replaced her mother’s voice. As she crossed the starting Pat Benatar’s Running with the Shadows blasted out of the earbuds.

We're running with the shadows of the night
So baby, take my hand, you'll be alright
Surrender all your dreams to me tonight
They'll come true in the end

You said, "Oh, girl, it's a cold world when you keep it all to yourself"
I said, "You can't hide on the inside, all the pain you've ever felt"
Ransom my heart, but baby, don't look back 'cause we got nobody else

We're running with the shadows of the night
So baby, take my hand, you'll be alright
Surrender all your dreams to me tonight
They'll come true in the end

It didn’t take her long to lose herself to the music and race the Lady in Black. Not thinking twice, she keyed her mike. “Thanks mom!”

“You’re welcome munchkin! Now drive the wheels off that car! Put on a really show baby girl! It is time to take your place as the next Midnight Angel! Just don’t go blowing the engine this time!” Kelly told her as she watched her daughter pull every last ounce of horsepower out of Bobbie’s experimental engine and transmission.

As they watched their granddaughter drive from the top of the car hauler Bob and Jewels McGuire could only smile in pride. Bob had started the stopwatch in his hand the second Robbie crossed the line. They watched as their granddaughter powered through turns 1 and 2 as if she was on rails. As she exited onto the back straightaway Jewels looked down at the stopwatch grinning. “I really think that Bobbie’s record is in danger of being broken this time Bob.”

“I don’t think. I know that it is Jewels.” Bob chuckled. “Robbie is just like her mother. Once she get’s an idea in her head. Nothing can stand in her way. She’s going to be that car to its limits and beyond.”

“I do believe that another Racing Angel has been born.” Jewels sighed with pride for her granddaughter as she leaned her head on Bob’s shoulder. Juliana McGuire’s words that day could not have been more prophetic.

Over the next twenty-five years Roberta Lee McGuire; Robbie to her friends, family, and fans, would go on to break all of her mother’s records. She would be the first female to win four consecutive FIA championships. She would be the first driver in the ISA to win four consecutive championships. She would become the female NASCAR driver to win seven consecutive Championships trying Jimmy Johnson. She would set records for speed and time on almost every track she raced. Her only competition would come from her twin sister Lisa. To the rest of the racing world their greatest fear had returned with the twin daughters of Bobbie McGuire. Their beautiful looks and unmatched skills earned them the nickname Racing Angels.

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I hope you have enjoyed this story. I know that I have enjoyed bringing it to you. My health and my muse have decided that I should spend more time with my other stories.