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“Two of your best seats in the arena and at the sidelines,” Ben told her.
She handed over four tickets and we continued into the arena. The moment I entered the enclosed area, the scent of fuel and metal wrapped around me. A short flight of steps on either side led up to the two sets of separated bleachers and a walkway divided each stand into two separate seating areas and gave easy access to all the spots.
The arena between the pair of bleachers had a hard-packed dirt ground. Ben led us along the dirt and to the wide doorway on the other side. We emerged into the bright early afternoon sun and were greeted with quite a sight.
Fields stretched nearly out of sight and only stopped when they reached the foothills of a mountain range about fifty miles away. The mile of earth closest to the arena, however, was not like the other green and pristine pastures, but a maze of dug earth that vaguely resembled a dirt road. There were sharp corners, high bumps, low gullies, sand pits, and water holes everything along the track.
A couple of men stood along the track. They were all dressed the same, with dark green trousers and black boots. Their shirts were striped gold and green, and they wore caps to shield their eyes from the sun overhead.
I nudged Ben and nodded at the trio. “Who are they?”
“The racing officials,” he told me.
There were two dozen thunders on the track, and boy, did they roar. It was like listening to someone exuberantly ring a giant drum right beside me. My eardrums quaked beneath their bellows as the group zoomed past the stands that were on either side of the arena entrance. These stands were even larger than those inside the arena, and they were packed with shouting fans who stomped their feet so hard they made the seats shake. Only the thunders disappearing around the bend made them sit back down.
I winced and looked up at Ben. He wasn’t watching the race but me, and there was a bemused expression on his face. My eyebrows crashed down and I stabbed a finger at him. “Don’t. Say. A word.”
He shut his lips together and shook his head. I cast one last suspicious look at him before I turned my attention to the stands. A quick look at the ticket told me I had no idea how to read any of the seating instructions. “So where do we sit?” A moment of silence followed before I looked back at Ben. He still had that supremely amused look on his face. I rolled my eyes. “You can say that much.”
He nodded at the stands to our right. “That way. The front row and on the far side.”
“Why there?” I asked him as we made our way to the stands. The first two rows were completely empty.
“In case we need to make an emergency exit of the stands should one of the drivers lose control,” he told me as we climbed the short steps up to the seating area.
My face drooped as I followed him up. “Does that happen often?”
“Not very, but I have seen the accidents happen some half dozen times,” he told me as we took our seats. “When a vehicle goes off the track it’s called a thunder strike.”
“So how close did the ‘thunder strike’ come to turning you into a pancake?” I asked him.
He gave me a sheepish smile. “Truth be told, I was in less danger than those in the stands.”
It took me a moment of thinking before my mouth dropped open. “You were the driver?”
He bowed his head. “Guilty, I’m afraid.”
I elbowed his arm. “You’re not supposed to be proud of that!”
Ben winced and rubbed his bruised ego. “It’s a risk the spectators are willing to take in order to watch these races, and it’s a risk every driver knows when they get behind the wheel. That is perhaps its allure. The danger of it all.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned at him. “You still don’t have to wear it like a badge. . .”
He chuckled. “There is a badge given out every year to the clumsiest of drivers.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course there is. Did you win it that year?”
He shook his head. “Not that year, but the first year I raced I did win that ‘impressive’ badge. I didn’t live down the humiliation until the next year when someone else earned the ‘honor.’”
Our conversation was swallowed up in the boom of the thunders as they came around the bend some five hundred yards to our left. They had a straightaway in front of the bleachers that stretched for twice that distance, but either end was filled with bumps and sand pits. The vehicles banged into each other as they zoomed past, and one of them hit their competition too hard and skidded out before coming to a stop on the other side of the road. The thunder righted itself and drove off to rejoin the pack as the rest of the vehicles turned the corner to our right and zigged into the bumps and pits that dotted the race track.
I must admit my heart thumped hard in my chest and pumped adrenaline through my body.
“What do you think?” Ben asked me.
I dipped my hand into the bag of goodies and plopped one into my mouth. “I think I’m going to like this.”
CHAPTERTEN
