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“Let’s meet at headquarters in the next couple of weeks. I’d like to discuss your contract renewal.”
My eyes pop up from shock. The conversation is past due and still comes as a surprise. “Sounds great. Thanks.”
He nods. “I expect you’ll do well today. Second pole and a second place finish here last year. Make us proud.”
No pressure at all. “I intend to.” No pressure because Sarah promised me a date.
The pre-race show ends, and I head to pit road for engine starts.
This part of race day has always been one of my favorites. Racing is a part of me, but it’s also a stressor. Those moments when you’re alone in the car, and every engine starts once, it’s a rush of sound and energy that can’t be duplicated.
Then, you follow the pace car and enter a liminal space that transports you into another world. Not even the most devoted fan will experience it. The only people who exist are you and other drivers.
Mike gives his final pit chief send-off, and I head to my car.
Further down pit road, Sarah stands next to Madelyn Bennett. She pauses their conversation, and we briefly make eye contact.
The spell breaks, and she turns away, but not before raising her hand and stretching each digit wide.
Five.
∞∞∞
“Two down and one to go,” I say into the radio.
“How are those tires?” Mike asks.
Taking the second pole was a needed boost and kept me in the top ten. “Nice and warm. Good grip. What do you see?”
“Good performance. You’ll need a change before the race ends.”
“Not unless I want to blow them up,” I say and chuckle. Mike doesn’t respond, which is fine. “That was a joke.”
He doesn’t respond.
“The 22 on your left rear. Two lengths,” Derek says.
I’m hugging the middle, which means a pass will be difficult unless Ryan McCarthy wants to do something stupid. However, the 22 is known for hasty decisions and pointless wrecks. “I can’t see him. Tell me if he looks for a spot.”
I took two tires and one tank of gas before starting the third stage. It won’t win the race, but it did give me ten laps in the lead, and I need every one of those.
“22 steady,” Derek says. “The 5 and 38 on the back stretch. It looks like they want to battle it out. 5 in front, now 38. Back to 5.”
“How’s my fuel?” I ask Mike. “Let’s increase throttle to 75. This car has performed great today. She can do more.”
“Don’t blow the engine,” Mike says.
“I will not blow the damn engine,” I say.
“22 on the inside,” says Derek.
I let him pass. There’s plenty of time to work my way up front.
Laps go by, and I keep my top ten placement. It isn’t enough, but all I need is one caution.
“Mike, I’m coming in. Can we go four?”
“Bring it in. We’ll fuel up.”
