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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-----