Never the Same IC#39 Kirk, King of the Stock Car Track

Abruptly, Kirk had quit his job. Will he do anything else brash or will he become a hero?

 Cue: “Prime Time” https://youtu.be/3kr2NT3Yxso?si=qv63FoIZvlm2f9dF

Now what?

Kirk had been imprudent.

Undoubtedly irresponsible.

Now fully realizing his action had been definitely impulsive, now after the fact he questioned whether he really had deserved a raise at the dealership because deep down he truly understood he wasn’t cut out to be a mechanic. Admit it to yourself, Kirk! The year and half on the mechanic job stood telling for him. Perhaps Marty, who had tried to talk Kirk out of quitting, was right about not being there long enough to gain sufficient experience to warrant a raise. Was a year and half long enough to merit a raise? Kirk had unyieldingly believed so. Before. He had never done anything so blatantly rash without mulling over the situation and then contemplating it all over again before making a critical decision. Kirk regrettably came to grips that his decision had been made, he took drastic action, and he couldn’t go back. He could never go back. Was Marty right that he couldn’t get a referral for another job meaning that Kirk would have to begin again at zero? Somewhere. Sometime. Somehow, he’d persevere.

Of course, Kirk didn’t tell anyone in his family nor Sarah Elizabeth that he had quit his job. He figured that Monday when he didn’t go to work would be soon enough to break the news and explain his actions. Well at the time, he was giving Sarah the cold shoulder which she sure didn’t deserve, so he wasn’t concerned about telling her. She’d probably like the idea that he’d be available to pick her up from school every day, maybe Sarah, maybe, but not now. Besides all that, he didn’t really give much thought about how long his meagre savings would last before he’d have to give in and get a job. What kind of a job? Would it be automotive? Or something completely different? He would get one more check from the dealership, so he needed to pare back on his spending wherever he could, not that he was ever a big spender.

 Nevertheless, Kirk enjoyed his solo long haul to the Saturday night races. Paying his entry fee, he wondered how long he could afford that and the fuel to haul the car to the track. The gas in the stock car really didn’t amount to much so not concern. He had never placed in a race so the odds were nonexistent that he would this night and at least get his entry fee back. Even though emotionally in a slump with quitting his job and the loss of income, he looked forward to racing under the bright lights on that high banked oval that always equated to fun and a rush.

On his typical lineup on his heat race, he thought the track steward really gave his car the once over with barely a glance to the other cars. Was it my imagination? With his competitors surrounding him in the dual-car lineup they soldiered out onto the track. Well past halfway through his racing season, the drivers’ point standings had stabilized with Kirk and his usual competitors lining up together and fighting it out for those one or two positions up at the finish, but always ending up somewhere in the back of the pack. Nevertheless, the wheel-to-wheel bumping and rubbing was what they all came back for.

 Kirk never hung out with the other racers, but knew Charlie, Gus and Ron by sight and by their brightly colored cars. Despite the other’s brilliantly painted cars, Kirk thought his silver metalflake painted car remained the most ostentatious of all the cars out there. Even though he had seen Mike’s silver car out on the track with the other cars, Kirk viewing from the stands didn’t know if his opinion rang true with the average spectators.

So Kirk drove out on the tracks with the bright lights flashing into his cockpit as they motored about on a warmup lap. The heat and fumes wafted into his cockpit as the engine noise around him steadily increased with speed. He shifted up a gear. On this particular night in his heat, he sat on the fifth row on the outside. Kirk followed Charlie in his #15 blue coupe with Gus in his #55 orange Hornet beside him, and Ron behind in his #33 yellow Falcon. Remember that all the cars no longer appeared the same as cars on the street with all glass and chrome accoutrements removed, open wheel wells, front fenders removed, not to mention the damage accrued over a season of crashing and bashing. Old thirties coupes and compact cars were the desired starting points for stock cars in Kirk’s class.

As usual, they only had one warm up lap before the green flag dropped and the light flashed as they charged off the fourth turn. And they were off, storming headlong into the first turn. Charlie bobbled a bit through the turn, but Kirk didn’t let up staying on his bumper though he couldn’t see Charlie’s bumper because Kirk ran so close. Gus seemed to drift high, close to Kirk’s side nerf bar, but with the experience he’d gained over the season Kirk saw it out of his excellent peripheral vision, so he didn’t react whatsoever with focus forward�"always forward. They pushed on, tightly packed, so close that if any one of them made a mistake other than a most minor of mistakes it would result in a major accident for the entire pack. Of course, everyone out there wanted to win, but let’s be realistic, when you’re in a group of underpowered, ill-handling cars it’s a conquering win if you pass one of the like cars and drivers. 

So there they were pushing, rubbing, swerving, waiting for that opening that might allow a risk-taking driver go for a pass. Weren’t all stock car drivers risk takers? Yeah, but who was the biggest risk taker on this particular night? In a heat race of only eight laps, things happen fast and a driver must take the risk if he wants to succeed. As a rule, rookie Kirk wasn’t normally a risk-taker, but after up and quitting his job, well, who knows in his current mixed up state of mind? The race still roared on, so here we go. Gus bumped Kirk in the side bar, but he didn’t care. Kirk in turn bumped Charlie’s bumper who he followed too close from the green. Things began happening too fast to rationally comprehend.

Charlie bobbled again after the bump, high on the turn, when Kirk saw a small opening between Charlie and Gus. Too small, Kirk dove in anyway. He bumped the left rear of Charlie and right front of Gus. Charlie started sliding with Kirk and in a split-second reaction he wanted to push through but Gus saw it too. Both going hard into the turn, Gus hit Kirk again and Kirk, hanging on the ragged edge, spun. Not sliding, but  going sideways. Ron hit Kirk in the side�"hard and Kirk hit Charlie. Things spun around, befuddling Kirk. First, thing he thought of was that the front runners were probably quickly bearing down on him. He shoved that big aluminum footprint gas pedal down heading to the infield but just staying on the edge of the track as the front runners blasted past. Kirk didn’t care where everyone else were, he just headed down the track a lap down from those fast cars, but ahead of his close competitors. He thought. He hoped.

Kirk always lost track of the number of laps that he had raced only realizing the end of the race drew near when the white flag indicating the last lap flew. In this case he even missed the white flag. Well, giving him a benefit of a doubt, he did have his hands full. After the checkered flag, he had a chance to take stock. Gus stood still in the infield and Charlie came in behind him. Surprising Kirk, Ron had finished ahead of him. Hadn’t seen that. Apparently, his head spun by all the action and banging around he had been thorough.

Going into the heat, Kirk had been energized about racing, but after the shoving around and coming in second to last kind of burst what tiny bubble he had. He did consider skipping the consolation race, loading up and heading home, but he had paid his entry fee so he should get his money’s worth. Who knows? Before every race there was that lingering hope that flashes before every stock car racer’s eyes. Yeah, in Kirk’s state of mind he figured everyone would have to drop out of the race for him to get a top three finish. Going in, he wasn’t even wanting to try. Another also ran.

The lining up and cruise out on the track had become old hat for Kirk. In this consolation race, he sat in the third row with his competitors surrounding him like always. The green dropped. Kirk without his usual adrenaline rush drove business-like pinning his car in his favorite slot around the track He followed Gus around but didn’t push. He didn’t even eye his big panoramic rearview mirror. He didn’t care. It would be over soon, and he could go home. On the second lap or was it the third? He happened to catch a car bounce up ahead, quickly rising above the roofs of the other cars in the front of the pack. Then instantaneously he saw cars spinning right and left. The cars in front of him went wide making an opening for him. Cars spun high and low. Kirk didn’t even have time for evasive actions�"no braking, he just kept going. Gus had gone really low into the infield and hit one of the cars involved in the wreck.

Suddenly and amazingly, Kirk sat in first place! The red flag came out and the small field of cars stopped. He had never been first in a race and this outcome meant he’d be first in the restart. It hit him like a flash about leading a restart. When should I accelerate? I’ve always followed after everyone had accelerated ahead of me. Should I fake a fast start then slow then accelerate like the big national races? Realistically, I can’t pull that off without more power.

They sat there idling as the track crew cleaned up the mess of oil and antifreeze. He gazed around. The remaining cars behind him�"his usual competitors, he gazed at the spectator stands at the hundreds of people who milled about. Probably getting refills on vinegar fries and Coke. Kirk had to grin grimly with the absurd thought.  His left leg began throbbing with weariness.  With sudden awareness, Kirk realized he had senselessly been sitting there all that time holding the clutch in. He slipped the transmission out of gear and released the clutch. He worked his leg back and forth a few times.

He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and gritted his teeth as he watched the track crew finish cleaning off the track. To his dismay, he discerned three of the four cars involved in the crash returning to the track apparently race ready.

Can stay ahead of those faster cars for the remaining laps? How many laps remained? Three, four, five? The fewer the remaining laps the better for me leaving less time for the other guys to get through traffic, to catch, and pass me. Will I make the feature tonight?

Will Kirk be king of the track for a few minutes winning his race and qualifying for the feature?

The yellow flag replaced the red and at least Kirk knew that this meant to start moving and cruise around the track. He quickly pushed in the clutch, put it in gear and released the clutch. Starting a slow lap, Kirk led the pack of cars in his race’s pace laps.

Will Kirk ever be the same after his race restarts and finishes?

Stay tuned.