Never the Same #56 Steps, it gets done in Steps

With even more expense and work, racing season grows nigh. Will Kirk be ready for the action?

Cue: “Who knows where the Time Goes” https://youtu.be/5oBMDcLf6WA?si=_zWX_DHR_xuQiLj_     

    With a little over two weeks to practice day at the stock car tracks, Kirk remained hyped and focused over the work he needed to do on his car. Of course, we know that he didn’t have to show up at either of the two practice days, but he felt it remained the perfect time to sort out the handling of the car and get several laps in to break in his new engine, which by the way had not been started yet. Kirk hadn’t seen Sarah Elizabeth for over two weeks. Their relationship had always been casual an on and off affair but for now it seemed completely off.
    They had shared some good times together such as him teaching her to drive a manual transmission with the pink van of all available vehicles. No floor shift with the van, just “three on the tree” meaning a three speed on the column. She picked it up quite effortlessly. Sarah pitched in a little the previous year like painting nerf bars and painting a picture perfect wood chuck on the trunk lid. Kirk recalled taking Sarah along on his motorcycle to the home improvement store to pick up a 5 foot by 2-foot sheet of Plexiglas for his stock car windshield because he cracked it by over tightening. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. The ride with Sarah hanging on to the Plexiglas proved to be a tedious time wondering if it my snap at any moment from the wind buffeting while going down the road. Well, that was last year.
    This year, all on his own, he’d been so busy on the car he felt he couldn’t spare any downtime with Sarah. Maybe he’d pick her up after the season began in earnest and he had the car ironed out.
    In a relatively short couple weeks, work for him in his new position at the plant become pretty much routine. At times between truck loads, it was a boring job, not anyone to talk to, with not very much out of the ordinary to do on a daily basis. He kept his area of responsibility pretty neat and tidy. Kirk thought cleaner than when old man John ran the section. The job actually puzzled Kirk because he wondered why no one else with more seniority didn’t jump on the job before him. Maybe it was the well-known cold during the winter or maybe because it was a one-man position. Well, both suited Kirk just fine, he’d rather dress for the freezing cold in the winter than roast like in his old job and being by his lonesome, all by himself was better than rubbing elbows with the “old heads” on the production line every day. His father fit into that category which suited Kirk well and gave him another reason to be happy with his job. What all this boils down to is that Kirk could do his job, and do it well, all to collect his check to finance and work on his car, stock car that is.  
        Well, the body work on Kirk’s car progressed along rather satisfactorily.  Of course, it still looked kind of camouflaged though with patches of bare metal, old primer, and white Bondo. Kirk wasn’t too concerned how perfect the body work looked in the end, at least at that time figuring that there was the highly probable likelihood of attaining crunches in the body not too far into the racing season. He’ll probably change his mind after the coat of primer, but what racing color? He still pondered that dilemma. His brother-in-law Jon had finished the spoiler and Kirk thought it would do justice on a street car it was that good. Kirk set Jon to work on a different hood to replace the old makeshift hood from a pick-up Mike had put on the car. Kirk and Jon scrounged up a relatively large, flat piece of metal. Kirk just wanted the hood to have a more streamlined look and fit better than the old one.
    Meanwhile, Kirk had gotten new clutch parts and so spent time under the car to get the clutch, transmission, and linkage buttoned up. That all took a couple evenings. Kirk smoldered with a zeal to hear his new engine run while still pondering to pick a paint color so he could paint it a single unforgettable color. Probably a blazing color combination of some sort, but Panther Pink and Plum Crazy were definitely not under consideration. He told himself a certain decision had to made by the following weekend with time running short, because there were other things to do and buy with a couple significant expenses yet to be made.  
    On Friday, a bit bored at work, Kirk experienced a light bulb moment. His color combination for the car had to unique, not anything even close to the other cars on the track and an inspiration from his youth struck him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t landed on the color earlier than after months of deliberating. So early on Saturday, after a black coffee and a bowl of cereal, he moseyed out to his pink van and set off with a clear destination on his mind. And on his mind, Kirk had a solid two-fold idea of which he felt like was an honest to goodness brainstorm. Something like that didn’t come easy for Kirk.
    After a half an hour drive, he pulled into the John Deere dealership. This place was situated halfway between the homestead and his grandparents’ farm. Growing up in his early teens, he had driven the old John Deere tractor past the dealership where his father had purchased the old tractor before Kirk’s birth. He went into the side/main entrance and glanced around. The place looked still a mess, maybe worse, but even worse was that voluptuous red-headed Yvonne wasn’t there. That was his number one letdown. Warren, the younger owner of the dealership, stepped out of his office.
    “Can I help you? Sales, parts or service.” He asked.
    Kirk, caught off guard, thought Warren might recognize him from when he applied for a mechanic’s job, but that was already two years ago, so Kirk could understand.
    “Ah, Kirk Biscuit. My father has been doing business with you for quite a while,” he paused. “And I, ah came in to apply for a mechanic’s job.”
    “Oh, of course your father has been a good customer for a long time. What can I do for you today?” Kirk noticed Warren gazed aside and down when mentioning Kirk’s father.
    Kirk didn’t like the look on Warren’ face like he’d taken a bite out of sour candy not to mention that Warren failing to mention Kirk’s job inquiry. Nevertheless, Kirk took a breath and jumped in with both feet.
    “Have you ever considered sponsoring a stock car? I’m pretty much set up after one year, so big money sponsoring isn’t important, but I’m going to have a fast car and would like to have a sponsor. With the dealership’s name on the car, done professionally, would look good out there, and it’ll be good for your business.”
    “No, never sponsored a race car and no, we don’t need more business, actually.”
    “Well,” Kirk swallowed hard; this wasn’t the brainstormed response he expected. “I planned to paint the car John Deere green and yellow, you see. It’ll be distinctly John Deere colors and completely different appearing on the track from the other cars. Could you maybe sponsor me with just the paint?”
    “DO you mean we give you the paint for your car?” Standing with a firm grip on his side of the counter, he didn’t wait for Kirk to answer. “No, I can’t do that.”
    Kirk froze. Dumbfounded and maybe a little bit pissed off ready to blurt something out. No, he didn’t, but he percolated on the inside. How much would it cost them for the paint? He thought. Would it really break them?
    Kirk paused hoping for a reconsideration. Then, he wondered if his father had burned bridges with Warren because his father could get rather brusque and overbearing at times with people ignoring the possible ramifications. There hung a deafening silence in the air for a few moments. Kirk wouldn’t do that.
    “Do you want to buy anything, then?”
    Kirk thought about being brusque himself, but he didn’t, he kept his cool.  “Yeah, sure. I’ll buy,” he paused for effect, “a gallon of green and a quart of yellow.”     
    Warren went down one of the mis-kept decrepit shelving aisles and came back with the paint. The cans’ tops were covered in dust. He didn’t ask if Kirk needed paint thinners, filters, or any other painting supplies. He rang it up and gave Kirk the total. Luckily, because he REALLY didn’t think he’d have to pay, Kirk had enough cash on him. He noticed on the counter there sat a small pile of bumper stickers.
    “How much for the bumper stickers?” Kirk asked kind snottily.
    “Take one. They’re good for advertisement.”
    Kirk thought he might blow a circuit, but he meekly said, simply, “thanks.”
    He walked out of the old dealership knocked down a few pegs from his brainstorm high of hopeful contemplating upon entry that he was on to something awesome like an actual sponsorship. He set the paint on the passenger side floorboard and put the bumper sticker on the dashboard. Kirk thought that the sticker would be fitting considering his youthful John Deere history and the soon-to-be green and yellow stock car. He thought he’d put the sticker right on the rear spoiler of his stock car because it read: “Nothing Runs like a Deere.”
    A couple years later the John Deere dealership went under, out of business, which unsurprisingly, didn’t break Kirk’s heart one iota after that last visit he ever made there.
    Kirk wasn’t about to paint the car right then for it wasn’t quite ready, but nevertheless he stopped off at the local parts store and picked up the paint supplies so he’d be ready. Trying to think ahead, he got stuck on liquids of all sorts. He got antifreeze which is important in a stock car because it has a higher boiling point; he also picked up a few quarts of racing oil, and some brake fluid because he still needed to work on the brakes. Always something and more! The more in this case wore him down with the next major financial dread: tires.
***

    Kirk knew how much racing tires cost. Approximately, that is, considering with the current recession everything was going up in price. Not only that, he needed new racing wheels. He had no ill-conceived thoughts on what the entire tire purchase would amount to which was probably close to what he spent on the engine. As you read all this, you can see Kirk already spent quite the chunk of change and he had started with a whole car! If you wanna’ pay, you gotta’ pay.
    On Monday, straight after work, Kirk headed to the big city. Well, actually the ‘burbs. He had been to Tom the tire man’s place before with Mike though Kirk didn’t buy anything from him last year. He pulled into the suburban driveway with a ranch-type house like all the other houses on the block except that Tom’s place had a large pole barn-type garage behind the house. No signs announced that he sold tires there, probably a zoning issue Kirk assumed. As he expected after a few moments, a large fluffy skunk waddled out to greet Kirk.
    “Hey there, Scotty. Nice to see you,” Kirk said, while stroking Scotty’s luxuriously thick and fluffy hair. The skunk cooed a little and waddled away. Kirk knew the story about Scotty that he and his litter mates had been abandoned and Tom took custody of him. Of course, Tom had Scotty’s ability to stink up the place taken care of. Scott seemed better than a cat in some respects. Why the skunk’s name wasn’t Pepe LePew or Stinky Stan, he just didn’t know why Scotty was his name. Kirk rang the bell and Tom came limping out. Kirk didn’t know the story about that limping issue and he wasn’t about to pry. Could’ve been a victim of Viet Nam.
    “Hey, a racer I assume,” Tom said, sticking a hardened hand out which Kirk gripped.  “I guess you know about Scotty.” He pointed to the skunk that had gone to digging in the flowerbed. “Some people get freaked out on seeing a skunk.”
    “Yep. I said hello to Scotty. Kirk Biscuit,” Kirk said, releasing the grip. “So. I hope you still have Sportsman tires in stock. It’s getting a little late.”
    “Very seldom run out. I stay ahead of the demand which I know well after twenty years and I know firsthand of any rule changes that affect tires.”
    “Yeah, then I suppose you would stay in touch.”
    “C’mon back,” Tom said, and gestured. He pulled open the overhead door and the sight always took Kirk’s breath away. Not to mention the powerful smell of rubber. He eyed the tire machine in the corner.
    “Over here,” he pointed. “You want to pick up five tires?”
    “Ah, no a little tight, so only four right now,” Kirk said, scanning the tires.  
    “Oh right. Your first year then?”
    “No, second season, but I guess I’m heading in a little more serious this year.”
    Tom strolled over to a quadruple stack, six tires high, “here you go,” he said pulling a tire down.
    Kirk bristled with a rush of adrenaline at real wide, low-profile racing tires that had a very fine, shallow checkered-like tread pattern. He couldn’t imagine how much better the tires would perform on the track compared to his old narrow “recap” tires. Tom rolled four tires in Kirk’s direction who arrested their roll. He picked one up marveling how light they felt.
    “Nice,” he said. “These are great! You only carry this one type for my class?”
    “Yep, the best made with the maximum width allowed. Why? Were looking for something else?”
    “No, no. Just wondering.” He scanned about at several stacks of wheels in various widths. “While I’m here, I also need wheels.” Kirk strolled over to the wheels and examined them. “Ah, you only have the wide bolt pattern on the wheels?”
    “Sure, that’s what the officials like to see on the track. You know safety hubs are required on Late Model cars.”
    Kirk didn’t foresee this problem this at all. “Oh no. My old wheels had homemade standard bolt pattern hubs for the rear axle.”  
    “Sure, that works on a budget. What rear axle are you running? Ford eight and three quarters?”
    “Yep, that’s right.”
    “I got an answer for you,” Tom said, and limped around a wall of tires. Kirk heard some clanking around; Tom came back with two round plates in his hands. With a clang he set them down leaning them against his legs. “Here you go. Ford hub with counter sunk holes and on the outside, lugs for the racing wheels. A machine shop guy makes these up balancing them and everything. Pretty well done, I have to say.”
    Kirk should have thought of the possibility of adapters because he had them on his VW Bug, though he had that incident where one wheel came off during a nighttime trip and took a journey all on its own.  Kirk didn’t want to go there again especially on a high speed race track.
    “Nice. Looks like they’ll do the job for me.”
    “All right. I recommend applying some Locktite on the center lugs. You know, just in case. Use Locktite blue that you’ll be able to get off if you have to. Get my drift?”
    “Oh, I know what you mean,” Kirk said, not about to tell Tom about the VW incident where a little Locktite would’ve saved him from chasing his tire across the front lawn of a school before it leaned up against the school’s front wall. Kirk saw movement off to his right as Scotty waddled in and started rubbing on Tom’s leg. He made some cute cooing animal sounds.
    “Your helper showed up,” Kirk said. He didn’t even want to broach the subject of the cost of the wheels and tires.
    “Oh sure. Scotty is quite singular and follows his own agenda, but he’s friendly when he’s in the mood.”
    “He seemed friendly enough when I pulled in the driveway.”
    “Oh sure, he just checking out who pulled in hoping you might have some treats for him.”
    “Sorry Scotty, maybe next time I’ll have something for you.”
    Scotty just turned away from Tom, not looking up and just waddled out of the garage. Kirk had to smile at the fluffy black and white rodent. Tom pulled a clipboard down off a nail and scribbled on a page for a few moments. He pulled a calculator out of his breast pocket and commenced to tapping at it a few more moments. He scribbled something at the bottom of the page and he added a flourish. Kirk held his breath but an important thought struck him suddenly.
    “Tubes! I’ll need tubes for the tires.”
    Tom paused with his invoice. “Look at the wheels.”
    Kirk did so. “Oh right, tubeless.”
    “Yep, all the valve stems are installed. Tubeless makes a lighter wheel weight. Want me to mount them up?”
    Grimly, Kirk only nodded an affirmation thinking about more expense but also saving his hard labor to mount them by hand.  
    Nimbly, Tom grabbed a wheel, dropped in on the tire changer and clamped it down. Kirk had used a tire changer back when he worked in the village garage as a grease monkey, but Tom’s changer was much better than the one he had used. He carried a tire to Tom who set it on top of the wheel and gave it a quarter turn. He stuck the lever in the tire and stepped on the floor switch. The lever gave a quick turn and one side of the tire dropped on. He repeated it for the other side then did the other three tires.
    “You want me to set the beads?”
    “Nah, I can do that. I was going to mount them myself, but it sure would’ve taken me a lot longer than that, thanks!”
    Tom gave him the total while handing him the page. Kirk expected a worse figure, so he let out his breath. He noticed on the invoice’s bottom that Tom gave him a discount.
    “Wow, Tom. You gave me a decent discount on the tires and wheels?”
    “Sure. I make it a habit to give first year rookies a discount on their first set of tires. My thinking is that’ll give you a leg up going into the season and means you’ll be back for more. The first years are the toughest.”
    “Yeah, I found that out,” Kirk said, and he stuck his hand out; Tom gripped it firmly. “Thanks Tom, I appreciate it. All of this.” Kirk gestured.
    Tom shrugged. “It’s the least I can do for aspiring stock car champions.”
    “I don’t know about that, but I’m gonna’ give it my best shot.”
    “Good for you, Mister Biscuit. Let’s get you loaded up.”
    Kirk carried two where Tom rolled two out to the van which filled it up quite full. After paying Tom, Kirk headed out on the treed suburban streets feeling like he had taken a major, exhilarating step in racing season preparation. This positive thought only reminded him of the other things he still had to do.
    Steps, Kirk’s undertaking might all come together with manageable, budgetary steps. That is, if time and luck favored him.