Never the Same #61 The Resurrection of the Green Car

Is there really a green stock car curse? Kirk keeps going and tempts fate to find out.

 

            Cue: “I Won’t Back Down” https://youtu.be/5II-WnW9OJo?si=clA4UdHHBuW79HAH

 

            Saturday morning: The young morning still lingered in its fresh newness; the house felt cool, quiet, and serene. Kirk rolled out of bed with an evening of racing front and center on his mind. His green stock car, whether it was cursed or not, was up for debate by those who believed in that sort of thing and Kirk who definitely knew about it, but didn’t believe in it. Well, maybe after the crash he harbored some doubts. One thing for sure, Saturday night’s races would prove the curse one way or another. The realization didn’t do much for Kirk’s nerves even though he thought the reason he crashed remained his own fault at not paying full attention to details that really mattered, in this case installing the carburetor return spring in the correct configuration. So, something other than a curse, Kirk just thought it was his own stupidity, so he should just let it go, the curse that is, but knowing Kirk he wouldn’t. 

            Well, first thing he did that morning was to work the accelerator linkage a few times on the inside and then on the outside the cockpit. Of course it worked okay without a problem. Moving on with other things, Kirk measured the circumference of his new tire. It measured two inches smaller than the original, but Kirk thought it would have to do. Having painted it yellow the previous evening, he put it on the car. He cinched down the over-sized lug nuts and went around the car to check the other wheels. Can’t be too careful anymore. Having remounted the suspension with Jon’s help, he checked those bolts as well and made sure cotter pins were installed where necessary. The tie rod he straightened the night before wasn’t as snug as it should have been when he checked it. He checked the radiator level to make sure that didn’t drop since he had filled it. He thought he should run the engine to circulate the fluid because he hadn’t since replacing the radiator, but he decided to just take a gallon along to the track just case. He checked the oil level while he stood there and it was perfect on the “FULL” line.

            The morning’s tranquility could be cut by the fury of his open exhaust racing engine but instead, Kirk sat down on the new front tire contemplating getting started with the new racing season. That night would be at Holland International Speedway, with its high banks under the lights. He hadn’t been on that track since last year while the other track he’d been on during practice day didn’t turn out all that well. Recalling as a youngster watching the races, he always thought the racing seemed more exciting under the lights. To him as a young rookie racer he thought racing under the lights seemed more intimidating. Maybe both for the same reasons that Kirk hadn’t realized before. He reminded himself that most racers either didn’t go to practice day at this particular track which had its own quirks or they were still sorting their new cars out on race one though he knew there were a few racers who ran the same car, the same way, year in and year out.

            Thinking about his refurbished, higher-powered car and in this short time repaired after the crash, he promised himself to take this first night easy. Relearn the track, get used to the car’s power and don’t push the power or handling of the car. He didn’t need to mess up again! He needed to be sure the car felt sound all the way around. So, at least he could do is give the car a once over, a walk around. Starting there in the front, he put his fingers on every nut and bolt that might matter. Of course, finger tight wouldn’t mean anything, but he knew they were there, not missing, not ready to fall off. He eyed their work on the suspension now painted with hardly any evidence of his crash, unless, you looked really closely. The radiator felt tight so he moved on to check the other side of the suspension. All good. He worked the accelerator linkage a few MORE times. No problem there! As he walked down the length of the car, he looked at his primered repair job on the body, thinking he should have painted it green, but he decided to stick with the primer badge of honor motif reminding everyone of his crash. He had a sudden inkling, so he grabbed his creeper and slid underneath. He checked the transmission mounts, their welds and bolts. He thought maybe they could have shifted about or had broken in the crash. As he was about to slide out, he had another thought.

                   He examined his three-foot length of railroad track he had welded to the inside of the frame. All the welds still looked good holding that hundred-pound piece of iron in place. That idea of putting that iron there was probably foolishly adding weight to an already heavy car, though he didn’t know how heavy, but then again, he thought the extra weight on the inside bottom of the car couldn’t hurt the car’s handling. Moving on for good measure, he checked the rear suspension and everything seemed the same as always. In an unlikely pairing of logos, he smiled at his hand-painted cartoon Road Runner saying “Beep! Beep!” On the other hand, his bumper sticker didn’t bring a smile just remembering the John Deere “Nothing runs like a Deere” trademark logo brought back his failed attempt at a sponsor. His ears perked up at the crunch of gravel in the driveway. Jon had arrived.

            “How’s it going. Ready to go?” Jon said, as a greeting.

            “Hey Jon,” Kirk said. “Yeah, I pretty much think so. I was just doing a walk around to see if there was anything we missed.”

            “So, everything is good?”

            “Yeah, so. I got a little concern about the car’s handling. With the crash and the rebuild the car has to be completely readjusted again. And I don’t know how that welded spring will act.”

            “I wondered that myself if the welding took some of the temper out of it.”

            “I don’t know how to check it other than by taking it to the track and trying it. We’ll see,” Kirk said, running a rag across the dusty roof of the car where he had painted his nickname, “Uncle Kirk.”

            “Well, then, want to load up?”

            “Yeah, might as well cuz’I can’t think of anything else to do on it.”

            Kirk went out to his van and backed up to the trailer that Jon directed him to line up. They dropped the trailer on the ball hitch, hooked up the wires and checked it out. Kirk maneuvered the van/trailer backwards to the garage. Jon went to open the van side doors to get the come along.

            “Hold on. I’m driving it up,” Kirk said, while grabbing one of the ramps

            With the ramps in place, Kirk crawled in the car’s window like a hundred times before. It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn’t sat in his racing seat since the crash when he crawled out at the track. He took a breath with the realization. He worked the accelerator pedal, not so much to make sure it worked okay, but to give the engine a couple squirts of gas to start. He pulled up on the kill switch and stabbed the starter button. The engine instantly fired off. The rumble was music to Kirk’s ears. He feathered the pedal a bit to warm the engine a little. Lifting out of his seat he eyed the ramp alignment. His first attempt at this trailer which shouldn’t be problem seeing he loaded on the other trailer of Mike’s many times even though considering it was lower and flatter. He pushed in the clutch, put it in first and eased out the clutch moving a couple feet to make sure he was lined up. Revving the engine and letting the clutch out, he headed up the ramps with Jon giving hand signals. He instantly signaled Kirk to stop. He slammed on the brakes poised halfway up. Jon shouted in the window.

            “You’re too far to this side.”

              Kirk nodded and let the car rolled back down by gravity. He steered a little to the other side and tried again. Once before the ramps had shot out on him as he drove up the other trailer, but in building this trailer he made sure they couldn’t do that with more secure attachments. Rocking the car once, twice, he bounced up onto the trailer right up to the front stops. Jon gave him the okay. Kirk killed the engine holding the brake as Jon secured the front with a cincher. They finished cinching down the car and Jon excused himself for lunch.

            “Going home for a bite. What time you want to leave for the track?” Jon asked before getting in his truck.

            Kirk thought for a moment. “I guess about three? Seems about the time we always went. I have to give Sarah a call to see if she wants to go along.” Even though Kirk knew she would go.

            “All right, see you in a couple hours,” Jon said.

            Kirk wandered into the house via the back screen door which slammed shut with  resounding bang!   

            “How are you, honey?” Kirk’s mother sweetly asked.

            “Oh. All right,” Kirk mumbled. He washed his hands.

            “Are you going to the races today?”

            “Yeah, looks like we got the car back together.”

            “That’s nice. You know I worry about your racing, so dangerous.”

            “Nah, just looks dangerous. See how I’m okay after my crash? Crash. Crash, Crash.” He joked straight faced. His mother didn’t get the joke.

            “I know, but I still worry.” Kirk just silently gave her an offhand gesture. “What would you like for lunch?” She asked. “How about tuna melts?”

            They weren’t Kirk’s favorite food, but he said, “Sure. Okay.”

            As she prepared the open-faced sandwiches, she turned on the gas oven, but as usual nothing happened. She went back to the stove to open and close the oven door over and over with such force eliciting bangs, rattles, and rocking the stove about. Within seconds, Kirk heard the stove ignite with a loud, sputtering blaze. Kirk’s father refused to get the oven fixed as long as he was getting his meals for Kirk’s mother had cracked the oven lighting code.

            Kirk sat there sipping his orange Queen-O as he waited. After several minutes she served them up. Kirk took in the bubbling burnt cheese on top. He had to say it smelled and looked good. With a knife and fork, he ate the open sandwich slowly and politely. No picking it up and wolfing it down, not Kirk. He, from an early age, was heavily scrutinized and berated by his older sister as he ate. No arms on the table, no big bites, chew with your mouth closed, and so on. It’s no surprise that he had an eating disorder in his younger years. The present situation with the sister, now married and seldom seen, suited him just fine.

            After lunch, Kirk wandered out to his van/trailer rig. He loaded his tool box, spare fluids, and the floor jack. He had little in way of spare parts to load. His philosophy on spare parts was that in many cases if you break something you don’t have much time to repair/replace said parts. This philosophy will bite Kirk in the a*s later on in the season, but that’ll be covered, ah, later on.

            Seeing it was racing night Kirk really wanted to continue to tinker and tighten things on his car, but he felt he had done enough already.  It suddenly struck him that he should check in with Sarah Elizabeth seeing he hadn’t talked to her in two weeks.

             He went to the house and picked up the old black dial phone and carried it into the other room seeing his mother still rattled around with dishes in the kitchen where the phone resided. After dialing, Kirk took in a breath hearing Sarah’ voice.

            “Hi Kirk, you okay?”

            “Hey Sarah, nice to hear your voice. Ahh, I’m okay. How ‘bout you.”

            “Pretty all right, just working the stable, my horse and filling in with cooking here for my family.”

            “It all keeps you busy, huh?”

            “Yeah, it does. Where’ve you been? You’ve been scarce.”

            “Just busy,” Kirk said, not wanting to reveal that he had been fixing his car. “Hey, just calling to see if you wanna’ take a break from everything and go to the races.”

            “OF COURSE!” She said enthusiastically. “What time? I’ll be ready whenever.”

            “Hmm, ahh how about three-thirty-four.”

            “So early?” Sarah drew it out like she was waiting for an explanation.

            Kirk didn’t reveal that he was racing. “Sure, you know, about that time or so.”

            “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

            “See you then, bye.”

            “Bye.”

            Kirk pittled around the car and his tools until Jon showed up. He double, triple checked that he had his fire suit and helmet loaded up. He was halfway tempted to check the accelerator linkage one-more-time, but he restrained himself telling himself that he over-checked more than enough times. He had just replayed that wall coming up and crunching his car way too many times. Jon pulled in.

            “All ready to go?” Jon asked.

            “Yep, all the tools are stashed, tie downs tightened so we are good-to-go.”

            “All right, let’s do it.”

            Kirk hadn’t actually told his mother when he was leaving for racing that night, but apparently, she put it together with the car all loaded and Jon showing up. She stood leaning on the wrought iron riling of the side porch as they pulled out of the driveway. Kirk and Jon waved as she waved goodbye with the worried, concerned look as usual. They cruised over to Sarah’s house which, for the night racing wasn’t out of the way to drive with the rig like it was for Sunday afternoon. He pulled off on the right shoulder. Kirk opened his door and stepped to the road when Sarah came tearing out of her house. As she approached the road edge, she farcically slammed on her brakes.

            “What’s that doing on the trailer,” she asked with a grin, pointing. She then strolled across the road giving Kirk the eye.

              “What’ya mean?” Kirk asked, feigning innocence. “That’s my stock car. I told you we’re going to the races.”

            “Yeah, you did but made it sound like to watch,” Sarah said climbing into the van. “Hi Jon.”

            “Hey Sarah.”

            Kirk got in and started the van. As they started off really slow and easy because that’s all the van could do.

            Sarah continued. “After the crash, you were all mister gloom and all making out like it caused the end of the world besides, let alone, the end of your racing career.”

            “Yeah, well…”

            “Kirk. I am not surprised you got it back together. You have that tenacity gene and the racing bug, which I knew would push you to get the car back together so there was no surprise for me.”

            Kirk looked a little flustered. “Jon helped a lot getting it back to track condition.”

            “Good job Jon,” she said. “Oh,” she grinned big then went serious. “Did you fix that big problem throttle linkage?”

            “WHAT? I DIDN” TELL YOU ABOUT THAT! ERRRRRR.” Kirk said in mock irritation glancing to Sarah and Jon.

            “The day of the crash Jon told me at the track what happened seeing you were so closed mouth and grim.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

            Anyway, they motored on for several miles before making the usual stop for gas. When they got to the track, the sun still sat quite high in the sky though falling to the west, and the line to get in the pits looked long. Kirk thought that there were more cars, overall, than last season. Who knows, who remembers the details? Not Kirk.

            Kirk felt the nerves building, maybe not as much as practice, but there he remained trying to be cool and collected for Sarah. She bent forward to get an up-close take on his visage.

            “SO, are you excited all over again?” she asked.

            “Yeah, I have to say I am.” He paused a few moments. “Maybe not as much as on practice day, but trying out my new engine in competition should tell me how I stand against everyone else. Maybe I should take it real easy like just to see how it goes this first day.”

            “Sure, right,” Jon interjected. “I’d like to see you stick to that plan.” He said deadpan.

            “Oh c’mon,” Kirk said, as they creeped closer and closer to the gate.

            “I guess I’ll jump ship,” Sarah said.

            Kirk already had his wallet out. “Here take a couple bucks.”

            “Oh, you don’t have to you know,” Sarah said.

            “Go ahead. Take it,” Kirk paused with grin. “Maybe  you can buy a picture of your favorite driver.” He blinked and flashed his eyes at her.

            “All right! I can get a picture of Richard with his hot Late Model car number 33!”

            She grinned; he rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine whatever you want,” Kirk said, getting out and giving her a peck on the lips. The truck behind them beeped their horn. Kirk gave them an acknowledging gesture as he climbed back in. He usually watched her walk away, but he turned his attention immediately to the task straight ahead, and that was getting checked into the pits. He didn’t know if they’d have to give the car another once over inspection after his crash or not.  When they finally got to the gate, the official glanced back to Kirk’s number three car.

            “Got ‘er back together, I see. Good for you.”

            Kirk handed over his cash that he was running short of. “Yeah, the extra week helped us get it back on four wheels.”

            “Well, good,” the official said handing over the two pit passes. “You take it easy with that green car of yours.”

            Kirk gritted his teeth, but he only said, “Sure will. The season is long to push hard.”

            “Good attitude. Have a good and lucky evening of racing.”  He gestured them onward.

            Kirk thought the “lucky” remark was just another pointed remark about the green car curse, but he just said, “thanks,” as he pulled away.

            Kirk might have been said as one who found comfort in routine and familiar surroundings so he parked the van and trailer in the place where he always parked last season. With a groan, he rolled out of the van.

            Overall, the pits seemed extremely quiet even though hauling rigs kept coming along and parking. Kirk just felt that loud, uncorked racing engines should be running, but it was early, about an hour early, before practice laps began. Jon had already dragged out the ramps and secured them so Kirk undid the rear tie down.

            An engine fired up, which in the previous calm seemed extremely loud. It definitely was a high-performance V-8, one of the Late Model cars unloading. Both Kirk and Jon looked up, but they immediately went back to their business. Kirk climbed aboard and held the brake down as Jon watched. Kirk gave him an okay gesture and Jon disappeared under the front of the car. Kirk could feel a rattle in the front and then the car lunged forward a bit before he could feel the disconnection from the trailer. Jon stood back up and returned the Okay signal. Kirk let off the brake, but it didn’t move even though the car sat on an incline on the trailer.

            Momentarily stunned, He realized his mistake so he stepped on the brake and clutch and took the car out of gear. He never made that mistake before because he had heard that cars hauled should always be in neutral because the miniscule rocking back and forth, side to side could damage the driveline namely the transmission. After mentally scolding himself for overlooking that fact, he popped it out of gear and eased off on the brake as the car slowly, quietly bumped down off the trailer onto the crushed and desiccated pit grass. He crawled out and sat on a tire to think. Jon faced him.

            “What do you think about the car? Do you have some Jitters?”

            Kirk looked up at tall Jon. “I want to say no, of course not, but yeah jitters.” Kirk took a breath. “I just see that guardrail on turn one…closeup…” Kirk let it hang.

            “Well, okay, but you need to get the car dialed in. With the work we did on the suspension and frame, this thing is going to handle differently. You need to think about that. Concentrate on that.”

            “You’re right,” Kirk said, standing up. He bent over the front suspension. “Yeah, it could be a handful out there. We’ll see how it is in practice.”

            He stood there a few moments, then he strolled over to the posting board. The clipboards still hung there all empty. Kirk figured the officials were feverously putting the heat postings together as he pondered. What do they have to base the starting line up on? Last season’s standings? Kirk shrugged to himself. He wandered back to the car. He worried about Sarah being bored out of her mind in the spectator stands, but he wasn’t about to walk over there right then.

                Suddenly, the public address speaker gave a squawk making everyone jump and take notice. They announced that practice laps would begin in fifteen minutes. Of course, Kirk knew that it would be the Late Models up first because they were high dollar and why EVERYNONE came to watch the races not that Kirk had any kind of attitude about it. Soon enough another announcement blared that the Late Models could line up for practice. Within seconds, several rumbling engines sprang to life filling the air with the sound that makes gearheads drool. Kirk watched as the low-slung modified Camaros and Mustangs rumbled down the rough pit lane. Watching, he had to wonder why they didn’t have problems dragging bottom on the edge of the track like he always worried about. Those guys commenced their practice laps whether it be ten or twenty laps Kirk wasn’t sure.

            He sat on a tire to pull up his firesuit and secured it at the wrist and ankle cuffs with Velcro. He set his helmet inside the car. Jon hadn’t much to say and just gave a thumbs up. Kirk nodded as he crawled on through the window. He secured his window net and latched up and tightened his harness. His hands trembling wasn’t lost on Kirk. They announced his class to line up, so he donned his helmet and fired up his racing beast. Out of his peripheral vision, Kirks saw a couple cars from his class go past before he could back out to join them.

            Heading to the entrance gate, Kirk thought the car felt weird. Maybe it was nerves. Mybe it was the rough uneven pit lane. Kirk didn’t know what he sensed. After what seemed a long wait the Late Models filed out and his class was allowed in. Rounding turn three and four, Kirk just thought the steering felt oddly weird. The car wanted to dive right for the infield on the turn and into the straight it felt like it wanted to wander eirratically right and left. Strange, Kirk thought, what’s wrong?

            After a slow lap, they got the green. With cars front and back, Kirk slowly accelerated. He had to muscle the steering wheel around the turns, but on the straights, the car just wandered right and left not able to make up its mind, like it wanted to go anywhere except where Kirk wanted it to. Fighting the wheel to at least keep it pointed in the forward direction, Kirk came to the easy conclusion that something was really wrong with his car, but what? After the third lap of nearly causing wrecks with the cars going by him at his slow erratic speed, the flagman held out the black flag and pointed at him to eliminate any doubts about who the black flag was meant for. Yeah, Kirk get off the track, so he took a hard left turn into the infield. He shut the engine off and sat there, wondering what the heck was wrong with his car. His eyes glazed over as his mind wandered.  

            Kirk should have been ahead of the game by setting his cars up before his competitors by attending practice day but any progress he made on handling became null and void with the crash.  As said, some racers don’t do practice day planning on sorting out their cars on the first day of racing. So, in essence, Kirk remained on the same level those guys who didn’t show up early on, perhaps worse off from what he had just experienced. He’ll see. Suddenly, it hit him so hard that he wanted to lean his forehead on the steering wheel and cry, but hopefully, when a possibility sprang into his head, that he thought was the only problem with his erratic aimless car. Sometimes you overlook the obvious.

            For now and most of his life, it seemed difficult for Kirk no matter what he did, but I guess what doesn’t kill a person makes them strong.