Never the Same #62 A Dangerous and Irresistible Pastime

Kirk planned for a better first day on the stock car track before the crash, now the first day of racing isn't going all that well.

Cue: “Prime Time” by Alan Parsons Project (video currently unavailable)

 

            His class’s practice roared on continuing without Kirk. He sat there in the infield out of the action pondering what had happened to the handling of his car from the crash to Jon and his repairs. Something definitely remained out of sync that required rectifying and relatively fast. Kirk fully comprehended that if he hadn’t gone to open practice two weeks ago, maybe he would have crashed during his first upcoming race which could have been catastrophic with all the other cars on the track going hell bent for election. Pondering this somewhat positive insight, maybe the early crash proved an unsubstantiated fortuitous event (though difficult to appreciate even now) thereby saving Kirk from a much worse fate than his single car smash up. Hmm.

            Kirk heard the engine roar die down on the track; his class’s practice had ended. He fired off the engine and bumped across the infield, up the bank and out the exit. Jon waited for him at the trailer. Jon appeared perplexed, maybe puzzled, possibly concerned.

            Right after Kirk killed the engine, Jon stepped up to his window. “What happened out there? It looked like the car ran all over the track, uncontrollable.”

            “It was,” Kirk succinctly said, as he crawled out. He peeled off the top of his firesuit and wrapped the loose arms around his waist. “Grab the tape measure; it should be top center of the tool box.”

            Jon spun around and headed for the van. Soon he returned tape measure in hand. Kirk wiggled the wheel to move the steering to straight ahead. Jon stood there unsure what Kirk meant to do.

            “Let’s check the toe in,” Kirk said, recalling that he/they hadn’t checked it after their repairs which included straightening the tie rod.

            Jon held one end and fed the tape under the car for Kirk to reach. Measuring it carefully on both sides at the fattest part on the rear of the front tires, Kirk read 65 and a half inches.

            “Okay, front.”

            They re positioned and remeasured. Kirk saw 65 and three-quarters inches. The car actually had toe out! An undesirable situation for sure. 

            Getting the correct open-end wrenches and vise grips, Kirk quickly loosened the jam nuts on each side of the tie rod. Then clamped the vise grips on the rod. First, he twisted the rod the wrong way (of course) which would shorten the rod and make it worse. Then, he refocused to twist it the other way lengthening the rod. He gave it two revolutions.

            “Let’s re-measure.” They repeated the operation coming up with a bit more than 66 in the back and 65 and a half in the front. Close. Meanwhile, Kirk kept his ears peeled to see if he’d make it to the next and last practice of the night. The Mini-stocks were out, Late Models next. He hurried some more. He gave it another revolution. Re-measuring, they got 66 and a half in the back with 65 and quarter in front. Close enough! He tightened the jam nuts up as the Late Models went out. They called his class to line up. He picked up the wrenches from the ground and handed them to Jon; he pulled on his fire suit and crawled into the cockpit. He backed out and headed to the gate. It seemed his entire class was lined up. It would be crowded out there. Kirk hoped that his car would go straight enough to prevent a wreck.

            After a few minute wait, the entrance gate swung open. Kirk took a deep breath and if he could have he would have crossed his fingers as he rose up over that track lip. He rolled around the third and fourth turns slowly, one of the last cars in the practice. He thought, so far, that car handled better. He speeded up enough to stay with the pack of cars which wasn’t all that fast on the coasting slow lap. Like usual the green flag dropped on the next lap. Kirk, being conservative, cautious, didn’t bear down on the accelerator and so those few cars behind him passed him pretty quickly.

            Kirk breathed a little easier that his car wasn’t wandering all over the track like before, but he still was not 100 percent convinced that his car was okay. For a couple laps, he slowly increased his speed, but remained low on the track to stay out of the way of the other drivers as unsure as he felt of the car. He knew that practice time was limited, so after the hot shots went past him saw a break in his mirror. He stepped down, not hard but enough to pick up some ground speed. The car shot straight as an arrow down the straight, but going into the turn, where he thought was his desired groove the car wallowed and protested, so he muscled the car around the turns to keep from being hit. He knew the car suffered from massive understeer. Understeer is when a car, when pushed in a turn, wants to go straight instead of turning as desired. Neutral steering is preferred, but oversteering is better than understeer and that is when the rear of the car is loose and wants to spin around to kiss the front as they say. Something else was wrong.  Going into this day, Kirk assumed there would be handling issues, but this seemed more serious than he had anticipated. Always the case.

            With a checkered flag hung out, practice laps for the night were done. Kirk and his class “mates” filed out. He thought that he could indeed race his car the way it sat, but he sure wouldn’t be competitive and he definitely couldn’t tap into his new horsepower. Should he tweak his suspension? Yep, he decided as he pulled in behind his trailer. Jon waited off to the side. When Kirk killed the engine, Jon approached his window.

            “Well, the car definitely looked better out there,” Jon said. “Why didn’t you push it harder?”

            Kirk climbed out. “I had to fight with it on the turns, it is understeering horribly.”

            He looked at the rubber travel indicator on the left front shock. He kicked himself for forgetting to reset before going out. He pointed, “Look how much travel we have on the right compared to what, almost no travel on the left. We need to wedge this thing back into submission.”

            Reference to wedging a car’s suspension harks back to the early days of stock car racing. Back then with solid axles the racers actually used steel wedges to change the axle’s angle by positioning the wedge in the mounts and moving it according to the desired adjustment. With Kirk’s era, racers installed heavy single bolts on each corner of the suspension, so a racer can crank pressure on the corners either up and down as need. Anyway, the term endured despite the change in hardware.  

            Kirk pondered the situation, which he had plenty of time to do because practice laps were still going on for the two more classes. Getting the large deep socket, a seven-eighths to be exact, Kirk carefully counted two clockwise revolutions on the right front which added weight, pressure on that corner. On the left front, he turned one rev counterclockwise, removing weight. On the left rear, he decided to leave it neutral, but he added one clockwise turn on both the left and the right, his thinking being that he needed to shift some weight, however minuscule, to the front.

            Kirk did think of Sarah Elizabeth sitting alone in the spectator stands, but he didn’t want to lose focus on the races he was about to partake in. He turned to look in that direction and saw that the stands were filling up nicely. A good, early season crowd. He squinted as the sun sat just above the distant tree line. It would be twilight within the hour and nightfall in time for the feature events. He wondered how many people had come in hopes of some good crashes. Kirk vowed not to be one of those.

            Time for Kirk wasn’t moving briskly along probably due to his underlying excitement. He didn’t have any tinkering to do on the car, so fidgeted around, he walked here and there. He saw a lot of mechanics working on the cars with some appearing to be feverishly working like they had serious problems to rectify. Kirk made a casual loop around the pits waving to a couple of fellow racers as he strolled. Pretty much a rule as Kirk interpreted things, racers weren’t ones to be social and good ole buddies with each other. Maybe after the races, some might get together to have a few beers, but Kirk didn’t mix like that so he kept to himself because he had always been a loner.

            Eventually, he made his way around to the posting board. His adrenaline spiked a bit when he saw the starting line ups posted. How the officials decide the grid for the first race, Kirk hadn’t a clue. His eyes went automatically to the second heat because he had always started in the second heat, being made up of the slower cars of his class. No Kirk Biscuit posted. Now his mind registered shock that they had perhaps forgotten him, just for a second though, because he saw his name on the first heat. There he sat in amongst the frontrunners, well, actually behind the frontrunners sitting fourth from the back. Yep, he planned on a Consolation Race after the heat because he sure was not going to place in the top eight with these guys because they would surely advance to the feature. Last season, Kirk would think being relegated to the Consolation after the Heat gave him more track time, more practice!

            Feeling kind of ready for his heat, Kirk thought about the present season. Yeah, after the crash you might say his excitement balloon had deflated. Still, here he was just heading into his first race.  So, he just sat back for the two Late Model races trying to sort out his focus for the heat until the Late Model consolation heat went out and they called for Kirk’s class. Out of fourteen cars he sat twelfth which put him on the outside. As he crawled in and Jon wished him good luck, Kirk wondered about the green car curse of all negative things he could possibly contemplate before a race. He delayed a bit before heading for the entry gate so he wouldn’t have to sit and wait for his slot to develop or shuffle around to fit in. At least he learned that operation last year as a first-year rookie.

            Soon enough, the Late Models filed out and after the winner runner with the checkered headed out as well his class started onto the track. Kirk’s hands wrung the steering wheel after he slid the transmission into first. He eased out the clutch to tail a new yellow Falcon onto the track. The filtered sun shone through the tree tops and hit him right in the eyes as he rose up over that lip on the edge of the track. His old competitor Bob with an orange coupe sat beside him. Kirk beat him last year, but who knows what drivers do their cars over the winter? Around the third and fourth turns the cars stretched out. Kirk thought the number of cars seemed intimidating and this was a heat! The flagman had the yellow flag out which meant that they’d probably go two laps to bunch up. As they headed into the first turn, Kirk could see the front cars slowed so the large gaps closed up. Kirk shifted into second, his racing gear.  

                    As they came back around, the frontrunners out front stuck their index fingers out their windows. Another pace lap, Kirk watched the guys around him front and back wondering if any of them seemed especially antsy, but he couldn’t see anybody itching to push hard or aggressively rev their engines raring to go. Up ahead, he saw those frontrunners in the first rows swerving back and forth to warm their tires. Kirk in his rear of the pack position didn’t feel the need nor did those around him. After the additional pace lap, the flagman gave the white flag. Here we go!

            The pace quickened, not quite race pace, but enough to make all the drivers, Kirk included, pay closer attention to those around them. He heard the other cars, but his loud side exiting exhaust almost drowned them out on the left side. With one eye on the car in front of him and one eye on the signal light as they rounded the third turn, he saw the light flash green as the front guys passed it. The engine noise increased exponentially as the speed escalated. Initially, the guy in front of Kirk and the car beside him pulled away as well. Kirk wasn’t napping, but he wasn’t sure how the car would handle around the turns so Kirk steeled himself and gripped the wheel prepared for the worse. He drove around the turns pretty much right in his desired groove. He felt better about the feel so he eased down on that big aluminum footprint accelerator not all that way, but he caught and stayed with his closest competitors around him. As he stayed with them for a couple laps, easily Bob in the orange coupe slid behind him. He dropped in. Either Kirk went faster or the other guys slowed down. Unlikely.

            He picked up his pace still white knuckling the wheel, gritting his teeth, laser focused to the cars shuffling about ahead. One car down, but three more to pass to make the feature. He felt more powerful, faster than last year, but the handling just wasn’t there so any headway he made on the straights he lost on turns. He came up behind a red car. On the straights he could nearly touch his bumper but the other car pulled away on the turns. Kirk hung on wondering if he backed off on the turns subconsciously recalling his crash and/or the poor handling during practice. Snap out of it Kirk, become one with your car! He’d press his luck, going into the turn following the red car braking only gently after braking harder before. He lost only a little distance behind the other car through the turn so he punched the gas hard coming out of the turn and tried diving below the other car. He gained on the car to pull halfway beside. Even a bit harder going into the next turn, Kirk felt the front tires lose a bit of grip and reactively eased down a little harder on the brakes. He kept his front wheels down in front of his competitor so coming out of the turn with a full floored throttle, Kirk pulled away.

            Yeah, he now adored his car. With the number of laps dwindling, a now speedy Kirk came up behind a blue Nova. Kirk thought there were three laps left. Maybe, maybe not. With a clear space of two car lengths, Kirk could use the whole track and he used it wisely going high then low, accelerating early, braking late, he made up the space in two laps. He guessed the lap numbers correctly when the white flag flew on front straightaway. He went wide into the first turn and then dove deep shooting for the less than a car width space between the other car and the infield. Kirk pushed and hoped the slot would open up more. Coming out of the second turn, the slot opened. Kirk stuck his front wheel up there tight, right next to the other car a paper’s thickness between the cars. On the straight, he inched up to midway on the other car going into the third turn. Kirk thought it might be too damn fast to hold and the front would wash out forcing him to back off, but it didn’t and he didn’t. Beside the other car, Kirk went round like stuck hard on rails heading for the checkered flag that someone else had won, though Kirk had the front of his car well past the other gaining another place. He knew that he had to race the Consolation Heat to try for the feature, but he felt this heat played out as a spirited fight to the finish. He let out his breath and coasted out the gate. He headed to his parking space.

            When Kirk killed his loud engine, Jon stepped over to his window.

            “You’re up for the consolation race,” Jon said with an expression of concern because Kirk usually just circled back after his heat race and waited for the consolation, so this by Kirk was uncharacteristic.

            Hurriedly unbuckling his harness with his helmet already off, “I know I’m racing again. Would you grab the wrenches for the wedging?”

            “Sure, just a sec,” Jon said, trotting away.

            Kirk crawled out his window, feet first of course, and eyed up his front suspension. Actually checking his shock absorber travel indicators he saw they were as far as he suspected seeing he had subjected the suspension to some hard turns. He wondered about it as Jon returned wrenches in hand. He deliberated his heat race: Yeah, the handling was better, but those times he really pushed…yeah, it understeered. He told Jon as much, as he put the wrenches to the big adjusting screw because he didn’t have a ton of time. The second heat was in progress and the consolation competitors were lining up. He just went ahead putting one clockwise turn on the right and a half counterclockwise turn on the left. His hands shook in his rush, but he double-checked to make sure they locked down tight. He crawled back into the car, buckled in, slipped his helmet on, and took off, definitely going faster than the pit speed limit.

            The second heat still roared on as Kirk pulled up to the waiting area of the entry gate. He hadn’t taken the time to check the board for the consolation race grid, but he reminded himself that it wouldn’t be up until after the second heat. The gate steward gave him the kill engine sign slice across the neck. Within a couple minutes, the roar of the heat died down and the losers filed up. Of course, red number 39 won again just like last year. After a couple more minutes someone hustled the grid line up to the gate steward. After a massive rearrangement, which usually occurs because of the short period of time between the last heat and the consolation race, Kirk drove into the number four slot in the grid.

            This race, eight laps, is shorter than the heats so drivers have to make their moves quickly before the checkered drops. In this particular race, only the top three go to the feature so knowingly, Kirk only has to pass one car and maintain third. As they rolled on to the track with Kirk being high on the bank, he could make out the cars in front of him: no frontrunners, but the three cars in front of him were usual mid-pack runners. Kirk didn’t have a plan of attack except he wished he sat in third or even fifth down lower on the track putting him closer to his groove. He’d have to play what he was dealt as they might say at a card table, but this was hard-core stock car race not Crazy Eights!  With an eerie inkling, he checked his panoramic rear-view mirror thinking that a frontrunner might have jumped on the back in the last second. Relieved, he didn’t recognize any bona fide front-of-the-pack runners back there.  

            They rounded the track and just for luck, Kirk went high on the bank and started to swerve back and forth even though he often scoffed at drivers who did this so-called tire warming ritual. Did it help? He had no experience or hard data to approve or disprove the ritual. Surprising him on the front straight, the white flag flew. No extra warm up lap. Kirk tucked in tight to the orange car in front of him. The car next to him revved his engine over and over for some unknown reason. Intimidation? Kirk didn’t look. Around the first and second turns, the pace increased on the back straight. Kirk caught the light switch to green out of the corner of his excellent peripheral vision. Up ahead, the flagman held the green flag out as their pace increased and hit the front straight the flagman vigorously waved the flag.

            Kirk fed the engine throttle almost to the floor causing him to come up fast on the orange car’s bumper. Instinctively, he spiked the brake. Going into the turn, the rear of the car felt light and slippery just like when he used to slide and do donuts in the parking lots or with his field car. There it didn’t matter if the rear washed out and he spun, but here on the track it could be disaster or at least places lost. He hung on losing a bit on the orange car and the car beside him getting almost a car length ahead of him. That wouldn’t do! On the track, things happen fast! They say when you have an accident time slows, maybe so, but on the track, in the thick of competition things happen fast. Awfully fast! The car beside him slightly wobbled just like Kirk had done. Kirk comprehended in his speedy mind that he could use the knowledge to his advantage. Is Kirk’s car handling better or worse than that car?  He’ll see.

            Kirk stayed with him but instantly decided that wouldn’t do in this short race. Going fast on the straight, he dove into the turn hard coming up on the orange car quickly, too quick maybe, but trying to look menacing if the guy looked in his mirror. Kirk thought he was going to smack him in the bumper, but he just missed and didn’t have to brake because the rear of the orange car washed out, so Kirk saw the side of the other car. He eased left, lower in the turn and went right past him. Now in third, good enough finish for a feature start Kirk could have had a wide-open track in front of him, but the second-place car had pulled up beside the first car. Two cars side by side are nearly impossible to pass on the outside if the inside car stays low and he was. For another lap, those two cars duked it out back and forth. Kirk wondered if they were just screwing around with him trailing behind or just playing with each other for fun. He thought that he had some juice (horsepower) over the two cars at the rate they went around the track. He briefly tried going high, up in the marbles they say, because it’s slippery and even though Kirk’s car hung on, the stock car driver Kirk didn’t like going the long way ‘round.

            Kirk tried intimidating the cars like he did the orange car driver, but they didn’t react. He consigned himself to a third-place finish which isn’t bad on the first night of racing. Were they messing round with two laps to go? Kirk backed off a car’s length. It seemed to him that the other two cars backed off as well. This pissed Kirk off. He assumed they were just putting in laps. Keeping a laser focus on the inside car, he went up as high as he dared up next to the guardrail which was okay on the straight. I have brakes, Kirk thought, I might have to use ‘em. He dove deep into the turn, hard, fast, and he hung on. If he timed it just right… The inside car left a gap, not quite a car width to the infield dirt. Kirk aimed for it. With a scrape of bumpers as he snuck in with his left wheels kicking up dust, Kirk only saw daylight ahead. With a bang! His back bumper scraped the other guy’s front, but Kirk stayed on the gas with a vacant track all his own with the white flag out for HIM!  He saw the real slowpokes up ahead, but they wouldn’t get in his way in one lap. Running his desired groove, he went high and low on one, two three, fourth turns.

            Checkered flag for Kirk! The first ever! Did this mean there wasn’t a curse like Kirk had hoped all the while?

            Kirk’s head went into orbit. The gate opened for the also rans but Kirk, the winner, drove right past it. Pulling up and stopping on the straight in front of all those spectators right next to the flagman who now stood on the track. He held it out for Kirk to grab. With the other hand, he shifted to first, and motored on slowly in first gear with the checkered flag flapping as he held it high outside his window. Kirk couldn’t be prouder of himself. He wondered what Sarah thought at that moment as he circled the track. Stopping on the straight again, the official photographer quickly let off a flash photo of Kirk with the checkered flag.

             Later on when he saw the photo with the tire print and damage on the side of his car,  he felt good to leave the badge of honor and evidence that the green car had returned from the dead. No funeral to attend after his humiliating crash like what had been said after the incident.

            The whole track sat empty as Kirk went around the track heading back to the pits. It felt awesome to be on vacant track with his car sounding loud and vicious. Kirk relished the glory which was what it was all about after all or was it the thrill of the chase? No one looked up from their own business when Kirk bumped through the pits, but Jon waited by the van. After killing the engine, Jon came over and stuck his hand through the window.

            “Congratulation, Kirk! Good, hard driving out there,” Jon said.

            “Thanks. I just saw that small opening and went for it. Didn’t know if I’d make it, but the car seemed faster than those guys,” Kirk said, before crawling out. He stood there a moment. He turned back to the car. “I think the car is set up pretty much perfectly right now. I can’t say if we should touch it.”

            “Right. The car looked good under speed except when you went high on the bank.”

            “Yeah, I did that against my better judgement and the car got squirrely like I expected.”

            Kirk peeled the top of his fire suit down. “Want to head over to the stands for a while?”

            “Yeah, sure. Let’s go,” Jon said, with a gesture.

            The sun had already dropped below the horizon as twilight surrounded the coliseum of speed. The Chargers ripped and crashed around the track though a lot slower than Kirk’s class and a lot messier. It seemed like a hike over to the stands with the big oval track in the way so they had to hoof it around the north end and then wait at the pit entrance. The Charger class still banged and bashed away on the track totally more impolite than the almost gentlemanly way of Kirk’s class. Kirk knew where Sarah E. usually liked to sit, but still, there were a lot of people attending these first races of the year.

            You have to remember that this was the heyday of American stock car racing and since NASCAR had taken over the two tracks there seemed to be a lot more buzz in the papers, radio and TV.  Besides, last season, Kirk’s first year of racing, NASCAR must have footed the bill to pave the two tracks making them faster and more attractive than the backwoods dirt tracks they had been for decade before.

            As Kirk and Jon slowly moved across in front of the stands they scanned for Sarah. Kirk paused a few moments on the walkway near the end of the front straight into the first turn. He didn’t see her at first until all of sudden she stood and waved with a big smile. Kirk returned the wave. They made their way up to her and other people made room for them. He wasn’t holding his breath over it, but he had hoped for a little, just a bit, of recognition from the crowd on his way up the eight levels of seats, but there wasn’t anything said.

            “Holy smokes, Kirk! Congratulations, you,” Sarah said enthusiastically.  She gave him a hug and  smack on the cheek. They sat down holding hands.

            Some guy with a beer lofted said. “Uncle Kirk! Way to go, good drivin’ out there man. I thought you were gonna’ wreck it sneakin’ through there low. Nice.” He lofted his beer and took  big swig. Kirk just smiled and said “thanks.”

                Kirk noticed something pinned to Sarah’s shirt. He had to speak up over the noisy Chargers out on the track and the crowd around them. “Hey, what’s  this? A Richard button?”

            “No, look. I saw it and couldn’t resist.” She held it out for him to see. It was a picture of him and his car on a button.

            Kirk was lost for pertinent words. “Well. Wow! I didn’t expect to see that. I thought they just had paper photos. Cool.”

            “Want anything from the food stand,” Jon asked, after taking a look at the button.

            “Ah, I don’t think so, I’m good.”

            Jon departed and Sarah offered him her watered-down Coke. He took a couple sips as he watched the Charger heats transpire.

            “So. Wow. Won  a heat and made the feature on the first night. You must have fixed the car pretty well.”

            The high intensity track lights instantly lit everything with a brighter than the sun brilliance. The stands went quiet for a few moments to take it in. Kirk blinked and a couple people put their heads down because of the glare.

            Not one to make a big thing about anything he had ever done. “Yeah, Jon did a good job on the repairs, but we really had to tweak, you know, adjust the suspension a lot after practice.”

            “Hmm, hmm. It did look a little unstable out there at first but really ran great in the Consolation.” She paused with a serious expression. “So. Are you going to win the feature Mister Speed?”

            Kirk gave her the ‘are you kidding’ expression and after a moment he decided to say it. “Are you kidding? You see how fast those top guys go? I can’t beat them, no way.”

            “You need to be more positive, Kirk,” Sarah said before sitting back with a smug look.

            “No matter how positive I might make myself, it won’t substitute good old horsepower and the money to make it.” He said facing the track looking grim and unconfident. Jon came back in a few minutes with food and two drinks.

            He held one out to Kirk. “Here, have one, you need it for the long feature.”

            At that point of looking at Jon’s double-fisted drinks Kirk couldn’t disagree with him even though he had a couple sips of Sarah’s. Kirk had forgotten how long the feature races were compared to the heats especially if there were crashes.

            “Hey, thanks.”

            So they sat there mostly in silence other than the noise on the track. They sat through the Charger and Mini-stock heats and part of intermission. Kirk bid Sarah a goodbye and she wished a good luck adding that he can beat all the others in his class. Kirk just gave her a grim non-confident look with a slow shake of his head to the negative.

             He and Jon headed back to the pits with a lot of the other drivers and mechanics returning that had wandered over to the stands as well.  It seemed to Kirk that since the heats, they all had sort of an anxious edge to their demeanor. Kirk didn’t realize that he didn’t notice because he was the same.

            Making their way around the end of the track across the dimly illuminated lawn even with the brightly lit high banked turn high above their heads shining on the track. They headed directly to the posting board. The lighting in the pits seemed good enough to get around, but not good enough for any fine tuning or the like.

            Yeah, all the feature race grids were posted with small spot lights illuminating the board. Kirk held his breath but deep down, he knew just winning the consolation wouldn’t put him starting in the top 10. A couple guys lingered in front of his class’s board blocking his view thereby increasing Kirk’s impatience. When they finally cleared out, Kirk had a good look at the board. Fourteenth out of a twenty-car starting lineup. He silently turned to Jon who just shrugged. Just like he expected, and as usual, Kirk had to turn back to the board to confirm what he had just read. Yeah. Okay. They made their way back to the car and rig as the Late Models rumbled through the pits to line up for their feature.      

            Kirk felt nervous, anxious predicting impossible to predict racing scenarios and outcomes. Like most things in his life, Kirk would plan ahead in his mind how things could play out but when actually living the situation they usually played out entirely different. So, knowing there was no way to plan a racing strategy, he sat waiting. The Late Model feature roared on. Glints off the cars caught Kirk’s eyes through the caps in the guardrails as the cars rushed around in otherwise blurs. Kirk reminded himself that competing in a feature wasn’t something he’d never done before because he was in one feature last season. Of course, that whole race now remined only a blur in his memory like the cars on the track except he remembered coming in third�"to the last. At least he wasn’t last, eh? Kirk had reminded himself when gassing up this time of that one feature race when he worried the entire race that he’d run out of fuel. That would be an embarrassing outcome for sure, one predicted or postulated at least.  

            Even though they hadn’t called for his class to line up at the gate, the usual frontrunning drivers headed over there like the car in his class made out of cash, the red number 39. Of course, all those guys start in the front. Seeing he sat to the rear of the grid, there was no need for him to hurry. Hiding his nervousness, he acted like another day in the office. Kirk casually pulled his fire suit up, zipped it and secured the Velcro at cuffs and ankles. Wearing a fire suit, of course, was mandatory though a fire during a wreck wasn’t something Kirk dwelled on. Then also, he didn’t worry, as much as before that is, about crashing into the rail because, hey! he had already done that.

            He moseyed to his car’s window just as they announced his class to line up. Jon gave him a thumbs up. Kirk returned the gesture. After buttoning all up, he backed out and headed to quickly increasing line of cars. Even when he wasn’t in the feature, the sheer number of cars competing seemed intimidating. The line stretched out in a long arc into the pits. Two stewards walked down the line to tell the drivers where they sat in the grid. Kirk knew that he’d be on the outside seemingly as usual so he nodded and said “got it! when the steward checked with him. Kirk had already known, but it actually steamed him a bit that the orange car driver he knew now as Kevin he beat in the Consolation race sat on the inside of the track beside him. He shook his head. Sometimes it didn’t seem fair. Ofttimes.

            He saw the six cars sitting behind. Maybe I should just stay out of trouble don’t push and be happy to stay ahead of them, he thought.

            Despite the rumbling of his class’s idling engines, he could still discern the roar of the Late Models, but soon it died down. Show time! With the actual realization of imminent battle, Kirk’s heart rate jumped up a few notches. He knew that he followed blue car’s driver Bob and sat next to orange car’s driver Kevin, but his philosophy tended to be was that you didn’t want to know your competition personally so your on-track tactics and stratagems would remain impersonal.

            The losing Late Model cars rumbled out and after a couple minutes the winner exited as well. They opened the entry gate and Kirk took a deep breath. Slowly the long line of cars filed onto the track. By the time Kirk got up on the high edge of the track he could see the cars snaked around the entire third and four turns. A lot of cars, Kirk thought, seeing he was used to maybe a third of the number in the heat races. As he went into the turn he went high as the drivers on the outside grid lane needed to do to let the inside lane take their position. In a lap, the grid had, more or less, taken correct form. Kirk saw the flagman point at one driver and gestured for him to take another position. That slowed and jumbled up the grid for a good lap until they closed up the gaps again. The flagman held out the white one lap flag out and seeing none of the hot dog drivers held up a finger in protest meant they’d go on the next lap. Picking up a little speed on the back straight Kirk saw the green light come on.

            The frontrunners in front accelerated full speed though it took a few moments for gaps to develop back to Kirk’s fourteen position for them to get up to speed. He felt ready to stomp on the gas, but he gingerly eased down instead as the pace didn’t immediately quicken to race speed. Kirk had already white knuckled his grip on the wheel and pressed back and down in his form-fitting bucket seat. The orange car actually dropped back a bit from next to Kirk while the blue car in front of him moved a bit faster. Kirk just stayed where he was and wondered if all the drivers around him decided, like him, to play it a bit conservative. Around and around they went for a few laps and gaps opened and closed but nobody really “went for it” including Kirk. When the side by cars in front of him went low and tight Kirk eyed the third lane, but he knew he couldn’t hang on as well as where he ran right then. Almost getting into a brain-glazing routine which is a bad thing during a race, the yellow light flashed on and the pace slowed fast and he saw a couple guys touch bumpers up ahead trying to slowdown. Kirk stayed intact and untouched.

            As they rounded the turns two cars sat askew straddling the track infield edge. One car emitted a cloud of steam. Kirk saw a puddle on the track that ran down the bank like, unfortunately, he recalled from his own crash. The cars cruised around until the red light came on. Everyone stopped behind the flagman stand. Kirk saw the cleaning squad truck run up to the puddled corner. Like the Keystone Cops the men jumped out quickly and went to work spreading speedi-dri on the puddle. Meanwhile, the two wrecked cars were dragged off the track. Kirk knew what would come next. The cleaners pulled off and the yellow light came on. Yeah, they made some slow laps until most of the Speedi-Dri had blown off.

            After a white flag lap, they got the green which means…they were off again. Kirk sat in exactly the same position as before except, he wasn’t sure of this, but he assumed twelfth because of the two cars that crashed. One way to make progress through the pack, but not the way Kirk would feel right about passing cars. Kirk wasn’t sure how many laps had passed. He couldn’t be sure if the coasting laps counted or not, but it suddenly hit him that the race must be half over and he hasn’t made any real progress by his ability anyway.

            The pack stretched out again and the blue car in front of Kirk dropped in front of the orange car beside him. Kirk wanted to push so he stayed high above the groove and hung on for dear life. He edged by the orange car on one end of the track and the car felt good. He stayed on the throttle on the turns, but gingerly knowing that any sudden turns or brakes could put him into a tailspin. Blue car knew he was coming around acting “protective.” The other car stayed low enough on the turns to keep Kirk from diving down past him like the heat. Kirk eased up beside him on the straight and tried diving low but there was no gap for him to pass. He eased off again to try to feign an attempt to pass, but he went high on the straight and dove hard. Kirk timed it perfectly to still have momentum coming out of the turn when the other car rose up for the straight Kirk stuck his front next to the other car and hung on instead backing off. He thought the rear end might slide out, but it stuck and he had the place. With a couple lengths to the next car, Kirk pushed in his perfect groove making up the space in two laps. Just when he was about to make a move high on the track, he saw the dreaded blue with a yellow stripe. The car in front of him dropped and hugged the inside of the track and Kirk followed suit.

            Yeah, cash car 39 passed them both rather quietly and smoothly like a grandpa out for a casual Sunday drive. Kirk knew the other frontrunners wouldn’t be far behind, but Kirk tried to get around the next car, but he got the move over flag again. His race was over now. Spending the rest of the couple laps in a slow lane following the move over flag’s command, Kirk just followed the other car with the blue car doing the same behind him. He let his breath and relaxed when the white flag dropped. What else could he do?

                   Back in the pits, Jon greeted him at the trailer and Kirk drove right up the ramps and killed the engine. He held the brake for Jon to secure the front chain cinch.

            Pulling off his helmet, Kirk experienced surprise of how sweaty and matted down his head felt. He crawled out.

            “Tough going out there, huh?” Jon said seriously. After a second of no response from Kirk, he added. “It wasn’t from you not trying quite hard to make headway.”

            “Yeah, maybe I should have tried harder at the start and the restart…” He let it hang with a shrug. “Well, it’s early in the season, too early to go through another crash from trying too hard, you know?”

            “Yeah, let the car live for another day,” Jon said, with a little smile.

            “Like tomorrow,” Kirk added with a nod.  He couldn’t have helped himself from thinking the car should’ve been faster; I could’ve, should’ve pushed harder.  Yeah, he told himself, should’ve, could’ve, would’ve which only reminded him of Dee using those words about something after their affair that crushed his heart over and over. A whole different situation than where he stood on that day. Obviously, Kirk couldn’t, wouldn’t get over Dee.  

            So driver and mechanic cinched the car down and headed back to the spectator stands. As usual, Sarah Elizabeth voiced steady support telling him that his performance looked good out there on the track. Kirk wouldn’t comment on how it went for him in his mind, so she knew better not to push the subject.

            They shared a vinegar fry and a Coke to finish off the night at the races. Kirk collected his big winnings of six dollars for his Consolation Race win and nineth in the feature. Top ten in the feature, but definitely not good enough for Kirk. Going into racing last year, Kirk knew it wasn’t ever about the money because the pitiful payout remained really, an insult to all the time and money the racers put into their cars, though as well for them racing remained thrilling, challenging, and fun! A dangerous and irresistible pastime for sure.

            They headed home. Sunday, tomorrow was the next day of racing taking place on his favorite track. His internal motor had already begun to rev up with him all ready for his favorite pastime. Stardom lay just a day away.

            Kirk might have not been a changed guy or Never the Same after that Saturday night, but at least he now committed to another season, hopefully a more fulfilling, successful season than the last.

             I guess we’ll just have to see how it all pans out for our hapless hero, won’t we?