Page 81 of Black Flag

Itwaspersonal.

“Oh, well hell...that’s a relief, Kyle!” I shouted backat him because this was complete bullshit, and he knew it. “Not personal? It’sfucking personal to me damn it!”

Like I said, it wasn’tjust one thing that decided the outcome of a race. What they didn’t understandwas how much want I had for this. I was not a man that just settled for ataste. I wanted more. I wouldn’t settle for less. Even if it meant I wreckedtrying, that’s just the type of racer I was. NASCAR wasn’t going to take thisfrom me with some bullshit penalty. I wanted this too badly. With everything Isacrificed, I needed this to prove to myself that I wasn’t giving those thingsup for just nothing.

Ever since I waslittle, my answer to my dad’s questions of, “Do you want this?” has always beenyes. I did want this.

Around lap two hundred,I got my lap back with the help of the “lucky dog” rule (being the first car alap down) and was running thirty second. My mood hadn’t improved as I fought myway back through the traffic.

“Your lap times are—”Kyle began but I cut him off.

“Don’t tell me laptimes unless I ask.”

“Outside one...outside...at your rear...clear.”Aiden announced as I moved up to thirtieth position.

“I’m just trying tohelp—”

“You know what would bereally fucking helpful Kyle?” I growled nudging the back of Mike Tanner’s carwho failed to yield to the blue flag.

“What?” he asked justas annoyed with me as I was withhim.

“Just stop talking andlet me drive!”

That shut him up. Iknew I was being rude, but Kyle understood. He knew too what it took for us toget here. It wasn’t right nor was it respectful for me to treat him that waybut if you understood the pressures put upon us each week to win, you’dunderstand then how heated it gets.

By lap two sixty-seven,I was twentieth and gaining quickly on Tate. I passed him but then when I gotup to ninth, he caught me again and was looking for redemption.

“His brakes are reallyhot. He’s not going to make it riding your ass like that.” Kyle chuckled whenTate bumped me from behind once again.

“I know.”

“You’re holding him onpurpose, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I could pullaway anytime I want. If I keep him here...heruns his tires and brakes up. Good for me, bad for him.”

As race car drivers, welived our lives on the racetrack. We lived for each turn, each front stretch,and each back stretch. After a while, our ways of racing became our ways oflife. Other drivers understood because, given the chance, they acted in thesame manner. We pushed our luck just to gamble for the win. We played with fireuntil we got burned, and then, the following Sunday, went back to playing withthat very same fire. Everything, and I meaneverything,was acompetition. The jackass that said winning wasn’t everything had obviouslynever raced in the cup series.

For a moment, I feltbad racing Tate like that but I also knew, given the chance, he’d do the samething. It was all or nothing.

“How’s the car?” Kyleasked when the caution came out on lap three twenty nine.

“Sporty.” I repliedkeeping focus.

“Huh?”

“Sporty.”

Kyle laughed as didAiden. “Do you want to make any changes?”

“No!” I barked. “Don’ttouch a goddamn thing.”

The car really wasperfect. I could drive in hard and pass high or low.

“How’s your brake’s?”

“Good, fans are on.They’re soft but I think they’ll be fine.”

On lap three eightyfour, I passed Bobby for the lead.

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