Page 33 of Dirt Driven

Dad and I stood next to the mule as he rummaged through tools. “I’m taking bets down on whether or not he destroys this car too. You in?” His eyes slide to mine, and I knew this was his way of trying to avoid the conversation I wanted to have.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did. I got fifty that he wads it up.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Rager grumbled, bumping my shoulder again as he carried his steering wheel from the hauler.

Dad leaned into the mule with his shoulder. “Oh, I have confidence in you.” He smirked, winking at me. “And my cars, but that track is brutal tonight.”

He was right. They hadn’t seen rain here in months and the track showed it. They worked it all morning, but I had a feeling with the winds today, it’d be dried up after the heats.

I shoved my hand into Dad’s stomach. “I’m not talking about the track or betting on my husband. I’m talking aboutyou—” I paused and jammed my finger in his side. “—not tellingmeyou gave him partial ownership.”

“I didn’t give it to him.” Dad’s eyes, void of apprehension for his decision, landed on Rager as he leaned inside the car. “He earned it.”

I couldn’t be mad at his decision, because like it or not, it was my dad’s to make. And two, he was absolutely right. Rager had earned it. Since he was fifteen years old, he’d been working for my dad. For half his life now he’d dedicated everything to making JAR Racing what it was today.

But it still didn’t explain why Dad had chosen now to do this. I watched him carefully, trying to decipher if he looked sick. He didn’t. In fact, he appeared relaxed. As though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Rager straightened his posture and gave the car one last look before he made his way over to me. Circling his arm around my shoulder, he kissed my temple when Dad disappeared inside the hauler. “Still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad.” I shrugged one shoulder and tucked my cell phone in the back pocket of my shorts. “Surprised is more like it.”

A sigh fell from his lips. “Disappointed?”

Twisting in his arms, I faced him, my hands on his hips. “Maybe a little. I just thought this was something we would have talked about.”

“We should have and I’m sorry about that.” His eyes drifted to his car. “And I fully intend to make it up to you tonight. Hopefully I don’t fuck this car up too.”

I wanted to believe his promises, but something told me that while he had the best of intentions, it was out of his control what happened the rest of the night. I knew if he won, his mood would be adrenaline-filled and relieved.

If he lost, he’d be contemplative and borderline obsessed with what he was doing wrong.

Running this grueling schedule was just as much about getting in the right head space as it was being competitive. While Rager could wheel a race car around a track with the best of them, his mental game was off and I had no idea why.

Blistering – Racing tires when they overheat. The top layer of rubber comes off in small chunks.

Before I knew it, the sun was beginning to fall in the sky and time trials had started. Seated in the pit bleachers with Knox, Gray, Jacen and Pace near the fence line, we watched as each car took their shot at trying to set fast time.

“Get back away from that fence,” Dad yelled at them when they kept creeping closer with every car on the track. I knew what would happen if they got closer. The officials would stop qualifying until they backed up.

With his elbows resting on his knees, Dad leaned forward and reached for Hudson before he took a dive on the wooden bleachers he was trying to climb down. He caught him by his shirt just before he slipped. “Boy.” Trapping him, he wrapped his arms around Hudson’s chest from behind and pinned his arms to his sides. Digging his fingers into his sides, he tickled him. “You better stop trying to nose-dive.”

Hudson squirmed in his arms, hating to be constrained. “No, no, no!” he screamed, his face red with anger and arching his body in an attempt to wiggle free.

Smiling at them arguing, I appreciated my dad being here to watch over the kids with me. “When do you go out?”

Dad glanced back at the pits behind us and adjusted his hat backward before Hudson took it from him. “About ten minutes. I should get down there in a minute.” The guys had already lined dad’s car up, but he wanted to catch Caden and Rager on the track.

“Why are you really giving up full ownership?” I asked Dad, wondering if he’d directly answer the question. I asked Mom earlier today but she never gave an answer either. She’d simply smiled and said, “Ask your dad.”

For a long time, he stared at the boys and Gray, and then his eyes lifted to the track.

“Are you retiring from racing? Is that why?” When Dad walked away from NASCAR, it was after Grandpa Jimi died at Knoxville. What would make him walk away now?

With a sigh, he leaned back and let go of Hudson. He stayed where he was, in between Dad’s legs, holding onto him as he watched Caden qualify. In the distance, I could see Kinsley down by the track, one hand on her stomach, the other nervously fidgeting with her braid on her shoulder.

“I’m not retiring,” Dad finally said, his words muffled by the roar of Caden’s car sliding through turns three and four.

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