Page 34 of Dirt Driven

“From Santa Rosa California in the Simplex Shocks and Springs PJ’s Auto Body and Carson Construction, Caden “The Kid” Carson!” Jerry announced.

“Then what is it? Are you sick?”

A sigh escaped his lips, followed quickly by a smirk when Gray picked up Knox so he could see over the wall in front of them. “What is all this worth if I can’t give it to my kids?” I didn’t say anything, unsure where he was going with it, and knowing he wasn’t finished. “This isn’t me saying enough is enough. That’s not why I race. The older you get, the closer you get to the end of your career and it’s about enjoying what you do. I love competition, but I’m no longer going to let it consume my life. I race for the people. The environment. This.” His shoulder bumped mine and for some reason, my eyes burned with tears. I knew exactly what he was referring to. This was a lifestyle. And though it wasn’t for everyone, once you were in, it was hard to separate yourself from it. “Everyone that’s here, these people chose to be here. They don’t do this because they’re being forced to. They do it because they want to. I’ve raised my family here and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

When he put it like that, I understood what he was doing. Creating a legacy. A way for this to continue, even when he wasn’t around it daily.

“Rolling onto the track now your reigning World of Outlaws champion, from Bartlett Tennessee the Solar Seals number ninety-nine of Rager Sweet.”

You could hear the crowd roar to life at the announcement of Rager on the track. My heart thumped wildly in my chest when Rager’s black and yellow sprint car shot down the front stretch. With a throaty echo bouncing off the wall, his car slid into turns one and two, his right rear up against the cushion as a layer of dust hovered in the air.

Kinsley made her way up into the stands, her cheeks bright red and sweat collecting at her temples. I reached up to help her sit down, my eyes trained on Rager and his smooth movements on the track. He even managed to avoid the dip in three that seemed to be shaving seconds off everyone’s lap times.

“Where’d Caden end up?” Unscrewing the cap to her water bottle, Kinsley chugged it, and then sighed. “I couldn’t hear the announcement over my own breathing.”

“Third quick,” I told her, typing out a Tweet for the JAR Racing page I couldn’t trust Hayden to update any longer. She got into a tweeting war with a fan over them calling Axel a lazy racer. We no longer allowed her to have any social media.

“Are you feeling okay?” Dad asked Kinsley, staring at her. “Please tell me you’re not going into labor.”

“Oh my God,” Kinsley gasped, scowling at Dad. “Why would you even suggest that?”

“You look…” He paused, as if he knew he needed to choose his words carefully. “Tired.”

Kinsley scowled, slamming her water bottle onto the bleacher next to her. “Is that your way of saying I look like shit?”

By the way, Kinsley fit in perfectly with our team.

“No.” Dad laughed when Hudson smacked the water bottle off the grandstands and to the ground twenty feet below us. “I didn’t say that. I said you look tired.”

“When’s your due date?” I asked, rubbing her back.

“Tuesday.” She grunted, trying to find a comfortable position. But let’s face it, when you were nine months pregnant, there was no such thing as getting comfortable.

My eyes widened and she frowned, blinking rapidly. “Tomorrow?”

“Lastweek,” she added, her words barely heard over the roar of Rager’s sprint car.

If I could have taken a picture of my dad’s face, I would have. It deserved to be on a poster with the words “What the fuck?” underneath it and inside the haulers.

“I thought you still had a month to go?”

“Nope. This little girl just wants to keep on cooking apparently.” Kinsley fanned herself with Dad’s hat she took from him.

“Why is everyone stealing my hats lately?” Dad motioned to the score board. “Your boy just broke the track record.”

“What?” Fuck, I hadn’t been paying attention to his qualifying run. I looked up to see the score board flashing 12.331. My heart skipped a beat. Dad held the record here at a 12.653 for the last five years. Until now.

“Fucker,” Dad grumbled as he stood up, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely disappointed by it.

And then just as quickly, Jerry’s voice coming through the speakers above us in the pit bleachers. “Quick tiiiiime, at a twelve point thirty-three one. 12.331 for Rager Sweet your quick qualifier by bouncing the right rear off the wall!”

Oh, thank God!He needed a win so bad. I’d never been so happy to hear those words come from Jerry and I bet Rager would be too. I couldn’t wait to get down to his pit to congratulate him. There were still ten more cars to qualify, but something told me he’d hold onto this.

Dad stole his hat back from Kinsley and put it on his head backward. “Keep that baby inside tonight.”

“It’s not like I plan on having her at a track,” she told him, holding Hudson on her hip as we made our way from the pit bleachers.

I handed the kids off to Rosa and Lily, who took them back to the motor home for dinner. I went with Kinsley to the pits, watching her waddle. “Are you sure you’re okay? No labor pains?”

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