Borderline

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Starting a new company can be more than dangerous.
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TxRad
TxRad
5,918 Followers

Phil Hinagin was a crabby, sour old man with a mean temper and no love for anyone or anything human. His one redeeming quality was his magical touch on a sprint car. He could make a sixteen hundred pound, eight hundred horsepower monster act tame and drive like a dream. Well, most of the time anyway.

The maroon and white number 72 bounced and rocked as it came down the rough dirt pit road. The driver was speeding in the crowded pits and the nose of the car was aimed straight at Phil. Billy Harper, the driver wasn't happy, not happy at all. The push was back from earlier and the car was a handful to say the least.

The car didn't slide to a stop but it only missed by a hair's breath. The same could be said about Phil's shins and the bumper. Billy blipped the throttle to clean the plugs and to clear any loading up and then killed the engine. The sudden quiet was sharp and clean.

"This piece of junk drives like a pig on roller skates," Billy yelled as Phil walked by and knelt by the left rear tire.

"You worry about driving, I'll fix the car," Phil said as he felt of the wide surface of the tire. Without another word, he rose to his feet and walked around the rear of the car. The right rear tire was even wider and taller than the left rear. He felt of it, it was cooler across the whole surface.

He checked the right front and then the left front. Walking over to the side of the car, he leaned over and shook his head. "It ain't the car. With this tacky, heavy track, you've got to drive it in harder. I've got it set up tight so it'll be just right when the track dries out and gets slick at the end of the feature."

"If I drive it in any harder, I'll be in the second row of the grandstands," Billy yelled. "I should have won that heat race, going away. Maybe you should drive and I'll mechanic."

Phil gave Billy a sour look and shook his head. "These damned things just aren't safe and anyway, I'm not crazy. You have to be crazy to be a driver. Like I said, I've got this thing set up for the feature. Just hang onto the leaders for the first half and then she'll come on like gangbusters."

Billy slumped in the seat and relaxed. A slight nod of his head was the only reply he gave or was needed. He trusted Phil where the car was concerned. He had to or this whole deal would never work.

Starting his own racecar shop and frame line would pay off in the long run, if he could win in his own equipment. That's where Phil came in. He was probably the winningest crew chief in the business but everyone considered him too old fashioned and over the hill. Billy hoped they were wrong.

Billy stayed in the car. He had learned early working with Phil that, that was the best place for him. Phil had his ways and hated for anyone to get things screwed up. He did everything exactly the same every time. He never hurried.

Phil checked the tire pressures and then pulled the hood to check the oil and water. He replaced the hood and walked back to the side of the car. He reached in and pushed the tachometer button. 9700 RPM was the max it showed. With a nod, Phil said, "At least you did one thing I told you, you saved on the motor."

Billy nodded. At close to forty grand for the 410 cubic inch small block, he had better save it. He only had the one in the car and the backup in the truck, there wasn't money enough for another if he blew them up. He had everything he owned invested in this business.

Phil pushed the button again to reset it and then sighed. "She's the best I can do with her, now it's up to you and lady luck."

Second in the fast heat race put him starting seventh. Not bad considering there were seventeen cars behind him and another hundred and twenty-five going home early. Just getting into the "A" Main was something to brag about at one of these shows. If the car was good enough, set up tight to get this far then maybe he did have a chance to win.

"How much longer?" He asked Phil as Phil returned from refueling the car.

Phil looked around for a moment. "Four or five more laps in the "B" Main."

Billy nodded and worked his shoulders against the safety harness. He used his feet and hands to push himself deeper into the seat. Then he checked the tightness of each strap. He never could get them tight enough. After a few laps, he could feel his body move in the seat. 4 G's and a smooth track with very few bumps made for fast racing.

"How are the nerves?" Phil asked more to distract his driver than any need to know.

"I'll be fine once I fire up the car. It's the damned waiting that gets to me."

"Uh huh," Phil said in a distracted way. A moment later, he leaned closer and said, "It looks like there's a hole or a bad rut developing entering turn three down low, so watch it."

"I'll keep an eye out for it. How much longer?"

Phil stepped back, waved his arms, and said, "The push truck is on its way."

Billy jerked on his shoulder straps one last time and pulled the in and out box down into gear. A few seconds later there was a bump at the back of the car and he was rolling. He counted to four and flipped the ignition switch. The 410 busted to life and he headed for the track.

*****

The three abreast salute to the fans went off without a hitch and it took two laps to get the lineup back right. The third lap got the one to go finger and then the caution lights were off as they went down the back straight. Billy swapped hands on the wheel as he pulled the belts tight one more time.

Through turns three and four, Billy feathered the throttle keeping pace with the car in front. The speed went up the farther around the turn they went. Billy divided his attention between the flagman and the car directly in front of him. There was a no passing cone halfway between the exit of the turn and the flag stand.

The starter's arm moved and Billy matted the throttle and then eased back as he got within inches of the car in front. The cone flashed by and Billy pulled down to the inside. That move saved his night.

Someone in the second row pulled up but wasn't clear. His right rear tire clipped another cars left front. All hell broke loose. Reflexes moved Billy even lower on the track and he jammed his right foot to the floor as he saw a car in the air over his head.

The yellow light was on in turn one. Billy got off the gas slowly and cut the inside of the corner as he glanced as far right as his neck restraint would let him. It looked clear but he eased over to his right slowly as he let completely off the gas. He idled on around onto the back straightaway.

He was halfway down the straight when the yellow caution light turned red. He stopped just short of the pit entrance road, blipped the throttle a couple of times, and killed the engine. A car pulled up along side and did the same. Billy looked that way to see one of the big guns looking back at him.

Carl Green had been world champion a dozen times, Billy knew but he had never met the man. Carl shook his head and Billy nodded. He knew exactly what the man meant. Some idiot tried to win on the first turn of the first lap. Carl had been on the pole and ahead of the mess.

Phil climbed over the pit exit gate and came over to squat next to Billy. "Ya might as well take your helmet off and relax, the cleanup is going to take a while. There might be nine whole cars left. A lot of the guys from the "B" are unloading and getting ready to fill the field."

Billy nodded and unbuckled his helmet to slip it off. He looked over toward Carl Green. Carl saw him and smiled. "What a mess," he said pointing across the infield with his chin.

Billy looked that way and shivered. Cars were piled up and others scattered here and there. Missing wings attested to flips and rolls. The safety crews, along with the EMT's, and the crane were trying to sort out the damage to both cars and drivers.

The pit gate flagman came walking over and said, "We're going to get the push truck out here and push you guys to the pits. The tower says it'll be at least an hour before we try it again."

Billy nodded and Carl Green said, "I hate waiting."

Billy chuckled. "Me too."

Carl looked over at him. "How'd you miss that mess?"

"Just lucky. The guy in front of me spun his tires so I pulled low. Then all hell broke loose. I moved lower and gassed it. The rest is history."

"You were running good in the heat, I couldn't do anything with you," Carl said making conversation.

"Thanks," Billy replied. "I'm trying out a new chassis and it works pretty damned good."

"Who makes it?"

Billy grinned. "I do."

"Are you new in the business or is it a one of a kind?"

"I'm new and it's a prototype at the present time. I'm using a couple of different computer programs to optimize the frame and cage. It's eighty pounds lighter than my old car and thirty percent stiffer. Tonight I get to see if it works better than the old car."

"I'll keep an eye on you," Carl said with a grin of his own.

Billy chuckled and turned his head to look at Phil. "It would make my day for him to buy one of my chassis. It would make the business too."

"Drivers!" Phil snorted. "The latest and greatest and newest stuff don't make that much difference. It's all in the setup and being ahead of the game and the track. So, this thing has a lighter frame. It just means I can move more weight around and put it where it needs to be. The trick is knowing where to put it."

Billy grinned and then chuckled. "Yeah, and mechanics have greasy hands from tinkering with everything but the driver."

"Don't bet on that. We tinker with driver's heads all the time. We just don't let them know it," Phil replied with as close to a smile as you ever saw on his face.

The bump of the push truck ended the conversation.

*****

An hour and fifteen minutes later, they tried it again. This time Billy was in third, right behind Carl Green. He'd made four positions and the race hadn't even started officially.

As they made warm up laps, Billy checked out the hole entering turn three. It wasn't bad now but it would be later. It would oval out and get deeper. Using the high line in three and four and the low groove in one and two would be the way to go. That is, if everyone else didn't do the same thing.

The yellow light went out on the back straightaway and Billy tightened the belts again. The start was clean this time and Billy was inches off Carl's bumper as they rocketed down the back straight. They both moved up the track and turned the cars sideways using the middle groove. Carl pulled him a foot or so through the turn. Down the front straight Billy held station a foot or so off Carl's right corner.

They entered turn one and again, Billy lost a foot or so but he did get a chance to glance left as they exited turn two, he had eight or nine car lengths on third. "A two car race is good," Billy whispered to himself. Not that he could actually hear himself yell over the noise of the engine.

Billy was three car lengths behind by the time the track started to get dry slick. Turn three was the first to do so as everyone ran above the hole down low. On that end of the track, Billy had stopped losing ground. A few laps later turns one and two were darkening up and the cushion was gone from turn three.

Carl was searching for grip as Billy started to reel him in slowly. As the laps wound down, Billy was right on his tail with four to go. Inside or out, was the question on Billy's mind. Which way would Carl go? If it was him, Billy knew he would take the inside and make the other guy run the longer way around but then again he had never been the world champ.

Off four, Billy pulled down and held station to Carl's inside corner. If he could hold on then Carl would have to take the high side. It was slick up there but there was a light spot tight on the inside. Billy waited until late to dive down and hit the light spot perfectly. He gained a half car length. His nose was far enough along side the other car that the driver had to see it out of the corner of his eye.

The only problem was the hole down low in three. There might or might not be room below it. If Carl held it tight then Billy would have to try it or straddle the hole perfectly. They were catching a lapped car. That car caught the edge of the hole and bounced hard, nearly flipping. Billy's knuckles got white on the steering wheel. The lapped car caught it and was up high along the fence. They were catching him fast.

Billy took a deep breath. Carl wasn't crowding him but he wasn't giving him any room either. If the lapped car stayed up high then all would be well. If not then.... Billy didn't want to think about it. His eyes were on the hole. It had gotten deeper and longer but not much wider. He tried to gauge the room between it and the inside ditch. Not enough for the whole car but....

At the last second, Billy dropped low and set the car sideways. The front wheels went inside the hole and the rear tires went outside it. He was on the gas with the front tires turned right in a left turn. There was grip and the car shot forward. He held the car down by feathering the throttle and ended up in the lead by half a car length.

The lapper stayed high and they flew by him by the start of the front straight. The track was clear ahead. Billy lined the car up for his normal line and reminded himself not to overdrive the entrance to the turn. He wasn't sure exactly where Carl was as he set the car sideways. Hopefully Carl had left him room.

He drove the front of the car with the steering wheel and the back of the car with the throttle. The wing on the nose and on top of the car steadied it and added tons of down force. Billy could feel the bite in the rear tires in the seat of his pants, as they say. He made a clean arc and rocketed off down the back straightaway.

Billy had a two car lead as they entered turn one. He had three car lengths as they entered turn three. The turn was clear of lapped cars but there were two on the front straight. The flagman showed them the move over flag. One moved to the high side but the other one decided to take advantage and entered the turn on the inside.

The track was wide enough for four abreast during the parade laps but at race speeds, three was almost one too many. Split the two or run the very inside, flashed through Billy's brain. Which one would Carl choose? One idiot driver could cost him the race.

This was the last lap so there were no second chances, Billy thought as he took a deep breath. This was going to be like threading a needle with all the parts moving way too fast. The guy on the inside was pulling ahead of the guy up top. That left a gap. The eye of the needle was getting larger. Going off into the turn, he waited a little late to make his turn in. The car drifted up in front of one car and then was alongside the second.

That is when things got dicey. The guy on the inside decided to let his car float up as he came out of turn two. The only problem was, Billy was already there. The guy saw Billy at the last second and cranked the wheel to the left. Too hard too the left. He started to spin.

Billy was by and headed down the straight. He entered turn three and glanced back. All hell was breaking out on the back straightaway. Holding his line, Billy flashed down the front straight. As he did, the yellow lights came on. The flagman waved the yellow with one hand and the checkers with the other.

He got off the gas. The red caution lights came on as he entered turn one. He got on the brakes and came to a stop in the middle of turns one and two. There were wrecked sprint cars everywhere on the back straight.

Billy took his helmet off and unbuckled his seatbelts. Usually he wouldn't have done it but since he was about the only car still running, he felt safe enough. He climbed out of the car, ducked the wing sideboard, and straightened up. There were four cars stopped short of the wreck. The rest were piled up in one big wad.

EMT's and the crane were again sorting things out. Billy sat down on the left front wheel as the adrenalin wore off and shock set in. He recognized the first couple of cars in the pile. One was the guy who had spun next to him and the other was Carl Green. Both cars looked like they had been upside down at least once. The guy who had taken the high side was pinned to the guardrail by two other cars.

A track official came out of the pit exit gate and walked over to stand next to Billy. He surveyed the scene for a moment and then sighed as he looked at Billy. "You won, you know."

"Yeah," Billy said with a sigh of his own.

"They want you on the front straightaway for the trophy presentation," the official said.

"Is there a push truck?" Billy asked as he stood up.

About then, a small jeep looking truck came out of the pit exit. The truck came to a stop by the car. The driver said, "Cut through the infield but don't start the motor. I'll push you down and round so you end up straight in front of the flag stand."

Billy looked at the wreckage on the back straight again as he shook his head with a deep sigh before he turned to get in the car.

*****

Billy came to a stop on the front straight next to a group of people. Normally, this was a wild celebration. Normally, he would climb up and stand on the rear tank with his body above the wing and pump his arms in celebration. But this wasn't normal. He climbed out of the car and walked around to sit on the right front tire. He was suddenly exhausted.

The track announcer came over and squatted down next to him. He had a microphone in his had as he asked, "How does it feel to win."

Billy turned and looked at the mess on the back straightaway. "Like shit to tell the truth. I should have backed off and stayed to the inside."

From somewhere behind him, he heard Phil laugh and then say, "Back off? Drivers don't back off. They have two speeds, flat out and stopped."

Billy looked around at Phil. With a nod, he said, "You're right, drivers are too crazy for their own good."

"You know there is a full moon tonight, don't ya?" The announcer said.

Billy looked up and around at the sky. Sure enough there was a blood red moon hanging in the sky over turn three. "That explains a lot," Billy said and then asked, "Is everyone alright back there?"

"Early word is that everyone is ok except for one guy with a broken leg," the announcer replied.

"That is great to hear," Billy said as he stood up and turned to walk off across the infield.

"Where are you going?" The announcer asked.

Billy waved his hand and said loudly, "Give the trophy to Phil for me. He deserves it."

*****

As he walked along, Billy noticed that the four or so cars that had gotten stopped short of the wreck were gone to the pits. All the cars were now separated and on there wheels if they had any. The EMT's were loading someone into an ambulance. He assumed it was the guy with the broken leg.

There were a dozen drivers standing in a group on the edge of the infield. He walked up to the group and said, "Sorry guys, I never meant for this to happen."

Carl Green turned and looked at him, as did everyone else. "What have you got to be sorry for?" Carl asked. "You drove a great race all the way to the end."

A driver, Billy didn't know said, "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I should have known you were going to take the high side."

Someone else muttered, "Rookie mistakes."

Carl chuckled and said, "I've seen some of us older guys do the same damned thing, thinking with the right foot and not the brain."

Billy grinned. "You're the second person who has made about the same comment in the last little bit."

"It's that damned full moon, I tell ya," someone else said and everyone chuckled or grinned.

*****

It was well after midnight by the time they had the track cleaned up and everything and everybody loaded up. The trophy and large presentation check were in the backseat of the tow truck and Phil had the pissed off look from hell on his face by the time Billy showed up. The car was loaded, along with all the equipment.

TxRad
TxRad
5,918 Followers
12