Saturday Night Special

It was a Thursday night and I was at the old Boothill Speedway just west of Shreveport, Louisiana. Thursday night is when the owner starts preparing the track. He also lets racers get in a few laps of practice if they needed them.

Well, I needed them badly. I had been wrecked the Saturday night before and had to rebuild the whole ass end of my car during the week. I thought I had it right but there is only one-way to tell for sure.

I race dirt late models on one of the strangest and sometimes scariest dirt track around. Six hundred and fifty horsepower in a twenty one hundred pound car that will get around this quarter mile track in thirteen point eight seconds or slightly less if the surface is right.

If you can't turn at least a fourteen point two, don't even bother to show up, as you'll just be in the way. Speed and power help here but if the car does not handle or the driver doesn't hit his marks then you'll never make it at this track.

There is a sign over the front gate to the pits that reads: "If you can't run with the big dogs, then stay under the porch" and they mean it. This track draws the best of the best. Saturday nights find forty something late models vying for twenty-four starting spots.

The payout is only a thousand dollars to win but the bragging rights are priceless. A championship here has catapulted drivers to the big time. I've raced here for ten years and will continue to until either they change the track or I can't anymore.

I usually run in the top five. My only problem is money. The lack there of for the most part. I have about one third as much money in my car as the average guy running here. The fact that I can even run with them is mind blowing to most people.

This Thursday night was a case in point.

*****

I had my old car unloaded off the trailer and was checking the tire pressures when a high dollar enclosed trailer pulled into the pits and parked a few spaces down from me. I recognized the name on the trailer as one of the premier car building companies around.

Danny Ray was the driver and he hadn't been able to qualify for a feature in three tries. He had the equipment but didn't know how to set it up or how to drive the odd configuration of the track. That explained what they were doing here.

Boothill is a tight oval but there is where it ends compared to most tracks. Turn one is close to flat and so is turn four. Turns two and three are high banked and give one hell of a slingshot effect, if you drive them right.

I was belting into my car when I heard them fire up their car to unload. Man what a sweet sounding motor. I would give my right nut for a motor like that. The piece of junk under my hood was bubble gum and junkyard parts compared to theirs.

I fired mine up and had to listen to hear it over the rumble of theirs. I shook my head as I backed out and headed for the track. If I put that monster in my car, it would shake it to pieces in one night.

*****

The track was tackier than I expected as I tried to spin the rear wheels to warm them up. The owner had started watering the track around three and then ran a sheep's foot over the wet surface to work the water down into the clay.

He did this layer after layer until dark and then he ran a roller over the surface to smooth and seal it. He would do it again on Friday night and Saturday morning. By the time we raced Saturday night, the track would be in perfect shape.

With a deep breath, I ran a few slow warm up laps and then I ran two laps at about three quarter throttle to see how everything was going to work. Satisfied with the way the car reacted and felt, I dropped the hammer as I came off turn four.

Without the horsepower of the higher dollar cars, I ran a higher line, which kept my speed up. It also put me above the normal groove and on damper dirt, which gives better grip. It's also the old school way of driving and if nothing else, I am old school.

I had retired from the professional end of racing before most of the kids I raced against were born. Now, I raced for fun and because I loved it. This old track was a challenge and leveled out the haves and the have-nots.

As I reach the first turn, I'm far over to the right. I turn the car in to the left getting off the gas, tap the brake to settle it, and then feed it power as I turn the steering wheel back to the right.

The car is now in the middle of the track going slide ways. I drive the front of the car with the steering wheel and the rear with the throttle. It's a balancing act and fast if you get it right.

As I hit the high bank of the second turn, I plant the right rear and floor it. I rocket off down the back straightaway. I hold the throttle wide-open way farther into turn three than most peoples minds tell them they can run. At the last second I lift, cut the front wheels left, plant the right rear, and jam the gas to the floor.

The car is half sideways, the rear tires throwing a shower of red clay and the front wheels turned hard right. I feather the gas, straighten the front wheels, and head toward the inside of turn four

I want to be as close to the inside on turn four as I can get. I'm still carrying speed and on this flat exit, I'm headed sideways for the front straightaway wall. I feather the throttle to increase forward bite and stop the sideways motion only a fraction of an inch from the concrete.

My foot is flat on the floor and I'm flying down the front chute. Turn one is coming up and I do it again and again, for ten laps. On two of the laps, I click a stopwatch clipped to the dash as I pass the start/finish line.

Satisfied that the car is as good as can be expected, I slow and head for the pits.

*****

At my trailer, I shut the car down, pull off my helmet, and check the stopwatches. One says, thirteen seventy-nine and the other thirteen eighty-two. Good enough for me. With a grin on my face, I get out of the car.

With the flat of my bare hand, I check the temperatures of the tires all the way around. The surfaces feel fairly even all the way across with the left rear being the hottest. I nod to myself as I head for the truck and a cold coke.

I can hear the other car on the track and Danny Ray is on it. I walk across the pit road to where the two guys with Danny are standing. One has a stopwatch and is watching the car intently; the other guy is leaning on the wall with his back to the track.

I watch Danny making laps. He is typical of the new gang of drivers. He runs around the inside of the track. He accelerates like mad down the straight, hits the brakes, turns left, and accelerates hard, right around the bottom.

During a race, you see them nose to tail sometimes two wide, lap, after lap, after lap. With big motors and big brakes, you can do it that way. All the passing is done coming off turn four or on the straightaway.

Oh, you have a few that know how to run the cushion but the cushion never lasts long at this track. Hell, I love to run the cushion while it's there but when it's gone, I adjust my line and stay to the high side.

I love the feel of going slide ways, feeling that seat of your pants edge of too little or too much. To me that's dirt track driving at it's best but the times and equipment are changing.

Danny ran about a dozen laps and then dropped it down to idle into the pits. As I tuned to walk back to my car, the guy leaning on the wall said, "Those were some nice laps you were turning out there. I wish I could get the wonder boy to drive like that."

I turned back and nodded. "Thanks, that's about as fast as that junk pile of mine will run and running upstairs is the only way I can keep up."

He nodded and then stuck out his hand. "I'm Jack, Jack Brown. I'm supposed to be the mechanic on Danny's car."

"Well, it's a monster. Lucky you." I told him as I shook his hand.

"Yeah it's a monster alright. Everything cubic dollars can buy, are in that thing. I just can't figure out how to get it qualified for this place."

I chuckled and nodded. "This old track has confused many a driver and mechanic. All four turns are different banking and it takes more gear than most think it does. Setting a car up is almost impossible, so you pick the fastest turns and set up for them."

"Yeah, if you can. I have a driver that thinks he's the mechanic to. I keep telling him but he doesn't listen. I'm about ready to toss in the towel."

The guy with the stopwatch said, "Yeah, you'll toss in the towel two days after they bury you, if then."

Looking at me the guy nodded and said, "Those were some very good laps you were turning. You wouldn't be interested in making a little money would you?"

"I'm always interested in making money." I told him.

"Right now the best Danny can turn is a fourteen six. If you can get him to around fourteen I'll give you a grand." The man said.

I looked at Jack and asked, "How about you? I don't want to step on any toes."

Jack shrugged and replied, "I'll take any and all the help I can get. This place has me pulling my hair out."

"Ok, I'll give it a shot," I said.

"Good, good, I'll be in the trailer," The guy with the stopwatch said and turned to walk off.

When he was out of earshot, Jack said under his breath. "Asshole!"

"That bad huh?"

"Yeah, he's the racing director for the company. Robert Mills is his name and he's related to the boss somehow. His answer to everything is money. I had a damned good driver and he dropped him when Danny came along. Danny's good, don't get me wrong but he's another asshole."

"Well, lets see if we can speed him up a little or maybe even scare him, if he's got the balls to drive it where it needs to go." I told Jack as I headed down toward my trailer.

*****

Danny was not happy with me looking around and then working on his car. "Who the heck is this old guy and why is he messing with my car? I'm having enough problems without some nobody fucking things up worse."

Jack was helping me set the car on a set of scales. He stood up and turned to Danny. "He's trying to help you keep your job so act like you appreciate it, even if you don't."

"What I need is someone who knows how to set the car up so I can drive it." Danny shot back sharply.

"Well, that old guy as you called him ran nearly a second a lap faster than you with a hell of a lot less car. A car he built from scratch, I might add. So don't bitch about something you don't know anything about." Jack told him.

Danny gave him a hard look and turned to walk into the trailer.

"Little asshole!" Jack said softly as he squatted back down to center the wheel scale.

"There's always the chance he might grow up and out of that stage." I told Jack as I got the scale centered under the front tire.

"Yeah, but I'm afraid the chances are slim and none." Jack replied sourly.

*****

We spent the next hour or so setting the weight of the car. We put fifty two percent on the rear and fifty five percent on the left. With fifty three percent cross wedge on the right front and left rear, the car should turn well in the middle of the corner.

Jack changed out the rear end gear for a lower ratio. I changed a couple of the shocks, one on the right front to help set the car into the bank and one on the rear to a give more left wheel bite.

When we were finished, I felt like the car was a well set up for the track as we could get it. Jack went to find Danny.

*****

Danny was still bitching about me messing with his car and wanted to know all the details of how it was set up and what had been changed. He was not happy to say the least.

Jack finally told him to get his ass in the car, which started another round of complaining from Danny. Robert Mills stood back with a frown on his face until Jack pleaded with him to make Danny at least try the car.

"Danny, you need to at least try it. I'm paying a hell of a lot of money to get you qualified down here. If you can't make the next race, I can't guarantee you'll keep driving this car."

Danny gave him a hard look but held his piece as he grabbed his helmet and climbed in the car. As he was buckling his belts, I leaned in the window and tried to give him some advice on driving the track.

I basically got told to go to hell and take my advice with me.

*****

I'd love to say that Danny ran fast enough to make me a grand and to have a chance at making the next show. Unfortunately, that wasn't to be. He ran the car the same way he had before. He did run a few tenths faster but that was all.

When he came in off the track he gave me a glaring look and said to Robert, "This thing handles like an monkey on roller skates. It's worse than it was before that idiot old man touched it."

"That's it, I quit!" Jack said and headed for the truck.

"What do you mean you quit?" Robert asked.

Danny grinned at Jack and said, "It's about time. Maybe now I can get someone who can set up a car."

"There's nothing wrong with the car," I said sharply.

Danny laughed and tossed me his helmet. "Then you drive it."

I tossed him his helmet back and turned toward my car to get my own helmet. Danny laughed as I walked away but frowned when I headed for his car. "Stay the hell out of my car." He yelled at me.

I walked up to him and gave him a hard look. "You are in for a rude awakening one day and I think I'll make it today." I turned toward his car and he grabbed my arm.

"Let him go, Danny," Robert said. "It's not your car, you're just the driver."

Not feeling in a very good mood, I looked at Robert and frowned. "And a car ain't worth a shit without a good driver. Danny's young and he'll learn but this old track has made jackasses out of a lot of good people, car owners, mechanics, and drivers alike."

I was getting in the car when Jack came running back from the truck. "What the heck are you doing? Let the dummy's have the damn car. If they aren't smart enough to know a good thing then let them screw it up."

I was buckling my belts, as I replied, "I've always wanted to drive one of these fancy high dollar jobs and now's my chance."

Jack grinned and shook his head. "Racecar drivers are all crazy. You be careful out there. This things got about two hundred more pony's then that junk pile of yours."

"Don't I know it!" I replied with a grin just before I hit the starter switch.

*****

I took a couple of slow laps to get the feel of the steering wheel and how quick it steered. Then I took a couple of faster laps getting used to the extra power on the rear wheels. After that, I took five or six moderately fast to find the braking and turn in points.

Letting the car idle down the front straight, I used both hands to tighten the belts. Once I was satisfied they were tight, I gassed the car and checked the bite on the rear wheels. All seemed right as I ran at pace lap speed down the back straight.

Coming off turn four I waved the green flag at myself and hammered down. I floated the car into turn one, feathered the gas, and nailed turn two as I planted the right rear. I was flying down the back straight.

I was a little off on turn three but not bad enough to upset my entry into turn four. I had to feather it a little more than usual off the turn. Down the front straight, the car was a rocket.

I ended up doing a dozen hot laps in all. Each was a little better than the last and each lap was faster than the one before. The car drove, handled, and accelerated like a dream. I could feel the grin on my face.

*****

I never got all there was in the car out of it but I was damned close by the time I shut it down and idled into the pits. My cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. It had been a long time since I'd been in first class equipment. It sure felt good to be home.

Jack was hanging onto the driver's door as I shut the engine off. He was grinning from ear to ear as he lowered the window net. "Son of a bitch!" he kept repeating over and over.

"I didn't hurt your baby." I told him as I released the latch on the belts.

"No, but you sure as hell drove the shit out of her."

I chuckled as I wiggled my way out the driver's window. Yeah, I had let it all hang out and it felt great. The only problem was that my old junk pile would feel slow after this.

Robert Miller cleared his throat as climbed out of the car. "I'd like to offer you a job," he said.

"You've already got a mechanic and a driver." I told him.

"Not a driver that can break the track record four time in twelve laps. Your best lap was a thirteen two."

I chuckled and nodded. "That would almost be good enough to qualify for a sprint car race here at the track." I told him.

Turning to Jack I said, "The right rear could use a little less air and a little more shock."

"You mean it could be better," Robert Miller said with an astonished look on his face.

"It can always be a little better." Jack told him with a grin as he shook my hand. To me he said, "Thanks. Now I know it ain't the car or how I set it up."

"No problem." I told him as I headed for my car.

"Hey, where are you going? I offered you a job," Miller said following me.

"I'm not interested."

"What do you mean, you're not interested. Any driver in their right mind would want to drive this car."

"Yeah, it's a sweet ride alright." I told him as I started to load up my gear.

"If it's a question of money...." He started to say.

I cut him off. "Listen asshole! You have a good driver already and anyway, I don't want to work for you. You're an idiot. Money isn't the answer to everything."

"Well, I...."

I cut him off again. "I enjoyed driving your car. Thanks for that much anyway but people like you are why I retired in the first place."

"Retired? Retired from what? From where?" I heard Danny ask from behind me. It was the first thing he had said since I got out of the car. He had hung back watching Miller and I intently.

I turned and grinned at him. "From where you're going one day if you'll ever learn to listen to the good people. Ask Jack over there, he'll remember one day."

Jack looked at me funny for a moment and started to say something but I shook my head. He closed his mouth and then grinned as I got in my old car to load it on the trailer.

*****

When I had the car on the trailer, I got out to find Jack securing the front tire straps. "I thought I'd give you a hand tying this thing down."

"Thanks."

I kept expecting a question or two from him but he was silent the whole time. I was getting into my truck when he finally asked, "I do know you from somewhere don't I?'

"Yeah, from somewhere a long time ago." I told him with a grin as I started the truck.

I was backing the truck up when Danny appeared at the window. He handed me an envelope.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's your thousand dollars."

"But I didn't earn it. You didn't make fourteen seconds." I told him holding the envelope out.

"Yes you did. I didn't push the car, I held back."

I nodded and tossed the money on the seat.

As I started to back up again, Danny said, "That was a hell of a drive you put on my car."

"Now you know what it can do so you won't have to hold back anymore." I told him.

Danny walked along side my truck as I backed up. "I'll see you later old man. Tonight will probably cost you some money later." He told me with a big grin.

"I sure hope so," I said as I put the truck in drive and headed for the exit.

*****

As my taillights faded into the night, Danny walked back to where Jack and Robert Miller stood. As he walked up, Miller asked Jack, "Who the hell does that old man think he is?"

Jack grinned and replied, "He knows who he is. It's you that don't have a clue. Didn't you read the name over the drivers door?"

"Yeah it was Rhinner or Rhimmer or something like that. The paint was faded and it was dirty." Danny replied.