Full Throttle

"Trouble, Turn Two. Go high, go high ." Kane Jackson saw only smoke through his windshield, but he responded instinctively to his spotter's instructions. Less than a second later, a red, white and blue car slid past the left side of his race car. "The Hatchet?" "Yeah," Kane's crew chief, Harry Mercer, responded, his tone flat. "He's talking. Not hurt ." "Good." On both counts, he thought, very aware that millions of people via online simulcasts could hear every word he said into his radio. Privately Kane couldn't deny his sense of relief that the points leader for the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Championship, Patrick 'The Hatchet' Williams was probably done for the day. Kane had a tricky road to make the top ten--The Chase as it had been dubbed by NASCAR--and Pat was a semifriend, but definitely the competition. Obstacles are just one smart move away from the path to greatness. His father's words whispered through his brain so suddenly he could swear the man himself sat in the pas- senger's seat where there was in reality nothing but emp- tiness and part of the roll cage. He tried to shake off the insecurity that thoughts of his father always brought about. he'd never measure up to "The Legend." But then nobody could. Maybe he was stuck in fourteenth place with four races to go until The Chase began, but he was on a roll. His team was pumped. Thanks to the testing sessions, the cars were running better than they had in a long time. Aerodynamic issues had been solved. Camber and tire pressure were adjusted throughout the race. Pit crew motivation was high. And almost everything good could be attributed not to him, but to Harry and his brilliant daughter, Lexie. He heard her voice now as the caution flag came out and he prepared to make a critical pit stop. "They're waving the flag at lap one-seven-five. Last stop. Four tires ." "Let's not take any chances," he said. The car was great. Only twenty-five laps to go. "We wouldn't dream of it," Lexie returned, her tone dry. "We're in sixth. It's a good finish ." "See what you can do with fresh tires. Hold your line ." The tension in her voice was evident. Once, he'd shared in her laughter. Her eyes had sparkled in his presence. These days he saw frustration. Dissatisfaction. Maybe he'd never measure up with her, either. "I'll try," he said. Keeping a close eye on his tachometer, he cruised down pit road at a teeth-grinding forty-five miles per hour, then rolled into his pit box above the neon yellow and red Sonomic Oil flag marked with Number 53. Wrapping his hands around the wheel, he waited the seeming eternity while his team changed the car's tires. In actuality less than fourteen seconds passed, but in that time he glanced out his window, and even through the thick black netting he could see beyond the pit wall and spot Lexie--her scowl and her concentration, her small, fem- inine body seeming somehow familiar and out of place in the racing uniform that matched his own. Lips he'd once had the pleasure of tasting were pursed in concentration. He shook his head at the distraction and quickly pulled away from the pits, cutting into the line of cars exiting pit road in third place. "Thirteen point four," Harry said through the headset in his helmet. "Yeah!" Kane roared back. "Awesome stop, guys." The top ten seemed closer by the second. Falling in line with the other leaders, he vowed to keep both Lexie and his father out of his mind. The next twenty- five laps were about racing, not relationships. Nearly every minute of the day was about racing, though, which was probably why most of his relationships were in the toilet. As the green flag waved, he concentrated on taking each turn of the tri-oval of Michigan's track, relief creeping closer as Harry counted down the laps. As the cars roared down the straightaway, he could smell the burning rubber, he coEtherington, Wendy is the author of 'Full Throttle ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373217731 and ISBN 0373217730.