car shifted right and took out #44 and #12, pushing them into the wall. Then the three cars spun out, careening to the bottom of the track and right in the path of several cars behind. Unscathed, #13 darted left and avoided them.
The cars behind them weren’t so lucky. In all, 12 cars crashed and were taken out of the race. Jamie’s dad’s was one of them.
“Yellow flag,” she said, scowling at the Devalon spotter.
The man just chuckled and shook his head.
Chapter 20
Getting Home
NEAR THE END OF THE race, Tim wandered toward the track, but security was still tight. There was no slipping through some hole in the fence here. The roar of the crowd signaled the end of the race. For once, he didn’t care who won.
He sat by an underpass as the exodus began. Getting 165,000 people out of the stands, into their cars, and back on the road would take a while, but Daytona was known as one of the better cup races to exit.
He knew what was going on inside—the packing and loading and cleanup. Crashed cars were getting cut up to fit in the hauler. The winner’s car was being taken apart piece by piece and inspected. He didn’t envy the crews inside, but it was one of those mindless jobs he was always good at.He could kick into high gear and pack with the best of them.
When darkness fell and most of the cars were gone from the parking area, he walked to the back entrance, where he could see the trucks getting ready to pull out. A security officer had his eye on him, so Tim stayed back, waiting.
When he saw the trademark hat of Charlie Hale, he started waving and jumping like crazy. The light was fading, so he sprinted up the access road and got in the headlights. The truck honked, like he was just some fan who wanted attention, but Tim didn’t give up. He ran beside the road on the gravel, waving his hat.
“Get out of the way, kid!” Charlie yelled in his familiar strangled voice.
“Charlie, it’s me! Tim Carhardt!”
At that, Charlie’s beagle, Chester, barked, and the truck pulled to the side of the road.
Tim dodged a passing truck and ran around to the passenger side.
The door was open and Charlie waved. “What’re you waiting for? Climb in!”
The truck still had that old dog smell. Charlie moved a bunch of stuff to the back in order for Tim to get in, and soon they were on the road.
“You see the race?” Charlie said.
“No, there was a mix-up. It’s a long story. Who won?”
Charlie told him. It wasn’t a surprise. Tim asked how his new employer had done and how he liked driving for him. Charlie said he was glad to have a ride.
The radio was tuned to a country station, and the CB crackled with the voices of big rig drivers. “You picking up hitchhikers now, Charlie?” one of them said on the radio.
“I got Timmy Carhardt in the cab with me,” Charlie said, clicking the mic.
The radio was dead for a minute.
“Tell Tim we said hello,” the driver replied. About half a dozen of them echoed his words or double clicked their mics.
“How’d you get down here?” Charlie said.
“I not only lost my tickets, but I lost my ride back to Tallahassee. I assume you guys are headed straight back to Charlotte.”
“That’s right. I’d love to take you over there, but I got a deadline.”
“I understand. Do you think you could just let me off near Jacksonville? I could call my cousin from there.”
Charlie thought awhile, which meant there were a few minutes of just the country music and the crackleof the CB. Finally, looking straight at the road, he said, “We miss your dad out here. It’s not the same without him.”
“Yeah. Same here.”
“You getting along all right?”
“I’m in school now, making lots of friends.” He didn’t know why he lied. Maybe he wanted Charlie to think everything was okay with him. “And the people I’m staying with are good to me.”
“That’s good. I always wondered where you went. Must have been a tough last few months.”
The sound of the
The cars behind them weren’t so lucky. In all, 12 cars crashed and were taken out of the race. Jamie’s dad’s was one of them.
“Yellow flag,” she said, scowling at the Devalon spotter.
The man just chuckled and shook his head.
Chapter 20
Getting Home
NEAR THE END OF THE race, Tim wandered toward the track, but security was still tight. There was no slipping through some hole in the fence here. The roar of the crowd signaled the end of the race. For once, he didn’t care who won.
He sat by an underpass as the exodus began. Getting 165,000 people out of the stands, into their cars, and back on the road would take a while, but Daytona was known as one of the better cup races to exit.
He knew what was going on inside—the packing and loading and cleanup. Crashed cars were getting cut up to fit in the hauler. The winner’s car was being taken apart piece by piece and inspected. He didn’t envy the crews inside, but it was one of those mindless jobs he was always good at.He could kick into high gear and pack with the best of them.
When darkness fell and most of the cars were gone from the parking area, he walked to the back entrance, where he could see the trucks getting ready to pull out. A security officer had his eye on him, so Tim stayed back, waiting.
When he saw the trademark hat of Charlie Hale, he started waving and jumping like crazy. The light was fading, so he sprinted up the access road and got in the headlights. The truck honked, like he was just some fan who wanted attention, but Tim didn’t give up. He ran beside the road on the gravel, waving his hat.
“Get out of the way, kid!” Charlie yelled in his familiar strangled voice.
“Charlie, it’s me! Tim Carhardt!”
At that, Charlie’s beagle, Chester, barked, and the truck pulled to the side of the road.
Tim dodged a passing truck and ran around to the passenger side.
The door was open and Charlie waved. “What’re you waiting for? Climb in!”
The truck still had that old dog smell. Charlie moved a bunch of stuff to the back in order for Tim to get in, and soon they were on the road.
“You see the race?” Charlie said.
“No, there was a mix-up. It’s a long story. Who won?”
Charlie told him. It wasn’t a surprise. Tim asked how his new employer had done and how he liked driving for him. Charlie said he was glad to have a ride.
The radio was tuned to a country station, and the CB crackled with the voices of big rig drivers. “You picking up hitchhikers now, Charlie?” one of them said on the radio.
“I got Timmy Carhardt in the cab with me,” Charlie said, clicking the mic.
The radio was dead for a minute.
“Tell Tim we said hello,” the driver replied. About half a dozen of them echoed his words or double clicked their mics.
“How’d you get down here?” Charlie said.
“I not only lost my tickets, but I lost my ride back to Tallahassee. I assume you guys are headed straight back to Charlotte.”
“That’s right. I’d love to take you over there, but I got a deadline.”
“I understand. Do you think you could just let me off near Jacksonville? I could call my cousin from there.”
Charlie thought awhile, which meant there were a few minutes of just the country music and the crackleof the CB. Finally, looking straight at the road, he said, “We miss your dad out here. It’s not the same without him.”
“Yeah. Same here.”
“You getting along all right?”
“I’m in school now, making lots of friends.” He didn’t know why he lied. Maybe he wanted Charlie to think everything was okay with him. “And the people I’m staying with are good to me.”
“That’s good. I always wondered where you went. Must have been a tough last few months.”
The sound of the