Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein Page B

carried a clipboard and walked with the gait of someone in charge. His name was Ken.
    â€œThanks for your dedication,” Ken said, “but you’re early.”
    â€œI wanted to walk the track,” Denny explained.
    â€œIt’s too early for race engines,” he said, “but you can take your street car out if you want. Just keep it sane.”
    â€œThanks,” Denny said, and he looked at me and winked.
    We went over to a crew truck, and Denny caught the arm of a crew member.
    â€œI’m Denny,” he said. “One of the drivers.”
    The man shook his hand and introduced himself as Pat.
    â€œI’m going to take my BMW out for a few easy laps. Ken said it was okay. I was wondering if you had a tie-down I could borrow.”
    â€œWhat do you need a tie-down for?” Pat asked.
    Denny glanced at me quickly, and Pat laughed. “Hey, Jim,” he called to another man. “This guy wants to borrow a tie-down so he can take his dog for a joyride.”
    They both laughed, and I was a little confused.
    â€œI have something better,” the Jim guy said. He went around to the cab of the truck and returned a minute later with a bedsheet.
    Denny told me to get in the front seat of his car and sit, which I did. They wrapped the sheet over me, pressing me to the seat, leaving only my head sticking out. They somehow secured the sheet tightly from behind.
    â€œToo tight?” Denny asked.
    I was too excited to reply. He was going to take me out in his car!
    â€œTake it easy on him until you see if he has a stomach for it,” Pat said.
    â€œYou’ve done this before?” asked Denny.
    â€œOh, yeah,” said Pat. “My dog used to love it.”
    Denny walked around to the driver’s side. He took his helmet out of the backseat and squeezed it onto his head. He got into the car and put on his seat belt.
    â€œOne bark means ‘slower,’ two means ‘faster,’ got it?” I barked twice, and that surprised him and Pat and Jim, who were both leaning in the passenger window.
    â€œHe wants to go faster already,” Jim said. “You’ve got yourself a good dog there.”
    The paddock at Thunderhill Raceway Park is tucked between two long parallel straights; the rest of the course fans out from the paddock area like butterfly wings. We cruised very slowly through the hot pit area and to the track entrance. “We’re going to take it easy,” Denny said, and off we went.
    Being on a track was a new experience for me. No buildings, no signs, no sense of proportion. It was like running through a field, gliding over a plain. Denny shifted smoothly, but I noticed he drove more aggressively than he did on the street. He revved the car much higher, and his braking was much harder.
    Around the turns we went. Down the straights we picked up speed. We weren’t going very fast, maybe sixty. But I really felt the speed around the turns, when the tires made a hollow, ghostly sound, almost like an owl. I felt special, being with Denny on the racetrack. He had never taken me on a track before. I felt sure and relaxed; being held firmly to the seat was comforting. The windows were open, and the wind was fresh and cold. I could have driven like that all day.
    After three laps he looked over at me.
    â€œYou want to try a hot lap?”
    A hot lap? I barked twice. Then I barked twice again. Denny laughed.
    â€œSing out if you don’t like it,” he said, “one long howl.” He firmly pressed the accelerator to the floor.
    There is nothing like it. The sensation of speed. Nothing in the world can compare.
    â€œHold on, now,” Denny said, “we’re taking this at speed.”
    Fast, we went, hurtling, faster. I watched the turn approach, scream at us until we were practically past it and then he was off the accelerator and hard on the brakes.
    And then he cranked the wheel left and he was back on the gas and we