Running Wide Open by Lisa Nowak Page B

“When the rear end wants to come around that way, it’s known as being ‘loose.’ I just hope he makes it through the next three laps.”
    One advantage to having the Dart handle like that seemed to be that it took up an awful lot of the track in the corners. The car directly behind Race, a white Camaro, didn’t have a chance of getting around him. When I mentioned that to Kasey, she pointed out that the slightest tap from the Camaro would send Race into a spin.
    “Driving at the limit like that, he wouldn’t have a prayer of getting it back under control.”
    Addamsen hovered right behind the Camaro. If he passed it, I knew Race would have a real problem on his hands. Last week I’d seen how closely Addamsen could ride a guy’s bumper. After the threats he’d been slinging around at the payoff window, I figured he wouldn’t be above spinning Race intentionally. I spent the last two laps holding my breath.
    Race managed to keep his position, coming in third behind Denny and Jim. Then, just after he crossed the finish line and headed into turn one, a loud bang made me jump damn near into the next county. The Dart spun toward the top of the track. Addamsen and the white Camaro swerved under it, but the guy behind them plowed into the right front fender.
    “Ouch!” cried the announcer, “doesn’t look like that’ll buff out, folks. Let’s hope Morgan can get that car back in shape for the main. He’s dead even with Jerry Addamsen, now. If Morgan can finish ahead of him tonight, it’ll be the first time anyone’s taken the point lead from Addamsen in three years.”
    The Dart limped back into the pits, its front fender digging into the tire and shaving off rubber with every revolution. Since the wheels didn’t seem to want to turn properly, Race had to bully the 8 car into its parking spot.
    Almost before the Dart stopped, Kasey was inspecting the damage.
    “How bad is it?” asked Race as he fumbled with the window net.
    “I’m not sure yet.” Kasey rolled the jack under the front end, lifting the Dart off the ground before Race even had a chance to climb out. Then Jim and Denny appeared. Finishing ahead of Race, they’d missed all the action.
    “What happened?” asked Jim.
    “Blowout. Carter nailed me when I spun.”
    “It’s amazing it didn’t happen sooner,” Kasey said. “That tire was a ticking time bomb. You should have brought her in.”
    “Hell, Kasey,” Jim said. “You oughta know by now that Race isn’t gonna bring a car in off the track as long as it can make another lap.”
    “I wouldn’t be surprised to see him push one across the finish line,” Denny added.
    “Well, one of these days he’s going to break something I can’t fix.”
    Race laughed. “You always say that, but it’ll never happen. I have complete faith in your automotive genius.”
    “Can you fix it this time?” I asked.
    “Fortunately, yes. I’ll just have to replace the two tires and an outer tie rod end.”
    While Kasey and Race got to work putting the Dart back together, I wandered down to the north end of the track where the tow trucks and ambulance were parked. Creepy as the hearse was, it was pretty cool. One of the paramedics was kicking back beside it in a lawn chair, eating a cheeseburger while his partner rooted around in the Cadillac’s back end.
    “Can you guys get the poltergeists out of my attic?” I asked.
    “’Fraid not,” said the guy with the cheeseburger. “All my training is with the living.”
    “Where’d they get this car?”
    “Dunno. It’s been here as long as I have.”
    I circled the Cadillac. How awesome would it be to drive this thing around town?
    “Your dad one of the drivers?” the guy asked. I noticed that his name, Alex , was stitched on the front of his uniform.
    “No, my uncle. Race Morgan.” I checked out the enormous chrome grill.
    “Ah. You’re practically royalty.”
    “I guess. Is this a pretty exciting job? You see a lot of blood and