Dual Lanes
McCormick's first love threatens to derail his plans for a law career.
Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur.
"There's such a thing as studying too much, ya know," Hardcastle chided. "You can recite this case history like a robot. Good lawyers have to think on their feet too." He thought the kid was becoming a basket case.
"My first exams are coming up. I have to know if I can cut it." Mark's tension was obvious, and his voice hit a slightly higher pitch.
"Look, you aren't going to know the material any better at this point. Why not take a couple of days off, we'll do some fishing. A change of scene will do you good."
"Maybe. I don't know. I'll think about it."
The conversation ended there, and Mark returned to the gatehouse. He was still wound up about the exams, and debating the fishing offer when the phone rang.
"How's the law student? You must be climbing the walls by now."
"Barbara! It's good to hear from you. Yeah, you know how it is. The walls and ceiling have my claws marks on them now. The Judge wants me to take a few days off to go fishing."
"It's not a bad idea. I would suggest something different though. What would you say about you and the Coyote coming north to lovely Monterey-specifically, Laguna Seca."
"The track? Have you heard something?" Barbara had never let go of the dream of bringing Flip's design into production and racing it. Before Mark entered law school, he had taken the Coyote to Laguna Seca to demonstrate it before some prospective backers, but he had heard nothing from Barbara about it since then. He had assumed it was another dead effort.
"Oh, I'm still hopeful. But Mark, I know what driving means to you, and I think it would be a good way to let off steam and focus on something else, if only for a little while. I've been where you are, and I really think it will help. You probably know the material cold anyway, right?"
"That's what the Judge thinks." Mark thought about, and the need for speed began to outweigh the appeal of leisurely fishing. "All right. I'll meet you there."
Mark had always liked Laguna Seca, with its turns and undulations. The preparation for high speed racing, for himself and the car, was already providing with the mental break he needed from law school worries. He felt a bit guilty about leaving Hardcastle behind and vowed to make up for it later. The Judge had sighed dramatically about the decline of the fishing offer, but respected Mark's desire to do some hard driving on his own.
"I'll do some slower laps before opening it up. By the way, who is the audience?" He had noticed a few people making a particular point about watching the Coyote.
"Well, the car has always been an eye catcher. Good luck, and have fun."
Mark headed out then, building his speed over several laps. The act of driving fast, and feeling the connection between man and machine had been his first love. It was the first thing he had been good at, and saw a future for himself in racing. The pain and problems of the past and uncertainties of the future always vanished from his immediate thoughts when he was on the track. He was focused on the present, in the moment, never more than a couple of laps or turns ahead. There were no lurking bad guys, and no thought of jail time or law school. He was just driving.
Drive. He made the engine scream. It was glorious.
"Wow." Barbara summed it up. "That was spectacular. The car isn't even fully race ready, but those were competitive speeds. You haven't lost it, and neither has the car."
Mark was grinning and let out a whoop of his own. "Man, I needed this. It felt fantastic."
"Would you like to do it again?"
"Oh yeah. Any time I can fit it in my schedule. Maybe go to Willow Springs on practice days, it's only about an hour from home."
"That's not exactly what I had in mind. Mark, I didn't want to say anything until I knew everything was locked down because I knew how often you'd been disappointed. I've got the funding and backers I need to put the Coyote into production and form a racing team." She paused, seeing Mark's stunned expression and giving him a moment to digest the news.
"What! That's great! How did it happen?"
"In part, because of Martin Cody. I filed a civil suit for Dad's death, the theft, and other damages. It was settled a few months ago. That gave me most of the money. I found some other backers who will profit from sales of the street production Coyote. It's sweet deal for them. I'm sacrificing the money profits for control of the designs, production and racing team. I want to race in any IMSA or SCCA category the car qualifies in. I've got the notes for modifications for different classes, and if not the Coyote, even some notes on modifying some other cars. I didn't want to say anything until it was all wrapped up." She paused again and took a breath.
"I'm offering you the chance to be lead driver."
Mark's jaw dropped. "What? Barbara, you know I'm in law school, the judge offered to pay my tuition, why are you offering this now?"
"I know your situation, and I understand if you want to refuse. After everything that's happened though, I had to make you the offer anyway."
Mark turned away, trying to adjust to this unexpected news. "It's been a while since I thought of this. I just stopped hoping, and found other things I wanted to do. Racing can take a toll, too. E.J. and Kiki both burned out on that lifestyle. It's racing where you have to, answering to the sponsors, not being fully in charge of your own life anymore. I've served time, been on parole, and I'm done with living like that."
"You can set the terms. If you don't want to race, then I'll find someone else. You could pick and choose the races, and I'll have another person as second driver. If we're not racing, you could take other race offers if you wanted to. If you want to do it full time, that's wonderful. You could do some test driving if you only wanted to stay local. If you want to limit being jerked around by sponsors and backers, we'll arrange that too. I told you I was keeping control. Besides, I don't expect trouble with the other money people. The people you saw watching were some of the backers. You didn't see it, but they signaled their thumbs up after that last lap."
The offer was overwhelming. He wondered if even Foyt or Andretti had this sweet a deal. Barbara continued to drive the point home. "You still have time to make your name in this sport. You're only about the same age now as E.J. when he got his break, at your expense."
"That wasn't his fault," Mark muttered absently. This offer was a dream. He'd be crazy to turn it down, but there were still his other dreams about law school, and chasing bad guys with the Judge. What would Hardcastle say?
"I just wanted you to know all the options here, Mark. Believe me, I'll understand if your path takes a different route now. I just had to give you the first chance at this."
"I need some time."
"Sleep on it, take a few days, and let me know."
Mark did not sleep on it. There was too much running through his head to get much rest. His mind fragmented and hopeful Mark waged a tug-of-war with suspicious Mark about choosing between the old dream of the past versus the new hope for the future.
Mark did not need a few days to make his decision. The next morning, he gave Barbara the only answer he thought was right for him.
"How'd it go? Did you have fun?"
The question was asked with such amiable interest that Mark found his carefully structured speech begin to crumble. His mouth started forming its occasionally spontaneous combustion of words.
"Uh, good. Real good. Judge-" he paused, and tried to regroup, but the dam holding back a flood of words was leaking. "Judge, Barbara has lined up enough sponsors and funds to put the Coyote into production and form a racing team under Flip's name."
The Judge's expression shifted, from friendly interest to something more focused.
"She asked me to be the lead driver for testing and racing."
Hardcastle raised his eyebrows.
The flow was stronger now. "Judge, this is something I always wanted, and I was so close, so many times-"
The dam was fully breached, and the sentences gushed on, seemingly without a break.
"-it felt like I was Charlie Brown and racing was the football that always got yanked away at the last minute, but I kept trying anyway and it just feels right this time, you know, when I wasn't looking for it, and had something else planned but it was like unfinished business like it shouldn't have ended this way and like how we go after the bad guys in your files who got off and how you had to find Jane Bigelow after all those years because you had to find out what happened-"
Hardcastle rested his chin in his hand and raised his eyebrows, studying McCormick. "Are you coming up for air soon? 'Cause you could give Lloyd Bridges a run for his money, ya know."
"-but racing was the first thing I was good at, and I loved it and dreamed about it for so long and it feels really right this time and I was wrong to think a suit and corner office and a beeper and Rolodex made me a grownup with a real job when it doesn't matter and what matters is who you are and how you do what you believe in and love to do so I want to do it but I want to catch bad guys with you too and go to law school and become an attorney and I want to do all of these things and I thought and thought about what I wanted and what I should do and the only answer I can come up with is Paul Newman."
"Paul Newman? What does Paul Newman have to do with this?"
"Paul Newman. Judge, Paul Newman acts, he makes salad dressing, he's involved with charities, and he races cars. If he can do more than one thing, why can't I?"
Hardcastle raised his head from his hand and opened his mouth as the flood raged on.
"I mean I know this meant a lot to you that I was in law school and it was so great that you offered to pay and I still want to go to law school I could do it part time-"
"Stop trying to make me proud of you McCormick!"
The two stared at each other, as the judge's shout stemmed McCormick's nervous flow. "Look, if the racing is still that important to you, you should do it. Why would you think I don't want you to do what you really want? And you don't have to do something just to please me. Now, I know it's possible to do more than one thing. I was a full time cop, part time law student, and I had a family. So I know it can be done. But don't kid yourself that it will be easy, because it won't be."
It seemed remarkable that after all that chatter the kid could still have enough breath left to let out a sigh of relief and relax the tension out of his body. The grin appeared, wobbled a bit, and then he was serious.
"I do want to do all of these things, Judge. And-" the grin was back-"I'll make you proud of me yet."
Now the judge sighed. "All right wise guy, I'm going to repeat something I've said to you a couple of times already. Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once more. That 'yet' happened a long time ago."
Hardcastle pondered over this last conversation with a sense of relief. After his initial elation and pride about McCormick's decision to enter law school, the Judge had some niggling thoughts about the kid's future. Just what sort of lawyer would he be? He would shine in the courtroom-no doubt about that, given that mouth of his. Unfortunately, very little of a lawyer's life was centered in courtroom trials. Most of the job was methodically filing and reading papers, which would be so tame a method as to drive an adrenaline junkie like Mark McCormick into madness. Milt too thought of the life of attorneys just starting out in law firms -almost unbearably long hours, always needing billing time, and the scramble and politics to make partner. He couldn't see McCormick tolerating such an environment. The environment would probably have little patience with him in turn, especially when that inherent nervous energy and chronic smart mouth would erupt against the confines of a decorous law firm.
There was the option of opening his own law practice with Hardcastle's support, but that too would mean taking on cases because he would have to, at least at the beginning, rather than a case he deeply believed in.
Then there was criminal law. Lady Justice was a tough old broad but she wasn't always graceful at balancing her scales, and she had her share of domestic disputes with Lord Law. What would happen when McCormick, as a public defender or criminal defense attorney for hire, do when he knew his client was guilty? Or, as a prosecutor, how would he react to the expectation from his bosses that he must try to convict a person he believed was innocent, or cut a plea deal for a too lenient sentence? McCormick's experience had left him with a fierce sense of justice, but he had never had, and would never share, Hardcastle's love for the law itself. No, when McCormick's sense of justice was outraged he would likely stay true to form and do something risky to seek out his own evidence. Milt cringed at the thought of McCormick employing "flagrant necessity." Flagrant necessity would be no passing acquaintance-it would be McCormick's intimate companion. A locked door or barbed wire fence wouldn't stop him-he'd be through those physical and legal barriers or working some con and damn the consequences, if he thought it would lead to right. Milt has the uncomfortable vision of McCormick, having come so far, facing disbarment or even imprisonment again in his personal crusade for justice. He would lose his freedom, his new career, his home.
Home. The law begins at home. That could be the answer. There would come a time, obviously, when Hardcastle and McCormick would have to hang up the Lone Ranger's and Tonto's spurs, but what about creating an army of Lone Rangers and Tontos? Hardcastle still believed that everyone should understand their legal rights, so what better way to empower them to obtain their own justice, than to help teach them? That would be part of his legacy. He would go ahead and found that law library, and expand it to offer more legal training for citizens, and some representation as well. The work could be arranged so that McCormick would be out of the office and work directly with clients in obtaining evidence, and able to use his creativity in a (hopefully) legal manner. He probably would take extra care of his own actions rather than risk implicating a client in something shady.
There would be plenty of people who could rotate the work on the project besides himself and McCormick: Warren, Jack Marsh, even Charlie and Mattie when they retired. It would be something for McCormick to do part time, juggling it with the racing. That would probably be the best solution. Racing would burn off some that nervous energy, satisfy the cravings for an adrenaline rush, and he would end up a better lawyer because of it. Yes, that was the answer. Milt would bait the hook and mention the idea as part of his own future, and no doubt McCormick would want to be a part of it, as long as he thought he wasn't being cornered into it. He wouldn't even need to be reeled in. He would just jump right into the boat.
Months later…
The talent was still there, honed by physical practice and more emotional and mental maturity, and it finally merged with good fortune. McCormick did well in his divisional races, scoring wins at his home track of Riverside and at Sears Point, and performed respectably at the other series races scattered across the country.
Hardcastle was not blind to the changes in McCormick as he began racing on a regular basis. In the past, he had relished the attention and any interviews, now he took them or left them in stride with a certain grace. If success did not completely bury his demons, they were at least driven farther underground, and he carried himself with the self-assurance of someone succeeding after repeated failure and against impossible odds with talent, persistence, and the belief of his friends. He even began to politely decline the temptations of the numerous scantily-clad women around the track, leading Hardcastle to suspect that McCormick had his eye on someone else.
It would have been wrong to keep this from him. He's making good money driving those four-wheeled coffins-no, that's not fair, I had him doing plenty of stuff that was just as dangerous. Three years would have been a long time to wait before finally earning a real living, what with going to school full time. He's successful and supporting himself, making good money doing something he loves. God, I just hope he doesn't leave.
"Haven't we been through this?" asked Frank wearily, after hearing these thoughts from Hardcastle. The Judge had "dropped by" on the pretext of sharing lunch but had neglected to bring any of his own food with him. "You have too much of a friendship for him to walk away. Now, if you want to drive him away, just try to control him and force him into something he doesn't want to do." He hoped that this would be the end of it, but hid his own sandwich in his desk drawer, just in case.
Hardcastle sighed. Frank's reasoning made sense, but he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it directly. "It's not like I could control him anyway, after the first couple of weeks," he grumbled. "He does seem to be hanging around, actually. Even cleaned the pool the other day, though he says he hates it. Probably just wanted to work on his tan."
"Just talk to him, all right?"
"Looks pretty good there, kiddo," Hardcastle admired the trophy. "Trans-Am champion and belated outlaw champion. It's been a long season when you add in the studying. How are you going to spend the break before starting over again for the next round?"
"There won't be a next time. Not exactly like this, anyway."
"What?! I thought you were so sure that this racing was right-are you flip-flopping again?"
"No," Mark's words were measured and thoughtful. "I'm not giving up racing. I just won't do it as much, or because I have to do it. I saw what this life did to E.J. and Kiki. I can't imagine reaching that point where it's like another prison, and I come to hate it. And it was hard, too, even going to school part time, when I raced every three weeks or so. And hard on you too, with all that traveling." The serious words subsided for a moment, and the familiar grin rose to the surface. "Not to mention, all that leaning. There's more to it, though. I like being home, too. I didn't have one for most of my life, so when gold drops in your lap, you hang on to it, you know?"
"Someone had to go along, ya know, tutoring, keeping you out of trouble." Hardcastle had a wary look on his face. His mush detector was pinging an alarm at the possible incoming attack of sentiment.
"Uh-huh. Well, Hardcase, you can fasten your seatbelt, because we're in for a bumpy ride. There's school, catching bad guys, racing, and basketball. I'll even pitch in and help pay for someone to help with some of the chores. Then we'll be cookin'. "
Farther into the future….
In addition to founding a law library, retired Judge Milton C. Hardcastle unretired occasionally at the discretion of the Supreme Court of California when there was an extreme backlog of cases or need for a special presiding judge. At these times, Mark took a break from racing and part time studies-and later, with a law degree- to serve as Hardcastle's law clerk, being fiercely territorial at the thought any other legal Tonto being at the Judge's side or at his back. As Hardcastle had once noted, and found it was still true, being back in the courtroom made him feel ten years younger. Why shouldn't he continue to serve as judge? He considered the U.S. Supreme Court justices as examples-heaven knew those people hung around forever.
Mark McCormick never competed in enough races to win another Trans Am championship, though he won his share of races. He picked and chose his racing interests carefully, and he remained in love with it, reminding the Judge that Paul Newman was still going strong well into his sixties.
Mark never did achieve his dream of winning the Indy 500, choosing not to make the time commitment to demonstrate his skill, master the track, and try to secure a ride. Nonetheless, he did have the satisfaction of helping to qualify some cars at the Brickyard. Mark made a name for himself despite a limited schedule, competing in a wide range of motorsports for his own satisfaction, the challenge, and the fun. While a part of Johnson Racing, he was also something of a free agent, and it became a sign of cachet for a team or manufacturer to have Mark McCormick prep and test drive their car, even more so if he would agree to race it. He earned a certain amount of success in each discipline, and major respect for his versatility: road racing, dirt races, rallying, and hill climbs. He even accepted the occasional Top Fuel offer after his defeat of Sammy O'Connell, serving as a second driver to help earn points for team championships. He was a co-driver, with his friends Tommy Badman and Pat Sheldon, in endurance racing where the Coyote shined. Mark earned more championships in this discipline, and his trophy case eventually contained the jewels in the crown of American endurance and grand touring, with multiple wins in various classes and overall victories at Watkins Glen, Sebring, and Daytona. His results for outside teams typically exceeded expectations, and his services remained in demand.
Mark achieved an old dream of going to Paris, though not like he once envisioned with Cindy Waznek. The companion on this trip was part of a far more enduring relationship. The Judge treated Mark to the trip as a celebratory gift after Mark's win at Le Mans.
Mark's most famous domestic win came about literally by accident. After his Trans-Am championship season, he was offered a last minute chance to replace an injured driver in a teams' second car in the Daytona 500. The timing suited him, as it was early in the latest school semester. Mark fulfilled his prescribed role with aiding and blocking for the team's ultimately winning driver, and surprised almost everyone with his own third-place finish. The effort earned him another invitation the following year, and when his teammate suffered a crash but no injuries late in the race, Mark received the instruction to race for himself. He drafted and maneuvered his way to the front, got the inside line and edged out a win by a little more than a bumper's length. There were numerous full time offers with his success, but the demands of the full Winston Cup schedule were beyond the time he was willing to commit, though he occasionally accepted offers for individual races. Mark had the additional satisfaction of testing further refinements and making modifications to Flip Johnson's designs for the Coyote and its derivatives, and working with E.J. Corlette in coaching young drivers.
While Mark was well recognized by racing aficionados, he was largely unknown to the general public. He consciously avoided most endorsements and the outside commercial ventures which had eventually worn down E.J. Corlette while making him famous even to those not following racing. Mark appeared only in the minimum number of print ads to satisfy his sponsors. He did remain accessible for interviews in car or racing magazines, and was gracious to fans at the track. There was another reason for the general anonymity: it wouldn't do for his still active part-time role as Tonto to try to con someone who might recognize him.
McCormick's welfare was guarded closely during his racing career by the legendary Milton C. Hardcastle, who negotiated a tight contract with any outside interests, and the formidable Mrs. McCormick, who retained considerable clout in the racing world in her own right.
As Hardcastle envisioned, the part-time law career worked out pretty well for McCormick too.
Author's Note: I spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out what races the Coyote could have entered during this time period and the next few years into the future. This was more difficult than I expected, with what seemed like a dizzying array of race series which existed for sports cars and subsequently became defunct or re-named and re-organized. The Can-Am series, mentioned several times on the show, was on its way out by 1986. I think the Coyote, if in production, could have competed in Trans-Am but as I am not 100% certain I created ambiguous dialogue as to what car Mark raced in that series. The best fit seems to be endurance/GT racing, which is what the real-life McLaren inspiration was designed for. If anyone knowledgeable can name other suitable and prestigious domestic series, I will be glad to update the story.
Trivia: Lloyd Bridges famously starred as a scuba diver in the 50's – 60's TV show "Sea Hunt."
According to Wikipedia, Paul Newman won his last race at age seventy, and was still driving high speed laps at eighty-one.
IMSA= International Motor Sports Association
SCCA=Sports Car Club of America
Sears Point is now known as Sonoma Raceway.
For yet another adapted movie quote: "Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy night," was uttered by Bette Davis in "All About Eve," screenplay by Joseph L. Mankiewicz.