Author's Note: I don't really have anything to say. A/n are just becoming routine. I guess I could just say that I love and appreciate you specifically. Yes YOU reading this rn. I love you. Thank you for reading this and this story. It means the entire ITFL world to me. Also, I'm going to be doing a new thing with the chapter titles so.. keep an eye out for that. It's not a super plot device-y thing or anything. Just a fun thing. Okay, here's chapter 39.


Chapter 39: This is Why


Once on the road, Harley and Ryan Lee made their way to the next town over. Even though Ryan had said it would only be a thirty minute drive, it wouldn't be so. Regardless of being a retired racecar, Ryan liked to drive slow. But Harley was fine with this because she hadn't had time to slow down in a while. It reminded her of the good days. The drives she would take with Ramone, Sarge, Lizzie all came back to her with fondness and warmth. Then came the bittersweet memories with Doc. Her giddy smile faded into a sad one. Ryan of course noticed, but didn't want to bother diving into a sob story. Instead, he decided to simply get her mind off whatever she was thinking of and back to the present.

"So, kid, what color are you thinking of?" It seemed to work because Harley's attention and thoughts were quickly reverted back to the 'here-and-now.' She raised her eye rims and looked over to her slow paced coach.

"Hm?" She asked not quiet catching his question.

"Color, kid, what color." He asked with a slight tint of irritability.

"Oh right!" Harley said as he sighed, "Hm, not sure." The thought hadn't exactly crossed her mind. She was just excited for her first racers paint.

"Well, you best decide soon." He muttered earning a scoff from Harley, "What?"

"Soon? The pace we're going is gonna get us there next week." Ryan rolled his eyes while Harley chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah." he nudged her fender, "Gotta drive slow if you're going to take forever on what color your getting." now Harley rolled her eyes.

"Ha, okay." Silence once again filled the air as she thought about herself in different colors.

"What about blue?" Ryan suddenly suggested.

"Blue?" Harley repeated. She took it into consideration, but as she was seeing herself in blue, she saw the garage. Doc's garage. The newspaper clippings of Doc flooded her mind. All she could see was Doc in his prime. Royal blue burned in her mind like a forest fire devouring the very woods they were driving through.

"Yeah, blue." Ryan continued. "It's a fan favorite, though lots a cars don't really use it anymore. The royal blue that is, you got that King who sort of owns the baby blue paint now. But hey, it's been a while since anyones given royal blue a shot." Harley's expression grew dark.

"No." Was all she could say and again Ryan noticed her change in mood, only this time he wasn't going to ignore it.

"Why not, It's a nice color." Harley was now starting to let her emotions take over.

"I said no, Ryan!" Her voice was suddenly raised and Ryan slowed down. "I'm not going to be blue!"

"Hey, calm down.." He carefully studied her. He had always been a very observant car. It was one of the traits that made him a great racer back in the day. He studied everyone else while making himself unreadable. "It was just a suggestion."

"I'm sorry," Harley sighed out her emotions and let go of her anger. "I just… really hate that color."

"Really? Couldn't tell.." He then went back to his original pace. "Maybe yell louder next time." Harley had no response. She wasn't even thinking about what color she could be anymore. She was just mad now. She resented Doc. He was such a hypocrite and a lier her entire life. How could he do that? Why would he? Did he ever really love her, or was that a lie too? Just part of his big scam over the entire town. She prayed she'd never see him again. As soon as she prayed that, she felt nothing but sorrow.

"Red?" Ryan piped up to break the awkward silence that had suddenly plagued them.

"Huh?" Again Harley forgot what the current question was. She heard red and thought about the soft spoken firetruck back home. Home. No, not home, back in some desolate place that only played the part, but it failed to earn the title. It fell short at the very end. Of course it was too good to be true. Wasn't everything?

"Red. It's striking, intimidating. Would look nice on you." Ryan said as he looked at her and imagined her sporting the bright look. "You could own an iconic look." She thought about it before suddenly a seemingly ghost from her past reminisced with her.

"Jeremy…" She said in the softest of voices.

"Do what?" Ryan asked, not catching whatever it was she had said.

"What? Oh nothing." She shook her hood. "Just, uh, no." Ryan wanted to be annoyed at all this no business, but she seemed to actually be really troubled about these colors.

"What do you suggest then?" He asked instead. She blinked a couple times as she tried to move her train of thought away from the fear of the past and to the present again. But that once again failed, only now, it went back to a fond memory.

"White." She said with a half smile as she remembered a patchy white and black racecar with an identity crisis. The car with two names, at least in her book.

"White?" Ryan asked with a very disagreeing look. "No." Harley then finally went out of a nostalgic and reminiscent tone to the argumentative one of a classic teenager.

"Why not? White's a great color!" She retaliated.

"You are going to be on the track more than you'll be on the highway and you want to be white?" Ryan said with disbelief.

"You just don't want to hose me down after every time I leave any track." She raised an eye rim at him. "Lazy."

"Excuse me?" Ryan said not holding back his annoyance now. "I do that anyways, I'm thinking about pictures and awards. You'll look worse than everyone else before you even get on the track." Harley scoffed at him.

"It'll make me look like I work harder." Ryan shook his hood.

"It'll make you look filthy." He argued back, "Why not something more… memorable. Like green."

"What?" Harley grimace. "Ew, no" She thought back to the black and green Camaro that turned out to be a drunk jerk. "That's just gross."

"Lime green, yeah." Ryan agreed, "I'm talking a dark green, like an emerald or evergreen type of green."

"Ryan," Harley said with as much sass as she could muster into both her face and voice, "I'm going to look like a tree in that case."

"Fine." Ryan gave an exasperated sigh. "Yellow."

"That's worse, I'll look like fruit." Ryan was getting more frustrated which only made Harley chuckle.

"What, you wanna be pink!" He asked and Harley let out a loud laugh.

"Bubble gum?" She said in between laughs. "They'll be calling me the Cotton Candy Can-do Car!" Ryan was definitely not amused while she continued her attack of laughter. "If you don't like white, what about.." She drew out the last word as she pointed at Ryan's paint job.

"Purple?" He said as he glanced over at her.

"Ding, ding, ding!" Harley again chuckled while Ryan shook his hood again. "What? Is that just your thing?" She asked sarcastically.

"Yes." Ryan clearly said without a second thought.

"Well fine then." Harley again said with sass. "White it is."

"Okay fine. First thing's down." Ryan continued one.

"What's the second thing?" Ryan glanced over and scoffed.

"What, you gonna drive with no number?" Harley now bore her classic confused look. "Yes, numbers are usually assigned," Ryan answered her without her asking, "but this is an invitational race. You're not big league yet. And also… you're a girl." Harley opened her mouth in disgust.

"Seriously?" She asked with an agitated look. "You've gotta be kidding."

"Nope." Ryan thought back to a car he once raced against. "I'm actually not sure if this race assigns number or not. But incase they do, they're not going to give one to a girl. Louis Nash had to steal her number. She got in there and blew us all away." Harley's expression quickly changed.

"You knew Louis Nash!" She said with an excited voice.

"Yeah. Raced against her." Ryan seemed to not be too impressed. That or the memory jut didn't mean much to him. "She was a wild one."

"Heck yeah she was!" Her mind started racing through all the questions she could ask, all the stories Ryan must have, "What number was she?"

"Oh, Nash had to steal lots of numbers. She'd been 14, 73, 35, I think she was 27 at one point. She finally claimed 94 for good. Everyone just gave it to her after she made a name for herself." Harley thought through the numbers, but Ryan cut her off, clearly reading her. "No."

"What?" Harley asked with her eye rims furrowed.

"Don't get one of those just cause she had them. Others will remember and think of you as another Nash. You don't want to be another Nash." Harley thought about it before speaking.

"But… I kinda do." She said cautiously.

"You want your name to be 'the other Nash,' 'the little Nash,' 'Nash jr?" He sternly said. "No. You don't. Be original." Harley was slightly confused as to why he was being so picky with everything. But considering he had rules like 'won't train a racers kid' and 'don't drive into the cabin that's in the middle of the woods covered in dirt,' it should not have been a surprise to her.

"Fine.. how about.." she again thought back to Damien. Or rather John, as they had called him before they knew who he really was. She remember how they raced under the moonlight. Well, Damien raced. Harley only spectated. He would remember tiny things every night. One night it was another racer, another night, his old crew chief. One night it was a number. 18. They never did found out who it belong to, but he remembered it. That's all that mattered really.

"How about what?" Ryan asked impatiently.

"What, oh sorry, I was just thinking." Harley somewhat lied, "How about 18?" She asked without a hint of nostalgia. But again, Ryan shook her head.

"Not that either." Harkey groaned.

"Ugh, what now?" Ryan scoffed at her.

"That's another well known number." He argued.

"No it's not." Harley barked back. Then she thought about how rude that could've been towards Damien if it really was his number and felt bad for saying it. "Okay, maybe it was."

"Yeah, it was. Sort of." Not wanting to get into any stories and anecdotes, Ryan moved on. "What else you got?" Harley thought again and shook her hood.

"I've got nothing." She said as she continued to search her head for any number that could have any significance.

"You said you were from Route 66." Ryan mentioned, "What about that?" Harley scoffed as she said another joke.

"What, so someone can spray paint another six at the end of it?" Ryan rolled his eyes.

"Fine then, maybe there's something else. Like an old emblem." Harley again was confused.

"Emblem?" She asked.

"Yeah," Ryan gestured towards the back of them with a tire and his eyes. "It's obvious you used to have an emblem. Which was very unprofessionally taken off." Harley thought back at the emblem. A birthday gift. From Doc. "Was it a number?" Harley softly sighed.

"Yeah," she paused and thought about it. "89."

"89. That's perfect." He said as if it was decided, but Harley looked very opposite from that. "Now what?" Ryan asked. But Harley was quiet as she drove along. "Kid?" She shook her hood.

"Nothing, it's fine. The number, it's fine." Ryan stopped driving. He was done putting up with this.

"Alright look-" He started but got cut off by the Cadillac.

"What? I said it's fine." She said with furrowed eye rims.

"I'm not talking about that anymore." He firmly retorted. "Something's under your paint. Now look here, I'm not going to sit here and be your therapist, because I'm your coach. That's it. But I am going to say this: get over it." Something so simple, yet it was something Harley never thought about. No one had ever told her to do that, and it never once crossed her mind.

"Get over it?" She repeated as if it were in a foreign language that spoke of an ancient virtue.

"Yeah, get. Over it." Ryan said as he looked at her very sternly, only it wasn't his usual grumpy and annoyed glare. It was still a strict glare, but there was something behind it. Something like.. compassion? Maybe it was just pitty. Either way, Harley couldn't exactly pin it down. "You can't keep driving around with something heavy locked up in the trunk. It'll just weigh you down. You can't win with that kind of baggage. You'll only loose." Harley looked down as the corners of her mouth bent downward into a slight frown.

"It's…" she wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. "I just.. I have a lot I left behind in R-Auburn." She shook her hood slightly at the almost slip up of names. "It's the kind of stuff you just can't forget."

"When did the word 'forget' ever leave my mouth?" Ryan asked. Harley looked up.

"But you just said-"

"I said get over it. I never said to forget." Harley thought it over.

"Isn't that the same thing?" Ryan sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment to gather his thoughts. How to explain this to a child was the real question here.

"No." He then opened his eyes. "No it's not. You don't have to forget. A lot of times you can't. But instead of having it chained to you, leave it. You have something locked up in the trunk, why not leave it in Auburn instead? No one said you have to throw it out, burn it, whatever. Just leave it somewhere. Anywhere. My suggestion is leave it in Auburn. You're a kid, therefore you obviously left something, someone, to come find me. I'm not one for story telling so I don't expect you to tell me the one about your life up to this pont. Quite frankly, I don't care all that much. Life is shit, that's all I need to know. When you watch a movie, do you just sit there and rewatch the beginning of it over and over again?" Harley slightly shook her hood. "Well, then.. quit rewinding the damn thing and let the film play." Harley smiled slightly and gave a nod.

"Yeah.. yeah okay." She said and took a deep breath and nodded her hood again.

"Good." Ryan then began to move forward, "Now let's hurry the hell up, Miss Maude's probably waiting on us."

"Miss Maude?" Harley asked as she followed him.

"Yeah, I said a knew someone didn't I?" Harley shrugged.

"Yeah, just Miss Maude isn't what I was expecting the name to be." Ryan glanced down and scoffed. "What?" He then shook his hood.

"Miss Maude is my go to guy. Well, gal. She's the one who's given me my current and past three looks." Harley nodded and for an instant thought about Ramone before forcefully taking him out of her mind. Ryan was her coach, and she was going to take every bit of his advise.

"Well, seems like she knows her stuff." Harley said trying to only think of the current moment. Ryan shook his hood as they continued driving.

Neither one of them spoke for a while. It bothered Harley only because she hated dead silence. It was one of the reasons she loved stories. And even though Ryan hated stories, she was going to pry one out of him.

"What's on your mind, kid?" Ryan asked noticing her restlessness.

"Oh, nothing." She said as she tried to think of something to talk about. "Just thinking." Ryan glanced at her slightly trying to pick out what her thoughts were. "Who was 18?" She finally asked.

"What have I said about questions and stories?" Ryan said as he looked at the road.

"Oh come on, just the one." He remained silent, "Please?" she begged in a slightly whiny tone. "Ryyaaan!" He continued to ignore her "Ryan Leeeee." Her voice became slightly sing-songish.

"I'm not getting into that!" Ryan said with a sudden anger that surpassed anything he had ever expressed. It scared Harley. "Sorry." Ryan muttered as he saw the fear in her eyes.

"You just really hate stories." Harley said softly. "I couldn't tell… maybe… yell louder next time?" Ryan slightly chuckled as she stole his line from earlier. A tiny smile crept to his face.

"Yeah, maybe I will." Harley also smiled as she saw Ryan's mood shift slightly.

"Yeah, yell louder." A sudden voice came from ahead of them. "Maybe then I'll hear the old Ryan Lee." Harley and Ryan hadn't realized it, but they were in a town. Not Davenport, but a tiny town a little more than halfway to Davenport. And there to greet them was an old orange truck.

"Smokey?" Ryan asked as he drove up to him.

"Who's Smokey?" Harley asked as she looked at the truck.

"Smokey, what the hell are you doing here!" Ryan yelled in shock. The old truck laughed at his once upon a time friend.

"What, an old man can't go for a drive?" Smokey asked sarcastically.

"A drive? You're half way across the country!" Ryan had a look of disbelief that surprised Harley. She never knew he had more emotions.

"Yes. But there's a race next week and a friend of mine invited me, so," Smokey looked around, "here I am." He then looked at the slightly frightened girl sitting beside Ryan. "Who's this?"

"None of your business." Ryan said and started to drive past him.

"Oh come on, Lee, don't be acting like that." Smokey followed the two and Harley kept close to Ryan, even though he kept moving away from her. She had grown accustomed to keeping close to Doc whenever a stranger was present. She didn't realize this until now of course, but regardless, she moved away from him.

"No, Smokey, leave us alone." Ryan kept moving on, "And I don't go by Lee. Never had."

"Yeah, and Paul never went by Hud, but here I am still calling him that." Ryan groaned at the mention of the name.

"I don't care about Paul, I haven't heard from him in decades, and I'm sure you haven't either." He was becoming agitated with this memory that wouldn't stop following them.

"Hey, Ryan?" Harley softly spoke up. He looked over to her with his eyes saying shut up. But off course she continued on. "Who's the truck?"

"Yeah Ryan. Who's the truck?" Smokey repeated with a raised eye rim.

"Fine, fine." Ryan gave in. "Kid, this is Smokey. He was a crew chief to some Hornet back in the day that I raced against. Smoke, this is Harley Davis."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Davis." Smokey said with a kind smile.

"You too." She said with a little more confidence.

"Okay, enough of this. We have someone to meet." Ryan growled as he turned to continue their drive towards Davenport.

"Is that so?" Smokey asked and went right along following him.

"Yeah, we're gonna go see Miss Maude." Ryan shot Harley a look. "What…" She looked past Ryan and over towers Smokey. "She's going to give me some race paint."

"Race paint?" Smokey asked and looked over at Ryan. "Didn't tell me she was a racer."

"Didn't need to know." Smokey scoffed.

"Well, why don't you two take a break." Smokey offered. "I can buy you a drink, we can catch up."

"I don't 'catch up,' and she doesn't drink." Ryan kept his angry look of contemptment.

"Oh, come on Ryan," Harley chimed in, "We need a break. this trip is exhausting." Now Ryan felt cornered.

"The only thing exhausting is dealing with you two.." He muttered. It was quiet, but he could feel their gazes on him and he seemed to growl.

"Okay! One drink!" Smokey nodded and Harley smiled.

Smokey led them to a nice bar and ordered himself and Ryan a drink. He also got Harley just a water, and they all sat together. It wasn't long before Smokey was telling stories about Thomasville and how everyone was back home. Likewise, it wasn't long before Harley realized, he was Doc's crew chief. Regardless of that, she tried to enjoy herself. Though it was hard. She knew she had to change the subject, listening about Doc's racing career was getting tiresome.

"Hey, Smokey!" Harley interrupted.

"Uh, yeah?" He asked surprised by her interjection.

"Talking about Do-er- the Hudson Hornet is great and all," Harley made a mental note to pay more attention to what she says, "but I had a question,"

"Shoot." Smokey said as he sipped away at his third drink.

"Do you know of any car with the number 18." Ryan was more relaxed than before, but now he glanced over at Harley with again a look that read as do not talk.

"Hm, no, I don't reckon I do." Smokey thought for a moment longer. "Why?"

"Well Ryan here-" Cutting her off mid sentence, Ryan spoke up.

"No, no, I said we're not getting into this." Ryan finished up his own third drink and Smokey chuckled.

"And why not, Lee?" He asked.

"I would rather not say." Ryan looked at his empty cup as if staring at it would conjure another one.

"Ryan, I know you don't like stories, but-"

"Don't like stories?" Smokey laughed. "This kid used to never stop talking back in the day! And if you thought Hud was a chatterbox, hah, you never met Lee!" Harley raised an eye rim at Ryan.

"Really?" She asked him.

"Alright, fine!" Ryan snapped. "Just the one.." he muttered upset about his loss.

"Yes." Harley smiled in her victory while Ryan sighed and rolled his eyes and Smokey softly chuckled.

"Alright. It was a while back. Maybe two decade ago, a little less. The King was one of the new rooks at the time. Me? I was the new crew chief. I was also chiefing for a new rook myself. Number 18, David Stockrim." Something in Harley dropped. Stockrim. It couldn't have been her Stockrim, not her David. Her dad. At least this meant Damien had once raced with her father, which was awesome. Only she would never be able to remind him of that, seeing as she doubted she'd ever see him again.

"Who, uh, who was that?" Harley asked trying not to show any of her discomfort.

"I just said, he was a new rook." Ryan glanced down, but Harley was covering her emotions rather well. "And he was amazing." He said as he looked back at his cup. "He was a bit of a bastard though. Very cocky, overconfident. Very stubborn. He always wanted the best of the best. Nothing less would work. Thank the Manufacturer he grew out of that. He had pure, raw talent. He eventually learned to appreciate that. I got to know him pretty well too. All that big and boastful pride about him was covering up a softy. Which was hard to admit and to believe, but hey. Facts are facts. He wasn't too bad. He would've been a champion." He said as his barriers began to crumble and a fond smile same to his face. Smokey started to see the old Ryan and that too brought a smile to him.

"Would've?" Harley asked, keeping with her charade of ignorance.

"Yeah. Would've. He was young for a racer. Young for a rook. He raced for about three years and then. Poof. he was done. Met a girl and just quit." He chuckled. It was rare for him to do so, but here he was. A chuckle. Harley slightly smiled.

"Leave it to a girl." Smokey said as he finished his drink.

"Ha! Yeah." Ryan then frowed. "It was very strange though. He just dropped his entire career. His first year, he got second to Capetod in the Piston Cup. Capetod was a good guy, I was friends with his coach. Good cars the two of them. Anyways, Stockers raced his second year, officially free of the yellow tags. And whoo! He was at it! He missed that Cup by no more than an inch! That race was steller. The next year brought not that many rooks, but a lot of new crew chiefs. One was.. he was something." Harley furrowed her eye rims.

"Who was he?" She asked and he shook his hood. He hated this car with every fiber of his being.

"Jonathan Matthews. Now he was a bastard. That damn Charger was the color of the devil, but I wouldn't be surprised if Lucifer himself was scared of him." Ryan was deep in his memories now. Harley looked at him and suddenly realized it must have been years since he's talked about any of this. She glanced over at Smokey who seemed to have the same thought. "Now, this Matthews guy? He wanted Stockers. Eventually he got ahold of his sponsor and sure enough, worked his way into a new job. Damn car got me out of mine. But hey, at least it was an excuse to go back to purple."

"What were you before with, uh, Stockers?" Ryan looked over at her and smiled. "White?"

"It's funny. My first kid wanted to sport the snow look, now this kid does. Funny how life does that."

"Yeah.. funny." Harley said nodding remorsefully.

"You wanna be white?" Smokeh added.

"I already tried to change her mind, but no, the kid wants white." He rolled his eyes and Smokey scoffed.

"You got yourself a stubborn one." He said looking over at Harley.

"Yeah… Well anyways. Matthews did his job. Did it well. Stockers raced well and was about to earn a great spot in the lineup. Qualification races started and he was on fire. My new guy, Anderson, was right behind him, but once you train a near champion, it's hard to beat. Anderson was a rook, Stockers wasn't. But then he had a kid and… That was it. He just dropped it all." It was obvious something was bugging him.

"I thought you said it was a girl that made him quit." Harley said.

"Yes. But he met her near the end of his second season. Turns out she had been keeping her eyes on him." He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, I remember how mad Weathers was. The King." Ryan clarified and Smokey and Harley both nodded. "They were together for another year before he had his kid. That Harley girl that was on the radio the other day, the Stockrim girl? I think that's her. But I never did know what he named her. After he got a new crew chief he cut all ties with me." Smokey scoffed and shook his hood.

"I know the feeling.." Ryan glanced over at jim and also shook his hood.

"Typical ain't it? Anyways, he could've won the cup. But no. And I can't help but think it was that Mathews guy."

"The Charger?" Harley asked and Ryan nodded. "Why?"

"Oh.." Ryan carefully thought back to those distant memories. "He was strange. Kept to himself, didn't like to talk much."

"So like you?" Harley couldn't help but make the joke. Smokey laughed, but Ryan only glared back at her.

"No." He scowled, "No, he was… dark. Menacing. Never knew how Stockers could ever trust him. To even let his sponsors hire him over me! But they did. And then shortly after Stockers left the racing world…" He fell silent as a sad look over took his features.

"What…?" Harley asked, but she knew the answer. Smokey looked from Ryan to his empty cup.

"Died." there was a thick silence. none one of them had realized they had gained a small crowd in the back of the bar of intrigued cars. "He died, Harley." He looked down. He wasn't one for emotions, but it was obvious how much this had hurt him. "Then after he died, Matthews disappeared." He shook hours hood again. "Just vanished. About three years later, Joan remarried. Three years after that she lost her daughter, her new husband got thrown in jail. And then she vanished. No one's hard from her since." The back of the bar was quiet now. Anyone who was in listening distance was tuning in, but while Ryan was still upset, Smokey glanced up and glared at the crowd. They quickly returned to their normal activities. All but one random car.

"And then he busted out." She said. Harley looked over at the car and stared intently at her, that is, before she realized who it was. Dez.

"What did you say?" Harley asked her with a little more dear than she was intending. Smokey glanced over at Harley and Ryan glanced up at the stranger.

"He busted out. His name was Miler. And he's out there somewhere." Dez continued on, "Happened about a month ago," She looked right at Harley, "around the and time the Stockrim girl went missing." She stopped to sip at her drink and there was a pause. "If I were her, I'd watch out. He probably means business." With that she left the trio with their thoughts. Jeremy was out. And Harley was suddenly a five year old girl again. Racing for her life. Racing toward Doc back in 1989.

89.