AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you've been following me on Tumblr, the beginning of the chapter should sound familiar.
The season was nearly over, only two weeks left until the Dinoco 400. Strip had a good shot at winning the championship again that year, and everyone knew it.
It wasn't just because he was good at racing. It was partly that, but also because the field of experienced racers had thinned dramatically over the last few months. There had been a major wreck at nearly every race, and many of the veterans were unable to finish the season due to extensive repairs. Their sponsors had been forced to bring in temporary replacements. These younger, less skilled cars weren't much of a threat to Strip and his fellow seasoned racers, but they did change the field dynamics.
After he'd caused that first wreck that placed him second, Chick discovered that racing dirty played in his favor. The Buick turned out to be one of the faster new kids, and didn't let anything or anyone slow him down. If there wasn't room for him to pass another racer, he'd make room. If there was someone in his way, they weren't there for long. He'd independently dispatched more intentional violence on the track in the past year than anyone else had in an entire career – even Sammy.
The main difference between Hicks and Sammy was that Chick wasn't likable off the track. No one seemed to want to hang around him, as he seemed to do nothing but elevate himself and talk down to others. The media loved his confident, arrogant attitude, and that only reinforced the things his fellow racers had grown to dislike.
As the season drew to a close, the Piston Cup circuit brought the racers and their teams to Georgia. The competition was hotter than ever with only two races before the championship. Everyone that stood the slightest chance at winning pushed their way forward, trying to rack up as many points as possible. Though Hicks hadn't placed particularly well throughout the season, he'd managed to bully his way to the front of the field early on. The other racers seemed hesitant to come near him, fearing another trip to the clinic.
Strip had the Grand National in his sights with only twenty laps to go. He'd never directly interacted with the kid, but maybe he needed to, if for nothing else than to at least try and knock some sense into him. Racing was a competitive sport, but not one that begged violence. He'd watched a lot of his friends get hurt that year.
Catching up to Hicks wasn't a problem. He wasn't that fast, but Strip knew he had to be careful getting around him or else he'd be pushed into the wall or knocked off the track like so many others. Twenty laps gave him time though, and with only one other car in front of the rookie, he didn't need to hurry. He hung back for a moment and analyzed his options.
"Hey man," Tori pulled up next to Strip as they came out of turn four. "I wouldn't normally suggest teamin' up like this, but we need to teach this kid a lesson. I'm tired of watchin' everyone else crash out. You know, he can't get us both at the same time."
"You have a plan?" Strip asked.
"He's using the middle groove. We can both get around him at the same time. I'll go high if you go low next straightaway." Tori offered. "He won't know what to do."
"Worth a shot." Strip agreed.
Coming out of turn two, Hicks drifted towards the middle of the track, giving the older racers the opportunity they were looking for. They gained on him quickly. As they passed him, Chick panicked. He had a real chance at winning that race, but if they both got past him, that chance would be gone.
Going into turn three, Strip stayed low, close to the line to pull away from the Buick. It earned him the lead he wanted, but Tori was still caught in the outside. Chick saw his chance and took it. He pushed Tori's rear end out from under him, sending him spinning towards the inside.
The rest of the field came up on them quickly, with Tori sideways in the middle of the track. He took a hard hit in his left side from another racer. The pileup escalated from there.
Strip heard the wreck behind him, and looked back to see just how bad it was. He saw Tori's body fly and tumble into the infield, and several others hit the wall, colliding with each other.
Chick was perfectly fine, in the clear and trying to draft him.
The race officials stopped the race to clean up the wreckage. Strip sat in the pits, fuming with rage. He didn't anger easily, but this had crossed the line. Only about a dozen racers were left to finish the remaining eighteen laps. He watched Tori get a tow to the clinic. He couldn't tell if his friend was conscious or not.
Chick was going to pay. Strip saw him five pit boxes ahead of him, laughing it up with his crew. Of the five spaces between them, only one other racer was present. It wasn't right.
Strip managed to restart the race in second place, right behind the rookie. The flag dropped and they were off again. He gained his momentum back as quickly as he could and waited for the perfect moment. The other racers were well behind him, allowing him to concentrate on how he was going to beat this kid. Strip knew he would never wreck anyone on purpose, as tempting as it was at that point. He wasn't about to lower himself to that level. No, he was going to humiliate Chick the way he knew best, by winning.
As they crossed the finish line heading into the final lap, Chick and Strip were a solid four car lengths ahead of the remaining racers. It was time. Strip started to put pressure on him as they went around the first two turns. Chick noticed and started to drift away from his line in order to block the older racer. Strip acted as if he were letting off, fooling Chick into thinking he'd scared him away.
The moment they came out of turn four, Strip turned every last ounce of his frustration and anger into speed and blew past Chick on the outside, taking the checkered flag by several feet. He heard the Buick shout as he passed him, but didn't know whether it was in surprise or anger. He didn't stick around to find out.
He didn't even take a victory lap or do a burnout to celebrate the fact he'd just won the race. The roaring crowd was the last thing on his mind. He pulled right off the track, passed his celebrating crew, and made his way to the infield hospital where they were treating the injured. Victory Lane could wait.
The medical staff let him in, as they'd already ensured everyone's stability. Strip knew that most of the field had been rendered not race-worthy, but he didn't realize so many had taken on damage this serious. A lot of them were young kids. The sight of so many wrecked bodies and painful expressions sent an eerie chill through him. It was all too familiar.
"Did you win?" He heard a tired voice ahead of him and to the left. "Please tell me you won."
"Hey there, Tor." Strip drove up to face his injured friend. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did."
"Good." Tori let out a ragged sigh of relief.
The Hurst racer looked terrible. Entire panels were missing, and it was obvious his frame was twisted. The medical staff had him hooked up to two different machines. Strip didn't know their purpose.
"How you feelin'?" he asked his friend. "You're lookin' pretty rough."
"Is that all?" Tori tried to laugh, but winced at the effort and grew more serious and sighed. "I know what death looks like, Strip. I… I didn't know I was so scared of it 'til now."
Strip wasn't used to hearing his friend speak like that. Tori was always the lighthearted one that masterminded the pranks. He was the one that always had the punchline to the joke.
"You're gonna be alright, Tori," he told him. "They'll get you fixed up and back out there in no time."
Tori looked down at his crumpled hood. "I don't know. I think I might be done, man."
"What?" Strip rolled back a few inches, shocked. "Done? But you're still one of the best – you could win the championship this year."
Tori managed to crack a smile, but the look in his eyes was still sad. "I didn't wanna believe it either, but if this is what the sport has turned into, then I don't wanna be a part of it. I'm not going to sit back and watch all these innocent kids be led to the slaughterhouse because the race officials won't restrict the actions this new guy's taking. They deserve better, and dang it, we do too."
"Well, what if they do make a new rule?" Strip asked, not wanting one of his closest friends to quit his passion so young. "They do it all the time. Maybe next year they'll say that things like this can't be intentional, or somethin'. Maybe they'll up the penalty."
"Then it'll be that much better for everyone else." Tori explained calmly and quietly. "I've had a good run. I can't complain."
Strip frowned. He realized that Tori had made up his mind, and he respected it, despite how much it disappointed him. Things were about to be a lot different.
"Now, don't you have a trophy or somethin' to go claim?" Tori asked, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Get out there. I'm not going anywhere. You can come back when you're done."
"Alright." Strip backed away and turned to go back through the entrance. "You take care of yourself."
He passed the rows of injured bodies on his way out of the building and felt the anger start to rise again, but it wasn't just that. As he left the tent, Jake passed him, looking frantic, so frantic in fact, that he didn't acknowledge Strip's presence. The kid just wanted to know if his dad was going to live. Strip's conscious started to blur the similarities of the current situation with the last time he'd been at the factory.
This was Chick's fault. In his anger, Strip decided he was going to go give the new kid a piece of his mind.
The media swarmed Victory Lane, wondering where he'd gone. Strip approached the area from behind, avoiding having to fight his way through the reporters as he made his way to the stage. It was a podium finish, and Chick and the third place racer were already on their stands, talking to the interviewers. Before Strip made his appearance, he heard Chick talking to the crowd of reporters. He stopped to listen.
"What these guys?" Chick responded to an unheard question. "The racers we saw today are nothing. They're either old and outdated or young and completely inexperienced. Neither belong on the track, not if they can't handle the racing tactics of today."
The Dinoco racer narrowed his eyes. So that was how Chick saw the world. Strip had seen this kind of attitude before, and every racer that acted similarly either didn't last long or didn't win a lot. Those types didn't change their ways via a little constructive criticism. Chick was a prime example of how lust for fame and attention could destroy a good racer. Only time would show it.
No. He wasn't going to talk to him. Chick wasn't worth his time. His words would mean nothing to someone like that, and he wasn't about to get wrapped up in race track drama.
You want to wreck my friends and try to start a new era of your own? Go ahead. We'll see how far that gets you.
Strip emerged and took the top pedestal, putting on a smile for the cameras that all turned toward him.
"Well look who finally showed up." Chick muttered, as suddenly no one wanted to talk to him.
Strip didn't give any inclination that he'd heard him. A race official presented him with a golden first place trophy and slipped away as the reporters pushed as far forward as they could. The camera flashes were blinding.
"Weathers, is the new generation of racers threatening to dethrone you?"
"With so many veterans out for the count, how's your outlook on your career?"
"Thoughts on the upcoming championship race?"
The barrage of questions unsettled him ever so slightly, but he didn't show it. Usually, they asked for a dedication of sorts or how he felt about winning the race. He'd never been questioned about the path of his career, as if it were ending soon. He cleared his throat to answer, and was met with quiet anticipation.
"Nothing's changed here. New racers, older racers, under the hood, we're all more or less the same." He hesitated briefly, carefully phrasing his next words to be as indirect as possible. "These new racers are young and full of energy and all, but it's experience and skill that wins races, not pure speed and force. I'm not goin' anywhere, and I fully intend on winning the 400 later this month."