Summer 1955

They'd drifted apart. In exactly the way he'd been afraid they would.

All five of them had only been able to meet at once for a single race in the summer of 54. Will was living too far north to consider spending that much time away. He'd filled his schedule, and in an attempt to lessen the load every fall, he would take as many summer classes as possible. He'd met them at the airport for a single weekend race and had left only hours after the flag had dropped. Dean was never in the same place more than a few weeks. No one from their circle would hear from him for months at a time when he'd suddenly show up out of the blue, usually use someone's couch for a week and disappear again. Tommy was finishing his last year of high school and to give him a bit of a break, his parents had allowed him to stay with Billy for the summer. They both had decided to make sure they kept in close contact with Hershel, it was easier than with the others, considering they were related.

Hershel had taken his classes in business and business law and decided he was going to kill two birds with one stone. After an afternoon at the Piston Cup main offices, it had been decided that he would intern with them during the season, allowing a certain amount of hours to count towards his credits.

He'd only approached them earlier that year as the spring semester had drawn to a close and by the time all the details had been ironed out, the season was well underway.

He could still attend races, and he could get decent seats for the others, but instead of just spectating, he would have responsibilities. It wasn't exactly kicking back and just enjoying the afternoon but he was still there. He was still near the track and that atmosphere he'd found so addicting.

Tommy and Billy had flown home to spend a few days with family, and he'd promised he would call later in the evening to let them know how it had gone, but the six hours between that phone call and that moment standing in front of the doors suddenly seemed like an eternity.

Taking a deep breath and checking to make sure his suit appeared presentable, he pulled the main doors open, and then the secondary doors in to a bustling lobby that seemed almost as chaotic as the tracks they managed.

He wasn't quite sure where he was supposed to go, a few names had been mentioned, but because he'd been the one to pitch the idea he was fairly sure they expected him to take control of the situation. Pulling a piece of scrap paper from his pocket, he glanced over the names he had jotted down as he approached one of the front desks.

A young girl with blonde hair hung up the phone beside her and looked up at him questioningly. "Can I help you?"

"I- uh, yeah- yes." How was that for professionalism? "Yes, please. I need to meet with either Mr. Moore or-"

"I'm afraid Mr. Moore is in meetings all day."

"Well then-" He pulled the paper from his pocket again and raised a brow, the other options would not be available at all. "Then either Miss Piston or Mr. Piston..."

The girl looked at him skeptically.

"Those were the names I was told to ask for..."

She picked up the phone receiver and shook her head. "Alright..."

While the secretary listened to the phone ring, Hershel could tell someone was approaching the desk, only looking up when he realized they were addressing him.

"Mr. Edwards, right?

"Uh- yes."

The man stuck his hand out. "I apologize for the wait, we're a little crunched for time this afternoon so it won't be until tomorrow possibly that we really get started. Joseph Moore."

The secretary had hung up the phone upon seeing Joe and realizing that Hershel had found at least one person that could help him.

Hershel had barely gotten his name out when Joe was excusing them from the front of the desk and was leading him down a hallway.

He was given a tour of the main office spaces, or at least the general areas he would be working in. It was fast paced and a little overwhelming, but he had to continually remind himself that it was apparently an off day if what Mr. Moore said was anything to go by. He caught the older man checking his watch repeatedly before going on their tour and acquainting him with the surroundings.

"This is where you'll most likely spend most of your time, at least until you've gotten your feet wet and are familiar with the systems we have in place. We've streamlined the process by track through the years, but every now and then there are still moments of confusion, sponsors calling the wrong number and not being transferred or being transferred to the wrong line..." His voice lowered and he spoke quietly over his shoulder as they returned to the main hall that lead back to the lobby. "Now there's the possibility of opening up the option of allowing share holders in...something else to iron out..."

Hershel could only frown slightly, he didn't have to be involved long to consider the amount of headaches that could cause. He was in school for business after all.

Joe glanced at his watch again with a sigh. "I would have liked to spend the afternoon with you but I have some important meetings I can't miss." He placed a hand on Hershel's back and herded him toward an open door. "Mr. Smith can answer any questions you might have or even give you a more thorough walk through."

Hanging through the doorway, he caught the man's attention. "Greg can you help Mr. Edwards this afternoon."

Hershel couldn't help but feel like a burden as they discussed where he would go.

"I have-"

"Even if it's just for an hour or so. I have to be upstairs in ten minutes."

"Oh..." Greg looked at the clock. "That's today."

"Mmm."

"Why not Emi-"

"Miss Piston has been working with record transfers all day." Joe hesitated and looked back toward Hershel. "She's actually training someone this afternoon, you could probably join them."

Hershel felt his stomach twist in to a knot, the only time he had ever seen Emily Piston was when his friend had been making a fool of himself, hopefully she wouldn't remember him. Afraid of being a disappointment, even in the hectic afternoon, he only nodded as Joe told him that Mr. Smith would point him in the right direction.

"It's self-explanatory." Emily spoke in a tone that suggested she'd rather be doing anything else. "Everything is categorized by year, date, then alphabetized by track, then numerically by team number. Their finishes, penalties, or if there were any withdrawals on that particular track, you'll find them under the team number."

"That sounds complicated." A girl about her age muttered, looking at the file cabinets as if they could bite her. Hershel had to agree, one person in charge of all that information...

"It's alright once you've grown accustomed to it." Emily replied while pushing a drawer closed. Her voice trailed off as she glanced through the glass petitions to the hall, she paused and watched the group walking through from the main lobby.

Hershel blinked a few times, realizing he was supposed to keep a professional air about him now that he would be working in the Piston offices, but he was still as star struck as he'd been in some grass field in the middle of Alabama.

The group didn't pay any mind to anyone else within the building, apparently with a specific destination in mind as they were led down the hall by Mr. Moore and through the door just passed the room of records they occupied. Hershel caught a glimpse of a wooden staircase before the door closed behind them.

It had been nearly a year since he'd seen Jesse Hudson in person.

"He looks like he aged five years." He leaned back at his desk, phone cord stretched to the limit as he'd remembered to call his cousin later that evening.

"Can you blame him?" Billy muttered, sounding distracted. "I mean, you've seen the pictures..."

"Billy, we were there..."

"Again, can you blame him? The guy's lucky to be alive."

"I dunno why they were there, couldn't really tell."

"Probably a lot of formalities to get out of the way."

"Mmm. I left before they did. Tomorrow's my first real official day." He suddenly remembered something he'd wanted to mention and sat up again. "You should've seen that car, Billy."

"Probably not the same one."

"Not from what people were saying."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, was gorgeous. They put a lot of work in it. I actually spent a lot of time in the parking lot looking it over."

"Be nice to see it out there again."

He could only mutter an agreement. They'd had decent seats that race, and they'd been surprised by the amount of trouble different drivers had throughout. No matter how old he ever got, he didn't think he'd ever forget seeing the first tumble the Hudson Hornet took. He hadn't seen the rest of it, he'd looked away. All he remembered was standing beside Billy and watching from halfway up the temporary stands as the race was brought to a violent halt, drivers standing in the sand behind the barricade put in place while an ambulance left the track.

He remembered that, and hours on the phone with the others, who wanted every detail they could remember.

As the silence dragged on, he narrowed his eyes slightly, realizing Billy hadn't been very involved with the conversation. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at my options for buying a couple shares..."

The next morning, at his first official day of interning, he discovered that The Fabulous Hudson Hornet had officially retired.