May 17, 1980
"So your bro's gonna be racing here," says an Army lieutenant named Scott Archer.
"Yup," replies Nick Standhardt as he and his friends walk on a concrete pathway outside the track.
"It's for the qualifications for the race tomorrow," says the auburn-haired waitress from Benny's whose name is Maci. "I can;t go tomorrow since I have the brunch shift."
"And I'm going with my parents and sister to Cedar Point tomorrow," says Scott.
"Well, tonight, Nick here's gonna be a comedian," says Phil.
"Really?" asks the Army lieutenant, who is wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead of a uniform.
"There's a contest at this club near the bay," says Nick. "I even brought my jokes with me so I could practice my lines for tonight."
"We do have our own challenges," says Scott, reflecting on his years at the United States Military Academy in West Point, New York.
"Come on, let's get a seat," says Laurel.
They all go to the stands, which are basically bleachers with aluminum benches. They easily find a place to sit, as qualifyings typically do not draw as many crowds as the actual race on Sunday. Nick and the others can clearly see the motorcycles racing around.
He looks at his watch. It is 10 am, half an hour before the qualifying.
Oooooooo
Inside the garage for Team Rocket, Walter goes over every square inch of the Kawasaki KX125 off-road motorcycle, especially its two-stroke engine. He briefly reflects. Being a mechanic for Team, Rocket has been an interesting experience, having to check the same vehicles multiple times a day, and traveling all around the U.S.
Unknown to this mechanic, a hologram is projected to this garage from twenty-one years in the future, and the man behind the hologram is talking to the man who appears to the people of this time as Rick Standhardt.
The mirror had finally been installed in the bathroom by the track's owners, and Sam Beckett sees the image of Rick Standhardt in the mirror, wearing the racing outfit with various logos, including the Team Rocket logo.
"Better get ready, Sam," says Al Calavicci.
Looking at Rick, Sam takes a deep breath. He heads out.
"Bike's as ready as it will ever be," says Walter.
"So am I."
"Then get to it," says Chucky.
Sam places the helmet on his head. He turns the handlebar throttles, and the engine roars. He slowly idles the bike to the starting line.
He can see the other racers, all wearing similar clothes as he is. He can hear the rumbling of the dirt bike engines, muffled as they are through his helmet.
He had learned the rules. He will have to race around the track for an hour.
The observer appears next to him. "Just focus on staying on the track," he says. "If you can pass, pass. Otherwise, just keep going."
"Got it," replies the leaper.
Sam and the others revv their engines.
The flagman waves the green flag.
The qualifying session begins.
Some of the motorcycles pass right through Al's hologram!
"And they are off!" exclaims the announcer.
Sam focuses on the track ahead and the other bikes. His mind closes off everything else.
Just the bikes, just the track.
He hits the first ramp and flies into the other, and he observes two bikes ahead of him landing and continuing before he does the same.
His mind focuses on the relative movement of the drivers and the track ahead. Soon, Sam crosses the finish line and starts his second lap.
Al is projected at the box right next to the starting line, where the team managers are seated to watch their racers.
"One perk of Project Quantum Leap," says the observer, watching the dirt bikes pass by, kicking up clouds of dirt. "You can get the best seats."
Al watches the bikes race around the track.
So does Nick and company.
So does Chucky.
Sam has been racing around. He crosses the finish line another time.
He remains focused.
I just have to do my best, for Rick and for Nick.
Just as the Kawasaki rises into the air, the leaper notices the motorcycle ahead of him sliding on its side on the dirt, leaving behind a cloud of dust.
Time seems to slow down for the leaper.
He sends the right nerve signals to his arm muscles.
He steers towards the left.
He barely misses the fallen dirt bike.
Flagmen in stands wave yellow caution flag.
He eases the throttle, slowing down, knowing that he is not allowed the pass the other cyclists.
Racing depends a lot on luck.
He passes the finish line once.
Al looks on, relieved that Sam was not the one who fell on the track.
"Carey is all right" exclaims the race announcer. "He is getting up."
The race originally did not report any serious injuries, though Al had concerns that Sam racing in Rick Standhardt's place could change things.
He then sees the flagmen waving green flags.
Sam sees this too, and increases the throttle on the straightway.
Nick looks on at motorcycles.
Al looks towards the stands. He might have a good view, but he wishes he could go to the stands and actually buy one of the hot dogs.
Such is the disadvantage of being the observer instead of the leaper...
Al had been a leaper more than once, the only one who actually leaped back home.
"And here we are," says the announcer. "The time has run out and this is the last lap of the qualifying session."
Sam passes the finish line. He heard that the race is about over.
Just one more lap.
His heart races.
For you, Rick. For you, Nick.
He focuses on the dirt track and the other cycles.
He sees the finish line, barely noticing the flash of black and white in the periphery of his vision.
And then Sam Beckett, appearing as Rick Standhardt, crosses the finish line.
"It's over," says Nick Standhardt, sitting In the stands.
Sam gets off the bike. Soon, he is off the course; Chucky and the others of Team Rocket greeting him.
"You did good," Chucky says to the leaper turned motocross racer.
"Thanks," replies Sam.
Ooooooooo
An hour later, Sam is at a table in the concourse Behind him is a poster of Rick Standhardt in a motorcycle racing outfit, with Rick holding his helmet. He signs autographs for the guests at then race track. Sam just smiles, relaxing.
He had heard Rick will go on to the race tomorrow. He hopes he can leap out so Rick can be the one racing and be on course to win the championship in 1982.
"You were great," says Nick, approaching the table, a partially eaten seventy-five cent hot dog in one hand.
"Thanks," replies Sam, smiling.
"Yeah. I can't stay too long here. I gotta get home to practice my comedy routine for tonight."
"If you can perform half as well at the club as your brother did today, you'/ll be okay," says Chucky.
"Thanks," says Nick.
"Look mommy," says a seven-year-old girl in a little yellow dress. "that man looks like the other man at the table."
Nick looks at the woman holding the girls hand. "We get that a lot," he says to her and her daughter.
Ooooo
Nick looks at himself in the mirror, wearing a black jacket over a white shirt. A red necktie is tied around his collar.
"I haven't worn this since my interview at Benny's," he says. "I thought I wouldn't have to wear it until Maci's wedding in September."
"You look great, Nick," says Sam, who is dressed similarly as Nick, except with a blue necktie.
Nick looks at his watch. "We'd better get going," he says.
Sam takes one peek at Rick in the mirror before he leaves.