I grew up where dirt didn’t exist and a cotton rag was the finest product ever to be made. Where your reflection shined in the chrome trim and everyone was envious of everyone.
The winter salt-dirt mixture washed off the pavement and into the river that formed along the back side of the town. Tires could finally lose their protective coat and put on their finest for the show months ahead. For beauty contests were where the best of the best came from all over the state to compete. This wasn’t your every day picnic pageant. Blood and sweat would pour from every contestant grasping for the title of best in show.
The shows were amazing and the hot sun glistening off the freshly waxed paint jobs were almost the reflection of angels. This is where I grew up.
I had another side though that most would ever guess. For if you looked closer past the chrome trim, perfect body work; past the spotless leather seats and original dashboard gages. Underneath the hood and into the belly of the beast was where my blood flowed. The perfect body work would be nothing without the power that lay beneath that made my heart quicken and eyes widen.
This was my home.
The concept of speed and time together in perfect harmony but also, worst enemies. My father, tall and brave, was the epitome of drag racing. The very essence of American muscle ran through his veins and now flowed through mine. My home traveled in my heart and my heart was with my father.
I have no memory of living in normal house with normal things. I had wrenches and rags as toys that I would play on the dusty pit roads. Sometimes depending on our location father would let me wander into the woods and gather sticks and leaves to make little shelters for my toys. I never told him I was making houses like the ones near the track where I would see kids playing in the back yard. Though I fantasized about a normal life it wasn’t what I dreamed about. I loved my father and I would follow him until my feet bled.
My mother was very beautiful. I guess she valued her feet because I don’t have many memories of her. My father kept the only photograph in his sock drawer. My father doesn’t know I found it or that I would look at it during the later hours of the day before he came back from his nightly intake of liquid poison. I couldn’t help wondering what went wrong. The photograph showed my dad grasping a giant trophy screaming at the top of his lungs. A bright yellow sundress formed perfectly to my mother as she clutches her husband’s muscular arm in excitement.
Just how smoke drifts off into the horizon after a show stopping burn-out, my father’s soul drifted along with the smell of burnt rubber into heaven. People would wander to our trailer with pre-cooked dinners telling me that God just needed the best driver for his personal racing team in heaven and I already knew my father was the best driver on Earth.
The blood that flowed in my veins couldn’t stay away from the track for long. I took over my father’s passion for racing and traveled the country doing what we did best. Show off.
I put my own personal spin on the sport just how my father would have wanted me too. My father’s college buddies Tom and Randy were also his racing crew. After his death they both retired from the business and moved to Daytona, Florida. I got post cards now and then. It’s hard to get mail when your house is on wheels. But some how those two crazy bastards would always know what race track I was headed to next. Probably because I followed the same route as my father each season but it’s still a lucky guess.
Aiden and Ryan were the crazy bastards’ replacements and I was happy to have them with me. I met Aiden at my father’s funeral. He was the son of my father’s high school rival. What they were doing there I’m not sure but no matter if you lost every time to my father you still had a place for him in your heart. It’s almost like my father casted a spell over everyone. Not like he had too. He was the nicest man you could ever meet and was always willing to help or share his tools; even if he was racing against them the next day in the championships.
I grew up with Ryan on the road. His uncle raced along side my dad for most of his career. When Ryan was 5 years old he wandered onto the track when no one was looking during a practice race. My father ran out onto the track and grabbed Ryan just before it was too late. I guess Ryan feels like he owes my father something so I was happy to have Ryan join my team. It’s also nice to have another race child around that never had a normal home.
I repainted the team truck, trailer and motor home a dark plum color with silver lettering. I could never replace my father and his legacy that he left behind so I changed the team name from “Double Take” to “Phoenix”. I kept my father’s 67 Mustang though. I couldn’t sell it and I felt this way he was always with me; watching out for me every quarter mile at a time.
It was early August and we were in New Hampshire at the New England Dragway for one of the last races of the season. I always enjoyed traveling to New Hampshire in August. The sweat wouldn’t roll down from your helmet as bad as you fly down the lava pavement.
Ryan had started a relationship with a team Accelerated Performance groupie. She would always be around their trailer flirting with all the men. Some how Ryan got her attention and they are always together. She practically lives with us going from race to race. She could make a mean mac and cheese dinner though and for that I felt I should give the girl a chance. Ryan and his girl were always in the trailer before the races started doing their traditional physical work out.
Even though Ryan only dated this girl for only a year he came to me last week after my races were over. I was glad it wasn’t before for I would have been unfocused and he knew this. What a smart boy. Ryan was thinking of marrying her and settling down in some boring neighborhood in Massachusetts. I couldn’t understand living any other life than the one my dad and I lived. I don’t want Ryan to leave but I could see he wanted a normal life, with a normal house. I understood this and told him I would support any decision he made as long as he’s happy. Finding another mechanic as good as Ryan wouldn’t be easy but I knew the team would be ok.
I don’t remember where Aiden was that day, but I didn’t think anything of it. I was only going out for my first time trail and figured he checked the Mustang before he wandered off.
I started her up and slowly made my way to the track. I was used to doing this on my own and I didn’t mind it. I always felt my father was the best teacher around. I had a weird feeling he was with me more than normal today. Maybe I was just lonely for I haven’t been on a date in years and Ryan’s developing proposal got me thinking for another life. Just for a second. The ‘what if’ in the back of your mind that never goes away.
I stared at the christmas tree. Please give me a good time that’s all I ask for. The tree counted down. Green. Floored the pedal and the mustang came to life. The sheer power pulled my body toward the finish line while forcing me into the seat at the same time. The adrenaline high is nothing I could ever describe. You’re so focused on shifting and winning you never see the crowd on ether sides of the strip. I squinted through my helmet visor as flashes of pavement and sky flickered.
I prided open my eyes with the bright light piercing into my brain forcing them shut. I couldn’t see.
An overwhelming smell made me at peace and all my muscles relaxed. I knew that smell well. The smell of burnt rubber filled my nostrils and my smile grew to capacity. For I would walk along side my father’s mustang all the way from the pit to the track wishing him good luck and I’ll see him again in a few seconds. As the mustang rumbled to the christmas tree the back tires would light up like magic. Smoke would pour out like someone unleashed the gateways of hell.
Why was I in such a bless state of mind? I felt amazing. I’ve never been this happy not even after that win in Atlanta. That was the best race of my career. I didn’t win the overall race event but this real tool John Harvey grabbed my ass right before my third race against him and chuckled that I should go make him a sandwich. The track was no place for a woman with my fine ass. If Aiden wasn’t there to grab my arm I probably would have beaten John with my socket wrench. I won the race against John; blew his doors right off. John missed second gear right off the line. Nothing better than beating men who think they are better than female drives just because they have a penis.
I don’t feel enclosed by the mustang any more. I try opening my eyes again to the bright light. The light was still uncontrollably bright. After I blinked a few times I saw the yellow dress flowing in the breeze as it walked towards me.
Welcome home baby.
*The above story was written for a summer 2011 Creative Writing Introduction class. I hope you enjoy it.
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