Let's Race

Rick

I pulled into an angled parking spot along a concrete median. On the other side was the track, and nobody was allowed to roll onto it yet. Once every car was registered, we would pull out of our waiting spots and wait in our starting positions behind the line.

All eyes were on me as I killed the ignition and the butterfly doors on the Saleen pulled upward. I stepped out, straightened my shirt, and clicked the fob in my pocket as I walked toward the registration table. I didn’t look back as the doors slid closed behind me.

“Rick Thomas, Saleen S7, Twin turbo,” I said to the young woman working the registration table. She had a whole crew with her who scrambled through pamphlets, looking for my information. One of the other women at the table handed her my record, and she drew an X through my name, wrote a number on the top right corner, and slid the sheet into a binder.

She smiled up at me. “Welcome to The Underground. You’ll be starting in third. Do you have any questions, Mr. Th