Next Race

Harley

The line of racers waiting to register had to be fifty feet long, and it wrapped between a bunch of parked vehicles on the race grounds. I sat at the registration table at the front of the herd with Charlie, who had offered to help me today.

The qualifying race was always the busiest of them all. Drivers came from all over the city, and more showed up from surrounding suburbs. Some even made their way over from neighboring states to try to get a slot in The Streets.

This year was no different.

Charlie sifted through the papers in front of us to find the name of the young man standing in front of her. He waited patiently and looked around with wide eyes.

“Is this your first time?” Charlie asked without looking up at him.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as I waved the next driver to step up.

The young man in front of Charlie couldn’t have been older than twenty-one. He wrung his hands together and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. First time. I didn’t expect there to be so many people.”