Checkered Flag Read Free

NASCAR—qualify when she wasn’t yet 18 years old. Though the other drivers congratulated her and gave her kudos, she knew some had complained.
    “She holds a valid license,” one official had said. “We could have kept her off the track, but we agreed the license trumped her age.”
    That was the end of it, though she could have bottled Butch Devalon’s stare at her during the drivers’ meetingbefore the race. The guy had a toothpick in his mouth, and he cracked it in two while looking at her. She wanted to make a face and hold up a sign that said, “Get Over It—You’ve Been Clawed by the Tigress,” but she didn’t. She did smirk a bit, however.
    Standing in the pits behind the war wagon was an experience in Denver. Because the stands were built in much the same way as Bristol’s, you got the feeling of being enclosed, like at a coliseum. A canopy stretched over the stands to block the beating sun—the same kind of look as the Denver airport.
    On her first trip here, Jamie had sat with her mom and Kellen in the expensive seats. Video screens were installed on the back of each seat, and you could watch a virtual dashboard of your favorite driver, listen to radio communication, and see in-car video. Whether a fan sat there or in the cheaper seats, it was one of the best places in the country to watch a race. The stands felt right on top of the track, and the infield was sunken so all the RVs and TV trucks didn’t block the view.
    The lighter air in Denver affected the cars in lots of ways. There was a special setup for the carburetor so it wouldn’t bog down at the 5,280-foot elevation. Jamie’s dad said those high-altitude directions for baking were just as important for racing.
    There was a moment of silence for some victims ofa flash flood in a Colorado canyon and then a flyover from Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado Springs. The wind picked up, and all the drivers seemed concerned about the crosswinds that were gusting up to 20 mph.
    Her dad took the green flag and shot ahead with a vengeance. The announcers, writers, and fans were talking about the change in her dad’s racing, and Jamie could sense his confidence rising. It seemed like old times when she was little and he was in his heyday with one of the big teams. He was consistently in the top 10 in every race back then, dueling with the big guns and making the Chase. She was in elementary school and always took autographed pictures of her dad for friends. When he went out on his own, a lot of her classmates didn’t want his autograph anymore.
    On lap 19, two cars tapped and spun, leading to a several-car crash in the middle of the pack, many of them the top contenders. Jamie wasn’t as concerned with them. The real race was between her dad and the #17 and #33 cars. The #17 car was 12th in points, with a slim margin over #33 in 13th place. Her dad was 14th and needed to move up two spots to make the Chase.
    “Looking good out there, Dale,” Scotty said over the radio. “Stay low and get ready for a pit stop on the next pass.”
    “Where’s the competition?” her dad said.
    “Just stay in front. We’ve got a long way to go,” Scotty said.
    Her dad got four tires and fuel, but it wasn’t the crew’s best pit stop. He made it back to the track in fourth place. The #17 car was right behind him in fifth, and #33 was running in 11th place.
    “Looks like #17’s going to push you a little bit,” Scotty said.
    “Us old guys need a push every now and then,” her dad said.
    Jamie had gone over the standings with her dad the night before. If he won the race and the two drivers ahead of him finished sixth or lower, he was in the Chase. If he came in anywhere else, it would just depend on their point totals at the end of the race.
    Jamie knew other drivers were racing conservatively, not going for the win but trying to finish high. That wasn’t her dad’s approach, especially in this race.
    Her dad attempted to get back in the lead on the