I bring my car down pit road, and we take a little bit longer to ensure we make the best adjustments we can. I watch as my crew comes around my car changing tires, adding fuel, and making adjustments, all in a matter ofseconds. My team looks like the fucking ballet, it’s so well choreographed.
The jack drops, and I’m back off. I know I probably lost some spots taking a bit longer, but I’m hoping it’ll pay off with better handling. We come out in the eighth position, and of course, Dixon is back in the lead. There’s still plenty of time in this race to finish well.
Another restart, and we take off down the track. The adjustments we made seem to be working, and in a few laps, I’m back in the fifth position.
“You have one coming up behind you,” my spotter says in my ear.
“Who is it?”
“Hicks. You still have time to hold your position, and you’re starting to run faster than Dixon.”
I suck in a breath and try not to focus too much on Hicks behind me, and more so on reeling in Dixon. That’s my main focus.
“Caution, caution. The Big One behind you,” Dad calls. The yellow lights illuminate around the track, and the field slows down. The Big One, meaning half the field, probably just wrecked and can’t continue in the race.
There are only about fifteen laps left, and no one in the top ten comes down pit road during this caution. All of us want to keep the track position we have, wanting the win.
“Ten laps to go this time,” Dad calls. “You got this. Stay focused and don’t let anyone rattle you.”
“We got this,” I say confidently. I don’t fully believe it, but I’m speaking it into the world. Well, the radio, in this case. I’m still in fifth, and I think I can move up a few spots if I play this restart right and get a good jump.
Coming to the green flag again, and off we go, everyone through the field running two by two. Dixon overdrives the car, causing Taylor, who is in second, to get by him. I’m able to get by Zach Dawson and Drew Clarks, and I’m closing inon Dixon, who’s still in second. I watch as Dixon taps on Taylor’s bumper, causing him to move up the track and out of the racing groove, sending him back into the field.
Now, it’s just me and Dixon fighting for this win.
“White flag in the air, white flag,” Dad says.
I’m able to maneuver next to Dixon. We are side by side coming into the final corners. I’m still a bit ahead of him, and I feel a tap on my side that sends me spinning into the grass.
Son of a bitch!
I can’t believe he fucking wrecked me. My mind is running a million miles a minute as my car finally comes to a complete stop.
“Regan? You okay?” Dad shouts over the radio. As many times as he’s seen me wreck, and knowing how safe these cars are now, his concerned parent’s voice always comes out when it happens.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. What the fuck was that?”
I refire the car and bring it down pit road. That wasn’t the ending I was hoping for.
“Can’t tell if Dixon touched you or not. We’ll need to watch the replay,” Dad says as I get ready to climb out of the car.
I am fuming.
I don’t need to watch the replay, that jackass dumped me to win. I don’t know why I feel so surprised, since it’s not the first time he’s done it.
I take off my helmet and HANS device, throwing them back into the cockpit of my car. A golf cart with racing officials is waiting to take me to the infield care center.
It’s a rule that any driver who’s been in an accident needs to be checked out and cleared by the doctors.
Evan Knight is waiting outside the doors as I’m released, waiting for an interview.
Great. Just fucking great.
I put on my best camera-ready face to do the interview.
“I’m glad you’ve been released from the care center, Regan. What are your thoughts about what happened out there?” he asks, pushing his microphone at me.
“Dixon is reckless, and he doesn’t care what happens to anyone else to get a win. Wait until next week. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
