Get it together! You cannot be turned on right now.
Evan Knight walks up with his cameraman, clearly wanting an interview before everything gets started. Well, I’m not turned on anymore.
“Regan, how are you feeling about today’s delayed race?” he asks, thrusting a microphone at me.
“It’ll be tricky with a green racetrack today, but we’ll keep an eye on how our car reacts to it and make adjustments as needed,” I say. I’m trying to stay focused on what Evan is saying, but I can still feel Dean’s gaze.
“What about starting with Dean in the second position today? Considering how tumultuous this season has been between you two?”
That’s putting it mildly.
“I’ll race him clean if he does the same.”
“Thank you, Regan. Good luck.”
Evan walks off to find someone else to interview. But what I said is true: if he doesn’t pull anything stupid today, then I’ll play nice. I’ll retaliate if I have to. Regardless of what may be happening behind closed doors, on the track, I will fight like hell to get my seat in the Cup Series.
Evan has made his way over to Dean. Probably asking him the same questions he asked me moments ago. Afterwards, he catches my gaze once again with a determined look in his eye. I’m not sure if it's for the race, the championship, or me—could be all three, and that unnerves me.
Green flag is finally in the air, and the race begins. Everyone is slipping and sliding around on this track. No one can seem to get any type of good grip to really go anywhere. Luckily, I’m able to hold the top position and keep Dean behind me.
The first caution of the day comes out for someone who spins and hits the wall. Everyone comes down pit road for service. We planned on a bit longer stop for all the adjustments we need, along with four tires and fuel. I lose two spots, and Dean is able to claim the lead. I take a breath to stay calm.It’s okay, we planned it this way, we have plenty of time left.
Green flag waves again and it’s Dean, Hicks, myself, Leslie, and Drew Clarks in the top five positions. We have mainly fallen into a single file line, following each other around the track. This keeps the cautions from happening, but also makes passing harder. I’m finally able to get some speed out of one of the turns and pass by Leslie for the third position.
Not too long after claiming that position, the yellow lights around the track come on, indicating a caution. Two cars spun mid pack fighting for track position and took out a bunch of other cars along the way.
I go back down pit road for another round of four tires and fuel. We have a good stop and don’t lose any spots. Shoulderman comes over my radio, “Dixon had a slow stop. He’s in tenth.”
“Copy,” I acknowledge.
Another restart. Hicks is out front, and Leslie is right next to him. Hicks is able to pull out in front of Leslie to keep his lead.
This is one of the longest runs we’ve had, and my car is losing all of the handling it had at the beginning of this run. I’ve dropped from third to eighth, and Dean is still holding in tenth.
It’s getting close to the window to start green flag pit stops, and once that window is open, Shoulderman brings me down for service.
“Pit this time, pit this time,” Shoulderman calls. Thank god.
“I’m extremely loose on the entry of the last two turns. It was hard to hold any positions,” I say.
“Roger that. We’ll make adjustments along with four tires and fuel.”
After the green flag pit cycles through, I’m up to sixth. But we are over halfway through this race, and people around me are starting to get antsy and make some risky moves. I quickly glance up in my rearview mirror and see that there is a big three-way battle for the fifth position. This causes yet another accident.
“We’re taking two tires this time,” Shoulderman calls.
“Are you sure? Things are still a little hairy out here,” I say, concerned. My car hasn't been consistent with its handling, and I fear this will do more harm than good.
“Worth the risk now. Dixon had another long stop, back in twelfth. Focus on what’s ahead of you, we’ll get you there.”
“Let’s get it.” Although I’m still nervous about this call, I decide to trust him and do as he says, focusing on what’s in front of me.
I restart second, and the laps are slowly starting to wind down. About halfway through this run, my car is starting to fade. I lose one, two, and now three spots. I have to hold out on this run as long as I can.
Then the worst thing starts to happen. I call over the radio, “I have a vibration.” This is not good. It can mean almost anything. It’s hard to isolate while going one hundred and eighty miles an hour.
“How long can you hold it?” Shoulderman asks. Before I even have a chance to answer, my tire blows. I spin down into the car next to me, causing them to spin into the grass. It pushes me up into the outside retaining wall and before I hit, I let go of the steering wheel to keep from injuring my hands. Rebounding, I come back down the racetrack when someone else rams into the driver’s side of my car, causing it to lift onto two wheels and spin around once more before coming to a stop in the grass. I take a large breath after holding it that entire time. I’m sure it all happened in a matter of seconds, but it felt like eons inside of the car—smoke. I can smell smoke.
