“No,” Jericho said, reaching into a bag at his feet and handing Mack something small and soft. “Life lessons fromThe Racing Mom.”
Mack shook out a T-shirt emblazoned with the nickname the media had given her, and barked a laugh to cover the sting of emotion in her throat. Her life in Haubstadt had been so lonely and small, and she vowed never to take for granted the simple gifts of friendship, the teasing and laughing and ridiculous T-shirts.
Jericho grinned and pointed at the infield dirt track nestled inside of turn three. It was the same size as the one in Haubstadt but looked positively tiny from the grandstands. “After I win tomorrow, you gonna show me how to race on that, Rookie?”
Mack arched her brows. “AfterIbeatyoutomorrow, I’m happy to kick yourrookieass on the dirt.”
Boomer and Leo almost fell off the bleachers with laughter, and Mack felt warmth in her body even though the May night was chilly. She’d shut people out of her life, thinking it would keep her from getting hurt, but sitting sandwiched between her new friends, she knew she’d only hurt herself.
“I can’t believe the sprints don’t have gears. How do you even take the corners?” Boomer looked at the track skeptically.
“Real fast.” Mack grinned. The clouds shifted above them, and almost as if the sky was listening, illuminated the infield dirt track. “Maybe I’ll try the dirt race here this fall. Show you jokers how to sling mud.”
Leo nodded. “You could get big sponsor attention if you ran the 500 in May and dirt in September. Would you be able to stay with your sister again in the fall?”
“Actually, Shaw and I are moving to Indianapolis.” Mack kept her eyes on the infield, but she felt Leo’s gaze on her face.
“Hell yeah,” Jericho cheered. “I expect to see you at Body Work, making us all look bad.”
“Can’t wait.” And my god, she couldn’t. Moving to Indianapolis wouldn’t magically solve her problems, but she was ready for a change and a new challenge.
Wes and Billie planned to rent space for the motor home nearby when they weren’t traveling, and as much as the distance from her dad scared Mack, she also knew it would be good for them. Selling the track would be good for them, too. Wes was right that neither of them had a great head for business, and while dirt tracks weren’t popular or lucrative, the land itself was valuable enough that it might give them a financial cushion they’d never had before. Mack supposed she should feel sad to see the track possibly torn down, but there were too many negative memories attached to the track for her to feel more than bittersweet relief. With Laurie attacking the issue of Shaw’s custody, Mack felt less afraid of the future than she had since her daughter was born.
“Well laddies and lass, it’s bedtime. Gotta get rested up to kick ass tomorrow. Same time and place next year?”
“I’ll bring my winner’s ring,” Boomer boasted.
“Next year and every year,” Leo said.
They all looked at Mack expectantly.
She didn’t know what would happen tomorrow or what next year would bring. She’d try her damnedest to be back in a car, but if she was here in the bleachers ... well, she’d survived worse. She had Shaw and Laurie, Wes and Billie, and now the jokers sitting beside her. Maybe even Leo, if it worked out. She’d find a way to keep racing, and no matter if she was a driver or a spectator, she’d spend the last Sunday in May at this track until she dropped dead.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll be here next year.”
Indianapolis Courier-Journal
May 23
A Racing Paddock That Looks Like America
By Emily Ales
After twenty years in racing journalism, I still get asked one question more than any other:Why aren’t there more women and minorities in racing?
Racing is a sport in which body composition has very little to do with success. Drivers must be fit enough to withstand double-digit g-forces and long hours in hot, uncomfortable conditions. They need quick reflexes and excellent spatial awareness. And of course, they must have a love of speed. None of these things are related to gender or race. A recent study even determined women have the physical and psychological ability to be as competitive as men on the racetrack (a conclusion shocking only to dinosaurs and incels).
So why aren’t there more women and drivers of color on track?
The answer is both as simple and complex as history and money.
While women have been driving since the horseless carriage was invented, they were excluded from most sanctioned racing events until the mid twentieth century. The first woman to compete in the Indy 500was Janet Guthrie in 1977. A Black man did not race at Indianapolis until 1991 (Willy T. Ribbs), and it was 2017 before an AAPI driver won at the Brickyard (Takuma Sato). In the history of Formula 1, only four women have started races, and no woman has started in F1 since 1992. Sir Lewis Hamilton was the first, and remains the only, Black man in Formula 1, making his debut in 2007. NASCAR has an equally abysmal history. These barrier-breaking racers received (and modern “only” drivers still receive) death threats and some competed with equipment so subpar that it was dangerous.
Today, there are no women with full-time seats in any of the highest levels of Western racing (IndyCar, NASCAR, and Formula 1). Women make up less than 10% of global racing participants. Black and brown drivers, even less.
The most significant factor in the ability to race is sponsorship money. Racing is expensive (a single IndyCar has a price tag of $1 million, and that’s only for the vehicle itself), and with teams in constant competition for sponsorship, drivers who bring money to the table are given greater consideration than those who do not. The biggest sponsorships go to the most successful drivers—or those with famous last names—but even smaller sponsorships can be hard to come by for young and unknown drivers.
In any sport, talent cannot overcome a lack of practice. Without consistent time to acclimate to the car and learn the minute ins and outs of particulartracks, a driver struggles to be competitive in a racing series or even a single event. And lap time costs big, big money.
