Checkered Flag (10 page)

IT TOOK ALL
Jamie had to talk with Tim. He looked so alone up on the screen, and he looked even more forlorn standing near the wall. After she spoke to him, she had to walk away because her eyes filled.

The Talladega track was huge—a 2.66-mile tri-oval—with seats for nearly 150,000 and enough camping for thousands more. The grounds were a living, moving organism that came alive during race week, and as the Chase unfolded, Jamie couldn’t help but picture herself racing here, taking the lead on the straightaway and leading one of the trains.

Her dad had explained drafting to her when she was little and even showed her what it felt like by driving close to an 18-wheeler on the interstate, but there was no way she could
understand it until she saw it up close. A car going at such a high speed would be sucked into the air of another car in front of it and propelled around the track. It was discovered in the late 1950s at Daytona when a driver followed other cars around the track, using their speed to make him go faster. He won the race and the secret was out.

“I got a problem,” Jamie’s dad said on the radio. “Air box is gone.”

T.J. went back and forth with him about the box, but it was clear it wasn’t working.

Kellen came up behind her. “What happens if he doesn’t have an air box?”

“That’s the way he stays cool,” Jamie yelled. “He loses that and he’ll cook inside there for 500 miles.”

“I’m real sorry about that, Dale,” T.J. radioed back. “From what we can tell, the wires are fried in the box. You’re just going to have to tough it out.”

“Can’t he get some air through the window?” Kellen said.

“Going that fast, you don’t get any air at all,” Jamie said.

“Looks like I’m going to lose a little weight in here,” Dale said.

Jamie shook her head. It was a blistering day in Alabama. Her dad was tough, but enough laps driving in 130-degree heat and it would begin working on his
brain. Fatigue would set in.
There has to be something we can do,
she thought.

She turned to look for Tim, but he wasn’t near the pits. “Where did Tim go?” she said to Kellen.

He shrugged. “Wasn’t my day to watch him.”

The #14 car was in the middle of a pack of cars going three wide when her dad spoke again. “I feel like a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. T.J., you gotta check this thing next time before the race. How did it get past you?”

She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times her dad had spoken harshly on the radio. It was clear he was in a difficult situation that was only going to get worse as the day wore on.

“I’m real sorry about that,” T.J. said. “I feel your pain.”

“First pit stop, I want a bucket of ice dumped in here. You got me?”

T.J. laughed. “Maybe I can just get you a Coca-Cola truck to drive. That’d be a lot cooler.”

“I’m serious,” Dale said. “I’ve eaten cooked ham that’s cooler than I am right now.”

Jamie watched her dad. He was keeping pace with all the other drivers. He had to because if he slowed down, he’d cause a wreck. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tim running from the garage to the war wagon. He was carrying something and timidly looking up at T.J.

TIM FINALLY GOT T.J.'S ATTENTION.

T.J. took a headphone off one ear and leaned down. “What is it?”

“I've got this hose I rigged up from stuff in the hauler,” Tim said. “If we hook it to the window net and snake the tube in, you can at least get some air into Dale's helmet.”

T.J. leaned down a little farther, and Tim handed him the contraption. It was made out of a piece of plastic tubing connected to a funnel. Tim had made sure it was a new one so it wouldn't give Dale any fumes. He also fastened two metal clips through the plastic that would hold it securely to the netting and withstand the extreme wind velocity.

“Take this to the extra man,” T.J. said, pointing to him. He got on the radio. “Dale, Tim has come up with something we'll try on the next pit stop.
I need to make sure the officials will let us use our extra man. It'll fasten onto the window net, and you'll get some air if you fit it up inside your suit.”

“Ten-four,” Dale said.

T.J. contacted the NASCAR official and asked permission to have the extra man go over the wall. Occasionally an eighth man was allowed to clean the windshield or help the driver. The permission came, but unfortunately for Dale there was plenty of green-flag racing ahead. He didn't come in for a tire change until lap 37, and it was under green.

The extra man went over the wall. He stuck the hose inside, and Dale helped secure the clips perfectly to the netting. It was on only a couple of seconds when the left side came down and Dale screamed away from the pits, trying to get back to the field without going down a lap.

“Watch your speed,” T.J. said.

Dale returned to the race and radioed a lap later. “I'm as cool as a cucumber in here. Tim ought to patent this thing for all the drivers who have air boxes go down.”

Tim couldn't help smiling.

As the race continued, the anticipation from the fans rose about “the big one,” the normal crash everyone had become accustomed to at Talladega. At some point in the 500-mile race, with cars going at incred
ible speeds and incredibly close together, someone made a mistake, had a blowout, or got loose in a turn, and several cars were taken out.

About halfway through, Dale was in a line of cars drafting on the inside. Another line had formed beside them, and like two 10-car trains, they rumbled down the track. As they approached turn one, Tim noticed the second car in Dale's line get loose and spin into the line beside them.

The crowd gasped and people rose to their feet. Tim strained to see through the smoke and debris. It was only a split second, but it felt like an hour.

“Stay low. Stay low. Stay low,” Scotty said on the radio.

The #14 car finally emerged on the other side of the wreck.

“Good job,” Scotty said.

In all, five cars had to leave the race, and four more had to go back to the garage and would return later.

“That was a close one,” Dale said.

“Good job staying clear,” T.J. said. “You're in 12th position as it stands now, and when they clean these cars up, you may be even higher.”

T.J. was right. Though Dale's engine showed signs of running hot, a blistering-fast pit stop helped (they pulled the grille tape to help cool it off), and he moved into the top 10. There had been a number of
lead changes, but Butch Devalon was on top now and leading the pack at the bottom of the track.

At lap 166, T.J. came on the radio. “Unless you're hearing voices about what to do, we're going to be out of fuel soon.”

“Yeah, I'm thinking I need to come in for just fuel.”

“You sure you don't want right-side tires?” T.J. said.

“No, they're good. Let's come in for enough to get us to the finish.”

“You got it,” T.J. said.

JAMIE GAVE A SIGH
of relief when her dad got back onto the track after a fuel stop. There were several cars out of the race now, and 24 were on the lead lap. After a yellow flag for debris, all 24 started single file with Butch Devalon in the lead. Her dad had pulled out of line to pass earlier, and the wind resistance sent him back to 15th place.

“Thought I was going to get a push back there from the #51,” her dad said on the radio.

“We’ll get it back,” T.J. said. “Don’t try to be a hero out there. Let’s get a good finish.”

Come on, Dad,
Jamie thought. Sometimes he did things she didn’t understand. That move was a mistake a rookie would make. He’d seen an opening and moved out, not counting on the wind pushing him toward the back of the pack.

Butch Devalon led them to the restart at lap 180, with just nine laps to go. At lap 183, three cars finally got out of line, trying to pass Devalon. Her dad moved out of line again, creating a middle lane, but this time four cars followed him. They were three wide now, and her dad was being pushed to the front, right next to Devalon and the line of cars on the outside.

In turn four, the #16 car, the leader of the outside lane, zoomed ahead and took over the lead from Devalon, but neither Devalon nor her dad was giving up easy. Still three wide, #16 cut to the middle lane right in front of her dad.

Jamie switched to the network coverage and found the announcer going crazy. “This is going to be an incredible finish,” he said. “The 24 cars on the lead lap are less than 1.5 seconds apart.”

“And all 12 Chase contenders are right in there hoping they can get more points,” a commentator said.

“Here comes Butch Devalon pushing ahead on the inside now to retake the lead.”

“He’s not giving up.”

“No, he’s not, and neither is the #16 and the #14 right beside him.”

“You can bet Dale Maxwell is trying his best to push them forward so he can move over ahead of Devalon and get a push from him.”

“With all that’s been going on between those two, he’s likely to get more than a push.”

Jamie laughed and looked at Tim, who was into the race. He was leaning against the wall near the Maxwell team, watching intently. Her mom was on the war wagon, standing by the railing with Kellen right next to her, his hands balled into fists.

“Whoa,” the announcer said.

“Trouble!” another said.

“There’s smoke coming from the #33 engine on the outside, and the caution flag comes out here on lap 186. What a bad break for that team here at the end of the 500 miles.”

“Looks like we’ll get a green-white-checkered.”

Jamie paced near the team. Her dad didn’t need more fuel. His tires were iffy. A few cars hit pit road, but the leaders stayed out, including her dad. When the green flag waved on lap 191, there were two laps to go. Her dad was on the outside, second car in line. Devalon led on the inside.

The white flag flew, and as far as Jamie could tell, her dad was in third place—until the middle lane opened up and two team members came from the high side, followed by four other cars. On the back straightaway they were three wide.

Every person in the stands and on the infield was on their feet, yelling. Jamie ran to the wall to see the
finish for herself. As she passed the war wagon there was a screech of metal and smoke. She glanced at the monitor where Chloe Snowe stood.

“Field’s frozen,” she said.

“Where’s Dad?” Jamie said as cars passed the start line.

“I think he was fifth when it was frozen—”

“No, I mean where is he now?” Jamie interrupted.

Chloe looked back at the track, then at the screen. “He’s at the bottom of the track. He’s getting out of his car.”

The replay showed that the #21 car had hit the wall hard and flipped over, scraping its top and coming down the track. On its way, two cars had crashed into it, making the flames worse.

When the TV coverage cut live to the track, her dad was at the #21 car’s window, pulling the net down, waving at the emergency crew. He jumped back as a flame burst out the window. Then dived back in. Seconds later he pulled the driver out of the window and dragged him away from the car.

/////

Tim stood outside the infield care center with the rest of the Maxwell family and a gaggle of reporters and
cameras. Dale finally came out with a bandage over one eye. His eyebrows had been singed, and there was also a bandage on one arm. Before he answered any questions, he hugged and kissed Mrs. Maxwell. Jamie and Kellen hugged him too.

“Dale, describe what happened out there,” a reporter said.

“Well, I haven’t seen the replay, but I saw Jimmy hit hard into the wall above me, and the #18 got into me from below and I drifted down. When everybody got past, I saw the fire and that Jimmy wasn’t moving, so I ran over there.”

“Do you have any injuries?”

“Just burned my eyebrows a little. It wasn’t anything big.”

“And what about Jimmy?”

“He was knocked out for a few minutes. I heard him talking when they got him to the care center, though. First time I was ever glad to hear Jimmy talking.”

Everybody laughed nervously.

“You knew the field had been frozen when you climbed out of your car, right?” the reporter said.

Dale snickered. “At that point you don’t care who froze what or whether you come in third or 43rd. You just want to get your friend out of harm’s way.”

“You finished seventh. How do you feel about your chances for the rest of the Chase?”

“I feel pretty good. We seem to be getting stronger as the season goes on, which is the way you want it. If I can run like we did today the rest of the season, we’ll be in good shape.”

“Butch Devalon won the race today. Your feud with him has heated up over the last few weeks. Any comment?”

Dale smiled. “I don’t have anything against Butch. I hope he does well. Of course I’d rather see him in my rearview than ahead of me, but I’ve got nothing against him. He knows that.”

Dale put a hand on Tim’s shoulder as they walked away. “You have a good day out here?”

“Yeah, it was good,” Tim said. “Thanks for helping get me back here.”

“Where’d you learn that trick with the hose and the funnel?”

“Just something I thought up on the spot.”

“That pretty much saved my hide,” Dale said. “I’d have come out of there like a piece of burnt toast if you hadn’t fixed that thing up.”

Tim nodded.

They walked to the hauler, and the whole #21 team came out to meet Dale, clapping and patting him on the back. Dale gave them an update on Jimmy’s condition, then went inside to change out of his fire suit.

Tim waited with Kellen as the teams packed up—something he’d done a thousand times before. It was kind of nice not to have to do anything, not to get his hands dirty, but part of him wished he was still doing that because it would mean his dad would still be alive.

He wandered past the haulers and watched people at a fence overlooking the trucks. A woman with short hair looked straight at him. He did a double take. Could it be?

“Tim,” Dale called, “you ready?”

Tim watched the woman turn and disappear. He wondered if the woman could really have been
her
.