[b][h2][center]Joel Nicolosi[/center][/h2][/b]

Joel watched Tommy approaching the hauler with a clear scene of disgust on his face. He knew what the man was doing and he didn’t like it, but there was nothing he could do about it. Tommy was playing on the singular button he knew he could push. Joel’s competitiveness was near poisonous, almost suicidal. He zipped up his racing suit with a deathlike glare. Lou, standing alongside with Joel’s dad gave the young mechanic a confident grin and a fist bump. Joel headed down the stairs to a scene of whoops and hollers from the rest of the crew enough to draw the attention of their more noble English morning guests. Joel glanced at them defiantly, grabbed his helmet and went out to meet Tommy.

Seeing Joel approach was the exact outcome for which Tommy had hoped. As a man that led sports teams his entire life, several to championship fame, he knew what motivated men. Joel was a little bit harder case as he’d never participated in anything that built comradery or team spirit. He had to be motivated by other means. [i]Now we’re in for a show[/i]. He thought. Tommy smiled broadly inside his helmet as he came to a stop and peeled the window back. “What’s wrong buddy?” He said sheepishly and taking his helmet off.

“You tell her to keep that thing in the air.” Joel said darkly and shoved the radio headset in Tommy’s face. He had a murderous look that Tommy enjoyed immensely. This was a man ready for battle. [i]Mission accomplished[/i].

Tommy climbed out and put on the headset as he switched with Joel. He started towards the English delegation, but not before Joel dumped the clutch and covered them all in tire smoke and exhaust blast. Another prideful chorus went up from the crew as they watched the car head back out to the course after Joel’s little display in foreign relations. Tommy coughed and waved away the heavy white air that covered the group with a diplomatic chuckle. He was trying to restrain a smile as he spoke to Maxmallion. “Your grand-daughter is certainly talented my friend,” He glanced back as the smoke cleared seeing nothing but a red flash moving out over the field. “My partner wants to give it a go now.” He jumped on the radio and called the tower.

Joel didn’t need to check the readouts on the display. He knew when the car felt right. It was perfect. There was not a nut, a bolt, a spring, a valve, a rod or any other part of the car that he had not handled [i]personally[/i]. He knew every single inch of the chassis and what it was capable of. Tommy just wasn’t up to the job. Either that or he wasn’t trying on purpose. Either way, he knew he could win. He could feel it in his gut. It crossed his mind briefly that she would probably be faster on the second run, having had extra practice and lighter on fuel, but he didn’t care. His whole life he’d lived for moments like these. Sometimes it came a quarter mile at a time, other times it was a streetfight that only lasted a few moments. This was what it was like to be [i][b]alive[/b][/i].

“By God he’s already got it in the wind,” Joel’s dad said. He grinned with pride as he watched through a pair of binoculars. Joel thundered down the taxiway wide open towards the starting mark. Marlin’s plane swooped down with its characteristic howl right behind him as she headed for the first gate. Her form was on, sharper than before. Wings level, smoke out, she hit her first break-turn as soon as Joel’s brake lights lit up.

Joel slammed through the gears, each one launching the revs higher as he hit the first turn. There was never a half movement or a gentle arch. Every turn, every input on the controls was for maximum possible effect. When his foot left the brake it immediately put the accelerator on the floor, no in-between. He could feel the grip on the verge of sliding the tail. He was on the edge. The grass of the infield came up and was gone again in a flash. Gear, gear, gear until he was back into final. Another turn, repeat. The howl of wind came up over the car against the scream of the engine and was gone again. Hard turn, back in the throttle. [i][b]Push![/b][/i]

The two courses crossed paths in the “center” of the apportioned raceway. A photographer would have grabbed a golden moment in time as Marlin crossed over Joel in knife-edge flight. A spurt of fire blasted from his exhaust as her prop turned in fury. He could hear her flash overhead. They broke away from each other in less than a half a second. 

Joel sailed off the final turn feeling the rear end come around, but he stayed in it kicking up a small tuft of grass where the rumble strip ended. The finish line was directly ahead along with Marlin’s last gate arrayed in the classical checker pattern. She wasn’t there, but he could hear her, approaching fast and from behind. He didn’t look in the mirror. It was a drag race now. [i]Same as all those times in high school.[/i] He thought. His grip on the wheel tightened to white knuckles under his gloves. Closer, closer, the line was nearly there. He could feel his pulse pounding through every ounce of blood in his body. She was right on his tail, lower this time than when she raced Tommy, getting every extra ounce of height for speed she could possibly muster. They blasted over the line and it sounded like her prop was right over his head before it peeled away. 

“Hoooooly shit man!” Tommy shouted over the radio. “You got her by a nose!”

Joel exhaled what felt like ten gallons of air and sank into the seat as the car decelerated. He realized immediately that Tommy had indeed given it a hell of a go. She was definitely fast. His heartbeat was likely visible beneath his driving suit as he felt the adrenaline pouring away in buckets. He rolled up to their temporary paddock and spun a couple of donuts, sending the smelly white smoke cloud over everyone for a second time. He really poured it on this time.

“Damn son! I think you are made of hellfire!” One of Tommy’s teammates said hauling Joel out of the car. He barely had time to get his helmet off before he was mauled. 

With the assembled celebration, it felt like he’d won the Indy 500. He brushed a mass of sweaty hair out of his face and looked up in time to see Marlin landing. Then he saw her big mouthed aunt standing there looking dejected. He couldn’t help himself: “Hey!” He shouted with about zero eloquence, “We’ll take our money, [i]now[/i].” 

[@PrinceAlexus]