Authors: Michele Dunaway
Kellie said goodbye to Cynthia and watched as Hart began indoctrinating her son into motor home living. The refrigerator was stocked with everything from fresh fruit to soft drinks. “I won’t eat dinner until after qualifying,” Hart told Charlie as Charlie retrieved a soda pop. “We’ll all eat lunch at the hauler in a little while. I think Elementals is catering food in. If not, someone will be barbecuing. If you want anything else, there are tons of concessions in the infield. I’ll show you when we walk over. Here, take this.”
Hart handed Charlie a fifty-dollar bill for whatever he might want to purchase. Kellie had opened her mouth to protest, but fell silent. From her son’s nonstop grin, Kellie could see that Charlie had adapted to Hart Hampton and his lifestyle like a fish takes to water.
The two simply
got
each other, an understanding and camaraderie already evident between the two men. As her son stood beside Hart, Kellie could see that’s what Charlie had become. A man. No longer just her little boy, but rather a teenager who wanted nothing more than to get his driver’s license and experience all life had to offer. She trembled slightly at the realization. This weekend was going to be like opening Pandora’s box. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
“So are you hungry?” Hart asked.
“Not really. We ate a big breakfast before we drove to the airport.” Kellie glanced at her watch. They’d left early in the morning, and it was almost eleven. Outside, she could hear the roar of engines as the truck series was taking its final practice.
The door opened and footsteps sounded. “Hey, Hart,” a voice called. “You’re due at eleven to draw for qualifying order. We gotta move.”
“A lot of teams send reps to the drawing,” Hart told Kellie and Charlie. “I actually like doing it myself if I’m available. That way, I only have myself to blame.”
A giant of a man came fully into the living area. His Hampton Racing polo contrasted with his dark black skin. “Hey, you must be Kellie and Charlie. I’m Russ.” He reached his hand forward and Kellie returned his firm grip. “We’re gonna go pick up your hot passes, and then get Hart where he needs to be.” He gazed at Charlie. “You get him a hat yet, Hart?”
“Nope,” Hart said.
“I’ve got one in the hauler. Come on.”
So this was Russ, Kellie thought as they filed outside, climbed into a custom golf cart, quickly got their credentials and made their way to the garage area. Russ and Hart wore their hard card passes on clips attached to their shirts, and every so often the group had to pass through a security checkpoint.
Their first stop was at Hart’s hauler, a fifty-three-foot semitrailer. The hauler was parked in between two others, almost like being lined up at a truck stop. The car lift remained pulled out, and the shaded area underneath was filled with director’s chairs and a large barbecue pit at which a man in Hampton Racing uniform grilled.
“I thought Elementals was catering,” Hart said.
“That’s next week,” Russ answered.
The outside roll door had been retracted, and the back doors to the hauler were mirrored. As Russ opened them up, a blast of air-conditioning escaped. Each side of the hauler was filled with cabinets, some floor to ceiling and others with countertop space.
The corridor between was a little wider than two people standing shoulder to shoulder, and the group walked single file all the way toward the front, then up some steps into a room with a table and booth-type seating. The flat-panel television was tuned to a country music video channel and an open box of donuts sat on the countertop underneath the recessed screen.
“You guys wait here for a few minutes and let me get Hart situated,” Russ said. Kellie sat down and slid behind the table as Russ reached into a cabinet opposite her and tossed Charlie a Hampton Racing hat. He grinned at them. “Say hi to anyone who comes in. They’ll be team members. And feel free to watch just about anything. The remote’s right there.”
With that, Hart and Russ disappeared back out the way they’d come in.
“Wow,” Kellie finally said. She reached forward and pulled the sheet of paper sitting on the table toward her.
Charlie sat and scooted next to her. He gestured. “What’s that?”
“I think it’s the track schedule,” Kellie said, pushing the sheet halfway between them. “I assume the NCTS represents the truck series and the NNCS is the Cup series but I have no idea what these events are.”
“Let me see,” Charlie said, pulling the paper closer. He pointed. “Hart’s not in the open. That race is for those who didn’t win during the season. They’re trying to race their way into this one. Hart’s already in the All-Star Challenge.” Charlie pointed. “He still has to qualify to see where he starts. That’s right here.”
“Where he starts?” Kellie asked.
“Yeah, how they line up behind the pace car to begin the race,” Charlie said. “The car with the fastest qualifying lap wins the pole or inside first position.”
“Maybe I should have paid better attention when you and your grandmother were watching TV. I’m a little out of my league here,” Kellie said. She reached for the remote.
“Qualifying is this evening and Hart’s practice is at one-fifty,” Charlie said, setting the sheet down. “He’ll hang out in pit road with his car once it’s pushed out.”
“You really love this, don’t you?” Kellie said.
“You would, too, if you gave it a chance,” Charlie replied. “Seriously, Mom. Life’s an adventure. Grab it.”
“I’ll try,” Kellie said, surprised that her son was giving her such sound advice. “For this weekend, I’ll attempt to be more open-minded.”
“That sounds like a good idea, especially since I’ve seen how he looks at you.”
“We said we weren’t going to discuss that,” Kellie whispered. She twisted her hands together. Experiencing Hart up close in his element was already a bit overwhelming. Thinking of him as something more than a friend was simply too much.
“Okay, fine. Just be open to anything. Deal?”
“Okay, deal,” Kellie said, for it was easier to play along. It was natural for Charlie to want to be a whole family again, and he did worship Hart. He’d learn soon enough what Kellie knew�that once the weekend was over, their lives would go back to normal.
They watched TV for a few minutes and then Russ was retrieving them from the hauler, and acclimating them to the track’s extensive garage area. They met up with Hart as his team gathered at the back end of the hauler for a lunch break.
“I always eat inside,” Hart said as Kellie looked around for an open director’s chair. He saw her expression. “I know. It’s a nice day. But if I’m sitting out here, I’m media fodder. The unwritten rule is you can’t bother a guy when he’s inside the hauler.”
“Especially when the media has to be invited into the hauler,” Russ added as he took a seat outside.
Hart, Kellie and Charlie took their plates inside and made small talk until it was time for Hart to get ready for practice. A few of the team filtered in and out, and Hart introduced Kellie and Charlie to everyone.
“You can see practice better from on top of the hauler,” Hart said as he got up, disposed of his plate and prepared to get ready for practice. “You’ll have to climb up the ladder but the view’s worth it. If not, you can take the tunnel and go hang out in the stands. Your passes will allow you to go just about everywhere. At this time, it’s open seating.”
“I’m going on top,” Charlie said, his decision instantaneous. He pointed to his glasses. “My lenses darken.”
“Whatever Charlie wants is fine.” Kellie glanced at her jeans and tennis shoes. She’d forgotten her own sunglasses.
Hart grinned, reached into a cabinet and pulled out a spare pair of aviator Ray-Bans. “Here,” he said, his fingers lightly touching Kellie’s as he passed them over. “You’ll need these.”
“Thanks,” she said. Something flickered in his green eyes, and then Russ was moving Charlie and her along so that Hart could go change.
From what Charlie told her the garage area was always busy as teams worked on their cars, but once practice started, the garage really came to life. Now those silent cars roared when their engines fired and drivers raced out onto the track to test their cars. They’d run until they needed gas, then come in and fill up. Russ explained that was to test the car’s fuel economy, for often races could be won or lost in the final laps if the driver didn’t have enough gas.
Aside from tracking mileage, Charlie told her, practice was also for drivers to get a feel for the track and to check on their car’s performance. Kellie watched as cars needing adjusting would exit the track and roar into the garage area as fast as they were allowed, somehow missing all the people bustling to and fro who knew when to get out of the way. The car would pull into its assigned garage stall, and then the team would adjust this and that. Then the driver would race back out to run more laps.
Sitting atop the hauler, Kellie had an excellent view of all this action and the entire oval. She could see when Hart came in, see him and his team at work�as their hauler was directly across from their garage stall�and see him as he exited and drove back out on the track. Practice was an hour and fifteen minutes, but time simply flew by until Russ said, “He’ll be getting out soon,” and Kellie and Charlie climbed down.
Throughout the garage, race engines began being turned off, creating a strange silence and subsequent letdown as the constant roar subsided and the decibel level returned to something more normal. The whir of air-powered tools hadn’t ceased. Kellie and Charlie stood at the end of Hart’s garage as he handed his steering wheel and helmet out of the car, pulled himself out the window and sat on the doorframe.
Charlie took a step forward, but before Kellie could do anything to stop her son, Russ put a hand out and Charlie froze. “Give him a minute. He’ll want to talk with his crew chief first about a few things, and then he’ll be done,” Russ said. “He’s got nothing else until a little after six, so he’ll be all yours.”
“What about inspections?” Charlie asked.
“He doesn’t have to be at those,” Russ said. “Those are Wally’s job.”
Kellie and Charlie had briefly met Wally Warren, Hart’s crew chief, at lunch. He’d said hello, welcomed them to the race and moved on. While he’d been friendly, his actions had made Kellie wonder how many other girlfriends Hart had introduced to the man.
But she wasn’t a girlfriend, she reminded herself. Nor would she be. Still, Kellie watched as Wally and Hart moved toward the front of the race car, Hart unzipping and stepping out of his uniform while he talked.
“Uh-oh,” Russ said under his breath. Hearing him, Kellie glanced around just in time to see a television crew headed their direction, shepherded by a woman wearing blue jeans and a blue polo shirt.
“Russ! Is Hart available?” the twenty-something woman called.
“He’s still talking with Wally,” Russ replied as she drew near to them. “He’ll be a while.”
“Oh, I’ve got some time,” the brunette said. “I want to hear how he’s recovered from sitting out last week’s race. He lost a lot of points. I’ve heard rumors that his sponsors are edgy.”
“Hart’s fine and so are his sponsors,” Russ said. “He spent the weekend volunteering. It gave Hampton Racing a chance to give Ricky Senate some experience in a Cup race.”
“Is Hampton Racing thinking of moving Ricky to Cup level next year?” she asked.
“It’s too early in the season to make that decision, especially as he’s still a rookie in the Busch Series,” Russ said.
Kellie glanced into the garage. As if sensing a reporter was waiting, Hart continued conversation with Wally, his back turned toward them.
“So Hart’s not incapacitated in any way?” the reporter persisted.
“None,” Russ said with a laugh. “Eileen, whatever gave you that idea?”
“So even though this race isn’t for points, where does he think he’ll place?”
“We’re expecting a solid top five finish,” Russ said. “If you’d excuse me. Kellie?”
Russ took her elbow and led her back over toward the hauler. Charlie immediately followed. “Who was that?” Kellie asked as they stepped in between the director’s chairs.
“That’s Eileen Swikle. She has a live call-in show on one of the sports cable stations. It’s pretty popular. She also does pit reporting for the network broadcasting the races. Why don’t you both wait inside? I’ll go retrieve Hart.”
“So do you do the interviews for him?” Kellie asked, hovering in the doorway, the cold air seeping out.
Russ shook his head and laughed a little. “No. But I’m allowed to speak for him, especially when Hampton Racing would prefer him not be interviewed.”
Sensing Kellie’s confusion, Russ added, “I know interviews are important, but because Hart went to the hospital after the accident at Richmond, and since he was AWOL at Darlington, right now a lot of reporters want to ask him all sorts of questions.”
“Oh, like digging for gossip,” she said.
Russ chuckled. “You’ve hit the nail right on the head. I’ll go get Hart. He’s going to be ready to head back to his motor home for a while.”
Russ slid the hauler doors closed, and she and Charlie watched as Russ crossed the traffic lane and ducked into the garage.
“This is rather surreal,” Kellie said as they made their way to the lounge area.