Jimmy felt like hugging everybody. Renee, Slim, Mike, Earl Bartlow, everybody. He suddenly looked around.
Where‘s Harvey?
The big man was making his way through the mob of people. He had walked back to shake Duke‘s hand, consoling his old friend. He and Jimmy made eye contact and Jimmy tossed aside all his inhibitions as he grabbed Harvey in a giant bear hug and spun him around.
People were laughing and cheering as Harvey struggled to keep his footing, grabbing Jimmy‘s shoulders.
“You damned genius,” Jimmy said to Harvey, his voice low enough that nobody else could hear. “Your motor was fantastic, Harvey. I‘ll never forget this. I mean it.”
“You done a good job,” Harvey offered. “Smart, all the way.”
“Hey, this is more special with you here,” Jimmy insisted. “It wasn‘t just the motor. We‘re gonna win the championship and I wanted you to be a part of it. Me and you, we‘re a team. Through thick and thin.”
For an instant Jimmy saw Harvey‘s armor-plated exterior crumble, and his lower lip quivered. But only for an instant, Harvey quickly laughed and nodded his head.
“We got work to do,” he said loudly, brash as always. “Duke and them boys, they‘ll get busy. We gotta match ‘em. Two races to go, you know.”
Jimmy stepped back to the car, starting to regain his senses. He was tired, but he was too excited to let it affect him. The PA man made his way through the mob, an assistant helping him separate the people and urging them not to trip on the microphone cord.
“Jimmy … let‘s try to get in here, ladies and gentlemen,” the man said as he was jostled. He managed to squeeze in alongside Jimmy, who draped his arm around Renee and grinned like a fool as he held her close.
“All right, you folks just watched an Illinois boy with the greatest drive of his life,” the man shouted, and the roar of the crowd began to rise once again. “He can hear you now, folks … what do you think of Jimmy Wilson?”
Jimmy had won some big races, and had some great days. But never in his life had he received an ovation like he was hearing right now. He pumped his fist and grinned at the crowd and they kept the cheer up for several long moments.
“Jimmy, what a drive,” the man said. “You bided your time there … was that the strategy?”
“Well, I figured we‘d only get one shot at him, you know?” Jimmy said, realizing he was still out of breath. “Duke is one of the best ever, and he can be awful hard to pass if he knows you‘re there. But he ran us clean and didn‘t try to block. When I got a run on him, I felt like we were stronger at that point, and from there I just couldn‘t make any mistakes.
“Man … winning here in Illinois on one of our miles … ain‘t that amazing??!!”
The crowd roared again, then quieted.
“Duke Moran has been so dominant in these cars,” the announcer continued. “This little team you‘re with, when did you realize you had a shot to beat him? Was it something you‘ve planned for a while?”
“Duke and his guys, they set the standard,” Jimmy insisted, hearing his voice echo across the landscape. “They show up ready to race and they‘re tough. That‘s how you gotta measure yourself … you‘ve got to find the toughest cat out there and try to outrun him. That‘s what racing is all about. We just kept digging.
“I am so proud of our guys. We have…I mean, Gregg Richards has only owned a race car for a little while, and here we are winning Champ Dirt races! Mike Stapleton, he‘s a young mechanic who busts his butt, and listen … one of these days he‘s gonna be one of the best wrenches in the country, right at the top.