“I‘ve been meanin‘ to talk to you about that,” Bobby countered. “I can read your mind, killer. You and Renee are gonna get hitched, I can see it coming. You guys are as helpless as a leaf in a windstorm.”
“Nope,” Jimmy insisted. “We‘re just dating, and everything is good. We‘re not in a rush to do anything. Things are just fine like they are.”
“Oh, sure,” Bobby razzed. “That‘s what they all say. Next thing you know you‘ve got a houseful of kids and you‘re spending your time mowing the yard and fixing a broken-down old car instead of out having fun.”
Jimmy smiled. “Oh, I don‘t know…I‘m looking forward to having my own house and yard one of these days. Kids would be all right, too. One of these days.”
“Well, you better keep your tool in the shed,” Bobby admonished. “I‘m speakin‘ from experience, killer…things get out of control in a hurry. And then the good times are over. I‘m not kiddin‘!”
The next two days were tense and pressure-packed. Jimmy split his time between the Ellison shop — where the Premier Tires of Allentown car was garaged — and joining USAC publicist Jeff Todd at a bunch of media visits in Central City. They spent all day Friday at TV and radio stations, as well as at the sports department of the two big newspapers in town, promoting Saturday‘s great event, the Hoosier Hundred.
Jimmy didn‘t mind all the interviews — it wasn‘t a bad experience, really — but he felt like they were distracting him from helping with the race car. There wasn‘t really much to do; Jack Harvey and Slim MacDonald had gone over the car with a fine-toothed comb earlier this week, checking every bolt and setting. They tuned the engine and thoroughly checked all the plumbing and fittings. The car was ready.
Still, Jimmy worried.
He recalled the time he sat next to a business executive on a flight out west. The guy ran a big company, and as they shared a few beers and conversation the man lamented that, while a lot of people thought being an executive was a dream job, it was anything but. With so many details to oversee, you could never relax. When your head hit the pillow after an 18-hour day, you could only think of the things that still needed doing.
That‘s how Jimmy felt right now. No matter how well prepared they were, he was tied up in knots. They were literally on the verge of a major racing championship, and he was worried they might somehow drop the ball. Had they overlooked anything? What could they do to help the car? Is everything completely organized and ready?
Saturday morning, however, he woke up with a sense of peace. At this point the only thing left was just running the damn race, you know? He headed over to Renee‘s place for some breakfast, eager to get to the fairgrounds and get this thing done.
Maybe it was a just a lucky personality trait, or maybe Jimmy had taught himself to keep a clear, level head on race day. The worry that had dogged him for the past week was displaced by a quiet confidence that he and his guys would take care of business and everything would be all right.
After they finished breakfast Renee made up a bunch of sandwiches and packed a cooler. They headed over to the track, parking in the infield. It was still early, but the scene was already alive with activity and anticipation.
Jimmy tossed the cooler and his gear into a small Radio Flyer wagon and he and Renee headed for the pit gate, hand-in-hand. Jimmy heard someone calling his name, and he looked over to see some familiar faces standing at the back of a Chevy van parked along the inside fence. Some die-hard open-wheel fans were already hard at it, tailgating and drinking beer at 9am.
“Hey Jimmy,” a guy yelled. “You want a beer?”
“I‘ll be back later today,” Jimmy called out, grinning. “Keep a couple of ‘em cold for me!”
“Go get ‘em!” another guy yelled.