Sam looked at the ground, and laughed nervously.
“Well, I suppose Gregg is a little inexperienced, but…hey, a deal is a deal, Jimmy! I gave Gregg the money and I expect the decal to be on your car! It‘s bad business to renege on a deal, you know.”
“Oh, don‘t worry,” Jimmy assured him. “We‘ll definitely have the decal on. I would never go back on a deal, Sam. No sir. I‘m gonna go put the decal on the car, right now. It‘s gonna fit just perfect on the ‘hundred bucks‘ spot.”
Sam looked at him warily. “What do you mean, the ‘hundred bucks‘ spot?”
“On the belly pan,” Jimmy continued. “On the bottom side of the race car, where nobody will see it unless I bust my ass today. Which ain‘t gonna happen. But you‘re right…a deal is a deal, Sam. A hundred bucks and you‘ll be riding with us all day long…under the car. But hey…thanks very much for your support!”
Jimmy turned to walk away, and Sam tugged on his arm.
“Now wait a minute,” he said, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “All right, how much to put the decal on the tank, above your number?”
“A grand.”
“Are you crazy? A thousand bucks??!! That‘s highway robbery!”
“Well, our team is very small, and our margins are tight,” Jimmy insisted, smiling at the turnabout. “And what‘s a thousand bucks to a big-city guy like you? Your service department makes that much in 15 minutes.”
“All right,” Sam grumbled, reaching into his pocket for a fat roll of bills. “Who‘s the horse trader now? You‘re as slick as they come.”
“I‘m a businessman,” Jimmy said, continuing to turn the tables. “I have to make the best deal I can.”
“Hmmm,” Sam growled, peeling off nine bills and handing them to Jimmy. “But you‘ve got to come see me for your next vehicle. Give me a chance to make back some of this dough.”
“Deal,” Jimmy said, shaking Sam‘s hand. “And no kidding, Sam…thanks for helping us out. We‘re gonna give you a heckuva ride today.”
The hype and hoopla surrounding today‘s race felt a lot like the aura surrounding the Indianapolis 500, only on a smaller scale. The huge grandstand was nearly filled before noon, and thousands of people celebrated in the infield. A steady stream of people came by the Premier Tires pit, shaking Jimmy‘s hand and wishing him well.
Jimmy was eager to get going, eager to close this deal out. He held a lead of 40 points over Duke Moran, and he had heard it so many times this week it was burned into his brain: If Jimmy finished sixth or better, he would be the Champ Dirt Car champion regardless of where Duke finished.
It was a beautiful day, and the track looked perfect. The car felt nice during hot laps, although the track was still a little greasy for their session. They had a late number — fourth from last — and were wary of the track drying out too quickly. But all they could do was wait and watch as time trials got underway.
Bobby Mancini was the second car out in the Rounders Masonry entry, blistering the mile with a time of 33.421 seconds. The track announcer‘s voice rose an octave as he informed the crowd that it was a new track record, and they roared their approval.
Two cars later Pete Randall rolled off in the WIRE Radio entry, and Jimmy could hardly believe his ears when Pete‘s time was announced: 33.310-seconds, another new record.
Jimmy‘s belly turned a flip-flop as he prepared to climb into the car. These fast speeds early, combined with Jimmy‘s late draw, might mean trouble — big trouble.
The speeds fell off quickly, and that worked to Jimmy‘s favor. He was supremely disappointed with his time — 34.866 seconds — but was amazed to discover they ended up 10th overall.