Jimmy began jogging toward the office. That‘s funny…who would be calling him at work? His first instinct was to worry that something was wrong.
“Don‘t tell me you‘re actually working,” a familiar voice on the phone began with a laugh. “Work is a four-letter word to most racers.”
Jimmy tried to place the voice, but he was having trouble.
“Don‘t you know who this is? Man, you sure forget your friends in a hurry. It‘s your ol‘ buddy from Meteor Foods.”
“Lou!” Jimmy called out. “How the heck are you?”
Lou Warren was the team manager and crew chief for the Meteor Foods Indy car team, a good guy who also dabbled now and then with a Champ Dirt car. Jimmy had driven the car a couple of seasons ago and scored a win or two.
“Al Petrov told me where you were working,” Lou continued. “I looked you up in the book. What are you doing next Wednesday?”
“Next Wednesday? Working here, I guess. What‘s up?”
“How‘d you like to test our Indy car at Milwaukee next Wednesday? You interested?”
Jimmy almost dropped the phone.
“Well…yeah! I‘m interested! Are you serious?”
“Of course I‘m serious. Come up Tuesday night to the Hotel Miller, downtown. We‘ll book a room for you. Bring your gear and be at the track first thing Wednesday morning.”
“Wow. OK, will do.”
Jimmy‘s mind was on overload. They got ready to wind up the call, but he spoke up.
“Say, Lou,” he said, not sure how to put this. “There‘s something I ought to tell you. I mean, I don‘t know if it will make any difference. And please, we need to keep it between us. But, well…”
“You mean about your test this week with Skaggs? Yeah, I know all about that. There ain‘t any secrets in racing. But that doesn‘t matter. Unless you‘ve already signed a contract. Have you?”
“Contract? Gee whiz, no. I ain‘t even been in the car yet.”
“OK then. I‘ll see you next week. And listen…don‘t sign anything with Skaggs until you‘ve at least tested with us. OK?”
“OK. Sure,” Jimmy replied. “See you next Wednesday.”
Jimmy slowly reached up and hung up the phone.
Things were sure getting interesting.
Jimmy stood alone near the garage area at FasTrack Intl. Speedway, located in the lonely desert east of Phoenix. The morning sun was bright, and Jimmy felt a little lost, a little out of place.
A crew member from the CAM2 team — owned by Walter Skaggs — met Jimmy in the lobby first thing this morning and drove him out to the track. That was an hour ago, and Jimmy was getting a little antsy trying to figure out how things were going to work.