Once Jimmy got used to the fancy surroundings, he and Lou had a nice dinner. They caught up on a lot of stuff, particularly Jimmy‘s racing season.
“I‘ve always figured you‘d go good in Indy cars,” Lou told him. “You‘ve got natural ability, but you‘ve also got a sharp mental focus. You‘re smarter than the average bear, Jimmy. You‘re a natural at long races…200, 300, 500 miles. That‘s right up your alley.”
Meteor Foods had been a two-car team for several seasons, Lou explained. But one of their drivers — Johnny Logan, with whom Jimmy was well acquainted — was moving to a different team next season. With a seat open, Lou was in the market for another shoe.
Jimmy was grateful for the history he and Lou shared. Jimmy made his first two Indy starts in a third Meteor entry — “spare parts and a spare driver” is how Lou described those deals — plus had some success running the Meteor Champ Dirt car, which was a personal deal on Lou‘s part and not funded by the Meteor team.
Lou was a solid, straight-up guy, and Jimmy admired how Lou carried himself. He was highly respected in Indy car racing and was viewed as a powerful figure, but he didn‘t act like anything special. At his core he was a racer, and aside from the business considerations of running a championship-level team, he wanted to win.
“Tomorrow‘s test is just a chance to get reacquainted,” Lou explained. “We‘ve got a few weeks to figure out who we want to hire, and we can take our time. We‘re looking for a guy who wants to be a part of our team, and wants to be here.
“That works both ways, Jimmy…your stock is up right now. You‘re on the right radar screens. Before long you‘ll have some choices to make, I suspect. Whether it‘s with us or somebody else, you‘ll want to take your time and go where you really want to be.
“So…what questions do you have for me? This probably seems a little overwhelming right now.”
Jimmy nodded.
“I guess I‘m pretty green on all this,” he admitted. “But how does the money work at this level, Lou? Does a driver get 40 percent, 50 percent when he wins? That‘s what I‘m used to.”
“It‘s a little more complicated,” Lou replied. “Many of the racers are not fulltime, and they‘ll only run a few races for a team. Those guys usually get a percentage of winnings, cut-and-dried. If you can negotiate a monthly salary, you‘ll get a little less percentage but overall you‘ll make a little more.”
“How much do guys make at this level?” Jimmy quizzed. “Can a guy make a living? Does he need a job in the winter?”
“Frankly, it‘s not as much money as you might think. The fulltime guys — on a salary — can make a good living. The top three or four guys are making between $50 grand and $100 grand a year. Obviously, if a guy is good enough to become a spokesman for a company and make commercials and appearances, he‘ll make more than that. But the mid-pack guys are probably between $30 grand and $50 grand a year.
“That‘s why it‘s so important to win races at this level. Just like anywhere else, if you win you make more. If you win frequently enough you become well-known and can leverage your face and your name, and that‘s more money.
“Very few guys get to that level, to be honest. But if you can run up front and can stick, you‘ll make a pretty decent living.”
Jimmy tried to let everything soak in as Lou talked.
“If I land with a team — if somebody actually makes me an offer — what does that mean? Do I sign a contract? Can I race anywhere else I want to?”
“I‘m looking for a contract,” Lou said. “Fulltime, with a monthly salary. And with that contract, I have some say in what else you‘re racing. You‘re no good to me if you get busted up in a sprint car, Jimmy. Let‘s face it. So, I‘d discourage you from putting your neck in the noose any more than necessary.