“No sir, let me stop you right there,” Harvey insisted. “When the day comes that they chuck dirt in my face, I want them tools with me. I‘ve used ‘em for 23 years and I‘ll use ‘em till the end.”
“That‘s right!” Evelyn laughed. “You might need them to work on race cars in the hereafter!”
“You never know,” Harvey grinned.
“Well, they won‘t have to worry about getting snowed out of any races,” Jimmy quipped. “Not where Harvey‘s goin‘.”
They all laughed, but Harvey gave Jimmy a scowl.
“Say, we‘re not supposed to have any favorites,” Evelyn said. “But we‘re cheering for you guys today. We would be so excited to see you in victory lane.”
“We‘ll be there,” Harvey said.
Harvey never lacked confidence.
Sammy Caldwell kept his hot streak going when he set quick time, just a smidge off the track record. Jimmy was highly irritated at himself when he slipped just a tick on his qualifying lap, and expected to get blasted by Harvey when he got back to their pit. But their time was actually pretty good, and held up for sixth.
With the inversion, Jimmy would start on the pole.
“Hey, you sandbagger,” Bobby Mancini called out as he walked over to their pit. “Starting on the pole, give me a break. What‘d you do, let some air out your tire?”
“Didn‘t need to,” Jimmy teased. “I‘m so smooth I can take a couple of 10ths off, and you can‘t even see it.”
“Did you hear that, Harvey? He said it‘s all about the driver…not the car.”
Bobby loved to stir it up, and Harvey was one of his favorite targets.
“Mancini, don‘t you have somebody else to pester?” Harvey said. “I think I hear your mother callin‘ you.”
“Say, are you growing your hair out?” Bobby razzed. “Getting a little long, Harvey…you turning into a hippie?”
“That‘ll be the day,” Harvey snorted. “I just ain‘t had time to get it cut. I ain‘t no damned hippie…you won‘t live to see the day I have long hair!”
“Long hair might fit you,” Bobby needled. “Next thing you know you‘ll be smokin‘ a joint and listening to rock music. Bob Dylan, the Who…you‘ll probably even have a headband with a peace sign on it.”
Jimmy laughed and shook his head. “I‘m havin‘ a hard time picturing that.”
“That crap ain‘t music,” Harvey insisted, raising his eyebrows. “That‘s just noise.”
“Oh, I see,” Bobby pressed, sensing that he had Harvey going. “If you don‘t like it, it‘s not music. So what do you listen to? Country music? Classical?”
“Lawrence Welk,” Harvey said. “Best damn music in the country, right there.”
An official came by to call the first heat race to get ready.
“All right, I gotta go,” Bobby said. “I‘ll see you sandbaggers later.”
“Good riddance!” Harvey called out. “And I ain‘t gonna wear no headband!”