The Hoosier Race Report: Things That Go Bump

By Danny Burton

Danny Burton’s Hoosier Race Report appears courtesy of OpenWheelRacers.com

(Author’s note: The other day this came to me and I wrote it down; otherwise, I knew that I’d forget it….. Fiction is not much more than mixing one’s imagination with their real-life experiences and observations. At times the line between truth and fiction is and should be blurred. At other times, for whatever reasons, the line is clear.)

As the modified heat races began, Mike stood in the concession line, patiently waiting, and trying to decide what to buy. He paid no attention to those around him, watching the UMP modifieds go through their heat race routines.

In front of him, and barely noticed by him, was an attractive, middle aged lady with a small boy, maybe five years old. The child was remarkably well-behaved and the lady took note of this, and was relieved. He was her only grandson and she didn’t get to see him too often. She had been worried a bit that he might be a handful at the races, seeing that he seldom was able to go with his grandmother to Barnes or any other race track. But he had been a little angel, even as he was still the typical five year old.

Lots of folks were walking around after the sprint heats, as was the local custom. Many had headed for the concession stand line, while many others had just decided to stretch their legs for a spell. And some had heeded the call of nature, as race fans will. For many the shortest way to the restrooms intersected with the concession stand’s line. This involved folks working together and being polite. It was hardly ever an issue; people would cut through the line, with proper requests to be excused, and they were. People in the line would move aside a bit to let their fellow fans through and onward up the hill to their destination.

A group of about five high school girls approached the lady and her grandson, and politely said, excuse us, as they walked in front of the two. Obligingly, the grandmom gently tugged at her grandson and stepped back a bit. But by the simple and courteous act of letting the girls walk, Grandmother and Mike’s life would never be the same.

Mike had not really been paying attention, as he was wont to do quite often. He’d been watching racing, as the modified guys had been behaving so far and had been very competitive without causing any caution flags, as they had the reputation for doing. And when the lady with the child made way for the girls, she inadvertently backed into Mike, stepping on his toes.

His irritation at having his toes stepped on dissipated right away as soon as he noticed who had committed the “crime.” Of course, the lady offered profuse apologies. Mike chuckled and said, “It’s quite all right. I wasn’t paying attention myself,” which was true.

The two stood there for a second, each wondering if they should say anything more. And finally Mike was seized with what he thought would be a clever observation.

“I like your son’s t-shirt. Is he quite the race fan?”

“Uh, well, not really as such. I don’t get to bring him here very often.” A brief silence and then, “Uh, he’s really my grandson.” She smiled sweetly at the retiree.

Mike grimaced and chuckled. “Well, you had me fooled. Oh, I’m Mike.” He held out his hand.

She giggled and shook it, “I’m Donna and this is Timmy.”

The boy tugged on his grandmother’s racing t-shirt and said quite crossly, “Grandma, it’s Tim!”

The adults chuckled and Mike bent down and said very seriously, “Hello, Tim. I’m Mike.”

The little boy gravely stuck out his hand and said, “Hi, Mike.”

The little guy reminded Mike of his own seven year old grandson. So Mike proceeded to partially ignore the grandmother and asked the boy, “So, Tim, which race cars do you like the best?”

The youngster thought for a nanosecond and then blurted, “Sprint cars!….But I really like them all, Mike.”

“Good man. That’s about the way I think, too.”

Mike then looked at Donna and asked, “And you, ma’am?”

Donna had to grin at this craggy, aging, smooth talker. “Why, Mike, I like the sprints too.”

Before they knew it they had reached the cashier. Donna and Tim waited until Mike had paid for his drink, then she said, “Nice to meet you, Mike.”

So Mike responded in kind, “Nice to bump into you too.”

They both laughed. Mike trailed behind Donna and Tim, noticing where they went to sit. As it turned out, their seats weren’t over 30 feet or so from where he and the rover boys were holding forth.

Mike sat down in the cool grass and sipped his drink while the boys argued over which tracks allowed more passing. Chuckling to himself, he listened awhile and chimed in with his two cents, “Guys, is passing all by itself that important? I mean, how hard is to pass at Salem or Winchester?”

Garry, the Navy guy, said, “C’mon, Mike. We’re talking dirt tracks here.”

The next support class heat race interrupted Mike’s friendly retort and the boys settled down for a bit. Mike mentally slapped himself a few times. He wasn’t quite able to get the conversation out of his mind, the conversation in question being that with the lady and her grandson, especially the lady. To himself he said, “Now, Mike, dammit. Don’t get your hopes up. You had your marriage deal and it was good for awhile. But do you really want to go that route again?”

Mike’s reverie was cut short, thankfully, by Jumping Jimmy. “Hey, goof, I’m going over to the pits. Let’s go!”

“Do we have enough time before the C Main?”

“Yes. They haven’t even run the super stock heats yet. So, c’mon!”

Down the hill went Jimmy and Mike. Mike stopped briefly at the front gate to flirt with the lady who took tickets. She chuckled at him and then stared at his retreating figure. All these years and she still didn’t know his name. Oh well, he was just your basic harmless old man anyhow.

Walking down the gravel lane that led to the pits, Mike asked, “Did Nora have to work tonight?” Nora was Jimmy’s wife and was a radio dispatcher for the Indianapolis Police Department.

“Yes, she had the chance to pick up eight hours of overtime, so she took it,” Jimmy said. “She was torn, but I let her decide. Got me off the hook.”

Both men chuckled. After a bit Jimmy asked, “What do you think about helping Benny?”

“Well, Jimmy, I don’t know. I figure that we’ll go back here and see what these guys are up to. If it will even seem like work, I ain’t gonna do it, ya know? But if it’s fun, well, that’s another story. I don’t know. They are good guys, but if you start working for someone, even in a volunteer deal, things can change.”

Jimmy spoke after they had entered the pits. “Worst that can happen is, you try it, if it works out, great, if not get out before you guys get on each others’ nerves.”

“You got that right, big boy.”

The two musketeers ambled over to the Bensons’ car.

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