Conflict

Part 1, Chapter 8

It was oddly sunny at the mountainside graveyard that day, with a crisp breeze swaying the pines around them. The cheerful chirping birds didn't fit the bill of the occasion at all. Funerals were supposed to feel dull and depressing, but presiding weather didn't lend to either emotion.

The funeral had been short, with less than a dozen cars invited. Despite the attention from the local press, they managed to have a private ceremony. Some cars said a few kind words, others just offered their sympathies to the last remaining Dinoco. Everyone except the four cars closest to Tex had left already.

They parked, two on either side of him, staring at the heaping pile of fresh dirt. Engine failure, the coroner had said. Thirty years old and something had jammed. Maybe had someone got to him in time, they could have saved him.

"The ol' hermit liked to work alone," Tex said after a while, his voice solemn, but showing no signs of deep hurt. "That's why he built that tower in such a small town. He didn't much care for the city. We weren't really that close, y'know. Felt more like business partners than anythin' else."

"What's gonna happen now?" Wayne asked. "Are you really gonna take on the company?"

"That what he would want," Tex nodded. "I don't mind. He taught me a lot of what he knew, but I got some fresh ideas. I feel it's time for a revamp."

The Cadillac backed away from the grave and turned towards the gate. "No time like the present to start, eh?"

The others quietly followed him, unsure of his true mental state. Tex was always open and genuine. They expected him to be more torn over the situation than he seemed, but no one was brave enough to probe any deeper. Perhaps this was just how he coped. Maybe he and his father really hadn't been that close at all.

"What d'you have in mind?" Wayne tried to keep him talking.

"Expansion," Tex answered simply enough. "Dinoco's spent years throwin' cash at outfits that ain't makin' any revenue. First, I'm gonna reinvest, put that money into somethin' that'll really turn a profit. As it grows, we'll need to have a good marketin' ploy. And I think I know right where to start."

"Please tell me you're gonna do away with that stupid cartoon commercial," Aimee interjected. "That talking dinosaur thing's only hurtin' you. And my eyes."

"That'll be the first thing to go, I promise ya that," Tex chuckled, looking in his rearview mirrors at his friends. "I think I got somethin' better to be the new face of Dinoco."

He repositioned his left mirror until he could see that big blue wing among the line up behind him. Tex had always dreamed of being a sponsor at the races, but he never expected a racecar to just fall into his grasp. This was a racecar and a friend. Sure, Strip was a bit inexperienced, had no formal training, and was in dire need of a new coat of paint, but his enthusiasm and raw speed would work to his favor. Combine that with experience over time and there you have it – a perfect racer.

"Hey Strip, how 'bout a new coat of paint?" Tex called back to him as they pulled out on the road. "Cover up all that primer."

"Why, is it startin' to bother you?" Strip asked. He'd gotten his fair share ridicule over the last couple of days for it.

"Naw, I just think you'd look better in Dinoco blue. And maybe a little bit of company livery."

"Wait, what?"

"Y'ain't gonna make me go lookin' for another racer are ya?"

Strip nearly careened into the ditch.

"Well?"

Tex had a way of getting things done according to his timetables, even if that was getting the Piston Cup's approval to be a sponsor, completing the paperwork, and decorating a racecar all over the course of a month. Come next season, they'd have a qualified team and a place on the circuit with all the other big names.