Conflict

Part 3, Chapter 2

Aside from the Dinoco 400, the Florida 500 was arguably the most exciting race of the season. The race hadn't even started and the speedway was already packed full of cars raring to get the new season started. Florida International Speedway always promised them action and thrilling finishes, and this year was unlikely to be different.

Strip exited his trailer and silently passed through the mob of reporters that greeted him, offering them nothing but a smile for the pictures. He drove away from the garages over to the flashy Dinoco tent where his team awaited him anxiously.

"Not a single interview?" Luke asked as the crew surrounded Strip to swap out his tires. "You're just gonna leave them hangin'? You still ain't announced your – "

"Shut it, Luke," Tex approached them. "Don't wanna be spreadin' rumors, now, do you?"

"It's not a rumor!" Luke protested, pulling Strip's front right tire off and slapping a new one on in its place. "And we all want to know what's gonna happen afterward."

"They'll know before the end of the day, Luke," Strip told him. "Don't worry about it. Y'ain't gonna lose your job when I leave, you know that, right?"

"My resume has a single line on it – seven words!" the forklift ranted sarcastically as they finished up. "'Thirty years' experience changing Strip Weathers' tires.' That's it. That's my only marketable talent."

The other pit crewmembers snickered at Luke's exaggeration. Tex smiled as Luke threw his forks up in exasperation.

"We'll find another racer, boy. You guys ain't goin' anywhere," Tex assured him. "Pit crew's arguably the most important part of racin', no?"

Luke mumbled something under his breath and puttered over in the direction of the pits. The others followed him to go get things set up.

"They're gonna miss you, y'know," Tex chuckled quietly.

"It ain't like I'm gonna disappear. Y'all're gettin' too caught up in this," Strip responded. "I swear if one more car gets all touchy about it, I'm gonna – "

"Shh, here come the cameras," Tex cut him off. "I'd head to the pits if I were you. Race is gonna start here soon."

As Strip cruised down pit row to Dinoco's box, he observed his competition. Most of the racers from the last couple of seasons were still there, ready and eager to get back on the track. As he passed, he could feel their gazes on him. Not a one of them said a word to him until he reached the top ten.

"Great day to kick off the season, hey King?" the younger red racer called to him.

"Sure is, Junior," he responded, slowing down slightly as he passed the son of his late friend. "I'll see you at the finish line, kid."

Junior was one of only three or four racers that didn't hesitate to talk to him. A couple of the racers from the eighties or early nineties would still occasionally drop by and say a few words, but his prominence in the sport and the constant attention from the media and his fans kept many away. To the eyes of the common beholder, he seemed untouchable, and though he could never admit it, that's not what he wanted.

Strip passed the Hostile Takeover Bank crew's box as he settled into his own. Chick and his team sounded like they were having the time of their lives behind him.

"This is my year boys," Chick proclaimed, his team responding with various affirmations. "We're gonna beat the old man and take that trophy home, I can feel it."

Strip watched as Luke cast an angry glare at the team behind them. The taunting had ceased bothering Strip years ago, as it lacked any form of credibility. While the Buick had turned out to be a decent racer, violent tactics and all, he never posed much of a threat to Team Dinoco. Every year they'd managed to outrace him, and this year looked to be no different.