Racing Hearts

3. Green Flag

"Let's chat with this year's one and only rookie, Steve Rogers," I hear over the comm as the broadcast feed crosses over my team's. "Steve, how's it feel out there on the track?"

     "Feels pretty good," I smile. "I'm happy to be behind the wheel and can't wait for the race to actually start."

      "It must be something special to be sitting in the third position in your first race at Daytona," Jeff Gordon says. "What plans do you have for the race?"

      "Stay at the front of the pack and away from the wall," I chuckle, knowing all too well that my team isn't exactly comfortable with the fact that we're starting so high up the ladder.

      We're used to starting at the bottom and literally "nyooming" our way to the top, rolling through narrow passes and around spinning cars with only heartbeats to spare.

      "Sounds like a solid plan," Jeff laughs. "Good luck to you out there today, Steve. We're looking forward to your first race here at Daytona International Speedway!"

      With that, the broadcast feed disconnects, and I'm greeted by my crew chief.

      "Hey, Stevie, welcome back to your normal comm channel. Anyways, you're looking pretty damn good out there," Bucky says. "When the pace car moves and you see green, go low and cut off 22 and 71, the cars in the first and second positions. You'll piss off Rumlow in the 9 beside you in position four, but he's probably going high toward the wall the second he can. It's his oldest trick in the book — go high and swing in from nowhere."

     "Got it, Buck," I tell him as I glance over at the car beside me.

       Rumlow gives me a thumbs-up and a nod, the same greeting he gave me when we met during preseason. He's pretty chill, a bit too chill sometimes, but I can really vibe with him and our conversations have always been memorable. Natasha told me that he has a fondness for dumping sugar in almost anything he's drinking. Kind of weird, quite a bit off actually, but we all have our quirks.

      "Tony, how does green look?" I ask.

      "One more pace and you'll be going green," he says. "Barnes was right and I agree with his assessment. Go low as soon as you can. The cars around you will most likely go high, opening the track right up for you."

    "Will they see me coming?"

"Based on what they've seen you do during preseason and then qualifying for this race, they won't see you coming."

    "Perfect."

    "How's the car feel, Stevie? Anything too loose?

    "Nope, it's just the way I like it. We'll be able to slip and slide across the pavement if we have to."

     "Don't let the tires get too hot, or you'll slide into a wall, Rogers."

     "I know, Tony. I've been doing this for how long?"

     "Since you could walk, but that doesn't mean you need to run the tires down to the rims. My father would say the same thing, too. Don't be such a smartass, Rogers."

"I think you're asking too much, Stark," Natasha chuckles. "Rogers is a grade-A smartass."

"Focus!" Vis chimes. "They're approaching the starting line."

      Down the main stretch, I look up at the flag, ready to wave. The pace car slides off the track, moving out of the fleet's way as we approach the starting line. For a moment, everything is silent, and all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating in my chest. The green flag suddenly moves, waving through the open air. Every fiber of my being comes alive.