Her wish was simple, but specific: She wanted to go fast. Chance had delivered. After their hot session in the garage, Heather had a taste for adrenaline, and if Chance got it from speed, why couldn’t she?
The go-karts were certainly slower than his vehicle of choice, but at nearly fifty miles an hour, Heather was more than satisfied with the swiftness. The track at Quick Times was narrow and bumpy, which only added to the perceived speed. Heather laughed out loud as she whipped the kart around a turn, the sounds muffled by the helmet and the seven other tiny engines running around her.
Chance was just in front, clearly running slowly so Heather could keep up. He pointed to a few things as they traveled the circuit, up the incline to the second floor that ran over part of the track. A one hundred and eighty degree turn brought them back to the concrete floor and a checkered marking indicating the beginning of a new lap. The things he pointed out didn’t mean anything to Heather as she did her best to keep up with him.
The designated eight minutes of racing passed too quickly. The acne-marked kid half-heartedly waved the checkered flag as she passed behind Chance. A slow lap led them into the pits, and Heather jumped out of the kart and threw her arms around Chance.
She squealed, “I get it. I get it, now. Oh, god, can we do it again?”
Chance gave her a jokingly sad look. “Why didn’t you say that back in the garage?”
Heather poked him in the ribs and headed up the stairs to the waiting room and refreshments. “Because this goes for twice as long as you.”
“Ouch.” Chance laughed and chased after her up the stairs.
Heather’s heart was speeding faster than the go-karts would allow. She had tasted a sense of speed, but that taste wasn’t enough to quench her thirst.
Through the double doors at the top of the stairs, another teenager handed her a slip of paper. She looked at it, trying to decipher the columns of numbers. It didn’t make much sense to her.
“What is this?”
“Lap times.” Chance answered, running a finger down one of the columns. “You got in twelve laps, and number eleven was your fastest. Just under thirty seconds. Not bad at all.”
To her, that felt like a land speed record, but she quickly looked to the large whiteboard just over the cash register boasting the top ten laps of all time.
21.433 by IndyKid
Two through ten were all in the mid to upper twenty one second range.
She was almost nine seconds slower. It was humiliating. “What was your fastest lap?”
“Twenty-eight nine.”
“Not tonight.” She shook her head. “You were leading me like you were at the the head of a funeral. What’s your fastest lap time ever?”
Chance took a long break, pointing up to the white board as he exhaled. His face was a tangled mixture of embarrassment and pride.
“Your IndyKid?” Heather was incredulous. She laughed out the question, “Are you serious?”
Chance nodded, turning away. “It’s not a big deal. It’s downright unfair. That’s like Jaques Pepin winning a small town cooking contest.”
Heather laughed, but then froze. “You know who Jaques—Never mind. How long have you been living here?”
“I was here for about two years before heading back to California. That time’s been at the top for quite a while.
Heather smiled. “I want to go again, but first I want some tips.”
“Tips.” Chance turned back to the glass windows that overlooked the track. “Okay. What I was pointing out was the apexes.”
Heather’s eyes shifted around, as if the meaning of that sentence might be plastered on a wall somewhere behind Chance.
He chuckled. “The apex of a turn is where you stop turning in and start drifting out. Watch this next set of laps, especially on the turn leading up the ramp. There’s tons of time there.”
“Meaning?“
“You can gain lap time there, or you can lose it. You want to try and carry as much speed as possible up the hill and around that second floor section.”
The next eight drivers headed onto the track, and Heather kept an eye on the turn Chance had pointed out. Some of the drivers almost clipped the inside barrier they were so close to it. Others were way off, and she could see they were visibly slower. Heather’s heart pounded as they waited for the eight minutes to click off.
“There and there,” Chance pointed out a few other turns. “You don’t need to brake before them. Let off the gas just a little, but don’t brake. People aren’t used to using their left foot for anything in a car, so they tend to under or over do it. Ease into it until it feels a little more comfortable.”
Heather nodded. She hadn’t turned to him. Her eyes were glued to the karts on track. She wanted to go faster. Maybe she wouldn’t feel it inside the bumpy, loud, little go-kart, but she wanted to see it on that sheet of paper. She wanted to see a fast lap, not some grandma slow time.
“Finally.” She mumbled as the eight riders climbed up the stairs and back into the waiting area. She was the first one down to the karts, Chance in tow.
She climbed into the second idling kart, feeling worlds more confident than the first time around. Before pulling the seatbelt tight over each shoulder, Heather turned to Chance, who was still sliding down into his seat.
“Don’t wait up for me. I want to see how fast you can really go.”
“You got it, kid.” There was something in his eyes that Heather loved. They were sharing in his passion. I bet Isla never did this.
The bored teenager checked over their belts, then hit a button that changed the yellow lights above them green. Chance took off, and from the very first corner, Heather could see that he wasn’t holding back one bit. The kart was sliding around, especially when they got to the one hundred and eighty degree corner that sent them traveling in the opposite direction. Chance practically slid the kart around the corner to Heather’s amazement. After that, she lost track of him.
Heather tried to remember what Chance had taught her. She looked for the apex of the turns, staying conscious of when she was turning in and then out. There was no way she could know what her lap times were until the end of the eight minutes, and she found that maddening.
Still, she could feel something about each lap; almost like each one was smoother than the one before.
As she climbed the crest to the second floor section, a kart shot past her around the outside. Chance. She hit the brakes for the next turn, but it seemed like he was able to drive much further before he started to slow down. She tried to remember that for the next lap.
Her mouth was dry. Heather realized she had her mouth open the entire race, almost panting. She crossed the start/finish line, ready to put everything together everything that she had learned. The lap was smooth and felt fast right up until she came to the one hundred and eighty degree turn. At full throttle, she was heading straight towards Chance’s kart pointed the wrong way.
She slammed her left foot down and felt the rear of the kart snap out of control. Bouncing to a halt just a few inches from the inside barrier, Heather had a death grip on the steering wheel. Yellow lights flashed all around her.
She turned to Chance. “What happened?”
After raising the visor on his helmet, Chance said, “You told me to push, so that’s what I did. You can make the most time in the slowest corners.”
“And?”
“And I pushed a little too hard.” He shrugged.
Heather squinted at him. “I was on a good lap, too.”
She practically snatched the paper from the teen’s hand. Running a finger down the column of laps, she stopped at the second to last lap, bolded so it stood out.
26.899
That was it? Barely two seconds faster? Heather’s head dropped. Chance took the paper from her.
“Damn. You took off two seconds. That’s incredible.”
Heather gave him a sour look. “Incredible? That’s like seven seconds slower than you.”
Chance took Heather’s hand, leading her to a bar stool that overlooked the track. “People are lucky to improve a tenth of a second around here. Have you ever driven with the purpose of getting faster?”
“What do you mean?”
“Aside from being late to work, have you ever driven the same route with the intention of doing it faster?”
Heather shook her head. “I guess not,” she said, looking down at the next set of drivers strapping into the go-karts.
“So it’s your first time driving one of these, and in twenty some laps, you gain more than two seconds. Trust me when I say that is impressive. You might have a natural talent for this.”
She shrugged, feeling a little better about herself. “I just listened to what you told me.”
“I’m very impressed,” Chance said, pulling her in for a kiss. “I’m also very hungry. Shall we?”
Heather nodded, giving the go-kart track one last look. “Fine, but we’re coming back here, mister.”
Chance laughed and threw his hands up. “Alright, alright. You win.”