on Thanksgiving Day. T.J., you gotta check this thing next time before the race. How did it get past you?”
She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times her dad had spoken harshly on the radio. It was clear he was in a difficult situation that was only going to get worse as the day wore on.
“I’m real sorry about that,” T.J. said. “I feel your pain.”
“First pit stop, I want a bucket of ice dumped in here. You got me?”
T.J. laughed. “Maybe I can just get you a Coca-Cola truck to drive. That’d be a lot cooler.”
“I’m serious,” Dale said. “I’ve eaten cooked ham that’s cooler than I am right now.”
Jamie watched her dad. He was keeping pace with all the other drivers. He had to because if he slowed down, he’d cause a wreck. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tim running from the garage to the war wagon. He was carrying something and timidly looking up at T.J.
Chapter 25
Timâs Idea
TIM FINALLY GOT T.J.âS ATTENTION.
T.J. took a headphone off one ear and leaned down. âWhat is it?â
âIâve got this hose I rigged up from stuff in the hauler,â Tim said. âIf we hook it to the window net and snake the tube in, you can at least get some air into Daleâs helmet.â
T.J. leaned down a little farther, and Tim handed him the contraption. It was made out of a piece of plastic tubing connected to a funnel. Tim had made sure it was a new one so it wouldnât give Dale any fumes. He also fastened two metal clips through the plastic that would hold it securely to the netting and withstand the extreme wind velocity.
âTake this to the extra man,â T.J. said, pointing to him. He got on the radio. âDale, Tim has come up with something weâll try on the next pit stop.I need to make sure the officials will let us use our extra man. Itâll fasten onto the window net, and youâll get some air if you fit it up inside your suit.â
âTen-four,â Dale said.
T.J. contacted the NASCAR official and asked permission to have the extra man go over the wall. Occasionally an eighth man was allowed to clean the windshield or help the driver. The permission came, but unfortunately for Dale there was plenty of green-flag racing ahead. He didnât come in for a tire change until lap 37, and it was under green.
The extra man went over the wall. He stuck the hose inside, and Dale helped secure the clips perfectly to the netting. It was on only a couple of seconds when the left side came down and Dale screamed away from the pits, trying to get back to the field without going down a lap.
âWatch your speed,â T.J. said.
Dale returned to the race and radioed a lap later. âIâm as cool as a cucumber in here. Tim ought to patent this thing for all the drivers who have air boxes go down.â
Tim couldnât help smiling.
As the race continued, the anticipation from the fans rose about âthe big one,â the normal crash everyone had become accustomed to at Talladega. At some point in the 500-mile race, with cars going at incredible speeds and incredibly close together, someone made a mistake, had a blowout, or got loose in a turn, and several cars were taken out.
About halfway through, Dale was in a line of cars drafting on the inside. Another line had formed beside them, and like two 10-car trains, they rumbled down the track. As they approached turn one, Tim noticed the second car in Daleâs line get loose and spin into the line beside them.
The crowd gasped and people rose to their feet. Tim strained to see through the smoke and debris. It was only a split second, but it felt like an hour.
âStay low. Stay low. Stay low,â Scotty said on the radio.
The #14 car finally emerged on the other side of the wreck.
âGood job,â Scotty said.
In all, five cars had to leave the race, and four more had to go back to the garage and would return later.
âThat was a close
She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times her dad had spoken harshly on the radio. It was clear he was in a difficult situation that was only going to get worse as the day wore on.
“I’m real sorry about that,” T.J. said. “I feel your pain.”
“First pit stop, I want a bucket of ice dumped in here. You got me?”
T.J. laughed. “Maybe I can just get you a Coca-Cola truck to drive. That’d be a lot cooler.”
“I’m serious,” Dale said. “I’ve eaten cooked ham that’s cooler than I am right now.”
Jamie watched her dad. He was keeping pace with all the other drivers. He had to because if he slowed down, he’d cause a wreck. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tim running from the garage to the war wagon. He was carrying something and timidly looking up at T.J.
Chapter 25
Timâs Idea
TIM FINALLY GOT T.J.âS ATTENTION.
T.J. took a headphone off one ear and leaned down. âWhat is it?â
âIâve got this hose I rigged up from stuff in the hauler,â Tim said. âIf we hook it to the window net and snake the tube in, you can at least get some air into Daleâs helmet.â
T.J. leaned down a little farther, and Tim handed him the contraption. It was made out of a piece of plastic tubing connected to a funnel. Tim had made sure it was a new one so it wouldnât give Dale any fumes. He also fastened two metal clips through the plastic that would hold it securely to the netting and withstand the extreme wind velocity.
âTake this to the extra man,â T.J. said, pointing to him. He got on the radio. âDale, Tim has come up with something weâll try on the next pit stop.I need to make sure the officials will let us use our extra man. Itâll fasten onto the window net, and youâll get some air if you fit it up inside your suit.â
âTen-four,â Dale said.
T.J. contacted the NASCAR official and asked permission to have the extra man go over the wall. Occasionally an eighth man was allowed to clean the windshield or help the driver. The permission came, but unfortunately for Dale there was plenty of green-flag racing ahead. He didnât come in for a tire change until lap 37, and it was under green.
The extra man went over the wall. He stuck the hose inside, and Dale helped secure the clips perfectly to the netting. It was on only a couple of seconds when the left side came down and Dale screamed away from the pits, trying to get back to the field without going down a lap.
âWatch your speed,â T.J. said.
Dale returned to the race and radioed a lap later. âIâm as cool as a cucumber in here. Tim ought to patent this thing for all the drivers who have air boxes go down.â
Tim couldnât help smiling.
As the race continued, the anticipation from the fans rose about âthe big one,â the normal crash everyone had become accustomed to at Talladega. At some point in the 500-mile race, with cars going at incredible speeds and incredibly close together, someone made a mistake, had a blowout, or got loose in a turn, and several cars were taken out.
About halfway through, Dale was in a line of cars drafting on the inside. Another line had formed beside them, and like two 10-car trains, they rumbled down the track. As they approached turn one, Tim noticed the second car in Daleâs line get loose and spin into the line beside them.
The crowd gasped and people rose to their feet. Tim strained to see through the smoke and debris. It was only a split second, but it felt like an hour.
âStay low. Stay low. Stay low,â Scotty said on the radio.
The #14 car finally emerged on the other side of the wreck.
âGood job,â Scotty said.
In all, five cars had to leave the race, and four more had to go back to the garage and would return later.
âThat was a close
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