Vacation Chapter 52
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My body did its alarm clock impression and woke me at ten to six. Peanut and I had changed positions. I was holding her with my hand over a tiny breast, and her small hand over mine. It was amazing that this little girl could wrestle race cars all over a track. That's no easy feat. It was time to get going, so I pinched a nipple and bit her neck. She flipped over and kissed me with a smile. She said, "Let's get going. We're going to begin building my truck today."
We went through the shower to wake up, and I didn't shave again. I wanted to have a week's worth of whiskers on my face, but it wouldn't look like a dirty face most guys have because my hair is so light. I was going to wear the wig, but decided to leave it off and told Peanut to leave hers too. She complained that all the women she met last night had nice haircuts and she wanted the same. I promised her that we would find a salon and get her hair trimmed up.
We brought our coveralls, gloves, and caps, went to the truck, and drove over to the huge patio at the trailer park. Carts were arriving and it was just a little after six thirty. Steve hollered at us when we walked in the door as teen kids began coming from the house. A toddler came walking through to be picked up by Steve. She said to me, "My name is Ellen. I have six toes." She stuck her foot up in the air to show me that she had six toes.
Steve was rolling his eyes, and said, "Meet Glenda, my morning coffee girlfriend. She was one of the first people I met when I came here. Her husband is Martin, and will be here soon. He loves the pastries in the morning."
Peanut brought me a mug of coffee. Ellen wanted to be held by Peanut so she crawled from Steve, across me, to get to Peanut. The toddler hugged the little woman and began jabbering to her about something that must have been important. The tall lady who had been eating wings with me last night was behind Steve, caressing his hair, said, "I like the blond wig. Those are some nasty scars on your head. Are you letting your hair grow out?"
I nodded and said, "Yes, I think my hair will grow out to be almost white with some dark streaks."
Peanut said, "Speaking of hair; is there a salon around here where I could get trimmed up? I look pretty shaggy if I don't wear my wig. I've been cutting my own hair for a while and I want to look better now for this character I'm with."
Steve laughed, and said, "You're in trouble now. There's an agenda when women begin telling you they want to look good for you."
A lady in a police uniform came out of the house carrying an infant. She handed it to Steve, who gave it to Kathy. She said, "Some dad you are." She turned to Peanut, and said, "I let Sue Ellen figure out who is and who isn't a good person, and I've never seen her take to someone like that. Is she telling you anything good?"
Steve said, "The first thing she did is tell Peanut her name and say that she had six toes. She's been jabbering since."
The woman said, "I'm Mickey, junior wife of this clown. You'll have to get a real introduction to this menagerie and let us tell you what we're about."
There was a commotion at the entrance door at that instant. Mickey said, "Well, Steve isn't so bad when you begin comparing him to Chuck, the real cult leader."
A stream of women came in carrying infants and also had toddlers running in to see who all was there to greet them this morning.
Peanut elbowed me, and said, "I didn't recognize him last night, but he and that girl with the two babies are blues guitar players. They have done tours with the Expedition."
What do I know about blues groups? I like rock blues, but I've never been to any concerts and I've never had much of any music to listen to unless someone created a playlist for my iPod. I don't think I've changed my playlist in three or four years.
Steve said, "You'll probably meet all the Expedition this week, because Chuck and Lisa are helping them finish an album. Chuck has a great house with a separate professional studio. Ask for a program if you go to his house. He has so many kids that he makes the moms put little T-shirts on his kids with their names on them. How many are there now, Kathy?"
Cathy said, "I think there are thirty one total with Lisa's quads, but there are also older kids that he's adopted."
Wow, thirty-one kids. Then it struck me, "How many women does he have?"
Glenda said, "It's either fifteen or sixteen."
Peanut exclaimed, "Oh my God, the world would crucify him if they knew that."
Kathy asked, "Why? They all love him and he loves them all. You'll love that group because they are very friendly. Be careful though, as they'll be trying to get you added to the population."
A young tall teen came out and gave Kathy and Steve a hug. "I'll be at Chuck's in the studio with Lizzy all day. I just wanted you to know."
Peanut exclaimed again, "Are you Bonita? From the youth blues band, the 'Lucky Lady Blues Band'?" Lizzy came bouncing up at the same time, and said, "We are part of them, but today is all Expedition and probably some Lisa and Chuck music."
Peanut was grinning so wide that it looked unnatural. She said to me, "I want to move here; the hell with Miami and Homestead. I want to be with all these people. I guess I can't do that if all my cars are down there. It is cooler up here, and I don't like cold. There's good and bad in everything."
We ate a couple of sandwiches and a donut, along with some milk and another cup of coffee before Steve announced, "Time to get to work. I'm excited about building a car or truck right there in our shop. This is exciting."
We walked into the famous S&S factory through some big double doors and into a sparkling clean white work area. Lights were coming on and compressors were filling their tanks. A short redhead told me, "Bring your pick up around back so that we can unload what you have. We already have a frame and we just need to make sure everything will match up to mount."
I backed up to a door where several of the motor builders were exclaiming that our equipment was clean. Peanut told them, "We steam everything off so that it will be easier to work with. No sense in getting oily when you're not under pressure to get something done."
All the various parts were pulled from the pickup's bed and laid out to be inspected before going into the new frame and body. The little redhead who I learned was 'Shawna', the Manager of the motor and custom motorcycle shop, as well as a tremendous artist who can airbrush cartoons on a motorcycle, golf cart, truck, car, airplane, and even a huge tractor-trailer rig. Shawna was inventorying the parts we brought with us and graded them. She had the engine put on a stand and separated the tranny. She had a conversation with a couple of guys who were finishing up an engine, and left both the engine and transmission by their work area.
Sandy, Mandy, and a deaf guy were fitting body parts and running wiring harnesses. Peanut was putting the suspension on the car and fitting the brakes and wheels to make sure of clearances. She was using her Sprint truck rule book for each step, and measuring everything for accuracy multiple times. I'm not a mechanic, but I know how to fit and wire a dash panel. Peanut had a blueprint that was like a detailed paint by number. You took a numbered wire in a color group and fit it through to where it was supposed to go. The mass of tubing and metal was beginning to look like some kind of vehicle by lunch time.
Steve had called a halt for us to go have lunch in the cafeteria. A man I recognized as being one of the premier NASCAR team owners came in with a handful of men to eat lunch with us while we were in line to get food. Gene, the team owner, and his men all had to shake Peanut's hand and tell her how special she was to have sacrificed her truck to save the man and his kid.
Steve took everyone back to the area where the truck was being built when we were finished eating, and told the new men Gene had brought, "Sandy and Mandy will direct you on what to do. We should have everything needed on the display trucks or in the parts bins. I have something for Gene and Buddy to do."
I saw our motor in pieces being worked on the way Butch's mechanics rebuilt motors at his shop. The transmission was in pieces at the adjoining work space as well. I would swear, if I didn't know better, that the two guys working on the motor were one hundred percent gay, and the team working next to them was hardcore lezzies. I wasn't going to make a comment.
On the way to where Steve was taking us, I told him, "I want you to know that I have the money to pay for everything. We were just so overwhelmed by how bad the truck was destroyed that we just didn't think we could get the talent to build another truck in time to compete this week or next to win a position to race in Daytona. Peanut needs two more races of any kind, and has to have at least one top three placing. She and Butch were accepted, but the driver and truck still has to qualify. I've found out that we can race at East Bay this weekend or race Friday, Saturday, and even Sunday at Volusia to get the two races in and place in one. We may have to modify the truck Friday night, but we should be able to finish in a place both Saturday and Sunday. This will give us two weeks to make the car track ready. There are two practice sessions on the eighteenth, then qualifying and the race on the nineteenth. Peanut knows this is a stretch to accomplish, even if our truck hadn't been wrecked."
Gene said, "I'm here to help you through some of the bullshit that you'll encounter because you're not a good old boy. Your second hurdle is going to be Peanut being a girl, and her size. I watched some video of her running two different winged cars and can't believe that tiny creature could do what she did. I realize you had to drive the second winged car and looked like the rookie driver you are. I will admit you did well in the late model, but it looked like you were trying to keep the dents out of the car. That isn't going to happen on short tracks."
He took a breath, and said, "I've contacted a bunch of manufacturers to help you guys out with parts. You need the sponsor tags on the car and they all want to get on board because Peanut is new to the big tracks and you're part of a new team. They might pull the plug if she craps out early, but I somehow think she's going to keep a lot of people excited to help you guys."
Steve said, "Gene and I both talked to Butch. He's putting your race day pit crew together with some of his men from Miami and some experienced men who don't have a team right now. You're going to be spending some money on pit suits, equipment, and tires."
Gene continued, "You'll have to prove you have a crew before they'll let you try to qualify. My crew chief will give yours some advice as to how to prepare. It's only two hundred fifty miles if you make the race, but you're still going to run through some tires. It all depends on your driver. Some drivers can run five hundred miles on three or four sets of tires, and another group will use eight. Fuel economy can be good and bad. You won't have a clue until your first practice. Just remember to follow every rule for every part."
We drove to the patio where Steve said, "I have workout stuff for each of you. We're going to the gym for a while. You're lucky that it's too cool or we would be going to the pool for some sun. Buddy is used to warmer weather down in Miami, but I'll bet he doesn't get much sun."
I didn't comment because an honest answer would disclose my real identity. A surprise was workout shorts, T-shirt, socks, and several sizes of shoes including a pair that fit. I called Butch on my burner phone before going back out to join the other two. The guy was exuberant over having to get a pit crew together. He said he would be up in Tampa with some racing equipment this weekend, as well as with who he thinks could be the beginning of a pit crew. My friend said, "I wish you could use your real name. This is going to be some really big visibility for the team. Don't be surprised if the scrawny little girl doesn't scare the shit out of a lot of drivers, teams, and owners. I'll call you on this number, so don't use it for anything else but us."
I walked out and found Steve ready, but Gene wasn't out yet. Steve said. "Mercy said you use a second identify to keep some people away from you. I'll help if you need help to clear up your real identity. I do have a little pull with a few agencies. The other guy who can be your real friend is Chuck, my Chuck. He has some major pull with DOJ and some military units."
I smiled and said, "You two might understand if I tell you the real story since you and Chuck are also Marines. I'll try to get with both of you this evening and try to talk it out. Being who I am right this minute is good in some ways, but it's a pain for my close friends."
Steve said, "Let's see if we can help. Here's Gene, let's go work out."
Gene and Steve obviously worked out regularly. Steve had the best workout deal as several very attractive women who were, or could be, wives of his or Chuck's were there working out. I smiled a lot over the struggles a couple of the women were having trying to stay covered. The males there were definitely entertained. I think my lifting regimen was more intense than the two guys would think, but I was trying to get some muscle back.
I put the weights back on the racks and went to get a drink of water.
Gene asked me, "How would you feel about Peanut possibly joining a team, preferably my team as an alternate driver if she has some luck on the track over the next couple of weeks?" when we were on the way back to the patio to change back into our regular clothes. "You could be an asset to a team that needs to keep a car in the races yourself, since you have your license. It doesn't pay all that well, but it would possibly give you a chance to stay with Peanut."
I told the truth, "I ran into Peanut because I needed a helper and driver, Gene. She filled the bill. She had hardly any clothes, was overly skinny and very hungry. I've cleaned her up, bought her some clothes, feed her well, and have been fulfilling some of her dreams. I personally don't have anything pending in life except to help my friend down in Homestead. My sister has a job for me out on South Beach, but I don't think that's for me."
"I'll have to figure out whether or not to continue racing if Peanut goes. I could support us and possible increase my participation with cars. All that would be fun, but I really don't care for the notoriety the racing circuit has. I'm really trying to become about as low profile as I can get. Let's all three of us work on making Peanut a hot property and give her that chance to succeed."
Steve said, "That's very unselfish of you; we really do need to talk. Let's get a shower and go see what progress they've made since lunch."
A plain light blue racing pickup with a GM front end was sitting on tires in the garage, while the two possibly gay guys were running up an engine on a stand while every head in the shop was crammed together to watch the laptop computer screens. The faces all turned from a grim look to broad smiles. One of the guys removed all doubt as to his orientation when he said, a little loud, but in a clearly joking manner, "You need to get us hooked up with Buddy for a job like that. He is really hot."
Peanut slugged the guy and he moaned, saying, "Now I won't be able to finish the rear end. I'd rather fool with his rear end, though," he laughed. The two girls who had been assigned to the transmission were working on an engine, so they had obviously finished the tranny.
Shawna saw us watching and came back to us. "We need to run this thing out to Lakeland on Wednesday and see how the car tracks. Sandy and Mandy have really worked hard to keep everything within NASCAR specs. They know all the rules. They went over to Gene's place to let Peanut use the simulator for a half hour or so to test her strength and reflexes. They both say that she's a driver."
Gene nodded and said, "I knew it as soon as I saw her. She carries herself like a driver, walks like a driver, but isn't a blowhard, so I wondered about her. I'm glad you had them take her over. Let's see if we can finish it with paint tomorrow night."
Shawna, in her usual brash manner, said, "Fuck that. I'm painting it tonight. I called the owner of the shop down in Homestead to find out what name I should tell the world the owner is. He gave me some ideas about Peanut since he's known her for over ten years. I'll do a good job but NASCAR said they are going to retire her old number and gave us ninety-two. Peanut didn't care. She said she didn't care and can win with number one or even a double zero. NASCAR sent someone down to the Homestead shop so they could take the door that was toward the guy she saved for the retired number display."
I was amazed at how a dozen people went right back to working on the truck. The truck was sitting on four separate stands that appeared to be scales. They were scales. Mandy caught me staring at them and said, "We need to know the exact weight on each wheel for the setup. It'll all balance out when we get the engine, tranny, and rear end in. They should be installed within an hour. We'll have to fill the fuel bladder to get the proper weight distribution."
Steve took me on a tour of the building, and then next door where they were working on some of the big shipyard lifts that can handle those huge shipping containers. Next to that was what looked like a massive fiberglass operation. There was a curing room with car parts, another with airplane parts, and then something behind some black curtains. It's an amazing operation. Something strange was a bunch of old style railroad cars with some people polishing the exposed brass. What I could see was impressive. Inside a building at the end of the track was what looked like an old steam engine.
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