Page 27 of Truck You

No triggers.

No anxiety.

No other drivers in sight.

Just me, my car, and the open track.

The car glides down the straight stretch of the track like a dream. She even turns the first corner tight and fast and smooth. Exactly like she’s supposed to drive.

I finish the first loop and call out to Chase. “She feels great. No shaking. Smooth and tight. Ready for me to kick it up?”

“Good,” Chase answers. “Open her up and give it all you’ve got.”

“My pleasure.” A grin spreads across my face as I take her from one-twenty to one-eighty in a matter of seconds. I hold her there a few seconds, focusing on her sounds and vibrations. Once I’m certain everything is great and I clear the first turn, I max out her speed, easily breaking two-hundred miles-per-hour.

“How does she feel?” Chase asks.

“So far, so good.” I shout through my headset. “I’m maxing her out and there’s nothing unusual. Whatever Ash did, it seems to have worked.”

“Good. Take her for a few loops like this and let’s see if it holds.”

I don’t respond. I just keep driving.

I love being behind the wheel of a fast car on the open road. Nothing can stop me. I feel alive and free. I’m invincible and completely in control of this car and my surroundings. I’m going to cross the finish line and take the prize.

This feeling is why I love racing so much.

This is what I was born to do. It’s in my blood and deeply rooted in my soul.

This feeling—right now, right here—is what I’m missing every time I enter a race.

The second other drivers are on the track with me, I tense. I remember what happened two years ago, and I lose my head.

I can control myself and my car, but I can’t control other drivers. They’re a wild card, a risk that I’m struggling to manage. Until I can figure out how to accept that unknown, I may never race the same way again.

If I’m not racing, then who in the hell am I?

“Damn, Mac.” Chase’s voice sounds happy, and I shake myself out of my thoughts. “You look fantastic out there. Your time on that last loop was your best yet. Drive like this in your next race, and no one will catch you.”

“Keep building me cars like this, and that’ll be easy.” I smile, because this feels right.

I need to harness this moment and keep it close to my heart, so I’ll never forget why I love this sport so much.

Then everything goes to hell.

Bang!A loud noise fills the inside of the car like a metal mallet hitting a gong. The car jerks and veers to the side as if I hit a solid wall. Smoke surrounds me, along with hissing and crackling sounds. I pull the steering wheel in the opposite direction, attempting to straighten out the car, but it does little good. I’m heading right for the inner wall and there’s nothing I can do about it.

* * *

The soundof crushed metal replaces Chase’s voice in an instant. My body jerks forward before it’s slammed back into my seat. Everything around me fades to black as all the anxiety and fear I’ve been fighting for months on end consumes me.

That was not supposed to happen.

Not while I was in control.

I squeeze my eyes tightly closed as reality dawns. I’m not in control of anything. Not this car, my life, or the outcome of any race I ever enter.

Control is just an illusion.

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