Chapter 3
Garrison changed gears and the seven hundred horsepower engine roared in response. He took the top of the turn, guiding his car at one hundred ninety miles an hour on the top of the backstretch. In seconds, he approached the frontstretch and radioed in. “Track’s fast, Bob. Sure wish we kept the higher horsepower around here because this baby is moving. Real smooth, too.”
“Just watch that turn, Garr.”
Garrison harrumphed. “I know.” He knew which turn Bob talked about. No one talked about it, not at Daytona Speedway and definitely not before a race. At least Bob and Garr didn’t. They were both superstitious. s**t, Bob still made it a habit to clasp both of Garr’s shoulders and squeeze before Garr slipped in the car. It was a ritual that started a long time ago, back to the time
