I’m watching you lay out the photographs tonight. The handful from the other shoe box. Spread them out on the bathroom floor. I don’t know why. I guess it seems right there. We never did agree on some things, like what it was to me. Obsession? Passion? I didn’t then but I see it more from your view now, the progression of it. Maybe why you were worried. Always faster.

Slot car racing with Nicole in the living room of the house in Chesapeake. Nicole grim-faced with new braces. Always faster.

My go kart on its trailer in the driveway. The street race in Indiana. The rain. Always faster.

The formula Vee the next year, slashing through plumes of spray in the wet at Summit Point. Me leaning on the fence on the grid. Smiling in my blue driver’s suit, chatting with other drivers. Waiting our turn to race under a crystal clear sky. Me in the cockpit face-on to the camera. You can’t see but I was smiling inside my helmet.

The car’s sleek body glittering in the summer sun. The blaze orange roll-over bar jutting above my helmeted head.

Roll-over bar…

… I promised never to call it that.

Jim Race 2


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