Free The Pace by Shelena Shorts Page B

not counting the first time. I did much better than I expected. I turned to him and said, “Okay, your turn.”
    “Oh, no. You’re not done,” he said, shaking his head. “You need to try moving through the gears.”
    “Why are you insistent upon me ruining this car?”
    “You are not going to ruin it. Trust me. Now, instead of stopping the car this time, all you are going to do is let off the gas and instead of braking, you’re just going to push in the clutch and change gears. Then, you slowly let out the clutch and give it some more gas.” He took my hand and motioned through the gears with me to show me where to move them, and then he set me free. I replayed everything he said in my head and then gave it a try.
    “Good. Now try second gear . . . Good, now try third.” Third gear was a little shaky, but I managed. We were driving. “Now just keep her steady,” he instructed. We drove around the track, one whole time, at thirty miles per hour. I didn’t want to go any faster. I had to admit, driving the car was sort of fun. I felt powerful in a way. And, had I not been worried about wrecking it, I might have enjoyed myself, but I figured I should quit while I was still ahead.
    “Can I stop now?” I practically pleaded.
    “You can stop whenever you want.”
    I was glad to hear that and wasted no time pulling over, being sure to remember to put the clutch in as I braked.
    “You did it,” he said, putting the gearshift in neutral and pulling up the emergency brake. “Always remember to pull this up when you stop the car.”
    I nodded again and swiftly opened the door and got out. Our necks seemed to be in good shape. I wouldn’t call it a smooth ride, but it wasn’t half-bad either. He was a very good teacher, but I was glad to be out of that seat.
    Of course when he got in, we smoothly picked up speed until we were back around the track. I was a little envious. It was effortless to him. “I want you to meet some people,” he said. He pulled up to a building that looked like an aviation hangar. We got out and walked into the office. There were a few guys working there. Wes led us over to the counter area. “Kenny, Curtis, Jimmy, this is Sophie.” They each came up to me and shook my hand one by one. Curtis looked like the oldest, and Kenny was wearing a mechanic suit, so I took him for a mechanic, and Jimmy was wearing a racing suit. He looked about our age.
    “So Wes, it’s good to see you,” Kenny said. “What brings you by?”
    “Just showing Sophie how to drive.” They all laughed and looked at me. I didn’t get the joke.
    “Sophie, you might want to steer clear of this one on the track,” Curtis interjected.
    “Why is that?” I asked, curious. Wes grabbed my hand and was trying to pull me toward a side door.
    “Leave her alone, guys,” Wes said, still pulling me. I wanted to know, so I stopped and separated my hand and waited.
    “Because he is a crazy man on the track. He has no fear.” They all laughed.
    “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, pondering this new information.
    “Bye guys,” he said, holding onto my hand again. I waved over my shoulder, to be polite, as he gently pulled me away.
    “That was interesting.”
    “They don’t know what they’re talking about,” he said, and then, leaning in closer to my ear, he added, “I want to show you something.” I kept following him as a tingling sensation lingered on my ear from his cool breath.
    He opened up a door that led to a large garage, which housed several race cars. I was in awe. I’d never been into car racing, but those cars were very cool.
    “How many are there?” I asked, touching the window nets and running my hands over the painted numbers and sponsor signs.
    “We have seven here. We use four for the driving school and we race three.”
    “You race?”
    “No, not anymore. I thought I would try college for a while.” He winked. “Jimmy is our driver.”
    “So what, you like own all this?”
    “Yes.