Free Smokin' & Spinnin' by Andrea Miller

a special code for this level and only certain people have access to this floor,” he further explains.
    As Garrett speaks, I take a moment to look him over. He is ruggedly handsome. I know now where Ryan gets his looks from. Garrett has the same fierce blue eyes that dance with a devilish gleam. Only, he does not have the overexerted arrogance to go along with it. His beautifully sculptured jawline mirrors Ryan’s perfectly. And although their hair colors do not match, the hairline is the same.
    As we begin our tour, Garrett talks comfortably about his humble beginnings in racing, building his first car with his father, NASCAR great Garrison Carter, and training his son to become a driver. “I have been very fortunate in the fact that I love what I do and that I also happen to be good at it.” He smiles fondly at the memories. “It also helps that my son loves the sport as much as I do and is as good, if not better, than me.” He winks at me. The way he speaks of Ryan is heartwarming. It almost makes Ryan seem like a normal person.
    Since Garrett is being so open, I dig for more information. “Forgive me for the stupid question, but how did you become a NASCAR driver?”
    Garrett smiles and gestures for me to follow him over to another corner of the display room. “This is my father, Garrison Carter.” He motions toward several dated photographs on the wall.
    I smile and nod as I examine the photographs, another handsome Carter. Those roots also run deep.
    Garrett speaks slowly and hesitantly. “My father was a very difficult man, but a hard worker and great provider for our family. Whenever he had free time, he spent it obsessing over his homemade stock car that he raced locally on a dirt track not too far from here.” He takes a deep breath. “I was mesmerized by him. I wanted to be with him every second, so I spent as much time with him as I could, which meant being with him in our garage, working on his car.”
    Garrett continues with ease, “He was a hard man, and in order to please him, I paid attention to learn as much as I could about this sport that he was so transfixed by. The more I learned, the more praise I received from him, which was little at best. But I wanted to please him, and that is what it took.” He sighs deeply at his recollections, and I watch him intently, completely enthralled in his story. “Which I guess will explain why I am so forgiving and lenient with Ryan. Thatis something that I struggle with. I want to make sure Ryan knows how important he is to me above all this because I always felt second-rate with my own father.”
    Garrett’s revelation makes me want to cry. He senses my reaction and gestures for us to keep moving through the tour.
    We approach a large display case in the back of the showroom that boasts ten large silver trophies. Garrett falls in line behind me. “I still can’t believe those. It all seems surreal after the fact.”
    I have no idea what the awards are for, so I ask, “What do these trophies represent?”
    Garrett eyes me warily. “Those trophies represent ten NASCAR championships that I have won throughout my career. I have won more championships than any other driver in the history of stock car racing.”
    I flush, embarrassed at my ignorance.
    Garrett recognizes my embarrassment and helps me to understand. “Each week, drivers accumulate points based on how they run in the race, how they finish, and laps led, et cetera. After the last race, points are tallied, and the driver with the most points wins the season championship. Since I am semiretired now, my goal is to get Ryan in the best position possible to continue this legacy.”
    “How many championships has Ryan won so far?” I ask naïvely.
    Garrett chuckles. “Zero!” He shakes his head. “Ryan has a very different racing style than mine. I am more patient, whereas Ryan is very spontaneous, or hasty, if you will, with his actions, which leads to more accidents and car problems. I am