“Thanks, McClaire.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” She said shutting the door.

Great, just one more thing to think about tonight.

10am saw the gates to the race open, and as people poured through the turnstiles, the cars took to the track for practice. Accelerating out onto the 12 foot wide runway, Martin headed for the “Montague Stretch”. This lanky, bumpy, extremely wide left hand sweeper saw the track narrow up onto a taxiway called the “Nassau Mile”, the longest straight on the track. Down through the gears, the cars braked heavily for the “Colonial Bend” down from over 100 MPH. They turned left onto another taxiway and accelerated for the “Ecky’s twist”, a high speed chicane that made the cars look like they were dancing over the bumps. “Victoria Bend '' was a wide and open hairpin, that tailed off right and narrowed towards the final corner. “Blind Man’s Curve” was a leap of faith. A suddenly narrow chicane weaving through two grandstands. The cars accelerated right towards the large steel structure that completely hid what was behind it. At the last second the track juked right, and back out onto the 12ft wide front straight away, completing the 3.5 mile lap. Martin cracked off the lap in a respectable 2:52, and Stephanie McClaire followed suit with a 2:53.

Meanwhile Douglas McClaire was also lapping in his Cooper. The T39 was part of a new breed of Sports car, one designed specifically for the Mulsanne straight at LeMan. It’s sleek aerodynamic body made it big bore fast, despite only having a 1460cc engine. It was stalking a faster classed Ferrari around the track it was so rapid. In Europe, there was talk of starting a new class for these cars specifically, as they defied the normal classing system based on engine size. However, here, the ASCC classified it as a under 2000cc car and called it a day. As it cracked off a 2:49.8 lap time, the crowd could see why that was an issue.

“How the hell are we supposed to race against that?” Martin complained to an official after practice. The man shrugged and said.

“Get a faster car.” Up and down the pitlane teams took the advice to heart and started modifying their cars. Martin took the windshield off his Porsche, and his one and only spare wheel on this trip. He also made a wooden cover over the passenger seat to make the car more slippery. Soon the drivers started lining their modified machines onto the grid. Douglas had easily taken the pole position, with Martin starting second.

“We meet again Sir! May the best man win in battle!” Douglas called, already strapped into his car.

“Yeah you cheating bastard…” Martin muttered, although some of the other drivers probably felt the same way when he first started driving his Porsche. The only car that remained stock looking, Was Stephanie McClaire’s Ace, her only obvious modification was she had put the roof up. She drove up to her position on the grid, then got out and walked over to Martin.

“I know you can’t lose, but I can’t and won’t let Douglas win either.” Martin nodded, he understood something personal was about to get settled between the two.

“Drivers to their cars, drivers to their cars, all non essential personnel off the grid please!” Called a man on the loudspeaker. Due to the fact the airport was extremely close to the city, the starter would drop a flag, instead of firing a gun to start the race. He ran out to the side of the track, green flag in hand, and stood waiting for his signal. Martin looked over, Douglas had a red racing suit on too, despite the fact his car was white and blue. He shook his head and focused on the starter.

“Ten seconds” the intercom barked, and the starter lifted the flag. Both McClaires watched him. The flag dropped and the race began!

The Cooper exploded off the line, it’s rear end squatting as it fired through rapid gearshifts. Martin launched his Porsche hard too, harder than he had ever done before. The cars rocketed up to the Montague Stretch. The road was bumpy, and the two lightweight cars struggled turning in, allowing the Ace into the party. She drove in hard to get alongside the Porsche and Martin backed off letting her through. He was going to let these two go at it, and defend for his life in 3rd.

Douglas looked in his mirror, the Ace tucked in behind the glorified Grand Prix car. Colonial bend came up fast, and the two cars hammered the brakes and drove into the corner with reckless abandon. Motors and tires screaming, they danced through Ecky’s Twist, nose to tail as a gap formed back to Martin. Both cars skidded into Victoria Bend, and they headed for Blind Man’s Curve.

Douglas flicked the Cooper through effortlessly, without lifting off the throttle. Stephanie couldn’t do that, the much heavier Ace needing a pump of the brake pedal. Suddenly it was clear where the Cooper made up it’s time, and as they rocketed down the front stretch a gap formed between the two cars. However, it wasn’t entirely over. The Ace followed in the Cooper's tire tracks, and by the end of the Nassau Mile, she was right behind him again.

Douglas couldn’t fathom how his sister’s car was keeping up, he pushed the pedal down harder. Lap 2 of 10 fell in record time, 2:49.5 the official time card read. Yet at the second corner the Ace was right behind again. Inside the Ace, Stephanie McClaire had installed a tank full of nitrous oxide where her passenger seat used to be. On the front stretch she twisted open the valve on the bottle, feeding the gas into the carburetor, effectively cooling the air going into the engine, giving her more power. This was a 100% illegal modification, but she would do anything to keep up with Douglas and besides, she planned on slowing down for Martin too. As long as she didn’t finish first there was no reason to inspect her car. Laps 3 clicked off just as fast, and the crowd were on their feet, watching the two pilots duel. Martin was now 4 seconds behind the two leading cars.

Douglas was panicking. He wanted to capitalize on McClaire’s fame in the states and launch his own racing career by beating her. He had gotten his hands on the fastest, newest machine money could buy for the occasion, yet she was hounding him. Every lap he looked in the mirror and he wasn’t shaking the roadster. What would his father say? Would he disown him? Embarrassing the McClaire family name abroad, losing to a glorified foster child? His mind started racing, and he blew the braking point of the Victoria Bend. Stephanie McClaire threw her car to the inside while the Cooper was off the racing line. They rocketed towards Blind Man’s curve side by side. Looking over, he saw Stephanie staring at him.

“I’ll send you into the stands Stephanie!” he yelled over the wail of his engine before looking ahead. The chicane was approaching fast, and he knew Stephanie wasn’t going to yield. He slammed on the brakes, and with the crowd on their feet, the Ace took the lead. 5 Laps to go.

Alright Winstrup, you’ve made your point. Now it’s time to put you in your place.

Douglas firewalled the throttle, the Cooper’s tiny four cylinder engine singing away as they thundered down the straightaway. He would not be embarrassed, not by her. Did she not understand? If it wasn't for McClaire’s she would have grown up as a peasant! She wouldn’t have had the opportunities she’s had in life, she wouldn’t be driving, nothing! Yet every step of the way she resented this family, all because she couldn’t bear to see her father’s fortune spent on anything but herself! The greedy bitch! Now he would show her! Now he would take his family's pride back, hell or high water. Douglas forced the Cooper down into the Colonial bend, diving through the grass to get below the Ace. He slammed into the Ace’s door knocking Stephanie off line.

“Want to play bumper cars do you?!” Stephanie yelled at him, pulling her car back across to slammed into the Cooper. They beat and banged, knocking seven daylights out of one another into Exky’s Twist.

“It’s time to make a decision Stephanie! Accept us, or it’s to hell with you!” Douglas yelled.

“Shut up and drive!” She snapped back.

“No, you could have been someone!”

“SHUT UP!” Stephanie cut the wheel over hard and knocked the Cooper clean off the track. Douglas fought for control and eventually got it back. Around the Victoria Bend and through Blind man’s, Douglas caught up to her again. 4 laps to go.

“You were always so quiet, so cunning. I knew you were hiding something!” Douglas yelled to the wind, wheeling the car through the Montague Stretch. Onto the Nassau Mile he added.

“How did we end up with a mutt like you!?” He tried to slam the AC again, but Stephanie saw it coming. She hit the brakes and let him past, but Douglas too slowed down. He ripped the shift knob off and threw it at Stephanie.

“You could have bloomed into a beautiful McClaire Stephanie! Now wilt like a Winstrup!” He floored the accelerator and took the lead, shifting gears with only the bare metal rod.

“Ha, haha… Wilt… That’s rich Doug!” Stephanie laughed inside her Ace. The same rush she felt racing in the rain was overtaking her body, and she started laughing psychotically.

“For a flower to bloom in the first place it needs constant love and attention.” She tried to compose herself, but the laugh mixed with the rage and tears started to fall. The steering wheel started to crack in her hands, and she grit her teeth.

“A flower... needs someone... WHO CARES!” She exploded, and took off after Douglas. Reaching down, she opened the valve on the nitrous bottle all the way and left it there! 3 laps to go, the Ace’s motor screamed, revving past 7500rpm as they exited the Nassau Mile. She was flying!

“I am a McClaire Doug, I refuse to be a Winstrup, that part of me is dead!” She hissed to herself. She could practically see a gunsight in her vision, tracking the Cooper’s every move, ready to blow him away with a squeeze of the trigger.

“But I’ll be a better McClaire than you. You or any of your greedy selfish family!” She pulled alongside the Cooper on the back straight and screamed.

“You used my father’s money to put people out of business Douglas! You ruined lives, and I was just a piggy bank to you and your empire!”

“So what? That’s business! You think racing cars is that much more of a noble pursuit?!” Douglas yelled back.

“No...” Stephanie said to herself. She fell behind the Cooper as they came into Victoria Bend for the 8th time.

“What is though, is taking away the one thing that matters to terrible people like you.” She shifted down for the corner.

“Your pride!” Stephanie McClaire floored it, the Ace crashed into the back of the Cooper and spun it around, the car creating a huge plume of smoke as it spun a complete 360. Realizing he was still pointing in the correct direction, Douglas hit the gas again. 2 laps to go. At this point, both cars looked like a rolling pile of junk. They had beaten these cars to within an inch of death. The Ace’s driver side door wouldn’t stay shut and open under braking. The Cooper was sputtering and spitting flames out the exhaust. Eitherway, parts for both littered the track. By now the sane people in the audience realized there was some sort of grudge match going on, but for a lap things seemed to return to normal. The Ace had the lead, the Cooper was struggling to catch up. If you had just turned up to the race, you wouldn’t have understood why the crowd was so captivated. But as Stephanie McClaire crossed the line to take the white flag, the war entered its final bloody stage.

Douglas caught up in the first turn, ramming his Cooper into the back of the Ace. He hit her so hard, the trunk popped open and she barely kept control. Colonial Bend, Douglas hit her again, this time enough to move her out of the way. The Cooper now had the lead, but Douglas wasn’t done. He brake checked the Ace, but she swerved into the grass and went back around him. The cars danced through Ecky’s Twist, and Douglas dove to the inside. It was a repeat situation to lap 4, both cars heading for Blind Man Curve except now the Cooper was on the inside.

“I’ll never let you win Stephanie Winstrup!” Douglas yelled as they headed for oblivion, Stephanie looked him dead in the eyes and said…

“Then Perish.”

Martin saw the fireball as he headed for the Ecky’s Twists. His eyes went wide, and his foot came off the accelerator as the huge ball of smoke climbed into the sky. Someone crashed hard! Rounding the Victoria Bend, his heart dropped when he saw what had happened. The Cooper had crashed into the metal support structure of the bleachers and exploded. It was still on fire, burning under the crowd's feet. The Ace had hit some barrels filled with sand meant to protect the bottom rows of the stands and had flipped off of them. It had turned turtle a few hundred yards down the track, and McClaire was nowhere to be seen. Firemen were already fighting the blaze, and yellow flags waved as some of the crowd had evacuated the bleachers and now stood in the road. Martin came through to win the race, but immediately he turned around and went back to the flipped Ace.

“McClaire!” He shouted, jumping out and running to the car. Most of the first responders were focused on the Cooper, and no one had yet made it to the overturned roadster. Martin didn’t know what he would see, but he grabbed the door and ripped it open.

“McClaire, speak to me!” He cried, seeing her there, she was laying under the car, pinned. He tried to lift it off of her, but it was too heavy. Soon onlookers rushed in to help, and with 12 people they flipped the Ace back onto its wheels. McClaire groaned, suddenly able to breathe again.

“McClaire! You're still alive, you can make it!”

“Martin?” She tried to speak, but her voice was weak and powerless.

“Just don’t move okay? Help is on the way!” Medics rushed over once they learned McClaire was still alive. They carefully put her on a stretcher, and wheeled her off in an ambulance. Minutes later, an announcement came over the loudspeaker…

“Due to a fatal crash, all further races have been rescheduled to tomorrow.”

Later that night, at McClaire’s bedside, Martin got wind that no spectators had been killed in the crash from Charles Schmidt. Some had burns, some got hit by debris, but none of it was life threatening, thank god. For all subsequent races, dump trucks full of sand would sit beside the stands at an angle, blocking the same accident from happening again. Everyone thanked their lucky stars it wasn’t a little LeMans tragedy. The next day, McClaire regained consciousness.

“Did you win?” She asked.

“Oh shit, your aw…”

“Did you win the race?” She asked between heavy breaths of the ventilator.

“Uh, yes but that doesn’t...”

“Good.” She nodded slightly and closed her eyes again to rest.