As we walked, McClaire explained to me the ins and outs of the event... “The Grand Canyon Classic is what we call an outlaw race, not because it's illegal, but because it's sanctioned by someone other than the American Sports Car Club, in this case the state itself. Drivers start here, in Flagstaff, race west down 180, before turning north on 64, and they follow that all the way around, past the grand canyon until the finish line, just before they meet up with route 89. Fastest time per class wins, and you can make multiple attempts per weekend. But if your car breaks down or you crash on a run, your day is over until they can get a tow truck to you after dusk.”
“Yikes, so it's a proper old school race on the roads?”
“Yep, ambulances every 5-10 miles or so, but the whole route is almost 200 miles. So they might stop the race temporarily to take a driver to hospital, but they aren't going to stop it to retrieve your car.”
“So don't suck.” Star butted in abruptly. The side streets in Flagstaff heading towards highway 180 had turned into pit row, with tents erected to keep the cars and mechanics cool as they fine-tuned their machines. Ferrari, Porsche, Ford, Mercedes, million dollar machines sat silently, awaiting their turn as authorities shut the roads ahead of them.
“Stephanie!” Came a voice from the crowd, a man waving with a big old Texas cowboy hat that rivaled her own.
“Carroll Shelby, what a surprise!” She replied with a laugh.
“Please tell me you aren't driving today McClaire, I can't take my cars finishing 2nd again.” he said with a sarcastic tone in his voice as the two shook hands.
“No, just a spectator this year I'm afraid, although we are headed to Ontario. McLaren wants me to Qualify one of their cars for the California 500 while their driver flies in,” McClaire explained.
“I see, still trying to break into the world of open wheelers huh?”
“Why not? It's something to do, right?” McClaire said with a shrug. Shelby looked at her with a nod and a sigh, these two clearly shared history that I wasn't privy to.
“I hope we see you back at lemans one day.” He said in a moment of solitude.
“Same can be said for you Carroll, take care. Oh and enjoy Africa, I hear you are heading there for a while?”
“I need to recharge my batteries, you know? I can't live on the edge all my life.” As we walked away from the man with the huge hat, Star whispered something towards McClaire to which she replied.
“History changes a little each time. Retiring a year early or year late isn't that uncommon.” As we continued our walk it was amazing how many people recognized and came up to talk to McClaire, some even asking for autographs, however some refused to even recognize her existence at all. As we passed by the NART pit, the North American Racing Team for Ferrari, it was as if McClaire was a ghost that everyone could see but no one could speak too. It was odd, people going out of their way to avoid getting close to her, especially the Italian employees whose faces turned white when they saw her.
“Looks like they still hate me.” She said with a laugh.
“You never did explain why Ferrari hates you so much?” Star asked and without hesitation, McClaire replied something that required a double take of the mind.
“It's because I died in one of their cars.”
“Wha… what?” I said a few seconds later, as my brain decoded and accepted exactly what she said.
“Huh… oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn't know about my curse being you aren't a racing fan?” McClaire said casually, as if I asked her what her favorite food was.
“TLDR, McClaire is an immortal demigod, and I got this close to slaying her for good.” Star added on, equally as casually.
“Aren't you glad you didn't though?” McClaire giggled back with a smirk on her face. I however was having my whole world view shattered at my feet. Coming to a dead stop, I demanded answers.
“Hold on, just stop, everyone stop! First of all, what the hell does “T-L-D-R” mean? Second of all, what hell are you talking about with demigods and curses and shit?” For some reason, both girls were looking at me as if I was the crazy one. After a couple long moments of silence, Star finally spoke up to make me even more confused.
“It probably wouldn't help if I told you I was from the future would it?”
“Shut up Star…” McClaire muttered sternly. The shift in tone took me as astray as Star’s insane claim.
“What?!” I replied dismissively and McClaire just shook her head.
“Don't listen to her, she's just trying to get into your head.” McClaire said and Star smirked evilly.
“I could tell you all kinds of things that would make your head go kaboom, literally, because then we would have to kill you!” She chirped, almost seeming to fantasize about my death, or at least reveling in my confusion.
“Drop it!” McClaire warned her again, her voice now much more serious.
“I'm really confused here guys.” I said, trying desperately to make some sense of this whole interaction.
“It's better if you stay confused. Sometimes what you don't know won't hurt you. But, to make a long story short, Star is kinda right. I carry a curse that keeps me from dying, so in a sense, I am immortal. Don't think too much about it though, the rest of the world has just sort of accepted that's how it is, including me.”
“But, how? Why?”
“We could tell you, but we would have to hide your body afterwards!” Star laughed cruelly before McClaire punched her shoulder…
“Ouch! The hell McClaire?” Star demanded, but McClaire ignored her and spoke clearly to me.
“Like I said, don't dwell on it. Truth is even if I did have all the answers, I couldn't tell them to you in a way you would understand. So just accept it for now, okay?” The way McClaire expression kinda of tailed off signaled she wasn't at all kidding. So I nodded and just accepted the fact I was traveling with a race car driving Demigod, as you do.
“So… what about TLDR then?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Too long, didn't read.” Star said as she walked past me and off into the crowd.
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