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make promises about how much attention I can give you. When I need to be in contact with my pit crew or concentrate on the track, you won’t hear me spelling out my race thoughts.”
    â€œNo problem,” Uncle Mike said. “Safety has to come first. If you’ll also let us record your conversations with the crew, there should be parts we can use in the documentary.”
    He grinned. “Like you yelling at the pit crew. Or the pit crew yelling at you.”
    She didn’t grin back. “You remember our contract says I get to approve the final cut?Nothing gets on television unless it has my say-so.”
    â€œI remember,” Uncle Mike said. He tried again to get a smile from her. “You think I want Pit Bull Woman mad at me?”
    She didn’t laugh at his little joke. “This is my career we’re talking about. For you, it may be just another piece of work to add to your credits. But this is extremely important to me. It has to be just right. If not, I might lose my sponsorship. That could mean millions of dollars.”
    She stood. “And that’s what we’re up against. I’ve had a long streak without a win. If you do a good job, and if I manage some good finishes while you’re filming, I can keep driving. It’s that simple.”
    â€œTrust me,” Uncle Mike said. “This is more than just another piece of work.”
    Yeah, I thought, it is more than just another piece of work. If we get it done on time, Uncle Mike gets a million dollars. If we don’t, it could cost him a million— or more.
    As for me, if we finished on time, my work might get aired on prime-time television. My name might show up on film credits for the first time. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than that.

chapter seven
    The next day, I was down at the track as Sandy Peterson got ready to take her bright red Chevy for a qualifying run.
    I was early. And alone. Uncle Mike—after turning purple and nearly popping from anger—was now trying to track down equipment to rent. Our missing stuff had not arrived yet.
    The worst part was that it looked like we would miss the chance to film Sandy’s qualifying run, which wouldn’t help our schedule.
    Racing teams at this level have about thirty races a year, traveling the country from as far north as Michigan, all the way south to Florida, from Arizona to New Hampshire. It makes for a regular weekly schedule. Teams arrive at the racetrack on a Tuesday or Wednesday. The pit crews use the early part of the week to tweak the cars. The drivers use the time to get to know the track and try out the changes that the pit crews make.
    Thursday and Friday are qualifying days. Only forty teams will make the cut and be allowed to race. The drivers who post lap times in the top forty then drive in Sunday’s race. But qualifying means more than that. The fastest qualifiers get post positions near the front. That is important because it’s a lot harder to win a race when you have to bang your way through traffic at 180 miles per hour just to find space near the front.
    Saturday gave the pit crews a chance to tweak their cars some more, make repairs, even replace entire engines if necessary.Sunday, of course, is race day. Monday’s another travel day, and the cycle starts all over the next week.
    We needed footage of a couple of different qualifying runs. I knew that by missing the chance to film Sandy Peterson today, we would have to wait a full week before we’d have another opportunity.
    If I were filming Uncle Mike’s growing desperation, I would work with a close-up shot of sand trickling out of someone’s fist, like time slipping away.
    Because that’s what it felt like.
    â€œYou’re with the film crew?”
    This question was shouted into my ear above the howl of a car shooting past me. I turned.
    The guy asking the question was about my height. But he looked a lot older. Blond,