The VIR 2024 Story, Part II

“We” had just scored our second podium in a row and I wanted to celebrate with them. Even though I tended to think of myself as just a hired gun, they made it clear to me that I was part of their -THE- team. They had also made it very clear that this was the penultimate race weekend for the team; at the end of the season, the team was folding. Already emotionally compromised with it being only a few days after my primary team withdrew from IMSA, I now wanted to spend time with this team evermore.

I hung out at their rented lakehouse after dinner until my colleague was done at the track and came to pick me up. On my way out, they offered me a few beers from the fridge to “keep the party going” once I got back to my Airbnb.

At the same time, my wife was sitting on the tarmac in Detroit finding out that her flight to Germany for work would be postponed until the following day.

Once back in the Airbnb, I disappeared into my room for about an hour to call my wife. At the conclusion of the call and the beer I drank during it, I emerged enroute to the bathroom when I heard a proclamation from the living room that I just couldn’t ignore.

“I’m sorry, what? You really think you’re going to be working for THAT team next year?” I asked, peaking my head around the corner. To their over-confident affirmation, I responded, “I’d probably set some more realistic goals.”

The nukes, launched the night before, hit. The fireball grew with each word.

“I’m here because I’m lucky. We’re all here because of luck”, he retorted to me about half way through the spat. As this pivoted the exchange, that may have been the deathblow for me.

“I worked my ass off to get here - you just showed up, threw your parents money around, and sure, got lucky. Don’t compare me to you!” I responded.

I don’t know how much of it was fueled by my alcohol consumption prior, but I really don’t care. The luckiest part of that entire exchange was that after being distracted a 45min prior, I now REALLY had to pee, and that was my out.

I proceeded back to my bedroom ignoring an invitation to prolong the exchange and cracked open my last beer. Sunday was going to be a long day.

To be continued. . .