Avoidable Contact by Tammy Kaehler

painted areas. Watching the rain, looking for puddles. Time to go to work.
    The green flew as I exited NASCAR 4. I got on the throttle as much as I could, given the traffic ahead. The Ferrari right in front of me was sluggish, but I wouldn’t do anything rash to get around. Not yet.
    As expected, Sam was past me by the start/finish line. The red prototype—with the amateur, Schmidt, at the wheel—didn’t start as quickly, but zoomed up as we curved down toward Turn 1.
    â€œPrototype moving inside. Inside,” Cooper said in my ear.
    As Cooper warned, Schmidt pulled to my left, coming even with my rear wheels—then ahead of them. Making a very late move.
    â€œReady for you, jackass,” I muttered. I braked early and wide, giving him space to shoot by. Which he did, carrying too much speed into the corner and breaking his rear tires loose. He saved the slide, wobbled dramatically, and continued.
    If I’d taken my normal line, he’d have punted me straight into the tire wall. I shook my head. I focused on getting my tires up to pressure and catching the Ferrari in front of me.
    From the left edge of the track, I braked for Turn 3 at the end of the pit exit blend line. Late apex through that 180-degree turn, unwinding the wheel on exit, tracking all the way to the left edge of the track.
    Cross back to the right side of the track before the Kink. Where the white stripe in the road turns right onto an access road, I turn left to the Kink’s apex. Lift slightly at apex—only this lap, only because of cold tires. No braking, no lifting there usually. Brush the apex curbing with left-side tires. Check mirrors. Track out to the right side of the track.
    Ready for Turn 5, the West Horseshoe, a long right-hander. Braking. Wide entry. Turning tighter, tighter. Brush the curb late in the corner. Throttle out of the corner. Look ahead.
    Closer to the Ferrari in front of me. I must be faster through there than he is.
    Accelerating to Turn 6, staying right on track. Mirrors. Braking, turning as early as possible. Getting back to the throttle as early as possible. Stay to the left of the black line of asphalt sealer—leave the outside for the faster cars coming up behind.
    â€œTwo prototypes outside. Outside on the banking,” Cooper told me. Then, as the first one passed, “One more prototype outside. Now clear.”
    Onto the banking. On the throttle, set my hands. Stay low.
    I took a breath. Took a moment to enjoy the sweep of the banked track—even the weird, early dusk caused by overcast and mist. Around the curve, the track flattened out. I drifted right. Brake hard starting at the “2” marker for the Bus Stop. Onto the left curbing at apex. Feed throttle on. Curbing on the right. Build speed slowly. Second curbing on the right. More speed. Point the car at the banking, over the curbing on the left. Out of the Bus Stop, back to banking. Full throttle. Around NASCAR 3 and 4. Cooper in my ear, prototypes flashing past. Ready for the dip in the track over NASCAR 4 that makes the car wiggle. Through the tri-oval, passing a GTD car, flashing over the checkers on the pavement.
    I stayed low on the approach to Turn 1, touching the left side of the track by the patch of grass near pit lane exit. Braking, then turning left, touching the inside of the turn at the stack of tires. Curving through the narrow Turn 2. Mist lighter here, less damp offline. I radioed that information to Bruce. Then I focused on chipping away at the two car-lengths between me and the Ferrari.
    In the next fifteen laps, I used every bit of skill I could muster, pushing my limits in damp corners, weaving through traffic, trusting my tires, trusting the car. Two-thirds of the way through my hour-long stint, I was up on the Ferrari’s back bumper, itching to get past him, when a yellow sent us back to the pits for service.
    Not long into my second stint, I got through the traffic and took the battle