By three o’clock, I was done. I still had one more session available, but fatigue had gotten the better of me. I brought the car in and found Vic Hancock in the garage chatting with Alison and her dad. He’d promised to drop by and while I needed him I didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with him. I climbed from the car and pulled off my helmet.
Hancock held up my lap time log. ‘These are good. I’m impressed. You are a chip off the old block.’
His praise was honest enough, but it sounded a little forced.
‘It’s been a good day,’ I said.
‘It’s been better than good,’ Alison said. ‘Steve said you’re only half a second off the times put up by the factory backed teams.’
Half a second doesn’t sound like a lot, but over the course of the twenty-lap final, that’s a ten second deficit. Around Brands, ten seconds equates to a little over a fifth of a lap which is around a quarter of a mile. Half a second was a lot to be off the pace, but it was promising after my first run out in the car.
Steve and Dylan wandered in from their watcher’s posts.
‘You looked a little shaky out there,’ Steve remarked.
‘I think I’m done for the day. Let’s pack up.’
Mr Baker groaned as he picked up a toolbox.
‘You OK?’ Alison asked.
‘Yeah. Just getting old. I’m not used to being on my feet this long.’
‘It happens to us all. Let that be a lesson to you youngsters,’ Steve said. ‘How many laps did he get in?’
‘Forty-nine,’ Mr Baker said.
‘That’s a good number. You won’t need that many next time out to dial this car in.’
I unzipped my suit and had started pulling it off when Steve stopped me.
‘Stay suited up. The weather’s closing in. I know you’re tired, but if it rains, it’ll be worth knowing how this car handles in the wet. You know there’s a good chance it’ll rain at some point during the Festival.’
It was good advice, but I just wanted a shower and something to eat.
‘I’m pleased to see you’re taking an interest,’ Hancock said to Alison. ‘I wanted to honour Alex as best I could.’
Alison stared at the decal dedicated to Alex on the side of the car. ‘It’s very nice and it’s why I’m here to support Aidy. He’s been so good to us.’
‘Look,’ Hancock announced, ‘to mark the end of a successful day, I’d like to take everyone out to dinner. There’s a great pub restaurant not far from here. What’s everyone say?’
No one declined and I saw the opening I was looking for.
‘One problem. I don’t fancy the risk of parking the car on the back of the trailer in a pub car park and we can’t leave the van and trailer here.’
‘I could stay with the van while you eat,’ Steve suggested.
‘No,’ Hancock said. ‘I wouldn’t want that. Tell you what, one of my salvage yards isn’t too far from here. It’s secure. You can park it there then collect it afterwards.’
I smiled. Fortune, bless her, was shining on me. It was about time I saw what Hancock kept on the other side of high walls. ‘Sounds great.’
The rain didn’t come, so I didn’t go out again. While everyone loaded the car up, I washed up as best I could in the men’s room. God love him, Steve had packed a clean set of clothes in my kit bag and they felt as good as an hour in the shower.
A message got back to my body that it wasn’t needed for a while and it went into sleep mode. It had burned a lot of energy on the track and it was done. My legs weighed three times their normal weight as I trudged back to the pit garage.
The car was on the trailer and the tools in the van. Everyone was packed up and ready to go.
‘You’re going to sleep well tonight,’ Steve said looking me over.
I nodded sleepily. I could have gone to sleep right there and then, but I had to keep it together for the next few hours. I needed access to Hancock.
Hancock led the convoy to the salvage yard. I rode in the van with Steve and Dylan while Alison and her dad followed in their car. Minutes into the drive, I knew we were going to the yard we’d followed Derek to. I smiled, pleased with this twist of luck.
Dylan saw it and frowned.
The yard was deserted by the time our convoy arrived. Hancock unlocked the gates and Steve drove us into the vast automotive graveyard.
‘The car’s in good hands,’ Hancock said waiting for us at the gate. ‘No one gets in here who isn’t invited.’
The joke rang hollow.
Steve, Dylan and I got into Hancock’s car while he locked the gates.
Hancock drove us into the depths of Kent to a place called The Long Barn. The place lived up to its name. It was a long, brick building with a steep gabled roof. It was easy to tell the place had been a barn a long time in its past. Above the tall door was a stained glass window where the hayloft must have been.
The pub made up the front half of the place with the restaurant in the rear. Both halves were packed. Hancock walked in like he owned it. He had a quick word with someone and we were immediately seated.
There was no Mexican food on the menu, but they did have a steak and Guinness pie and a good pie is my other Achilles heel. The food was great and so was the company. Hancock behaved himself by not drinking too much. He acted like the benevolent uncle I never had, telling impressive stories about himself, and as much as I didn’t want to like them, I did. He was an endearing character. It helped everyone open up. Steve held court for a while with his stories about working for Lotus. Alison reminisced about Alex in a way that brought a smile to her face instead of tears. It looked as if her mourning period was passing. I hoped I’d helped in some respect.
‘Aidy, what are your motor racing aspirations?’ Mr Baker asked.
‘Yeah,’ Hancock said. ‘Do you hope to emulate your old man?’
‘I just hope to be half as good as him one day.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short,’ Alison said.
‘I’m not. Dad was an amazing driver, a rare breed — a natural. I’m not.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mr Baker asked.
‘I remember when I was little and Dad took part in a Formula Three race at Spa in Belgium to cover for an injured driver. He’d never driven an F3 nor had he driven at Spa. The first time he set foot on the track was when he went out for morning practice, but he secured pole position.’
‘And he won the race,’ Hancock said.
I nodded. ‘Put Dad in any car at any track and within five laps, he had the measure of both. I can’t do that.’
‘And your dad couldn’t tell you how he did what he did,’ Steve said. ‘Rob was a great instinctual driver, but he was a terrible test driver. He had no idea how to help the pit crew make the car better. You’re different, Aidy. You have a good engineering head on you. You know exactly what has to be done to improve the car.’ Steve patted me on the back. ‘You’re not your dad, but you’re just as good as your dad.’
‘To the Westlakes,’ Hancock said, raising his glass. ‘Father and son, may they keep burning rubber.’
‘To the Westlakes,’ everyone said, completing Hancock’s toast.
The dinner broke up after that. Hancock paid the bill after a swarm of protests and we filed out into the car park.
‘We have to go,’ Alison said.
‘My wife will be wondering where we’ve gotten to,’ Mr Baker said. ‘We’ve had a great day and thanks for letting us help. We chatted in the car over here and we’d like to continue helping you. It would make for a nice tribute to Alex.’
‘Sure. Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll probably test the car again midweek before official testing for the Festival. I’ll let you know where and when.’
Everyone said their goodbyes and we watched Alison and her dad drive off before following Hancock back to the salvage yard. He opened up again and parked behind the trailer as we climbed from the car.