That incident showed just how well the MMSA crew could pull together when it was needed.

Fortunately, we had another night racing at the same place. As soon as the feature was over with, we all pitched in and unloaded the 27 car out of the box truck, and put the 53 into the truck in its place. That required all hands and some volunteers from the hot rodders, since the 53 wouldn’t roll on its wheels and had to be physically lifted into position. Rocky and Pepper volunteered to drive the box truck back to Livonia right away, since we’d need the truck the next day to work on the cars and such.

Frank found a phone and called Vivian at her parents’ home, telling her what had happened and what we were doing. After some discussion, partly between Vivian and her father, it was decided to just take the 53 right to Herb’s Ford agency. If the box truck was there when they opened, they could unload the 53 and be on their way back fairly quickly. Vivian promised to get in touch with PeeWee and Hoss to come have a look at the car. Pretty soon, Rocky and Pepper were in the truck and heading for Livonia.

Right after that, Frank, Spud, Buckshot and I headed in to the hospital to find out what we could about Hap and Junie. It was a long night and it was getting into the wee small hours before we found out that, while both of them were still in comas, Junie was coming out of it and was going to be all right. Hap had been hurt considerably worse, and enough had been busted on him that there was no way he was going to be driving any time soon – two broken legs took care of that. There was some internal damage, and he was going to need some surgery to deal with it, although they were hoping to stabilize him a little more before they started cutting. It was pretty clear that he was going to be in the hospital for a while.

Once we found that out, we felt a little better. Buckshot allowed as how maybe he’d better stay around the hospital just in case, so Frank, Spud and I headed back toward the motel, still feeling pretty down. We hadn’t particularly liked Hap and Junie, and hadn’t thought much of the way they drove – but they were our guys, after all, and we felt we had to do something. I won’t say I slept real good that night, what there was left of it, and the three of us were up in time to head back to the hospital in time for the morning visiting hours. It proved that Hap was still out of it, but Junie was awake, alert, and making a pain in the ass of himself, which under the circumstances we considered to be a good sign. Buckshot, however, was out in the lounge, and just dead to the world, snoring to beat the band.

After a bit, the three of us took off to find some breakfast. "I don’t know what we’re going to do about them," Frank said once we were all in the car. "I hate like hell to leave someone behind when they’re in the condition they’re in, but we’re going to have to move on after tonight."

"Yeah, me too," Spud agreed. "About the only thing I can think of is to leave Buckshot with them so he can get them home when they’re able to travel."

"It’s about the only thing I can think of, too," Frank agreed. "It’s going to leave us real short on drivers, not that we weren’t going to be short anyway."

"Well, I can still drive," Spud said. "It just means that someone else is going to have to run the flags when I’m on the track."

"About going to have to do it that way," Frank nodded. "Maybe we can pick up someone here that’d travel with us. What would you think if I was to ask that Arlene gal?"

"Uh, I don’t know," Spud said. "I mean, we know she can drive that hot rod if last night tells us anything. I don’t want to guess how she’d do in a midget. But having a woman driver traveling with us? That could cause some problems."

"Then again, it might not," I pointed out. "Hattie and Lillian worked out just fine. From what little I know of this Arlene, if anybody wanted to make trouble she’d surgically remove his balls. That’s one tough lady."

"That’s true," Frank said thoughtfully. "I have to say that she stayed pretty calm and businesslike at the accident last night, and she wasn’t about to take shit from anybody. I don’t know whether she’d be willing to travel with us, or what, but I’ll tell you something. The biggest thing I’ve worried about over the years is if someone gets hurt in some little tank town fifty miles from the nearest hospital. There isn’t a one of us that knows much of anything about first aid or what to do in a situation like that. I wouldn’t mind having someone along that could help out if something like that happened again."

"Yeah, you got a point," Spud conceded. "Like you said, no way of telling whether she’d go with us or not, but it sure as hell would piss off her old man."

"Sure would," Frank laughed. "He’d go up like a skyrocket."

"You know," I laughed, "That might give her reason to go."

"Why?" Spud said. "So she doesn’t have to be around him when he’s pissed off?"

"No," I told him. "Think about it. There’s one tough, independent woman who has to have been through a hell of a lot. She might decide to go with us just to prove to him that she’s not some little girl that he has to protect."

"Yeah, you might have a point at that," Frank smiled. "We’ll see how she does driving a midget before I drop the idea on her, but I don’t doubt that she’ll do just fine. I wonder . . . " he continued, then was silent for a moment.

"Wonder what?" Spud finally asked.

"I wonder just how well having a woman racing might work as a promotional tool," Frank said finally. "She didn’t seem to get pissed at that announcer last night. I don’t know if she just didn’t hear him, or if maybe it was a gag that she went along with. But yeah, that could make life a little more interesting."

"Something to think about, all right," I said. "People still remember Rosie the Riveter. That was a woman doing a man’s job and doing a man’s job of it. There were a lot of Rosies out there, and some of them didn’t take too well to going back to being housewives."

"My thinking exactly," Frank smiled. "Gonna have to figure out how to work it, though."

Pretty soon we found a little greasy spoon restaurant for breakfast. We went in and ordered, but Frank had noticed a pay phone out in the lobby, so while we were waiting on our food he went to call Vivian.

He was on the phone for a long time, and his breakfast was getting cold by the time he got back to us. "The guys were there when people started showing up at Herb’s," he reported. "They headed back about an hour ago, so I’d guess they ought to be back in the middle of the afternoon. PeeWee was there. He said that he might as well go ahead and strip the car, then build a new frame since he’s not sure how the old one will true up. Chick looked it over and said that the suspension seems to be more or less all right. It’s going to take some time, since they’re going to have to do it on their off time. I told them that was all right, we’re not going to be back close to them for a while."

"About what I figured," Spud agreed. "I almost wish we’d sent the 57 back as well, but I think we can fix it up in our spare time. So how’s Vivian?"

"Seems to be doing all right," Frank said. "There might be such a thing as her traveling with us for a while when we get to running the fair dates."

"If her old man will let her," I said. "He seems about as protective of her as Arlene’s."

"It’s more her mother that’s the pain in the ass," Frank said, and changed the subject. "Look, since we’re going to be short drivers and a car tonight, what do you say we just skip the consol? We can run two heats and the main, and just have everybody run the main."

"Or just cut the slowest car in each heat," Spud said, picking up on the fact that the last thing that Frank wanted to talk about was Vivian’s mother.

We talked it around from one angle and another, mostly since the more obvious things to talk about were pretty uncomfortable. The main reason we ran a consolation race anyway was to give the customers some more racing. When we were the only show on the ticket we had to keep something happening for people to watch, and that meant more racing for them to see. When there was other racing going on, a consolation was just a waste of time.

After we were done with breakfast we went back out to the motel to let the guys know what the score was about Junie and Hap. Frank and Spud decided to go back to the hospital, but since I hadn’t slept very well I decided to stay back and cork off for a bit. I didn’t sleep very well, because I kept thinking about what it would be like to be banged up in a crash like that and have to be left behind in some small town where I didn’t know anyone. It was not a comfortable feeling.

I did get a couple hours’ worth of sleep, though, then got up. The rest of the gang was gone, so I headed out to the track. Several of the guys were there when I arrived, and they were tearing into the 57 car as well as they could, which wasn’t very much since they only had the hand tools that happened to be lying around. The good tools and other things we’d need to fix the car were still in the box truck, which hadn’t gotten back yet. There wasn’t a lot that I could do, so I just started washing down the 66 and doing the routine maintenance.

I’d been working on it for a while when I happened to look up and see a really good looking red and white ’52 Studebaker Starlight Coupe pull in. As much as I liked the fifties, they built some butt ugly cars back then, and I think I even thought that at the time. That car, however, was not on the list of the ugly cars of the early fifties – in fact, I thought it was about the best looking car built in that time, and still do, for that matter. It was lean and looked clean and fast, not the oversized bathtubs on wheels that a lot of new cars were then, which was part of the reason I stuck with driving my old ’37 Ford. I was admiring the car – I really was – when the door opened and Arlene got out, wearing slacks and a simple white shirt. Since Frank and Spud hadn’t gotten back yet, I decided I’d better go over and be friendly. "Nice car," I said when I got close enough to talk to her.

"Not bad," she agreed. "It looks better than it runs, the engine is on the puny side. I was all set to buy an MG or a Nash-Healey, since I figured I owed myself a fun car after I got back from Korea. Dad just about blew a fuse at the idea, though. I figured he couldn’t gripe too loud about a Studebaker."

"Well, yeah," I said. "You don’t think of Studebakers as fun cars."

"It’s not bad," she shrugged. "I suppose a coupe is more practical than a convertible most of the time, but I had dreams of the wind in my hair on a nice summer day while I was freezing my butt in Korea last winter."

"People don’t think about that part of the world getting cold," I said. "I spent a winter in Japan, and most of the time it was nice to find something warm. Were you in Korea long?"

"A little over two years," she replied. "I got there right after Seoul fell the second time, and was right behind the lines most of the time. We had to move around quite a bit in the early days, but the last year or so we were in one place."

"Field hospital?" I asked.

"Mobile Army Surgical Hospital," she replied. "That’s kind of a band-aid station where we fixed guys up enough to make it to the Field Hospitals."

That was right in the thick of things, all right. I might as well go ahead and tell this now, even though it jumps ahead of the story quite a bit. Back in the ’70s there was this TV show called M*A*S*H. It was actually pretty good, and there’s a good chance you’ve seen it since it’s been in syndication ever since. It was about the adventures of some people at the fictional 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital. It had some good comedy and good drama, and was one of the better shows I’ve ever seen on network TV. Every so often, the people at the 4077th would be borrowing stuff or stealing stuff from a sister unit, the 8063rd MASH. There really was an 8063rd MASH, and Arlene was in it. The 8063rd that Arlene knew was quite a bit bigger than the fictional 4077th, but the writers got a lot of stuff right. Of course, they screwed up a lot of things, but the background was pretty close. In a place like that there’s no room for shrinking violets among the nurses or anyone else, and like a good many veterans who have been there and done that Arlene didn’t care to talk about the bad times very much.

"I get the picture," I told her. "When Frank, Spud and I were on Okinawa during the battle we were pretty close to a Field Hospital. We helped them with their vehicles some, and we got a little bit of an idea what went on there. Our advance man, Carnie, was with us there, too."

"So this whole racing thing is something the four of you thought up while you were there?" she asked.

"No, not really," I told her. I briefly explained how Frank and Spud came up with it while I was in college, and how I’d happened to run into Frank and wind up driving.

"You’re a college graduate, then?" she said. "Isn’t it a little strange for you to be racing with this crew?"

"I don’t think so," I told her. "I enjoy what I’m doing and I’m not quite ready to quit doing it yet."

"That makes sense," she said. "I’m not quite ready to go back to dealing with bedpans yet myself. One thing I learned in Korea is that life is short, you might as well enjoy what you can of it. So, are Frank or Spud around?"

"Not right now," I replied. "I think they’re still back over at the hospital seeing what they can do for Hap and Junie. Can I get you a soda or something?"

"A Coke would be nice," she said. I went over to the cooler, got us each one, and then the two of us headed back to the 66 so I could give her a little bit better idea of what these cars were.

We spent a few minutes talking about what the cars were like, how they were set up, how they were different from regular midgets, and how you drove them. It turned out that she was no stranger to race cars – she came from a racing family; her father was a racer, as were her two brothers. She knew that her father wasn’t real crazy about her racing, but explained that while she’d been away at nursing school she’d borrowed a jalopy from someone she’d met at a nearby track and had raced a couple partial seasons with it without her dad finding out. She’d made up her mind she was going to do some more racing after she got out of the Army, but last night had been the first time she’d actually been in a race with her father watching. He had the idea that it just wasn’t a proper thing for his little girl to be doing, and she was of the opinion that she was old enough and experienced enough to be able to make up her own mind.

Mostly, I was killing time in hopes that Frank and Spud would get back soon, mostly because I didn’t want her to get out on the track without them watching, since I knew they were interested in how she would do. But, time was moving on, it was past three and they weren’t back yet. The track was empty right then, but it wouldn’t stay that way.

Finally, I decided that it wouldn’t hurt to get her in a car and let her get the feel of it. I would have been willing to let her drive the 66 car, but I figured that I’d want to get out on the track with her since I usually got that job with a new driver. I’d just as soon have been in my car if that happened. The 27 was available, but as far as I knew it hadn’t been tested yet since it came out of the box truck, and as goosy as it was I didn’t want anyone that I wasn’t sure about driving it. In fact, if we were going to wind up having Spud driving, I figured on doing my best to get him into it since he stood a better chance than anyone else of figuring out what the hell was wrong with it. Several other cars were up on the trailer, but the 2 car was sitting out and John, the regular driver, was nowhere to be seen.

"You might as well get your helmet, and give the 2 car a try," I told her. "I’ll go make sure it’s full of gas."

She headed over to her Studebaker for her helmet, and I got a small gas can and filled the car up. "This will give you about thirty laps at this place," I told her. "The small gas tank is part of why we didn’t have a fire last night."

"I wondered about that," she said as she got in the car.

"That’s one of the ways these things are a little odd," I told her. "I haven’t driven this car in a while but it’s pretty well behaved and about as fast as anything else we’ve got. Take it easy for a few laps until you get the feel of the thing, then let her roll. I’ll flag you in after a bit, we’ll talk about it, and then we’ll go out so you can run against me."

"Sounds good," she said. "I guess I’m ready."

"Have fun," I said, standing back out of the way.

She headed out onto the track, while I went over and cleared the cleaning stuff away from the 66, since I knew I was about to get it dirty again. A couple of the other guys came over to join me watching. "Can’t believe a woman is actually driving that thing," Perk commented.

"She did all right in that hot rod of hers last night," I said defensively. "And all she asked for thanks for working on Hap and Junie last night was to get a chance to drive one."

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Perk giggled.

"You can snicker if you want," I told him, "But you’d better believe that girl is a racer."

Arlene took three or four laps pretty easy, just feeling the car out and jinking it around a little, and then she got on it coming out of turn four. "Goodbye fence," Perk laughed.

"Aw, bullshit," I said as she got the car power sliding through the corner just as pretty as you could ask for, the dirt flying and leaving a plume of dust in the air behind her. She had her revs up pretty good as she came out of the corner, and was just flying down the back stretch. She set up beautifully for turn three, and roared through it sideways going pretty darn good in my opinion.

I didn’t have a stop watch on her, but she was going pretty damn good and it seemed to me like she was going even better after a couple laps. All of a sudden, Perk wasn’t making snide remarks like he’d been doing. "You know," I said lazily, "Once she gets the hang of that thing she ought to be able to do pretty good with it."

I let her run for a bit, just because it was so good to stand there and watch. She definitely knew what she was doing. After twelve or fifteen laps I finally went and got the yellow flag, mostly because I could see the box truck and Frank’s car waiting to cross the track. She cooled it off and brought it into the pits the next time around, where I was waiting for her. "Well, how was it?" I asked.

"Oh, wow!" she smiled. "It’s so nice to drive a car that’ll do just exactly what you tell it to do. This thing is fun!"

"You were going pretty darn good out there," I told her. "I can’t think of any real major criticism, but you want to try some different lines. With these things you can pretty often make a good high side pass if you’re running right up against the fence."

"It’s a lot more stable in the corners that that Ford I was driving last night," she replied. "You can actually drive this thing, rather than just herd it."

"Oh, it’s you, Miss Pewabic," Frank smiled as he and Spud came up. "I saw the 2 running out there and figured somebody’d put a burr under John’s tail. You sure handle that nice."

"I like the feel," she said. "I don’t know how competitive I’d be, but I like the feel."

"Let’s find out," Spud said. "Mel, go hop in the 66. Miss Pewabic . . . "

"Arlene, please," she smiled.

"All right, Arlene," he continued. "When Mel gets the 66 going, follow him out and try to get around him. He won’t run away from you, he’ll let you stay close enough that you’ll have a shot at him. After a while, he’ll wave you past and try to get past you. This is what we do with everybody new that comes aboard, and we’ve learned that Mel is usually the best judge of how someone drives under pressure."

I hustled over to the 66 and got strapped in, thinking that Spud had been a little nice to me. If my impression was right, I was going to have my hands full. Unless I missed my guess, not running away from her was going to be the least of my worries.

I pulled out onto the track to take a couple laps to get the car warmed up, and she was right behind me. Finally, after two or three laps or so I gave her the "wind it up" sign with my hand and stomped the gas. I got a little jump on her because she wasn’t quite expecting it, but she closed in rapidly, using every bit of the track. Right away it became clear that I had been right; she wasn’t getting past me, but I had to use every cheating bit of the 66’s engine to stay in front of her. She got up beside me four or five times but I was always able to shut the gate on her and stay in front.

All of a sudden I realized that she wasn’t trying to get under me. I glanced around, and discovered sure enough, she was going to try using the high line, up against the fence. I still had the low line and there wasn’t a lot I could do but drive like hell and hope to hold her off. We went around the track four or five times side by side, running with everything we had, and neither of us could quite put the other one away. Finally, I decided I’d found out what I wanted to find out that way, so I eased up just a touch and pulled up behind her on the high line. I was all over her tail for a couple laps running up high, then let her get committed to running high again when I ducked low. I did manage to get past her, but she had her speed up from running high and almost caught me before we headed into the next turn. I waved her past, pointing low, trying to indicate that I wanted to see how she handled it down there, and she apparently got the message when I eased up to let her pass. I never did get past with her down low although I tried awful hard; I probably could have faked her out and gone high to get around her, but that wasn’t what we were trying to find out. After another half a dozen laps or so, we both saw Spud waving the red flag, so we brought the cars into the pits.

Both Frank and Spud glanced at me as I shut the engine off. I gave them a "thumbs up" signal, figuring that they wanted my opinion. The truth be told, I wasn’t sure just how bad I wanted to have her running against me because she was awful damn good. I unbelted, took off my helmet, got out of the car and went over to where she was still sitting in the 2.

"So, Mel," Frank said. "What do you think?"

"Arlene," I told her directly. "You’re awful damn good with that thing. You need some work on your tactics, but you can run right with the best of us."

"Mel doesn’t blow his own horn," Frank said. "But since he’s been the season champion the last two years, he is the best of us. So how did you like it?"

"Oh, God, that was fun!" she exclaimed. "Do you really think I’m that good?"

"Yeah, I think so," I told her. "You need a little seat time, but when you get it the only person I know that’ll be able to handle you in one of these things is Squirt Chenowith. Squirt ran eleventh in the Indy 500 last month, and he’s about the best person I ever saw in one of these things."

"Oh, God," she sighed. "You guys are so lucky. I wish I could do this every day."

"Well," Frank said, "If you want to come along with us and do it every day, you’d be welcome."

"You’re kidding," she said. "You guys would really let me race with you?"

"Starting tonight, if you want to give it a try," Spud smiled. "The pay ain’t much, but your expenses are pretty much covered. Besides, we see a lot of the country and manage to have a little fun now and then."

" Oh, God!" she smiled. "My father is just going to shit when he hears that."

"Is that going to be a problem?" Frank asked. "After all, we’re going to be pulling out in the morning."

"He’s going to think it’s a problem, but I don’t care what he thinks," she smiled. "He’s got to get it through his thick skull that I’m all grown up now, and I’ll do what I want to do."

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