Home To Copper Mountain

“Who’s your employer?”

“I’m out of work at the moment, but don’t be alarmed. I plan to pay cash for the car. Check with my bank.”

The salesman blinked before getting up from the desk. He handed him a brochure from a pile sitting next to a desk calendar.

May eighth. Spring had been here for a while. Rick hadn’t noticed its arrival.

“While you’re waiting, you might want to look through it. I’ll be right back.”

Rick didn’t need to see any literature. If he hadn’t felt such a strong loyalty to Mayada for signing him at nineteen, he would have switched to BMW when they’d offered him a racing contract two years later. Their engineering was unequaled.

But his drive to Texas wouldn’t be like circling the track. This trip would be open-ended. And he would be driving his own car.

After another hellish night like last night, he decided to leave immediately and drive the whole distance in one shot. It would be a different race than any he’d run before.

Instead of outdriving the competition, he’d be facing his own worst enemy—an enemy chiseling away at his sense of self, his confidence, his happiness, his virtual raison d’être. Himself.

Many times in his racing career he’d been subjected to near-death experiences that had tested his grit and resilience.

This was different.

His mother, with her eternal spirit of optimism, was dead. The only home he’d ever known was gone. He had no woman to share his life. The thought of going back to racing didn’t set him on fire. For the first time ever, he could see no sure path before him. And this thought terrified him.

Preoccupied by his demons, he hadn’t noticed Mr. Dunn had already returned, accompanied by a smiling middle-aged manager. The manager carried a camera.

“Mr. Hawkins? I’m Lewis Karey. It’s a great honor to meet you, sir.”

“Thank you.” Rick stood up and shook hands with him.

“John didn’t realize he was dealing with the Lucky Hawkins, one of the world’s most famous sports celebrities.”

“Hardly.”

“Wait till I let Munich know the three-time winner of the Laguna Seca purchased an M3 from us.”

“This is a red-letter day for me, too,” Rick murmured. “I’ll tell you a little secret. I’ve never owned anything but a motorcycle to get around. This will be my first car.”

“You? One of the greatest Formula One drivers in racing today and you’ve never owned your own car?” The manager looked and sounded incredulous.

Rick chuckled. “That’s right, but when I decided I needed one, I knew exactly where to come.”

Lewis Karey beamed. “I hope this business of your being out of work is temporary. This is the first I’ve heard you’ve left the racing circuit.”

“Only time will tell what the future holds. Since no one outside of Mayada and my former sponsor knows the situation, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything.”

Mr. Karey looked at John. “Our lips are sealed. Before we move the car out of the showroom to get it ready for you, could I take a couple of pictures of you standing by it?”

He had been through this experience hundreds of times before, why not once more? No one owned him yet. He was still a free property.

“Sure.”

Until his father’s severe depression had caused him to retire early from Formula One racing, his motorcycle had accompanied him on the racing circuit and had been the only transportation he’d needed.

Before returning to his family home in Copper Mountain, Colorado, to help his grieving father run the family ski business, he’d given his bike to the college-age son of his crew chief, Wally Sykes. Rick saw no reason for keeping it when he knew he could rely on the company Blazer or his deceased mother’s car to get around.

But in a shocking turn of events, he’d arrived home to discover his father had overcome his grief enough to be married again. Furthermore, he was selling the ski shop and the Blazer, and was moving to Texas.

Believing his mom’s Nissan would still be available to him while he decided whether to try to get a new sponsor and return to the racing circuit, Rick underwent a second shock.

His older brother, Nate, a former F-16 fighter pilot who’d resigned his commission to fly home and help their father, too, suddenly decided to get married and become a flight instructor for the air force academy.

Nate, Laurel and the baby from her first marriage were now living in the Hawkins family home while they waited to move into their new house in Colorado Springs. Since they needed two cars, it was decided Laurel would keep the Nissan.

Everyone had somewhere to go, someone to be with. Except Rick, who felt totally displaced.

Since Nate’s wedding, Rick had been staying in Denver with Laurel’s sister, Julie, and her husband, Brent, just trying to hold on. But he couldn’t impose on the Marsdens any longer. It was time to go.

The question was, after Arizona, where?

He felt like a man without a country, a man who belonged nowhere. It was a lonely experience, foreign in ways he couldn’t describe. The nights were the worst, when he had no choice but to lie in a cold sweat and tough it out until morning.

“Okay,” the manager said. “Now let’s get a couple of pictures of you sitting in the car. I think we’ll leave the door open for the full effect.”

Rick obliged. Once he slid behind the wheel, he could smell the new tan leather upholstery. Nice.

By now every salesman, lot attendant, receptionist, cashier, mechanic and client in the building had materialized. There was quite a crowd assembled. Mr. Karey wasn’t the only one taking pictures.

Rick ended up signing autographs on brochure after brochure while dozens of questions were fired at him by those who followed the sport.

“Mr. Hawkins is here to buy a car,” the manager spoke above the questions. “He was kind enough to let us take pictures and sign autographs. Let’s not stampede him.”

Rick appreciated the man’s intervention before questions were posed that he couldn’t answer. It was better not to say anything that could be misquoted to the press.

A racing contract with everything he’d asked for and more had been drawn up by the attorneys of Trans T & T Communications. The megacorporation for whom Brent worked had shown a flattering eagerness to sponsor Rick.

Mayada, the Japanese manufacturer that designed the Formula One cars Rick had been driving for eight years, had also drafted a new contract. Both were in the hands of Neal Hasford, Rick’s attorney in Arizona, awaiting his signature.

According to Neal the terms of the contracts looked good, but Rick had yet to put his name on the dotted line.

He shook everyone’s hand, then turned to Mr. Karey. “I have to leave, but I’ll be back within a half hour to sign the papers.”

“Fine. We’ll have everything ready for you.”

After leaving the dealership, Rick headed for Aurora, a suburb of Denver where the Marsdens lived. His suitcases were already packed and waiting in the trunk of Julie’s car. All he had to do was honk and she’d come out of the house to run him back for his new BMW. Then he’d be off.

“It’s a good thing Brent isn’t here to see this!” she exclaimed as they drove into the parking lot of the service department thirty minutes later. The gleaming black car stood waiting. “We’re trying to save up for our dream home.”

Rick turned to the lovely raven-haired mother-to-be. She was kind and generous to a fault, just like his new sister-in-law, Laurel. “In the end it’s just a vehicle for transportation. What you and Brent have together can’t be bought. You’re the lucky ones.” She’d never know how lucky.