Cody follows a few minutes later. I’ve parked just off the shoulder, like everyone else. I lean against Cody’s car, and we watch a few races. Mark and Mike. Bibs and some new guy, Doran. The guys are always careful to make sure the road is clear before they take off. From the starting line, you can see almost a mile in each direction. When there are no lights coming, they go. And they rotate the lookout every couple of hours. No one wants the cops hassling us. Cody hands me a new beer every time I finish one. With him, it seems drinking isn’t really an option. It’s more like an expectation. I think he’s on his fifth. He’s standing beside me now, his arm draped carelessly around my waist. I kind of like it. The beer has loosened me up, worn down my sharp edges. I find myself shrieking and laughing every time the cars peel off the line in a scream of rubber. After my third beer, my vision has grown fuzzy. I reach for my cigarettes and light up. I hadn’t planned on letting Cody in on my dirty little secret, but I’m feeling good tonight.
