That seemed to be the case; that car was not a product of a big garage with factory backing. Clayton was one of a gang of guys, much like them, racing on sweat and dreams. Like them, they had the old choice of risking everything on an early lead, or going easy and hoping that some other car would blow its rod this time, and leave the race up for grabs. Christine’s gang had all agreed to go for broke.
So had this Clayton’s, it would seem.
Even as Dwight belatedly looked for Clint Atchison, Fifth Freedom made its move. Dwight could picture Clint’s lazy, pantherine grin as the silent car shot ahead and to the outside. Incredibly, from the outside it stormed past all intervening competitors, whipping inward in a long curve to the middle of the track. With a startled burst of speed Steeltop c
