“That pass- it was way too aggressive for just a track day,” Justin said.

“Did you crash?” I asked.

“No, but I did have to get hard on the brakes,” he replied.

“Out of curiosity,” Stephanie said, “Do you think Leah would have complained if you’d passed her like that?”

“I think anybody would,” Justin grumbled.

“Well, let’s ask the guy with the ‘Vette. She passed him in that same turn a lap before.”

“We could ask Jimmy, the guy with the Ferrari? I passed him in turn three earlier today,” I suggested.

“Ask me what?” Jimmy asked as he walked up.

“When I passed you in turn three earlier, how did you feel about it?”

“This morning? In your M6? I knew it was coming, but then when you actually block-passed me like that, I knew I was a little bitch and had to take it,” Jimmy said with a shrug. “I wasn’t man enough to push back.”

“Shit, that makes two of us,” said Stephen. “When Leah passed around the outside on eight and closed off my line for nine, all I could think about was that I was being served.”

By this time James and Reggie had wandered over, wondering what was going on.

“What’s up?” James asked, looking around the small group.

“I was just telling Leah that her passes left a little to be desired,” Justin said.

“Ha! Yes, they do. Like ‘hey, Leah, please leave me a little bit of dignity as you totally case my ass’. Yeah, I know that feeling well,” James said.

“Dude, I ain’t got no dignity left,” said Jimmy. “I see her car in my rearview and I pull over. I’m developing a complex.”

“As if,” I said.

“You know I told you that Leah is a knife fighter, Juss. ‘She will absolutely murder you,’ I said. ‘She’s way fast, and much more willing to get into it than anybody you’ve ever driven with on track,’ I said,” James told his friend. “And that’s why it’s so awesome to drive with her. She is one hundred per cent honest about it. She forces you to be a better driver.”

“What, because she’ll crash you out if you don’t?”

“No, she won’t do that. If you crash, it’ll be your own fault, since her lines are completely predictable. She won’t hit you, or suddenly jink in front of your car out of the blue. If she hammers a hard pass on you, you’ll know it’s about to happen. You got passed, right? In a spot that was maybe a bit tough?”

“Yeah, going into turn three,” Justin said.

“Did you know she was there?” James asked.

“Well, sure, I mean, she was on my ass for half a lap.”

“So you knew she was looking for a place to get by, and when she came around, what did you do?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna be able to make the turn with her car inside like that, so I slammed on the brakes.”

“And she passed you.”

“Well, yeah, because I slammed on my brakes to avoid running off the track!”

“So you didn’t crash.”

“No, because I slammed on the brakes!” Justin said, getting more upset.

“You knew she was going to pass somewhere, right? You knew you didn’t have the speed to stay ahead, so you forced her to pass when she saw an opportunity. Sounds like you were at least as much to blame for your situation as she was,” James said, in his best ‘reasonable’ voice. “You could have pulled over any time to let her by.”

Seeing he was getting no support, Justin deflated. “Yeah, I guess I could have done that,” he admitted. “I just didn’t think she would pass that aggressively.”

“I told you she would,” James said. “Seriously. I know I told you.”

The situation defused, everybody went their separate ways, leaving me standing there with James.

“Honestly- am I being an asshole?” I asked.

“What? No!” James said. “Justin is just butt-hurt because he’s used to being the fastest, and he’s only ever seen you on the streets in your Aston. You and I both know the back roads are fun, but you can never really let it rip like you can on the track, so he, I don’t know, imagined that he’d school everybody, or something. He could accept you going fast in a race car, because, well, race car, but when you spanked him in a family sedan?”

“It’s a coupe,” I said, but I got the point.

“Coupe, sure. But he’s got an Audi R8 ‘plus’,” James said, making finger quotes when he said ‘plus’. "He’s got the horsepower from the V10, he’s got a fortune in carbon on that thing, so I’m sure it weighs at least thirty pounds less than stock, and it’s all wheel drive. He thinks he should just blow by everybody, and then to have you roll up on him in what looks like a middle-aged man’s car, well, like I said, butt-hurt.”

“Then," he said, changing the subject, “Let’s wait until everybody is out on the track, and then jump in the two track cars and rail on ‘em.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“And Justin was saying I was evil,” I said with a grin. “Let’s do it.”

By the end of the day I’d really come to grips with the BMW. It was easier to drive fast than the Nissan GT-R, but a little bit harder to drive really fast. I chalked it up to saddle time and maybe a horsepower deficit, both of which had straightforward remedies.

I was a bit sad to see the Track Club guys load up the GT-R to take back to the Bay Area, now it was James’ car. Also a bit sad, since it seems I wasn’t going to be using their services any longer, and I’d grown to think of the guys (Reggie especially) as friends. I’d known that I’d have to find a similar service down here in SoCal, but still, it was a little bit painful to see them loading up their rig.

In the meanwhile, the BMW team guys were going to take my new GT3 race car down to BMW of Temecula to display in the showroom until I needed it next. I wasn’t sure how long I’d keep it there, but this was a workable plan for the moment.

Alain left with the BMW crew, leaving me his phone number and a promise to come do some laps with him at his favorite track in France. I don’t know how much Emmy’s dad paid him, but I have to say that I really appreciated his coaching, and would love to take some spins around more complex courses with his guidance.

Stein had suggested we all go for dinner at a nearby steak house he swore was actually pretty good, but about half the group said they needed to be home. In the end, it was Stein, Stephanie, the Athertons, and Emmy and me that went to the steakhouse, which turned out to be the restaurant associated with a small general aviation airport there in the high desert. The decor was ‘cowboy desert’ mixed with ‘experimental aircraft’, making for a strange sort of theme.

It had been along time since I’d had red meat, so I opted for the six-ounce filet, not wanting to hammer my system too badly. Emmy did the same, as did Stephanie and Imogen, but the two guys had New York strip and ribeye steaks. Despite my misgivings when we entered, the beef was really good, and the grilled vegetable sides I got were done just right, too. I made a mental note to come back next time I had a Willow Springs track day.

“Honestly, I’m glad James got that car from you,” Imogen confessed, leaning in to keep it quiet. “Two reasons. Well, three, really. First is, he hasn’t shut up about that car since that day at Sonoma a few months ago. He’s been talking about it ever since. Now, he’ll keep talking about it, but it’ll be about his new car, not the car he wished he had.” This got a chuckle from me, so Imogen continued. “Second, this will keep him from driving that Porsche on the track. Seriously, that’s nearly a million dollar car. I mean, sure, it’s their top performance model, but running off the track into the dirt is a fifty thousand dollar mistake in bodywork damage alone.” I nodded that I understood, and so she listed the last item. “This one James doesn’t hear about, right?” When I nodded, she said, “Now he has his new toy, it’s going to be that much easier for me to get him to buy us a place in Manhattan, like you guys have. My parents live in Stamford now, but I grew up in New York. We had a beautiful co-op in the Upper East Side, and I miss the city so very much.”

“Ah, the old ‘now it’s my turn’ ploy,” I said, teasing.

“Works like a charm,” Imogen said.

“What are you two plotting over there?” James asked, breaking away from his conversation with Stein.

“What color you should get the Nissan wrapped,” I said. “We were thinking rose gold chrome, like Stein’s McLaren. That just exudes class.”

“Hey, don’t be hatin’,” Stein said. “The CHP are on the lookout for a McLaren just like mine in navy blue, or matte black, or metallic red. To date, they aren’t on the hunt for a shiny pink one.”

“That’s what she said,” I quipped, getting a groan and eye roll from most of the people at the table.

“So what’s this I hear about you going to a football game tomorrow?” Imogen asked when the commotion died down, louder this time for everybody to hear.

“Leah and I are going to Phoenix tomorrow. I will get to see my first American football game!” Emmy said, proudly.

“Phoenix?” Asked James. “Why Phoenix? There’s nothing there.”

“See?” I asked Emmy.

“An old friend of ours is playing. It will be his first professional game in the National Football League,” Emmy announced.

“Well, his first regular-season game. He’s already played four preseason games,” I corrected.

“Somebody you know from Stanford?” James asked, curious.

“No, high school,” I said.

“Wait, really?” asked Stephanie. “From Fallbrook?”

“Andy Temple,” Emmy said. “You remember him?”

“Of course I remember Andy,” Stephanie said, indignant. “We dated a few times in junior year.”

“You all went to high school together?” asked Stein, pointing at Stephanie, Emmy and me.

“Fallbrook High School, down in San Diego County, class of twenty-twelve,” Stephanie said proudly.

“Fallbrook- I’ve been through there,” Stein said. “Avocados, right?”

“That’s the place,” I admitted. “Lots of avocados.”

“Lots of avocados,” Stephanie added for emphasis. Then, turning to me, she said, “You’re really going to Phoenix to see Andy play?”

“And to do some sightseeing,” Emmy said.

“You guys have to go to the museum of the musical instrument, or whatever it’s called,” Stephanie said.

“That is in Phoenix?” Emmy asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, it’s way on the north side of town, but it’s worth a visit,” Stephanie said.

“What else should we see while we are there?” Emmy asked.

“Um, I don’t know,” Stephanie said with a shrug. “It’s really not like there are all that many tourist attractions there that I know of. I mean, the Grand Canyon, but that’s a few hours’ drive, and so is Lake Powell, and Sedona, all that stuff. I don’t really know of anything to see in Phoenix itself. Besides the instrument museum, anyway.”

“Like I told you, Em. It’s just not a town with a lot of sights to see.”

“Have you ever been to a football game before? Wait- you said this would be your first,” James said to Emmy. “It’s a ridiculously complex game, with lots of fairly arcane rules. Don’t try to figure out everything that’s going on at any given moment, just sort of go with the flow and try to get the general feel. And expect the whole thing to take you maybe five hours, all told.”

“Five hours?” Emmy asked, surprised. “I thought the game was one hour?”

“Well, it’s one hour of action, packed into a hundred and eighty minutes, to paraphrase Dorothy Parker,” James said. “And it’ll take you an hour to get into the stadium and seated, plus another hour to leave again.”

“What happens in the other one hundred and twenty minutes?” Emmy asked, puzzled.

“Both teams just stand around, the fans buy hot dogs, or beer, and the giant screen shows replays of the last interesting thing that happened,” James explained.

“That’s a completely terrible, but also very accurate, description of a football game,” Stein said.

“I am looking forward to it,” Emmy said. “Mostly because our friend Andy Temple will be playing.”

“He’ll only be on the field half of the time,” James said.

“What do you mean?” asked Emmy, puzzled.

“Well, O.K., you’re thinking it’s a bit like some odd version of the game that they call ‘football’ everywhere else in the world, but with throwing, right?” James asked. “But it’s not like that at all. Each team actually has two, well three, teams that are almost completely independent of each other.. In ‘soccer'," he said, making air quotes with his fingers, “the same guys stay on the field no matter which team has possession of the ball or who is attacking whom, right? In American football, one team is on offense and has their offensive team players on the field, while the other has their defensive team on the field. There are no players that will stay on the field on both offense and defense,” James explained, but this only furrowed Emmy’s brow even more.

“It’ll make more sense when you see it in action,” Stein added. “Just don’t bother trying to figure out too many of the minor details. Like he said, they aren’t all obvious.”

“To be fair, we aren’t really going for the game itself,” I said. “Mostly to show support for an old friend.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with Andy,” Stephanie said, looking at me.

Shrugging, I said, “You want to know something funny? I’m the very first friend he ever made in Fallbrook.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”