BRISTOL

The voice of Orly's spotter, Jimmy, cracked in Bear's ear. "Yellow is out. It's behind you Orly. The # 2 car is in the wall. Run hard to the flag. Looks like he blowed a tire. Lots of parts scattered 'round so stay low now."

Orly brought the car through turn four to pick up the caution flag.

"You got it Orly, back it down." Jimmy added needlessly.

At the same time Bear threw his arm in the air and rapidly circled his index finger in the universal sign for "yellow flag". The relaxed attitude of the crew disappeared like a puff of smoke in a strong wind. Everybody leaped to their battle stations and gathered their gear as the tension level shot up the scale.

"Going for four boys. Four tires. I'm saying it again, four tires", said Bear into the mouthpiece of his radio. He went on, "Now we got to bear down now boys and make this one a good one. We got to give Orly the best shot we can so bear down hard boys and make it good." Then he shifted his focus. "Talk to me Orly."

The leaders settled in behind the slow moving pace car as everyone took a collective breath. Orly joined the line still in his seventh place position with the blue car in front of him. He keyed the radio button, "I'm getting a push going "in" Bear but I think it was the tires going away. Was losing a little grip on the front end. Fresh rubber will help. Give me a little pressure adjustment. This harder compound and colder temperatures make it hard to judge. Brakes are okay but I think I have about used them up. Gauges look good. Other than the push the thing is running strong. We might get up there and give them a run if we get a break or two. At least I won't have to follow this guy anymore. With fresh rubber I could have got around him anyway. Be sure and peel the windshield the glare is getting bad."

"Okeydookle, we can do all that." Bear was interrupted by Jimmy up in the spotters nest on top of the suites.

"Pit lane is open next time around. Lead lap cars only. Watch your speed Orly. Forty-five hundred…second gear…you know."

"Alicia's smooth voice filled in with, "There are only nine cars on the lead lap. The rest will pit next time around. You have been running consistent times with the leaders Orly."

Orly clicked the radio button on the steering wheel twice, meaning he understood.

The lead lap cars would be allowed to pit first then the cars that were a lap down would pit the next time around. Bear glanced down from his perch on the war wagon. The men of the Ballet Company were on their marks waiting for the curtain to go up. Paolo was standing in the pit wall bouncing on his toes with the jack cradled in his big hands. The handle stuck up over his shoulder. He would be the first over the wall in front of the car before it stopped moving. LeRoy and Otto, the tire changers, were crouched on the wall like a couple of hungry lions with their thunderguns in one hand and a coil of air hose in the other. Their kneepads made ungainly bulges on their legs. Danny had his apron and helmet on with his left leg extended over the wall and the big red gas can laying across his knee. He was ready.

Harvey and Rupert, the two tire carriers, stood patiently on the pitwall with the fresh rubber. Bear looked carefully to see that all the lug nuts were still glued on. No need. They were. The men knew their jobs. The nuts had already been checked and rechecked at least a dozen times. The left side tires were laying just behind the wall ready to be exchanged for the used rubber when the time came. Brister, the catch can man, would be the last over the wall.

Doug stood up so he could get a better view of what the other cars were going to do, partially blocking Bear's view down the pitlane. Bear had eyes only for Orly and he resisted the impulse to move Doug out of the way. Alicia pressed the remote on the video camera and got ready to punch the button on her stopwatch. Will Carver, the old man of the crew, shoved the twelve foot Speed King pole over the wall. It simply had an orange stylized "K" on the end to mark Orly's stopping point. It rocked gently in the afternoon breeze. Bud Prescott, Doug's dad positioned himself behind the wall to offer any assistance wherever it might be needed.

No one paid any attention as the television crew began walking uninvited into the pit stall. Bear looked down to see the four members of the network coverage team cluttering up his workspace with their cameras and equipment. He started to motion them back but thought better of it and simply ignored them. They were a necessary evil and much like an afternoon rainstorm had to simply be endured. They were led by a producer with a hard no-nonsense look in his eye. The network had paid a ton for the broadcast rights to the Cup events and this guy looked like he was going to make sure his employers got their money's worth. He had his chief reporter in tow, along with a camera man and a sound tech. She was a lady with red hair named Abbey Latford. She knew her stuff and had pretty good credibility with most of the crew chiefs. She was dressed in khaki pants and wore a dark blue jacket with the network logo over the pocket. Bear noted that she also wore sensible shoes of which he approved. She carried a remote cordless microphone and had a clipboard tucked under her arm.

They were hard to ignore as they took up positions in the stall with all their equipment. Bear watched as Paolo did his best not see the TV camera less than three feet away staring into his face. Instead, he appeared to look right through the thing to focus his whole attention down the pitlane. The camera was intrusive but not unexpected. It was a common occurrence and the Ballet Company was used to the intrusion. As long as they were good they could count on being watched.

Orly was seventh in the line that peeled off from the pace car and headed down the pit lane. The first three cars rumbled past the Speed King pit box but Bear fixed his eyes only on Orly. He came idling down at the mandated pit speed of forty-five miles an hour. Any faster would have cost the team another stop for a 15 second penalty. Orly kept the car to the right and then dropped it nicely into the pit box with a little slide on an angle that would allow a fast exit. The orange K was just barely touching the hood of the car. Will quickly raised it straight up and pulled the pole back into the pits. Paolo timed his leap off the wall perfectly. He was halfway in front of the car as it came to a sliding stop. Bear watched as the right front fender grazed his leg as he made the turn with a step like a pulling guard on a trap play. Paolo marked the black arrow on the rocker panel beneath what would have been the passenger side door and slid the jack under the car with a perfect shovel pass. A quick, strong pump and then another shorter one and the car was in the air.

Good job, though Bear to himself.

LeRoy was right behind him, practically on his heels and slid to his knees in front of the right front tire. The air hose trailed behind him like a cowboy's lasso. His air wrench, called a thundergun, was screaming before both knees were firmly on the ground. The lug nuts flew off like spent rounds out of an automatic pistol. He jerked the wheel off as Harvey threw the fresh rubber back on the hub. The gun screamed again.

Meanwhile, coming around the rear of the car doing the same thing was Otto, the rear tire changer. He snatched the wheel off and threw it to the right. Paolo caught it and stopped it upright to keep it from getting loose and rolling across into traffic. Robert slammed the fresh rubber on the rear hub. As soon as Otto reversed his gun to tighten the lugs Paolo dropped the jack with a quick twist of his wrist. He jerked it from under the car and cradled it with both hands. He looked like a fullback going over the line for a score. He sprinted the two steps back in front of the car being careful not to interfere with LeRoy. Leroy was already on his knees in front of the left front tire. Paolo threw the jack down and raised the left side of the car with two quick pumps. Harvey had the left front tire in his hands and pitched it over the pit wall. He caught the fresh rubber with a pivot and threw it back on the hub.

Danny, the gas man, had gone over the wall with his 88 pound bright red gas can on his shoulder almost as quick as Paulo. As Orly slid to a stop he fit the nozzle over the fuel spout and elevated the can. Brister was right behind him with the catch can to prevent the overflow from spilling all over the back of the car and on the ground. Brister shoved the catch can into the slot venting the tank and watched over his right shoulder. As soon as the right side of the car dropped both Danny and Brister took a step back to give the flying Otto room to come around and change the left side rear tire. They were careful not to trip over the trailing air hose. As quick as Otto passed, Danny stepped back up and slammed the fuel can over the spout once again. The eleven gallon can was quickly drained. Danny tossed the empty can to Brister and then pivoted a half turn to take the second full can from Will behind the wall. It was an intricate ballet with every step carefully choreographed and practiced almost on a daily basis. It was also a dance that was concurrently being performed in nine other pit boxes at the same time.

While LeRoy and Otto tightened the lugs on the fresh rubber Harvey made a quick pass over the grille knocking off anything that might get in the way of the air needed to cool the radiator. Paolo, in the meantime, had reached up and pulled the last tear-away from Orly's windshield giving him a fresh, clean view of the world. As Orly looked up Bear saw him give Paolo a wink and smiled. They were both at the peak of their game and they were having fun.

Otto finished the last lug nut on the front wheel and jumped to his feet with an acrobatic move throwing his right hand in the air. Brister nodded to Danny. Paolo dropped the car as Danny stepped back and it was over.

As soon as Bear saw the hands go up he yelled "Go! Clear!" into the radio. Orly already had the car in gear and as soon as the jack started down he dropped the clutch. With a squeal of rubber and a short blast of tire smoke he was gone.

Alicia punched the stop watch and smiled to herself. Bear looked down and she flashed him the watch. Bear grinned and nodded then looked to see where Orly came out. He keyed the radio, "Done good boys, fantastic in fact. You did that one in 13.6 seconds and Orly picked up five spots in the pits. You boys done good. You 'beared down' real good. I'm proud of you. Nothing like passing them boys in the pits. That's got to be a personal best for you all."

The Ballet Company knew it was a good stop and they were already high-fiving each other even as they heard Bear's voice in their headsets.

Bear climbed down off the war wagon to stretch his legs a few minutes only to be met by the TV crew. Abby spoke into her microphone.

"The Thunderfoot Ballet Company has ripped off a fantastic pitstop that has brought Orly Mann from seventh to second. Henry, do you think Orly can win this race this afternoon and what changes did you make to the car?

Bear wiped his hands on the ever present shop rag and considered his words as Abby stuck the microphone in his face. "Yeah, these boys are good aren't they. They danced real good. There is nothing a driver likes better than being able to pass people in the pits. I'm proud of them." Bear smiled broadly. He purposefully hadn't answered either question.