Peak Performance
"Like a snappy lube on steroids," Payton Reese grumbled to himself. Team members hustled this way and that, the buzz of engines getting last-minute adjustments bounced off the trailers and the pungent smell of oil and gasoline filled the early-evening Virginia air. "What did I get myself into?"
"Whaddya say?" His cameraman, Neil Bukowski, flipped his baseball cap backward and got ready to tape.
Payton refocused, reminding himself this duty was temporary. This job and these interviews were a means to an end. Six more months max and all the noise, the crowds and smelly stock-car fumes would be nothing but a bad memory.
"I said where the hell is Rachel Murphy?"
NASCAR had arranged for him and his television station, WJAZ 11, to have unlimited access to the entire Murphy family for the weekend. Since qualifying runs, which determined starting positions for tonight's race, he'd had plenty of time with Justin Murphy, Justin's uncle Hugo and the Fulcrum Racing team, but not one second with Justin's sister, Rachel.
"Might be a long shot," Neil said, his southern twang edged with sarcasm. "But I'm gonna guess that an engine specialist spends a bit of time in the garage."
... read full excerpt from: Peak Performance ebook
