"Hey, do you have a light? I seem to have misplaced my matches," said the attractive modestly dressed girl. We were both in the paddock area at the Sebring, Florida 12-hour sports race, now in its 10th hour. Corvettes, Ferraris, MGs and others were still circulating in the dark, the leaders already having driven more than eight hundred miles since the 10am start.
I got out my Zippo and lit her L&M and one of my Camels. I told her that I was a college sophomore up North and had hitchhiked down on spring break to be a pit steward, but my assigned car had broken down a few hours into the race, transforming me into a spectator with spectacular access to the inside of the race. She explained that she grew up in Sebring and had gone to the race practically every year until she graduated and moved to Lakeland to learn X-Ray technology at the community college. She had made connections that scored her a pit pass the last few years. Her Sebring High boyfriend, Jim, was also in Lakeland studying to be a fireman/EMT.
We practically had to shout to converse over the din of the race. She asked if I wanted to see a special place that she and Jim had found during their senior year at high school. We walked over the bridge and headed along the fence away from the crowd into the dark. A few hundred yards along, she announced that she had found the spot -- a loose section of the fence -- and she led us out onto the course.
"Jim heard about this place from his high school friends -- it's a little low hut -- out near the track. I know how to find it." We walked closer to the track and spotted the hut silhouetted by the headlights of the racers, now uncomfortably close.
We went in -- there was no door -- and stood in the dark listening to the screams of the cars going by, it seemed only a few feet away. She said, "Isn't it amazing to be so close to the cars and not see them? Let me show you what Jim and I used to do out here" and took my hand and drew me up against her. She found my lips and gave me a long kiss.
