Boone and I staged, and I put a healthy hole shot on him, but the Valiant stumbled badly, and I knew the sixty foot was garbage, then I slowly pulled away from him, as the small block ran great, and the 904 did it's job. 10.937-121.33, so my dream of tens all week would survive another day.
We were both talking about our run with Dad, when Rachael came running up with her helmet still on.
"Woohoo, back in the 11s!" she shoved a time slip in my face.
"What did you do?"
"Well, I dropped them off at the tower, watched you guys in the burnout box, then looked around and realized I was right there, why not go again?"
"11.806, at 113.27, great, now you're really in the hunt again!"