Page 23

Cam

Hell of a season racing with these two – Cam’s social media post – a picture of him, Ludlow, and Hart on the podium after yesterday’s race, June 8th

“Bet you two are all kinds of nervous,” Hart says, sitting on a bench next to Ludlow and me.

Today’s the last race of the season. I won yesterday’s, Ludlow placed second, and Hart placed third. Her results in the second half of the season have been more impressive than the first, so she’s looking at finishing between fifth and sixth overall.

The championship is between Ludlow and me. After yesterday, I’m down by five points. So, in order to win the championship, I need to win today’s race, and Ludlow can’t finish second. If he does, we’ll be tied for points, and the championship goes to the racer with the most wins for the season—Ludlow.

“At least the weather won’t be an issue,” Ludlow jokes, lifting a hand to the sky, which is currently dumping rain.

“Good thing we got that one practice day in a couple months ago,” I laugh. “I’m sure it’s all we needed to prepare for this.” Being from southern California, we’re not nearly as experienced with this weather as most of our competitors.

“Oh, yeah. We’ll crush it out there,” Hart laughs, standing up again. “See you kids on the track.”

Ludlow and I sit in silence, watching the rain. It’s an interesting thing, being up against a friend. I’ll be thrilled for him if he takes it, and I know he’d feel the same for me. But more than that, we’re both obsessed with speed and winning—for ourselves.

He stands up from the bench and extends a hand to me. “Kick some ass today, dickhead.”

“Give ‘em hell, asshole,” I say, shaking his hand.

After I decided not to finish the race in Austin, where I was on fire, Incite Energy rescinded their offer. I knew it was a possible outcome, and I don’t regret my choice for a second. I’ll choose Sadie over anything, anytime.

I funded this season myself, so they didn’t have a leg to stand on anyway. It was a tough way to learn about them, but I wouldn’t want to be on a team that doesn’t trust their racers to make decisions about their own safety.

“There you are,” Sadie says, walking down the concrete corridor where I’m sitting. She’s wearing black shorts and one of my yellow 207 t-shirts. I’ll never get tired of seeing her in my race gear.

She was here for yesterday’s race too—evidently without any issue.

“Here I am,” I say, standing up to greet her.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, grabbing my hands.

“Oh yeah?” I ask.

She nods. “About race advice. I know the ones you’ve told me— rubber side down, stay on the bike, head down, butt up . But I don’t like any of that for today.”

“What are you thinking, love?” I ask, surprised by her words.

“I just want you to win today. So, no advice.” She shakes her head. “I just want you to go out there and take what’s yours. What do you think? Will that work?”

“Take what’s mine?” I curve a hand around her back and pull her to me. “I like it.”

She lifts onto her toes, and her mouth meets mine in a powerful kiss.

Holding her hand, I lead her toward my pit. “You know I’m yours, right?” I ask.

“I do know that,” she says, leaning into my shoulder. “And you know I’m yours?”

“I do,” I say, kissing the top of her head as we round the corner toward the pits.

Along with my usual crew—Luke, Allie, and Bea—are all here for today’s race. Although, I suspect Bea is here more to support Sadie than me. When we get back to the pit, Allie rushes us with big hugs.

“You ready to win this race, Hacker?” she asks.

“You know it,” I say, pulling my shoulders back and letting my mind shift into racing mode. I am one lucky motherfucker. I get to do this today. This race is mine. This season is mine, and my girl just told me to go out and take it.

The pre-race prep and interviews feel like they take forever, but before I know it, I’m sitting on the bike—tire warmers on—and Sadie comes out to meet me holding a yellow Race Naked umbrella.

“I know you were on this whole rebrand thing,” she says, kissing my cheek. “But I like Race Naked . It’s how I found you. I think if you can, you should keep it. I like you wild.”

It feels incredible to hear her talk about next season without fear. I told her about Incite Energy rescinding their offer, so she knows I’ll need to fund next season myself again. Race Naked worked for me for years, and the last viral video I was a part of— Naked Guy Quits USMoto Race to Make Out With His Girlfriend —makes me feel like I can keep it while also being a good man for her.

“If you like it, I’ll keep it.”

“Oh, good!” She braces her hand on my thigh, this time kissing my other cheek.

The clock ticks down, showing we have about twenty seconds before Sadie has to go back to the pits.

“So, I’ve wanted to tell you something, and I wasn’t sure when the right time would be,” she says.

Fifteen seconds before they take off my tire warmers probably isn’t it.

“But I like now.” She takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

“You love me?” I ask, bewildered. She’s told me she was trying not to love me, but I didn’t realize—

Her lips turn up into a bright, dimpled smile. “I love you.” She lifts onto her toes, kissing my helmet, just like she did at the first race. “Now go take what’s yours.”

The second the clock ticks to zero, she turns, running through the hot summer rain back toward the pits.

She loves me.

They release us for the practice lap, and the water on the track is even deeper than I expected. But I don’t care, because she loves me .

I’m not the only one struggling in the rain, so Ludlow didn’t start with pole position. He’s in third, and I’m in fifth. It’ll be an uphill, soaking wet battle today, but when the green flag waves, and we’re finally off, I am thrilled .

Halfway through the first lap, the racer in second low-sides off the track. I’m not looking behind me, but I’d be shocked if there weren’t a couple more like him further back in the pack. The track is a sloshy mess.

Finding my groove takes a little longer than usual with the wet conditions, but I have this .

Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.

Sadie’s non-advice advice comes back to me. Take what’s yours.

When I finish the first lap and pass the pits, she’s standing at the edge by the pit board—jumping, waving, and screaming. She loves me.

On the second lap, I pass the racer in front of me, bringing me into familiar territory—behind Ludlow, but he’s not focused on me. He has someone to pass too.

My edge is different in the rain, and I know I have to ride it to pass him. By lap three of twelve, I still haven’t found it. I’ve gotten close, but the perfect moment hasn’t been there. Which means, I have to look for an imperfect one.

Coming out of the corner, I trail him, drafting so he pushes the wind and water out of the way for both of us, but when I move to launch past him, the momentum isn’t enough, and I slide back behind. I try it over and over, but I’m not able to get past.

It’ll have to be on the S turns, which isn’t ideal for passing—especially in the rain. It’s such a quick move to go from leaning one way, then leaning all the way to the other, then leaning back. It’s easy to lose grip when you’re not in the race line—exactly where I’d be if I need to pass. Sadie will hate it.

She’s there again when I pass the pits—jumping and cheering for me. She gave up on holding an umbrella, and Allie and Bea are standing with her—all soaking wet and smiling.

Coming into the first turn of my next lap, I’m lining up to draft Ludlow again, so I can—

Hart passes me.

Shit.

Now we’re halfway through the race, and I’m in fourth.

Ahead of me, Ludlow finally made his pass, so now he’s in first. Hart makes it around the same racer, and after a few turns, so do I.

Now there are five laps left, and I have to find a way to pass my two best friends on the track as safely as possible in the rain.

The S turns are my best option to properly make the passes, but not the safest. Sadie won’t like it. So, I wait, not taking the opportunity and trying again to draft on the straightaways. It works with Hart, and I’m able to shoot past her, bringing me into second place and closer to Ludlow, but not close enough to pass.

We’re finishing the ninth lap—meaning we only have three laps left—when I’m coming up to pass the pits. But my board isn’t there.

What the hell?

At the last second, it pops out, lower than usual because Sadie’s the one holding it. All the numbers I usually see—distance to the racer in front of me, the racer behind me, lap number—are covered. Instead, thick letters written in marker on a piece of paper that’s rapidly deteriorating in the rain read:

Like You Stole It!

My whole body shakes with a laugh. She knew—even if it wasn’t my intention—I was holding back for her. And now she’s told me to knock that shit off.

Take what’s yours.

Ride it like you stole it.

I give drafting on the straightaways behind Ludlow one more chance, but it’s still not enough. So, on the S turns, I go wide into the first curve, then dive underneath in the middle. My back tire hydroplanes slightly on my way out of the S , but I’m able to use it to my advantage and end up inside of Ludlow as we’re exiting the turn.

Now I’m in first. I did it. I passed Ludlow for hopefully the last time this season. I have two and a half laps to go, and I have to hold on to it and hope someone back there, likely Hart, can get in front of him too so I can take the championship.

The rest of the race is like a meditative dance, leaning my bike in and out of each turn with equal parts care and aggression. When I pass the pits, Sadie is cheering for me each time, and I check Ludlow’s board too. He’s still behind me going into the last lap, but I don’t let disappointment settle in. It’s out of my hands, so I keep racing like I stole it—just like my girl said to.

The checkered flag waves, and as I slow, I look over my shoulder.

It’s Hart. She must have passed Ludlow on the last lap. Hart took second.

I won.

I took the Superbike USMoto championship.

I won!

Slowing my bike significantly for the cool-down lap, I lift my helmet’s visor and hop up on my gas tank, swinging my legs front and back.

Hart reaches me first, yelling, “You fucking did it!” as she reaches her fist out and taps my knuckles with hers.

“ You did it!” I call back.

Ludlow’s next, riding up on my other side. “Hell, yeah, dickhead!” he yells. “You earned that shit!”

Racers congratulate me for the rest of the lap, giving me hugs, knucks, and shouts.

When I make it back around to my pit, Sadie’s the first face I see. I stop my bike and run to her, picking her up and swinging her around before scooping my hands under her ass and wrapping her legs around my waist.

Her hands grip either side of my head, and she pulls me down for a rain-soaked, smiling kiss.

“Like you stole it, huh?” I ask.

“You were hesitating,” she pushes on my shoulder with a playful scolding. “ Don’t do that .”

The rest of the day is a blur with podiums, interviews, champagne bottles, racers, and friends. It’s a high I don’t want to come down from.

Hours later, Hart approaches me with a woman I’ve never seen before and introduces us.

“I’m here representing Checkers Media ,” she says, shaking my hand. “We want to talk to you both about the new team we’re starting next year.”