“I peelhiss tense fingerson his right handaway fromthe steering wheel, onetwothreefourfive.With each finger,the scowldiappearsa little more. when i placehis hand onmy legand gentlycaress it, he smiles.That's better.”

“When he was young, I told Dale Jr. that hunting and racing are a lot alike. Holding that steering wheel and holding that rifle both mean you better be responsible.”

“He held up his right hand and spread my fingers out in a fan. I held up my left hand and spread my fingers out in a fan and we made our fingers and thumbs touch each other.”

“They told me Corrigan smashed all the bones in his chest when he hit the steering wheel. I thought, Well at least in heaven his Spanish chick'll be able to reach in and grab his heart.”

“What did you find?”Uncle Mike clamped his hands to the steering wheel. “Turns out monsters are real.”

“Yeah. That boy over there. He’s my friend.'My gaze followed his pointing finger toward a little boy wearing a stuffed steering wheel attached around his waist and running around a racetrack laid out on the floor. 'Oh, yeah? What’s his name?''I don’t know.' Simon shrugged, unconcerned, and headed back to the playground.I watched him leap right into the game with a friend whose name didn’t matter.”