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polished, nothing like the type you rent at an amusement park.
    â€œAren’t you going to race?” I asked Jerome.
    â€œCan’t. I don’t fit into those type of carts.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’m too big to fit behind the wheel of the carts,” he explained.
    â€œBut if you don’t fit, why did you buy them?” I asked.
    â€œI got them so that young people could enjoy them and that’s what I want you to do—enjoy yourself.”
    Jerome walked over and squatted down between Kia’s cart and mine. He checked my shoulder straps and then Kia’s to make sure they were on correctly. Next he checked the straps on both of our helmets, tightening them up a bit more.
    â€œListen,” he said, “I want you both to take the first couple of laps real slow. You have to get to know the curves of the track before you start driving fast.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œEither of you ever do any visualization exercises when you’re playing ball?” he asked.
    â€œYou mean like seeing it in your mind?” I asked.
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œSometimes before the game I close my eyes and picture the ball going into the net,” I said.
    â€œI do that too, especially at the free-throw line,” he said. “You have to do the same thing with the track. You have to be able to picture the lay-out in your mind the way you picture the hoop.”
    â€œWe can do that,” Kia said.
    â€œYou can once you know what the track looks like. Imagine shooting at a hoop and not knowing how far away it was, or how high or even what shape it was. Take your time the first few laps and get to know the track.”
    â€œWe’ll take it slow,” I reassured him.
    â€œGood, cause I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you two. I’ll be here waiting for you. Remember, go slow.”
    He tapped me on the top of the helmet.
    â€œDrivers, start your engines!” Johnnie called out.
    I turned the key, and the engine roared to life along with the other carts. I was glad I was wearing a helmet to block out some of the sound.
    Johnnie stood off to the side of the track. He held up one hand. Then he started to fold down his fingers—four, three, two, one, and then he pointed to the ground. There was a roar as three of the carts squealed away.
    Kia and I slowly started off after them. Josh, Sherea and Mr. Williams took the first turn, and then they rocketed away down a long straightaway that led toward some trees. They made another turn and disappeared from view.
    We took the first turn, Kia on the outside, and started along the straightaway. As long as we took things slowly we’d be—Kia shot by me and the gap opened up between us. What was she doing? We were supposed to go slow. Then again, this section of the track was straight, and I’d driven carts a lot in the past. I certainly was a better driver than Kia. I pushed my foot down on the accelerator. The cart jumped forward like it had been stung by a bee, and I eased slightly off the pedal. I’d been on lots of carts before, but I’d never been on one that had this sort of power. Kia continued to open up the asphalt between us. This wasn’t going to happen. I pushed the pedal all the way down.
    Up ahead, Kia hit the curve and slowed down. I kept on accelerating, picking up speed. I had to hope that this thing had brakes as good as the engine. I hit the curve, pushed down on the brakes and cranked the wheel. The cart slid sideways across the asphalt, the wheels caught, and I slingshot around the corner. As soon as the course straightened I pressed down on the accelerator again, and the wheels gained traction. Rapidly I closed in on Kia. She hit another curve, and I braked and slid in right behindher. She came out of the curve wide—I didn’t think she had any idea I was right there.
    Up ahead the next curve was to the left. I steered over to her left and started to pass when