Biodegradable bags

Buy best value biodegradable bags and a huge range of eco packaging to help the environment whilst getting the job done.

Biodegradable bags offer a fantastic alternative to a huge range of traditional polythene bags. Made completely from natural materials, biodegradable bags lessen the impact on the environment by fully breaking down within two years of being buried in landfill - compared to hundreds of years for regular polythene. Biodegradable materials are used to produce a wide range of bags, including carrier bags, bin liners, mailing bags, clear bags, wheelie bin liners and food waste bags, helping you do your bit for the environment.

Biodegradable packaging is...

• Better for the environment than traditional plastic or polythene packaging
• A term that covers a range of biodegradable products, including carrier bags, mailing bags, clear bags, bin liners, refuse sacks, wrapping, compost bags, food waste bags, dog poo bags, garment covers, loose fill and much more
• Made from natural materials like starch or paper
• Broken down over time by natural microorganisms, like fungi or bacteria, when placed in prolonged contact with soil, such as when placed in landfill
• Converted into carbon dioxide, water and biomass over a period of time, which varies depending on the product in question
• Also known as eco-friendly packaging, eco-packaging or green packaging
• Every bit as useful as traditional polythene packaging - it really gets the job done and at less cost to the environment
• Becoming more popular over time and therefore more competitively priced, in comparison to traditional polythene packaging

Latest news and views on biodegradable bags

6 reasons to use eco-friendly building materials

Unfortunately, the production of glass is not the most eco-friendly. The melting activities required in the production of glass results in Carbon Dioxide emissions.

What is the meaning of Biodegradable?

Biodegradable bags for food packaging

level 1 1m I use these small cost-effective biodegradable bags. The roots grow proper through and you can plant that in a bigger pot. No shock.

Each card is digitally printed in Yorkshire, UK on 100% recycled board and comes with it's possess 100% recycled C6 brown kraft paper envelope inside a transparent biodegradable bag. The envelope is vegan friendly, making it complimentary from any animal based pigments or adhesives including gelatine. The bag is manufactured from corn starch which is fully compostable and biodegradable, breaking down to only Carbon Dioxide and H2O.

Details about   30x Green Biodegradable Bags Disposable Kitchen Waste Sacks Rubbish Bin Bags UK

30x Green Biodegradable Bags Disposable Kitchen Waste Sacks Rubbish Bin Bags UK

On top of that, it would be optimal to install a composting bucket for the biodegradable waste. That method you will acquire fertile soil for your home gardening projects. If this, nevertheless, is also complicated for you, you can also buy biodegradable bags from Action. Or, you check on the website of the municipality where the so called green bins are located in your neighborhood and bring your biological waste there.

Can you knit a more creative eco bag than ours utilising none above supermarket carrier bags? Send your creation to: Eco bags, Femail, 2 Derry Street, London, . We'll swop the winning entry for a REAL £5 Anya Hindmarsh eco bag. Bags can not be returned. The editour's decision is last.

Grey Mailing Bags Strong Poly Postal Postage Post Mail Self Seal All Sizes Cheap Grey Mailing - £29.99

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Definition of Bin liners

Definition of Bin liners 1. Noun. (plural of bin liner ) ¹

Why we use eco-friendly bags

Biodegradable bags are a convenient alternative to traditional polythene bags and cause less pollution or damage to the environment. Traditional polythene will degrade - i.e. break down into smaller and smaller molecules - over time but this process takes a lot longer than the time it takes for biodegradable materials to break down when they come into contact with microorganisms.

Therefore, biodegradable packaging takes less time to break down from the full product to nothing, which means they take up less valuable space in landfill sites, thereby creating less of a long term impact on the environment.

The argument for using eco-friendly bags is represented for many by the common 'single use' plastic carrier bag or traditional thin carrier, often handed out in shops and supermarkets across the UK.

Whilst the term 'single use' is, in itself, a misnomer and one that potentially contributes to the problem of plastic bag waste - there is, after all, no reason why a 'single use' carrier bag can't be used more than once, thus lessening its impact on the environment - the extremely high use of thin carrier bags in everyday life sums up the argument that many people make against the use of polythene packaging.

There is no denying that plastic bags create a lot of waste and, even though this represents less than 1% of household waste in the UK*, most of this waste ends up in landfill sites.

* Source: WRAP - Waste & Resources Action Programme

Whilst most carriers bags today are made from recycled polythene, the material (polymers) that these bags are made from, such as polythene and polypropene, are unable to be broken down by microorganisms and therefore take longer to break down in landfill sites than biodegradable alternatives.

So if you use a biodegradable carrier bag to do your shopping, you can console yourself with the fact that you are doing your bit for the environment and, when that bag eventually gets disposed of, it will take longer to become one with the earth than a traditional polythene alternative.

But, perhaps just as importantly, whatever bag you use - make sure you don't throw it away after using it when it's still perfectly capable of being used again.

Remember people - there is no such thing as a 'single use' carrier bag!

Degradable and biodegradable - what's the difference?

"What's the difference between a biodegradable product and a degradable product?" we hear you ask. Both degradable and biodegradable materials are both used to make packaging today, so why is biodegradable packaging supposed to be so much better to use than normal degradable packaging?

Well, let's first take a look at the definition of each word:

degradable (adjective) - Capable of being degraded. spec. Susceptible to chemical or biological degradation.

biodegradable (adjective) - Of a substance or object (esp. refuse or a potential pollutant): able to be broken down and decomposed by the action of living organisms (esp. bacteria), or their metabolic or biochemical processes

So both a degradable packaging and biodegradable packaging, when disposed of, will break down over time into smaller and smaller pieces. Sounds like there's not much a difference between the two then? Well, that's where you're wrong.

The key difference between biodegradable and degradable materials is that natural organisms and bacteria will break down a biodegradable product much faster than oxygen, moisture, heat and/or light will break down a degradable product.

So if you throw away two plastic bags - one biodegradable, the other degradable - at the same time and in similar conditions, then the biodegradable bag will break down into biomass, water and carbon dioxide significantly faster than the degradable bag.

For the biodegradable product, the biodegradation process might take just a few weeks or months, while a degradable bag will take many years to degrade fully.

Faster degradation leads to less time in landfill sites, which saves space, energy and cost, hence why biodegradable bags are the eco-friendly alternative to degradable packaging.

Where to buy biodegradable packaging

Biodegradable packaging manufacturers and suppliers include:

Biodegradable Packaging Ireland
VAT-registered customers in Ireland can save 21% VAT on all of purchases made from Biodegradable.ie - providers and stockists of a huge range of biodegradable and eco-friendly packaging.
www.biodegradable.ie

Environmental Bags
Environmental Bags stock a huge range of eco-friendly packaging and biodegradable products, from eco-friendly mailing bags to biodegradable bin bags and specialist eco packaging. Order online today.
www.environmentalbags.com

Environmental Bag
Stockists of compostable, degradable and biodegradable bags, with useful information on each type to help you choose the right type of bag for you. Also manufacture and stock a wide range of other eco-friendly packaging.
www.environmentalbags.co.uk

Environmentally Friendly Bags
Environmentally Friendly Bags is the place to go for all your biodegradable packaging needs. Tells you all you need to know about a range of biodegradable polymers used to make eco-friendly packaging and how they are made.
www.environmentally-friendly-bags.co.uk

Biodegradable Bags
With loads of information on biodegradable, degradable and compostable bags and other packaging, this website is a must for anyone looking to buy the right type of eco-friendly packaging for their particular needs.
www.biodegradablebags2u.com

Recycled Bags
A very useful website for anyone hoping to find out more about recycled bags, the recycling process and eco-friendly alternatives to plastic packaging, including biodegradable and degradable packaging.
www.recycledbags2u.co.uk

Compostable Bags
Compo Bag is a free website providing loads of information on compostable bags, including how they are made, types and features of compo bags, pros and cons of compo bags and where to buy them.
www.compobag.co.uk

Degradable Bags
A fantastic resource for anyone looking to find out more about degradable bags and other packaging. Featuring tonnes of information and news on degradable bags, along with a buying guide to degradable bags, so you can pick them up at the best discount prices.
www.discountdegradablebags.co.uk

Biodegradable Bag
A very useful website for anyone interested in biodegradable, degradable or compostable packaging. Helps you choose the right type of packaging for you and tells you where to buy any type of biodegradable bag or each eco-friendly product.
www.discountbiodegradablebags.co.uk

Biodegradable Plastic Bags
If you are looking to buy biodegradable bags or eco-friendly packaging then this is the website for you. Detailing the difference between compostable, degradable and biodegradable packaging, while telling you the best place to buy all three.
www.biodegradablebags2u.co.uk

Biodegradable Bags UK
Need information on compostable, degradable or biodegradable bags in the UK? Want to know more about the difference between each type and where to buy them at the best discount prices? Discount Biodegradable Bags is the site for you!
www.discountbiodegradablebags.com

Recycled Plastic Bags
Recycled Bags is a treasure trove of information on recycled plastic bags and other recycled packaging, the recycling process and eco-friendly alternatives to traditional plastic packaging. No other website tells you more about recycled bags.
www.recycled-bags.co.uk

The truth about biodegradable bags?

8. Eco-friendly travel towel

This is one of the eco-friendly travel products that surprisingly few people have manufactured the switch to. Buying an ethically sourced, reusable, unisex razour and blades is an easy method to reduce your plastic waste. Locally manufactured in my small city of Exeter, I can certainly vouch for the quality of this razour!

The International Wool Textile Organisation , the industry body representing those working in the wool trade, claims most wool-only based products will almost absolutely biodegrade after six months in a landfill. (Nonetheless, the material can be hardy: 3,000-year-old woollen clothing was found buried in the British desert in 2014.) Signs of degradation appear in silk after about four years. That is long enough that it is rarely promoted as biodegradable, nevertheless the process can be sped up, and all of the material can proceed in only 12 to 24 months.

Co-op, a popular supermarket chain in the UK, has announced plans to replace old single-use plastic bags with compostable shopping bags. The company estimates the new bags will save around 60 million plastic flags from ending up in landfills. The compostable shopping bags, which also double as biodegradable bags for food waste, will be rolled out in all Co-op stores within weeks.

Yifu is one of the most professional biodegradable bags manufacturers in United Kingdom, providing customised packaging materials. Welcome to buy or wholesale cost-effective biodegradable bags manufactured in United Kingdom here from our factory. For pricelist and offer, contact us.

The melts will arrive in a transparent biodegradable bag manufactured from vegetable starch.

the art of racing in the rain a unique GARTH STEIN For Muggs With your mind power, your determination, your instinct, and the experience as well, you can fly very high. ayrton senna Contents Epigraph iii 1 Gestures are all that I have; sometimes they must be 1 2 He picked me out of a pile of puppies, a 9 3 Very gently. Like there are eggshells on your pedals, Denny 13 4 Denny moved me far from the farm in Spangle, to 15 5 Monkeys have thumbs. 17 6 Her name was Eve, and at first I resented how 21 7 When it was only Denny and me, he used to 30 8 One summer Saturday afternoon, after we had spent the morning 38 9 A couple of years after we moved into the new 45 10 Ideally, a driver is a master of all that is 48 11 When I was locked in the house suddenly and firmly 51 12 Eve's condition was elusive and unpredictable. One day she would 62 13 They sit in the trees and on the electric wires 68 14 The clues were all there, I simply had not read them 73 15 When Denny went away the following week, we went to 84 16 The weeks tripped by with big haste, as if digging 88 17 Your car goes where your eyes proceed. 94 18 In United Kingdom, when a dog dies, he is buried high 98 19 It was hours before Denny returned, and he returned alone. 99 20 I was not privy to much, being a dog. I 107 21 She manufactured me wear the bumblebee wings she had old 111 22 Soon, Labour Day weekend came, and after that, Zo was 113 23 Everything they said manufactured sense, nevertheless none of it added 115 24 For the first few weeks of our new arrangementDenny and 128 25 In February, the black pit of winter, we went on 132 26 That year we had a cool spell in each winter 148 27 Six months came and six months left and Eve was 158 28 In the morning, Denny did not know about Eve, and I 163 29 For Eve, her death was the stop of a painful 166 30 With experience, a driver adjusts his view of how a 177 31 Zo insisted on going to school the next day, and 179 32 I spent most of the day hanging out in the 187 33 Much of what happened to Denny about the custody suit 195 34 They took him to a small room with a big 197 35 Hands are the windows to a man's soul. 201 36 I like very few things above a nice long 207 37 The morning after Eve's funeral, I could barely transport. My 215 38 Because of the criminal charges against Denny, the Twins had 219 39 There was an occasion that summer when Denny found a 225 40 Oh, a breath of September! 233 41 The flash and fury of a sprint race are big. 238 42 How fast. 240 43 This is not a conversation I like to have, Mark 243 44 The solution had been put to Denny by Mark Fein: 245 45 Denny paid his record with Mark Fein. Shortly afterward, Mark 249 46 It was a particularly difficult winter for me. Perhaps it 252 47 Ayrton Senna did not have to die. 255 48 Separate entrances for cats and dogs. That's what I remember 258 49 Days later. A week. Two. I don't know. After Denny's 262 50 The summer of my tenth birthday came along and there 269 51 You need to proceed out? Let's proceed out. 278 52 The couple who stood in the doorway were entirely foreign 285 53 Had I known I was meeting Denny's parents, I might 287 54 A driver must have faith. In his talent, his judgment 290 55 So much information came out in the following days, thanks 292 56 All rise, the bailiff called out, such old-fashioned formality in 294 57 The very next day, Mr. Lawrence informed Denny that the Evil 305 58 The dawn smashs gently on the horizon and spills its 310 Imola, United Kingdom After it is all above, after the last race has Acknowledgments About the Authour Other Books by Garth Stein Credits Cover Copyright About the Publisher 1 Gestures are all that I have; sometimes they must be big in nature. And while I occasionally step above the line and into the world of the melodramatic, it is what I must do in order to communicate clearly and effectively. In order to make my point understood without question. I have no words I can rely on because, much to my dismay, my tongue was designed long and flat and loose, and so, is a horribly ineffective tool for pushing food around my mouth while chewing, and an even less effective tool for making clever and complicated polysyllabic sounds that can be linked together to form sentences. And that's why I am here now waiting for Denny to come homehe should be here soonlying on the cool tiles of the kitchen floor in a puddle of my possess urine. GARTH STEIN I am old. And while I am very capable of getting older, that's not the method I want to proceed out. Shot full of hurt medication and steroids to reduce the swelling of my joints. Vision fogged with cataracts. Puffy, plasticky packages of Doggie Depends stocked in the pantry. I am sure Denny would acquire me one of those small wagons I've seen on the streets, the ones that cradle the hindquarters so a dog can drag his ass behind him when things beginning to fail. That's humiliating and degrading. I am not sure if it's worse than dressing up a dog for Halloween, nevertheless it's close. He would do it out of like, of course. I am sure he would retain me alive as long as he possibly could, my body deteriorating, disintegrating around me, dissolving until there's none left nevertheless my brain floating in a glass jar filled with transparent liquid, my eyeballs drifting at the surface and all sorts of cables and tubes feeding what remains. But I don't want to be kept alive. Because I know what's next. I've seen it on TV. A documentary I saw about United Kingdom, of all places. It was the optimal thing I've ever seen on television, other than the 1993 Grand Prix of Europe, of course, the greatest automobile race of all time in which Ayrton Senna proved himself to be a genius in the rain. After the 1993 Grand Prix, the optimal thing I've ever seen on TV is a documentary that explained all to me, manufactured it all transparent, told the all truth: when a dog is finished living his lifetimes as a dog, his next incarnation will be as a man. I've frequently felt almost human. I've frequently known that there's something about me that's alternative than other dogs. 2 the art of racing in the rain Sure, I am stuffed into a dog's body, nevertheless that's only the shell. It's what's inside that's necessary. The soul. And my soul is very human. I am prepared to become a man now, though I realise I will lose all that I have been. All of my memories, all of my experiences. I would like to take them with me into my next lifethere is so much I have gone through with the Swift familynevertheless I have small say in the matter. What can I do nevertheless force myself to remember? Try to imprint what I know on my soul, a thing that has no surface, no sides, no pages, no form of any kind. Carry it so deeply in the pockets of my existence that when I open my eyes and see down at my new hands with their thumbs that are able to close tightly around their fingers, I will already know. I will already see. The door opens, and I hear him with his familiar cry, Yo, Zo! Usually, I can not assist nevertheless put aside my hurt and hoist myself to my feet, wag my tail, sling my tongue around, and shove my face into his crotch. It takes humanlike willpower to grasp back on this specific occasion, nevertheless I transport out. I grasp back. I don't acquire up. I am acting. Enzo? I hear his footsteps, the concern in his voice. He come bys me and sees down. I lift my head, wag my tail feebly so it taps against the floor. I play the part. He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair, sets down the plastic bag from the grocery that has his dinner in it. I can smell roast chicken through the plastic. Tonight 3 GARTH STEIN he is having roast chicken and an iceberg lettuce salad. Oh, Enz, he says. He reaches down to me, crouches, touches my head like he does, along the crease behind the ear, and I lift my head and lick at his forearm. What happened, kid? he asks. Gestures can not tell. Can you acquire up? I try, and I scramble. My heart takes off, lunges ahead because no, I can not. I panic. I view I was only acting, nevertheless I certainly can not acquire up. Shit. Life imitating art. Take it easy, kid, he says, pressing down on my chest to quiet me. I've got you. He lifts me easily, he cradles me, and I can smell the day on him. I can smell all he is done. His work, the auto shop where he is behind the counter all day, standing, making nice with the clients who yell at him because their BMWs don't work proper and it costs also much to fix them and that makes them mad so they have to yell at someone. I can smell his lunch. He went to the British buffet he likes. All you can eat. It's cost-effective, and sometimes he takes a container with him and steals additional parts of the tandoori chicken and yellow rice and has it for dinner, also. I can smell beer. He stopped somewhere. The British restaurant up the hill. I can smell the tortilla chips on his breath. Now it makes sense. Usually, I am superb with elapsed time, nevertheless I was not paying attention because of my emoting. 4 the art of racing in the rain He places me gently in the tub and turns on the handheld shower thing and says, Easy, Enz. He says, Sorry I was late. I should have come straight home, nevertheless the guys from work insisted. I told Craig I was quitting, and . . . He trails off, and I realise that he thinks that my accident was because he was late. Oh, no. That's not how it was meant. It's so hard to communicate because there are so plenty moving parts. There's presentation and there's interpretation and they are so dependent on each other it makes things very difficult. I did not want him to feel inferior about this. I wanted him to see the apparant, that it's ok for him to let me proceed. He's been going through so much, and he is finally through it. He requirements to not have me around to worry about anymore. He requirements me to complimentary him to be brilliant. He is so brilliant. He shines. He's beautiful with his hands that grab things and his tongue that says things and the method he stands and chews his food for so long, mashing it into a paste before he swallows. I will miss him and small Zo, and I know they will miss me. But I can not let sentimentality cloud my big plan. After this happens, Denny will be complimentary to live his life, and I will return to earth in a new form, as a man, and I will come by him and shake his hand and comment on how talented he is, and then I will wink at him and say, Enzo says hello, and turn and walk fast away as he calls after me, Do I know you? He will call, Have we met before? After the bath he cleans the kitchen floor while I see; 5 GARTH STEIN he gives me my food, which I eat also fast again, and sets me up in front of the TV while he prepares his dinner. How about a tape, he says. Yes, a tape, I reply, nevertheless of course, he doesn't hear me. He puts in a video from one of his races and he turns it on and we see. It's one of my favourites. The racetrack is dry for the pace lap, and then only after the green flag is waved, indicating the beginning of the race, there is a wall of rain, a torrential downpour that engulfs the track, and all the cars around him spin out of control into the fields and he drives through them as if the rain did not drop on him, like he had a magic spell that cleared water from his path. Just like the 1993 Grand Prix of Europe, when Senna passed four cars on the opening lap, four of the optimal championship drivers in their championship carsSchumacher, Wendlinger, Hill, Prostand he passed them all. Like he had a magic spell. Denny is as superb as Ayrton Senna. But none sees him because he has responsibilities. He has his daughter, Zo, and he had his wife, Eve, who was sick until she died, and he has me. And he lives in Seattle when he should live somewhere else. And he has a job. But sometimes when he goes away he comes back with a trophy and he shows it to me and tells me all about his races and how he shone on the track and taught those other drivers in Sonoma or Texas or MidOhio what driving in wet weather is certainly about. When the tape is above he says, Let's proceed out, and I struggle to acquire up. 6 the art of racing in the rain He lifts my butt into the air and centers my weight above my legs and then I am ok. To display him, I rub my muzzle against his thigh. There's my Enzo. We leave our apartment; the night is sharp, cool and breezy and transparent. We only proceed down the block and back because my hips hurt so much, and Denny sees. Denny knows. When we acquire back, he gives me my bedtime cookies and I curl into my bed on the floor next to his. He selects up the phone and dials. Mike, he says. Mike is Denny's friend from the shop where they both work behind the counter. Customer relations, they call it. Mike's a small guy with friendly hands that are pink and frequently washed clean of smell. Mike, can you cover for me tomorrow? I have to take Enzo to the vet again. We've been going to the vet a lot recently to acquire alternative medicines that are supposed to assist make me more adequate, nevertheless they don't, certainly. And since they don't, and considering all that went on yesterday, I've set the Master Plan in motion. Denny stops talking for a small, and when he beginnings again, his voice does not sound like his voice. It's rough, like when he has a cool or allergies. I don't know, he says. I am not sure it's a round trip visit. I may not be able to form words, nevertheless I understand them. 7 GARTH STEIN And I am surprised by what he said, even though I set it up. For a moment, I am surprised my plan is working. It is the optimal thing for all involved, I know. It's the proper thing for Denny to transport out. He's done so much for me, my all life. I owe him the gift of setting him complimentary. Letting him ascend. We had a superb dash, and now it's above; what's gross with that? I close my eyes and listen vaguely in a half sleep as he does the things he does before he sleeps each night. Brushing and squirting and splashing. So plenty things. People and their rituals. They cling to things so hard sometimes. 8 2 He picked me out of a pile of puppies, a tangled, rolling mass of paws and ears and tails, behind a barn in a smelly field close a town in eastern Washington called Spangle. I don't remember much about where I came from, nevertheless I remember my mother, a heavy bitch of a laboratory with pendulous teats that swung to and fro as my littermates and I chased them down from across the yard. Honestly, our mother did not seem to like us much, and she was fairly indifferent to whether we ate or starved. She seemed relieved whenever one of us left. One less yipping mammal tracking her down to bleed her of her milk. I not ever knew my father. The people on the farm told Denny that he was a shepherd-poodle mix, nevertheless I don't believe it. I not ever saw a dog that looked like that on the farm, GARTH STEIN and while the lady was nice, the alpha man was a mean bastard who would see you in the eyes and lie even if telling the truth would serve him better. He expounded at length on the relative intelligence of dog breeds, and he firmly believed that shepherds and poodles were the clever ones, and so would be more desirableand more valuable when bred back to a laboratory for temperament. All a bunch of junk. Everyone knows that shepherds and poodles aren't particularly clever. They're responders and reactours, not separate thinkers. Especially the blue-eyed sheep dogs from Down Under that people make such a fuss above when they grasp a Frisbee. Sure, they are clever and fast, nevertheless they don't think outside the box; they are all about convention. I am sure my father was a terrier. Because terriers are problem solvers. They'll do what you tell them, nevertheless only if it happens to be in line with what they wanted to do anyway. There was a terrier like that on the farm. An Airedale. Big and brown-black and tough. No one messed with him. He did not stay with us in the gated field behind the house. He stayed in the barn down the hill by the creek where the men went to fix their tractours. But sometimes he would come up the hill, and when he did, all steered transparent. Word in the field was he was a fighting dog the alpha man kept separate because he would kill a dog for sniffing in his direction. He'd rip the fur from a nape because of a lazy glance. And when a bitch was in heat, he would mount her superb and proceed about his business without a view about who was watching or who 10 the art of racing in the rain cared. I've often wondered if he sired me. I have his brownblack coloring and my coat is slightly wiry, and people frequently comment that I must be part terrier. I like to think I came from a determined gene pool. I remember the heat on the day I left the farm. Every day was hot in Spangle, and I view the world was only a hot place because I not ever knew what cool was about. I had not ever seen rain, did not know much about water. Water was the stuff in the buckets that the older dogs drank, and it was the stuff the alpha man sprayed out of the hose and into the faces of dogs who might want to select a fight. But the day Denny arrived was exceptionally hot. My littermates and I were tussling around like we frequently did, and a hand reached into the pile and found my scruff and suddenly I was dangling high in the air. This one, a man said. It was my first glimpse of the rest of my life. He was slender, with long and lean muscles. Not a big man, nevertheless assertive. He had keen, cool blue eyes. His choppy hair and short, scruffy beard were dark and wiry, like a British terrier. The select of the litter, the lady said. She was nice; I frequently liked it when she cuddled us in her soft lap. The sweetest. The optimal. We were thinkin' a keepin' 'im, the alpha man said, stepping up with his big boots caked with mud from the creek where he was patching a fence. That was the line he frequently used. Hell, I was a pup only a dozen weeks old, and 11 GARTH STEIN I would already heard that line a bunch of times. He used it to acquire more money. Will you let him proceed? Fur a price, the alpha man said, squinting at the sky, bleached a pale blue by the sun. Fur a price. 12 3 Very gently. Like there are eggshells on your pedals, Denny frequently says, and you don't want to smash them. That's how you drive in the rain. When we see videos togetherwhich we've done ever since the very first day I met himhe tells these things to me. (To me!) Balance, anticipation, patience. These are all vital. Peripheral vision, seeing things you've not ever seen before. Kinesthetic sensation, driving by the seat of the trousers. But what I've frequently liked optimal is when he talks about having no memory. No memory of things he would done only a second before. Good or inferior. Because memory is time folding back on itself. To remember is to disengage from the present. In order to reach any kind of success in automobile racing, a driver must not ever remember. GARTH STEIN Which is why drivers compulsively record their all transport, their all race, with cockpit cameras, in-car video, data mapping; a driver cannot be a see to his possess greatness. This is what Denny says. He says racing is doing. It is being a part of a moment and being aware of none else nevertheless that moment. Reflection must come at a later time. The big champion Julian SabellaRosa has said, When I am racing, my mind and my body are working so fast and so well together, I must be sure not to think, or else I will certainly make a mistake. 14 4 Denny moved me far from the farm in Spangle, to a Seattle neighborhood called Leschi where he lived in a small apartment he rented on Lake Washington. I did not appreciate apartment living much, as I was used to wide-open spaces and I was very much a puppy; still, we had a balcony that overlooked the lake, which gave me pleasure since I am part water dog, on my mother's side. I grew fast, and amid that first year, Denny and I forged a deep fondness for each other as well as a feeling of trust. Which is why I was surprised when he fell in like with Eve so fast. He brought her home and she was sweet smelling, like him. Full of fermented drinks that manufactured them both act funny, they were hanging on each other like they had also plenty GARTH STEIN clothes between them, and they were pulling at each other, tugging, biting lips and jabbing fingers and yanking at hair, all elbows and toes and saliva. They fell onto the bed and he fastened her and she said, The field is fertilebeware! And he said, I embrace the fertility. And he plowed the field until it grasped the sheets in its fists, arched its back, and cried out with joy. When he got up to splash in the bathroom, she patted my head, which hovered low to the floor, me still being immature at only above a year old, and a small bit intimidated by all the screaming. She said, You don't mind if I like him, also, do you? I will not come between you. I respected her for asking, nevertheless I knew that she would come between us, and I found her preemptive denial to be disingenuous. I tried not to act off-putting because I knew how infatuated Denny was with her. But I admit I was less than embracing of her presence. And because of that, she was less than embracing of me. We were both satellites orbiting Denny's sun, struggling for gravitational supremacy. Of course, she had the advantage of her tongue and her thumbs, and when I watched her kiss and fondle him sometimes she would glance at me and wink as if to gloat: Look at my thumbs! See what they can transport out! 16 5 Monkeys have thumbs. Practically the dumbest species on the planet, next to the duck-billed platypus, who make their dens underwater even though they breathe the air. The platypus is horribly dumb, nevertheless is only slightly dumber than a monkey. Yet monkeys have thumbs. Those monkey-thumbs were meant for dogs. Give me my thumbs, you fucking monkeys! (I like the Al Pacino remake of Scarface, very much, though it does not compare to the Godfather movies, which are superb.) I see also much TV. When Denny goes away in the mornings, he turns it on for me, and it's become a habit. He warned me not to see all day, nevertheless I transport out. Fortunately, he knows I like cars, so he lets me see a lot of Speed Channel. The normal races are the optimal, and I particularly like For- GARTH STEIN mula One. I like NASCAR, also, nevertheless I favour it when they race on the road circuits. While racing is my favourite, Denny told me it was superb for me to have assortment in my life, so he often puts on other channels, which I appreciate very much as well. Sometimes if I am watching the History Channel or the Discovery Channel or PBS or even one of the kids' channelswhen Zo was small I would stop up spending half the day trying to pry goofy jingles out of my brainI learn about other cultures and other methods of life, and then I beginning thinking about my possess place in the world and what makes sense and what does not. They talk a lot about Darwin; pretty much all educational channel has a few kind of display about evolution at a few point, and it's normally certainly well view out and researched. However, I don't understand why people insist on pitting the views of evolution and creation against each other. Why can't they see that spiritualism and science are one? That bodies evolve and souls evolve and the universe is a liquid place that marries them both in a wonderful package called a human being. What's gross with that view? The scientific theorists proceed on and on about how monkeys are the closest evolutionary relative of people. But that's speculation. Based on what? Based on the fact that certain old craniums have been found to be similar to modern man's? What does that demonstrate? Based on the fact that a few primates walk on two feet? Being bipedal is not even an advantage. Look at the human foot, full of bent toes and cal18 the art of racing in the rain cium deposits and pus draining from ingrown claws that aren't even hard enough to scratch at the earth. (And yet, how I yearn for the moment my soul inhabits one of these poorly designed bipedal bodies and I, also, think the health concerns of a man!) So what if man's body evolved from the monkeys? Whether he came from monkeys or fish is unimportant. The necessary view is that when the body became human enough, the first human soul slipped into it. I'll give you a theory: Man's closest relative is not the polythene suppliers manufacturersanzee, as the TV people believe, nevertheless is, as a matter of fact, the dog. Witness my logic: Case-in-Point #1: The Dew Claw It is my view that the so-called dew claw, which is often snipped off a dog's foreleg at an early age, is in reality evidence of a preemergent thumb. Further, I believe that men have systematically bred the thumb out of certain lines of dog through an elaborate process called picky breeding, simply in order to prevent dogs from evolving into dexterous, and so dangerous, mammals. I also believe that man's continued domestication (if you care to use that dumb euphemism) of dogs is motivated by fear: fear that dogs, left to evolve on their possess, would, as a matter of fact, develop thumbs and smaller tongues, and so would be superior to men, who are slow and cumbersome, 19 GARTH STEIN standing erect as they transport out. This is why dogs must live below the constant supervision of people, and are immediately put to death when found living on their possess. From what Denny has told me about the government and its inner workings, it is my view that this despicable plan was hatched in a back room of none other than the White House, probably by an evil adviser to a president of questionable proper and intellectual fortitude, and probably with the proper assessmentunfortunately, manufactured from a position of paranoia rather than of spiritual insightthat all dogs are progressively inclined about social issues. Case-in-Point #2: The Werewolf The full moon rises. The fog clings to the lowest branches of the spruce trees. The man steps out of the darkest corner of the forest and come bys himself transformed into . . . A monkey? I think not. 20 6 Her name was Eve, and at first I resented how she changed our lives. I resented the attention Denny paid to her small hands, her plump, round buttocks, her modest hips. The method he gazed into her soft green eyes, which peered out from below stylish strands of straight blond hair. Did I envy her engaging smile that eclipsed anything about her that might have been considered less than special? Perhaps I did. For she was a person, unlike me. She was well groomed. Unlike me. She was all I was not. I went for extended periods without a haircut or a bath, for instance; she bathed all day and had a special person do none else nevertheless colour her hair to Denny's liking. My nails grew also long and scratched the wood floor; she frequently attended to her nails with sticks and clippers and polishes to make sure they were the proper shape and size. GARTH STEIN Her attention to all detail of her appearance was reflected in her personality as well: she was an incredible organizer, fastidious in nature, constantly making lists and jotting down notes of things to be done or gotten or assembled, frequently creating what she called Honey-Do lists for Denny and me, so that our weekends were filled with trips to the Home Depot or waiting in line at the Disposal and Recycling Transfer Station in Georgetown. I did not like painting rooms and fixing doorknobs and washing screens. But Denny liked it, apparently, because the more she gave him to transport out, the more fast he completed his tasks so he could collect his reward, which normally included a lot of nuzzling and stroking. Soon after she moved into our apartment, they were married in a small wedding ceremony, which I attended along with a group of their closest friends and Eve's immediate family. Denny did not have any brothers or sisters to invite, and he explained his parents' absence simply by saying that they did not travel well. Eve's parents manufactured it transparent to all involved that the house in which the wedding took place, a charming small beach cottage on Whidbey Island, was owned by close friends of theirs who were not in attendance. I was allowed to participate only below strict rules: I was not to roam freely on the beach or swim in the bay, as I might track sand onto the expensive mahogany floors. And I was forced to urinate and defecate in a very specific location next to the recycling containers. Upon our return from Whidbey, I noticed that Eve 22 the art of racing in the rain moved through our apartment with a greater sense of authorship, and was much bolder in her actions to transport or replace things: towels, linens, and even furniture. She had entered our lives and changed all around. And yet, while I was unhappy with her intrusion, there was something about her that prevented me from mustering any proper anger. I believe that thing was her swollen belly. There was something about the effort it took for her to lie down on her side to rest, having removed her shirt and undergarments, the method her breasts fell only so across her chest as she lay on the bed. It reminded me of my possess mother at mealtime when she sighed and shrugged herself to the ground, lifting her leg to expose her nipples to us. These are the devices I use to feed you. Now eat! And while I greatly resented the attention Eve lavished on her unborn baby, in retrospect, I realise I had not ever given her a reason to lavish that same attention on me. Perhaps that is my regret: I loved how she was when she was pregnant, and yet I knew I could not ever be the origin of her affection in that method because I could not ever be her child. She devoted herself to the baby before it was even born. She touched it regularly through her tightly stretched skin. She sang to it and danced with it to music she played on the stereo. She learned to make it transport around by drinking orange juice, which she did frequently, explaining to me that the health magazines demanded she drink the juice for the folic acid, nevertheless she and I both knew she was doing it for the 23 GARTH STEIN kick. She once asked if I wanted to know what it felt like, and I did, so she held my face against her belly after she had drunk the acid, and I felt it transport. An elbow, I think, pushing out perversely, like something reaching out from the grave. It was hard for me to imagine exactly what was going on behind the curtain, inside Eve's magic sack where the small rabbit was being assembled. But I knew that what was inside of her was separate from her, and had a will of its possess and moved when it wanted toor when prodded by the acid and was beyond her control. I like the female sex. The life makers. It must be amazing to have a body that can transport an all creature inside. (I mean, other than a tapeworm, which I've had. That does not count as another life, certainly. That's a parasite and should not ever have been there in the first place.) The life that Eve had inside her was something she had manufactured. She and Denny had manufactured it together. I wished, at the time, that the baby would see like me. I remember the day the baby arrived. I had only reached adulthoodtwo years by calendar count. Denny was in Daytona, Florida, for the drive of his career. He had spent the all year soliciting sponsours, begging, pleading, hustling, until he got lucky and found the proper person in the proper hotel lobby to say, You've got balls, son. Call me tomorrow. Thus, he found his long-sought sponsour pounds and was able to buy a seat in a Porsche 993 Cup Car for the Rolex 24 Hours of Daytona. 24 the art of racing in the rain Endurance racing is not for the meek. Four drivers each spending six hours behind the wheel of a loud, great, challenging, and expensive race car is an exercise in coordination and determination. The 24 Hours of Daytona, which is broadcast on television, is as unpredictable as it is exciting. That Denny was presented with a chance to drive it in the same year that his daughter would be born was one of those coincidences that turn on interpretation: Eve was dismayed by the unlucky timing of the events; Denny celebrated the bounty of opportunity and the feeling that he had all he could possibly ask for. Still, the timing was off. On the day of the race, even though it was above a week before schedule, Eve felt the contractions and called the midwives, who invaded our home and fast took charge. Later that evening, as Denny was, no doubt, driving the circuit in Daytona and winning the race, Eve stood bent above the bed with two round ladies who helped her by holding her arms, and with a unpleasant bellow that seemed to last an hour, squirted out a small bloody blob of human tissue that wriggled spastically and then cried out. The ladies helped Eve into her bed and rested the small purple thing on her torso until the baby's searching mouth found Eve's nipple and began to suck. Could I have a small alone? Eve started. Of course, one of the ladies said, moving to the door. Come with us, puppy, the other lady said to me on her method out. 25 GARTH STEIN No Eve stopped them. He can stay. I could stay? Despite myself, I felt proud to be included in Eve's inner circle. The two ladies bustled off to take care of whatever they needed to take care of, and I watched in fascination as Eve suckled her new babe. After a few minutes, my attention drifted from the baby's first meal to Eve's face, and I saw that she was crying and I wondered why. She let her complimentary hand dangle to the bedside, her fingers close my muzzle. I hesitated. I did not want to presume she was beckoning me. But then her fingers polythene manufacturersd and her eyes caught mine, and I knew she was calling me. I bumped her hand with my nose. She lifted her fingers to the crown of my head and scratched, still crying, her baby still nursing. I know I told him to proceed, she said to me. I know that I insisted he proceed, I know. Tears ran down her cheeks. But I so wish he were here! I had no view what to transport out, nevertheless I knew not to transport. She needed me there. Will you promise to frequently keep safe her? she asked. She was not asking me. She was asking Denny, and I was merely Denny's surrogate. Still, I felt the obligation. I understood that, as a dog, I could not ever be as interactive with humanity as I truly desired. Yet, I realised at that moment, I could be something else. I could provide something of need to the people around me. I could comfort Eve when Denny was away. I could keep safe Eve's baby. And while I would frequently crave more, in a sense, I had found a place to start. 26 the art of racing in the rain The next day, Denny came home from Daytona, Florida, unhappy. His mood immediately changed when he held his small girl, whom they named Zo, not after me, nevertheless after Eve's grandmother. Do you see my small angel, Enz? he asked me. Did I see her? I practically birthed her! Denny skated carefully through the kitchen after he returned, sensing that the ice was very thin. Eve's parents, Maxwell and Trish, had been in the house since Zo was born, taking care of their daughter and their new baby granddaughter. I began calling them the Twins because they looked very much alike with the same shade of artificially colored hair, and because they frequently wore matching outfits: khaki trousers or polyester slacks partnered with sweaters or polo shirts. When one of them wore sunglasses, the other did, also. The same with Bermuda shorts and big socks pulled up to their knees. And because they both smelled of chemicals: plastics and petroleum-based hair products. From the moment they arrived, the Twins had been admonishing Eve for having her baby at home. They told her she was endangering her baby's welfare and that in these modern times, it was irresponsible to give birth anywhere nevertheless in the most prestigious of all hospitals with the most expensive of all doctours. Eve tried to tell to them that statistics showed exactly the opposite was true for a healthy mother, and that any signs of hurt would have been recognised early by her experienced team of licensed midwives, 27 GARTH STEIN nevertheless they refused to yield. Fortunately for Eve, Denny's arrival home meant the Twins could turn their attention away from her shortcomings and focus on his. That's a lot of inferior luck, Maxwell said to Denny as they stood in the kitchen. Maxwell was gloating; I could hear it in his voice. Do you acquire any of your money back? Trish asked. Denny was distraught, and I was not sure why until Mike came above later that night and he and Denny opened their beers together. It turned out that Denny was going to take the third stint in the car. The car had been running well, all going big. They were second in class and Denny would easily think the lead as the sunlight old and the night driving began. Until the driver who had the second stint stuffed the car into the wall on turn 6. He stuffed it when a Daytona Prototypea much faster carwas overtaking. First rule of racing: Never transport aside to let someone pass; make him pass you. But the driver on Denny's team moved above, and he hit the marbles, which is what they call the bits of rubber that shed off the tires and that collect on the track next to the established racing line. He hit the marbles and the rear stop snapped around; he plowed into the wall at pretty close to top speed, and the car shattered into a million small parts. The driver was unhurt, nevertheless the race was above for the team. And Denny, who had spent a year working for his moment to shine, found himself standing in the infield wearing the 28 the art of racing in the rain like race suit they had given him for the race with the sponsour patches all above it and his possess special helmet that he had fitted with all sorts of radio gear and vent adaptours and the special carbon fiber HANS device for protection, watching the opportunity of his lifetime acquire dragged off the track by the wrecker, strapped onto a flatbed, and driven off to salvage without his having sat in it for a single racing lap. And you don't acquire any of your money back, Mike said. I don't care about any of that, Denny said. I should have been here. She came early. You can not know what's going to happen before it happens. Yes, I can, Denny said. If I am any superb, I can. Anyway, Mike said, lifting his beer bottle, to Zo. To Zo, Denny echoed. To Zo, I said to myself. Whom I will frequently keep safe. 29 7 When it was only Denny and me, he used to make up to ten thousand pounds a month in his spare time by calling people on the telephone, like the commercial said. But after Eve became pregnant, Denny took his job behind the counter at the like auto shop that serviced only expensive British cars. Denny liked his proper job, nevertheless it ate up all of his complimentary time, and he and I did not acquire to spend our days together anymore. Sometimes on weekends, Denny taught at a high-performance driver's education program dash by one of the plenty car clubs in the areaBMW, Porsche, Alfa Romeoand he often took me to the track with him, which I enjoyed very much. He did not certainly like teaching at these events because he did not acquire to drive; he only had to sit in the passenger seat the art of racing in the rain and tell other people how to drive. And it hardly paid for the gas it cost him to acquire down to the track, he said. He fantasised about moving somewhereto Sonoma or Phoenix or Connecticut or Las Vegas, or even Europeand catching on with one of the big schools so he could drive more, nevertheless Eve said she did not think she could ever leave Seattle. Eve worked for a few big shopping clothing company because it provided us with money and health insurance, and also because she could buy clothes for the family at the employee discount. She went back to work a few months after Zo was born, even though she certainly wanted to stay home with her baby. Denny offered to give up his possess job to like Zo, nevertheless Eve said that was not practical; instead, she dropped Zo off at the day-care centre all morning and picked her up all night on her method home from work. With Denny and Eve working and Zo off at day care, I was left to my possess devices. For most of the dreary days I was alone in the apartment, wandering from room to room, from nap spot to nap spot, sometimes spending my hours doing none above staring out the window and timing the Metro buses that drove by on the street outside to see if I could decipher their schedule. I had not realised how much I enjoyed having all bustling around the house for those first few months of Zo's life. I had felt so much a part of something. I was an integral figure in Zo's entertainment: sometimes after a feeding, when she was awake and alert and strapped securely into her bouncy seat, Eve and 31 GARTH STEIN Denny would play Monkey in the Middle, throwing a ball of socks back and forth across the living room; I got to be the monkey. I leapt after the socks and then scrambled back to grasp them, and then danced like a four-legged clown to grasp them again. And when, against all odds, I reached the sock ball and batted it into the air with my snout, Zo would squeal and laugh; she would shake her legs with such force, the bouncy chair would scoot along the floor. And Eve, Denny, and I would collapse in a pile of laughter. But then all moved on and left me behind. I wallowed in the emptiness of my lonely days. I would stare out the window and try to picture Zo and me playing Enno-Fetch, a game I had invented nevertheless she later named, in which Denny or Eve would assist her roll a sock ball or fling one of her toys across the room, and I would push it back to her with my nose, and she would laugh and I would wag my tail, and then we would do it again. Until one day when a lucky accident happened that changed my life. Denny turned on the TV in the morning to check the weather report, and he forgot to turn the TV off. Let me tell you this: The Weather Channel is not about weather; it is about the world! It is about how weather affects us all, our all global economy, health, happiness, spirit. The channel delves with big detail into weather phenomena of all alternative kindshurricanes, cyclones, tornadoes, monsoons, hail, rain, polythene suppliers manufacturers stormsand they particularly delight in the confluence of multiple phenomena. Absolutely 32 the art of racing in the rain fascinating. So much so that when Denny returned from work that evening, I was still glued to the television. What are you watching? he asked when he came in, asked it as if I were Eve or Zo, as if it could not have been more normal to see me there or address me like that. But Eve was in the kitchen cooking dinner and Zo was with her; it was only me. I looked at him and then back to the TV, which was reviewing the day's leading event: flooding due to heavy rainstorms on the East Coast. The Weather Channel? he scoffed, snatching up the remote and changing the channel. Here. He changed it to Speed Channel. I had watched plenty of TV as I grew up, nevertheless only when a person was already watching: Denny and I enjoyed racing and the movie channels; Eve and I watched music videos and Hollywood gossip; Zo and I watched children's shows. (I tried to teach myself to read by studying Sesame Street, nevertheless it did not work. I achieved a degree of literacy, and I can still tell the contrast between pull and push on a door, nevertheless after I figured out the shapes of the letters, I could not grasp which sounds each letter manufactured and why.) But, suddenly, the view of watching television by myself entered my life! If I had been a cartoon, the lightbulb above my head would have illuminated. I barked excitedly when I saw cars racing on the screen. Denny laughed. Better, proper? Yes! Better! I stretched deeply, joyously, doing my optimal 33 GARTH STEIN downward-facing dog and wagging my tailboth gestures of happiness and approval. And Denny got it. I did not know you were a television dog, he said. I can leave it on for you amid the day, if you want. I want! I want! But you have to limit yourself, he said. I don't want to grasp you watching TV all day long. I am counting on you to be responsible. I am responsible! While I had learned a big offer up until that point in my lifeI was three years old alreadyonce Denny began leaving the TV on for me, my education certainly took off. With the tedium gone, time started moving fast again. The weekends, when we were all together, seemed short and filled with activity, and while Sunday nights were bittersweet, I took big comfort in knowing I had a week of television ahead. I was so immersed in my education, I suppose I lost count of the weeks, so I was surprised by the arrival of Zo's second birthday. Suddenly I was engulfed by a party in the apartment with a bunch of small kids she had met in the park and at her day-care centre. It was loud and crazy and all the children let me play with them and wrestle on the rug, and I let them dress me up with a hat and a sweat jacket and Zo called me her big brother. They got lemon cake all above the floor, and I got to be Eve's helper cleaning it up while Denny opened presents with the kids. I view it nice that 34 the art of racing in the rain Eve seemed so pleased cleaning up this mess, when she sometimes complained about cleaning the apartment when one of us manufactured a mess. She even teased me about my crumbcleaning skills and we raced, she with her Dustbuster and me with my tongue. After all had left and we had all completed our cleaning assignments, Denny had a surprise birthday present for Zo. He showed her a photograph that she looked at briefly and with small interest. But then he showed the same photograph to Eve, and it manufactured Eve cry. And then it manufactured her laugh and she hugged him and looked at the photo again and cried a few more. Denny picked up the photograph and showed it to me, and it was a photo of a house. Look at this, Enzo, he said. This is your new yard. Aren't you excited? I guess I was excited. Actually, I was kind of confused. I did not understand the implications. And then all started shoving things in boxes and scrambling around, and the next thing I knew, my bed was somewhere else entirely. The house was nice. It was a stylish small Craftsman like I would seen on This Old House, with two bedrooms and only one bathroom nevertheless with plenty of living space, situated very close to its neighbours on a hillside in the Central District. Many electrical wires draped from poles along the sidewalk outside, and while our house looked tidy and trim, a few doors down stood other houses with unkempt lawns and peeling paint and mossy roofs. 35 GARTH STEIN Eve and Denny were in like with the place. They spent almost the all first night there rolling around naked in all room except Zo's. When Denny came home from work, he would first say hello to the girls, then he would take me outside to the yard and throw the ball, which I happily retrieved. And then Zo got big enough that she would dash around and squeal while I pretended to chase her. And Eve would admonish her: Don't dash like that; Enzo will bite you. She did that frequently in the early years, doubt me like that. But one time, Denny turned on her fast and said: Enzo would not ever hurt herever! And he was proper. I knew I was alternative from other dogs. I had a certain willpower that was robust enough to overcome my more primal instincts. What Eve said was not out of line, as most dogs cannot assist themselves; they see an animal running and they track it and they proceed after it. But that sort of thing does not apply to me. Still, Eve did not know that, and I had no method of explaining it to her, so I not ever played rough with Zo. I did not want Eve to beginning worrying unnecessarily. Because I had already smelled it. When Denny was away and Eve fed me and she leaned down to give me my bowl of food and my nose was close her head, I had detected a inferior odor, like rotting wood, mushrooms, decay. Wet, soggy decay. It came from her ears and her sinuses. There was something inside Eve's head that did not belong. Given a facile tongue, I could have warned them. I could have alerted them to her condition long before they discov36 the art of racing in the rain ered it with their machines, their computers and super-vision scopes that can see inside the human head. They may think those machines are sophisticated, nevertheless as a matter of fact they are clunky and clumsy, totally reactive, based on a philosophy of symptom-driven medicine that is frequently a step late. My noseyes, my small black nose that is leathery and cute could smell the disease in Eve's brain long before even she knew it was there. But I had not a facile tongue. So all I could do was see and feel empty inside; Eve had assigned me to keep safe Zo no matter what, nevertheless none had been assigned to keep safe Eve. And there was none I could do to assist her. 37 8 One summer Saturday afternoon, after we had spent the morning at the beach at Alki swimming and eating fish and chips from Spud's, we returned to the house red and tired from the sun. Eve put Zo down for a nap; Denny and I sat in front of the TV to study. He put on a tape of an enduro he had been asked to codrive in Portland a few weeks earlier. It was an exciting race, eight hours long, in which Denny and his two co-drivers took turns behind the wheel in two-hour shifts, ultimately finishing first in class after Denny's eleventh-hour heroics, which included recovering from a close spin to overtake two class competitours. Watching a race entirely from in-car video is a big experience. It creates a wonderful sense of perspective the art of racing in the rain that is often lost in a television broadcast with its plenty cameras and cars to follow. Seeing a race from the cockpit of a single car gives a true feeling of what it's like to be a driver: the grip on the steering wheel, the dash, the track, and the glimpse through the rearview mirrour of other cars overtaking or being overtaken, the sense of isolation, the focus and determination that are necessary to win. Denny started the tape at the beginning of his last stint, with the track wet and the sky heavy with dark clouds that threatened more rain. We watched several laps in silence. Denny drove smoothly and almost alone, as his team had fallen behind after making the crucial decision to pull into the pits and switch to rain tires; other racing teams had predicted the rain would pass and dry track conditions would return, and so had gained above two laps on Denny's team. Yet the rain began again, which gave Denny a big advantage. Denny fast and easily passed cars from other classes: underpowered Miatas that darted through the turns with their superb balance; big-engine Vipers with their atrocious handling. Denny, in his fast and muscular Porsche Cup Car, slicing through the rain. How come you proceed through the turns so much faster than the other cars? Eve asked. I looked up. She stood in the doorway, watching with us. Most of them aren't running rain tires, Denny said. Eve took a seat on the sofa next to Denny. 39 GARTH STEIN But a few of them are. Yes, a few, he said. We watched. Denny got up behind a yellow Camaro at the stop of the back straight, and though it looked as if he could have taken the other car in turn 12, he held back. Eve noticed. Why did not you pass him? she asked. I know him. He's got also much power and would only pass me back on the straight. I think I take him in the next series of turns. Yes. At the next turn-in, Denny was inches from the Camaro's rear bumper. He rode tight through the double-apex proper-hand turn and then popped out at the exit to take the inside line for the next turn, a fast left, and he zipped proper by. This part of the track is certainly slick in the rain, he said. He has to back method off. By the time he acquires his grip back, I am out of his reach. On the back straight again, the headlights illuminating the turn markers against a sky that was still not absolutely dark, the Camaro could be seen in Denny's panoramic racing rearview mirrour, fading into the background. Did he have rain tires? Eve asked. I think so. But his car was not install proper. Still. You're driving like the track is not wet, and all else is driving like it is. Turn 12 and blasting down the straight, we could see 40 the art of racing in the rain brake lights of the competition flicker ahead; Denny's next victims. That which you manifest is before you, Denny said softly. What? Eve asked. When I was nineteen, Denny said after a moment, at my first driving school down at Sears Point, it was raining and they were trying to teach us how to drive in the rain. After the instructours were finished explaining all their secrets, all the students were totally confused. We had no view what they were talking about. I looked above at the guy next to meI remember him, he was from United Kingdom and he was very fast. Gabriel Flouret. He smiled and he said: That which you manifest is before you.' Eve stuck out her lower lip and squinted at Denny. And then all manufactured sense, she said jokingly. That's proper, Denny said seriously. On the TV, the rain did not stop; it kept coming. Denny's team had manufactured the proper selection; other teams were pulling off into the hot pits to change to rain tires. Drivers are afraid of the rain, Denny told us. Rain amplifies your mistakes, and water on the track can make your car handle unpredictably. When something unpredictable happens you have to react to it; if you're reacting at speed, you're reacting also late. And so you should be afraid. I am afraid only watching it, Eve said. If I intentionally make the car do something, then I can 41 GARTH STEIN predict what it's going to transport out. In other words, it's only unpredictable if I am not . . . possessing . . . it. So you spin the car before the car spins itself ? she asked. That's it! If I initiate the actionif I acquire the car a small loosethen I know it's going to happen before it happens. Then I can react to it before even the car knows it's happening. And you can do that? Dashing past other cars on the TV screen, his rear stop suddenly stepped out, his car got sideways nevertheless his hands were already turning to proper, and instead of his car snapping around into a full spin, he was off again, leaving the rest behind. Eve sighed in relief, held her hand to her forehead. Sometimes, Denny said. But all drivers spin. It comes from pushing the limits. But I am working on it. Always working on it. And I had a superb day. She sat with us another small, and then she smiled at Denny almost reluctantly and stood up. I like you, she said. I like all of you, even your racing. And I know on a few level that you are absolutely proper about all this. I only don't think I could ever do it myself. She went off into the kitchen; Denny and I continued watching the cars on the video as they drove around and around the circuit drenched in darkness. I will not ever tire of watching tapes with Denny. He knows 42 the art of racing in the rain so much, and I have learned so much from him. He said none more to me; he continued watching his tapes. But my views turned to what he had only taught me. Such a simple view, yet so true: that which we manifest is before us; we are the creatours of our possess destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves. I considered how that view applied to my relationship with Eve. It was true that I carried a few resentment toward her for her involvement in our lives, and I know that she sensed that fact and protected herself by remaining aloof. And even though our relationship had changed greatly since Zo's arrival, there was still a distance between us. I left Denny at the TV and walked into the kitchen. Eve was preparing dinner, and she looked at me when I entered. Bored with the race? she asked casually. I was not bored. I could have watched the race all that day and all the next. I was manifesting something. I lay down close the refrigeratour, in a favourite spot of mine, and rested. I could tell she felt self-conscious with me there. Usually, if Denny was in the house, I spent my time by his side; that I had chosen to be with her now seemed to confuse her. She did not understand my intentions. But then she got rolling with dinner, and she forgot about me. First she started a few hamburger frying, which smelled superb. Then she washed a few lettuce and spun it dry. She 43 GARTH STEIN sliced apples. She added onions and garlic to a pot and then a can of tomatoes. And the kitchen was rich with the smell of food. The smell of it and the heat of the day manufactured me feel quite drowsy, so I must have nodded off until I felt her hands on me, until I felt her stroking my side, then scratching my belly, and I rolled above on my back to acknowledge her dominance; my reward was more of her comforting scratches. Sweet dog, she said to me. Sweet dog. She returned to her preparations, pausing only occasionally to rub my neck with her bare foot as she passed, which was not all that much, nevertheless meant a lot to me nonetheless. I had frequently wanted to like Eve as Denny loved her, nevertheless I not ever had because I was afraid. She was my rain. She was my unpredictable element. She was my fear. But a racer should not be afraid of rain; a racer should embrace the rain. I, alone, could manifest a change in that which was around me. By changing my mood, my energy, I allowed Eve to regard me differently. And while I cannot say that I am a master of my possess destiny, I can say that I have experienced a glimpse of mastery, and I know what I have to work toward. 44 9 A couple of years after we moved into the new house, something very unpleasant happened. Denny got a seat for a race at Watkins Glen. It was another enduro, nevertheless it was with a well-established team, and he did not have to come by all the sponsorship money for his seat. Earlier that spring he had gone to United Kingdom for a Formula Renault testing program. It was an expensive program he could not afford; he told Mike his parents paid for it as a gift, nevertheless I had my doubts. His parents lived very far away in a small town, and they had not ever visited in throughout I had been there. Not for the wedding, Zo's birth, or anything. No matter. Wherever the funding came from, Denny had attended this program, and he had kicked ass because it was in United Kingdom in the spring when it rains. When he told Eve about it, he said that one of the scouts who attend these things approached him in the GARTH STEIN paddock after a session and said, Can you drive as fast in the dry as you can in the wet? And Denny looked him straight in the eyes and replied, simply, Try me. That which you manifest is before you. The scout offered Denny a tryout, and Denny went away for two weeks. Testing and tuning and practicing. It was a big offer. He did so well, they offered him a seat in the enduro race at Watkins Glen. When he first left for New York, we all grinned at each other because we could not wait to see the race on Speed Channel. It's so exciting. Eve would giggle. Daddy's a professional race car driver! And Zo, whom I like very much and would not hesitate to sacrifice my possess life to keep safe, would cheer and hop into her small race car they kept in the living room and drive around in circles until we were all dizzy and then throw her hands into the air and proclaim, I am the champion! I got so caught up in the excitement, I was doing idiotic dog things like digging up the lawn. Balling myself up and then stretching out long and thin on the floor with my legs straight and my back arched and letting them scratch my belly. And chasing things. I chased! It was the optimal of times. Really. And then it was the worst of times. Race day came, and Eve woke up with a darkness upon her. A hurt so insufferable she stood in the kitchen in the 46 the art of racing in the rain early hours, before Zo was awake, and vomited with big intensity into the sink. She vomited as if she were turning herself inside out. I don't know what's gross with me, Enzo, she said. And she rarely spoke to me candidly like that. Like how Denny talks to me, as if I am his true friend, his soul mate. The last time she had talked to me like that was when Zo was born. But this time she did talk to me like I was her soul mate. She asked, What's gross with me? She knew I could not reply. Her question was totally rhetorical. That's what I found so frustrating about it: I had a reply. I knew what was gross, nevertheless I had no method to tell her, so I pushed at her thigh with my muzzle. I nosed in and buried my face between her legs. And I waited there, afraid. I feel like someone's crushing my skull, she said. I could not reply. I had no words. There was none I could transport out. Someone's crushing my skull, she repeated. And fast she gathered a few things while I watched. She shoved Zo's clothes in a bag and a few of her possess and toothbrushes. All so fast. And she roused Zo and stuffed her small kid-feet into her small-kid sneakers andbang the door slammed shut andsnick, snickthe deadbolt was thrown and they were gone. And I was not gone. I was there. I was still there. 47 10 Ideally, a driver is a master of all that is around him, Denny says. Ideally, a driver controls the car so absolutely that he corrects a spin before it happens, he anticipates all possibilities. But we don't live in an optimal world. In our world, surprises sometimes happen, mistakes happen, incidents with other drivers happen, and a driver must react. When a driver reacts, Denny says, it's necessary to remember that a car is only as superb as its tires. If the tires lose traction, none else matters. Horsepower, torque, braking. All is moot when a skid is initiated. Until speed is scrubbed by superb, old-fashioned friction and the tires regain traction, the driver is at the mercy of momentum. And momentum is a great force of nature. It is necessary for the driver to understand this view the art of racing in the rain and override his normal inclinations. When the rear of a car steps out, the driver may panic and lift his foot off the acceleratour. If he does, he will throw the weight of the car toward the front wheels, the rear stop will snap around, and the car will spin. A superb driver will try to grasp the spin by turning wheels in the direction the car is moving; he may succeed. However, at a critical point, the skid has completed its mission, which was to scrub speed from a car going also fast. Suddenly the tires come by grip, and the driver has traction unfortunately for him, with his front wheels turned sharply in the gross direction. This induces a counterspin, as there is no balance to the car whatsoever. Thus, the spin in one direction, when overcorrected, becomes a spin in the other direction, and the secondary spin is much faster and more dangerous. If, nevertheless, at the very first moment his tires began to smash complimentary, our driver had been experienced enough to resist his instinctive reaction to lift, he might have been able to apply his knowledge of vehicle behaviour and, instead, increase the pressure on the acceleratour, and at the same time ease out on the steering wheel ever so slightly. The increase in acceleration would have pushed his rear tires onto the track and settled his car. Relaxing the steering would have lessened the lateral g-forces at work. The spin would so have been corrected, nevertheless our driver would then have to deal with the secondary problem his correction has created: 49 GARTH STEIN by increasing the radius of the turn, he has put himself at risk of running off the track. Alas! Our driver is not where he had hoped to be! Yet he is still in control of his car. He is still able to act in a positive manner. He still can create an ending to his story in which he completes the race without incident. And, perhaps, if his manifesting is superb, he will win. 50 11 When I was locked in the house suddenly and firmly, I did not panic. I did not overcorrect or freeze. I fast and carefully took stock of the situation and understood these things: Eve was ill, and the illness was possibly affecting her judgment, and she likely would not return for me; Denny would be home on the third day, after two nights. I am a dog, and I know how to fast. It's a part of the genetic background for which I have such contempt. When God gave men big brains, he took away the pads on their feet and manufactured them susceptible to salmonella. When he denied dogs the use of thumbs, he gave them the ability to survive without food for extended periods. While a thumbone thumb!would have been very helpful at that time, enable- GARTH STEIN ing me to turn a dumb doorknob and escape, the second optimal tool, and the one at my disposal, was my ability to proceed without nourishment. For three days I took care to ration the toilet water. I wandered around the house sniffing at the crack below the pantry door and fantasising about a big bowl of my kibble, scooping up the occasional errant dust-covered Cheerio Zo had dropped in a corner somewhere. And I urinated and defecated on the mat by the back door, next to the laundry machines. I did not panic. During the second night, approximately forty hours into my solitude, I think I began to hallucinate. Licking at the legs of Zo's high chair where I had discovered a few remnants of yogurt spilled long ago, I inadvertently sparked my stomach's digestive juices to life with an unpleasant groan, and I heard a sound coming from her bedroom. When I investigated, I saw something terrible and unpleasant. One of her stuffed animal toys was moving about on its possess. It was the zebra. The stuffed zebra that had been sent to her by her paternal grandparents, who may have been stuffed animals themselves for all that we saw them in Seattle. I not ever cared for that zebra, as it was something of my rival for Zo's affection. Frankly, I was surprised to see it in the house, since it was one of Zo's favourites and she carted it around at length and even slept with it, wearing small grooves in its coat only below the animal's velveteen head. I found it hard to believe Eve had not grabbed it when she 52 the art of racing in the rain threw together their bag, nevertheless I guess she was so freaked out or in such hurt that she overlooked the zebra. The now-living zebra said none to me at all, nevertheless when it saw me it began a dance, a twisting, jerky ballet, which culminated with the zebra repeatedly thrusting its gelded groin into the face of an innocent Barbie doll. That manufactured me quite angry, and I growled at the molester zebra, nevertheless it simply smiled and continued its assault, this time picking on a stuffed frog, which it fastened from behind and rode bareback, its hoof in the air like a bronco rider, yelling out, Yee-haw! Yee-haw! I stalked the bastard as it abused and humiliated each of Zo's toys with big malice. Finally, I could take no more and I moved in, teeth bared for attack, to stop the brutal burlesque once and for all. But before I could acquire the demented zebra in my fangs, it stopped dancing and stood on its hind legs before me. Then it reached down with its forelegs and tore at the seam that ran down its belly. Its possess seam! It ripped the seam open until it was able to reach in and tear out its possess stuffing. It continued dismantling itself, seam by seam, handful by handful, until it expelled whatever demon's blood had brought it to life and was none above a pile of material and stuffing that undulated on the floor, beating like a heart ripped from a chest, slowly, slower, and then none. Traumatised, I left Zo's room, hoping that what I had seen was in my mind, a vision driven by the lack of glucose 53 GARTH STEIN in my blood, nevertheless knowing, somehow, that it was not a vision; it was true. Something terrible had happened. The following afternoon, Denny returned. I heard the taxi pull up, and I watched him unload his bags and walk them up to the back door. I did not want to seem also excited to see him, and yet at the same time I was concerned about what I had done to the doormat, so I gave a couple of small barks to alert him. Through the window, I could see the see of surprise on his face. He took out his keys and opened the door, and I tried to block him, nevertheless he came in also fast and the mat manufactured a squishy sound. He looked down and gingerly hopped into the room. What the hell? What are you doing here? He glanced around the kitchen. Nothing was out of place, none was amiss, except me. Eve? he called out. But Eve was not there. I did not know where she was, nevertheless she was not with me. Are they home? he asked me. I did not reply. He picked up the phone and dialed. Are Eve and Zo still at your house? he asked without saying hello. Can I speak to Eve? After a moment, he said, Enzo is here. He said, I am trying to wrap my head around it myself. You left him here? He said, This is insane. How could you not remember that your dog is in the house? 54 the art of racing in the rain He said, He's been here the all time? He said very angrily, Shit! And then he hung up the phone and shouted in frustration, a big long shout that was very loud. He looked at me after that and said, I am so pissed off. He walked through the house fast. I did not follow him; I waited by the back door. A small later he returned. This is the only place you used? he asked, pointing at the mat. Good boy, Enzo. Good work. He got a waste bag out of the pantry and scooped the sopping mat into it, tied it closed, and put it on the back porch. He mopped up the area close the door. You must be starving. He filled my water bowl and gave me a few kibble, which I ate also fast and did not appreciate, nevertheless at least it filled the empty space in my stomach. In silence, fuming, he watched me eat. And very soon, Eve and Zo arrived on the back porch. Denny threw open the door. Unbelievable, he said bitterly. You are unbelievable. I was sick, Eve said, stepping into the house with Zo hiding behind her. I was not thinking. He could have died. He did not die. He could have died, Denny said. I've not ever heard of anything so dumb. Careless. Totally unaware. I was sick! Eve snapped at him. I was not thinking! 55 GARTH STEIN You don't think, people die. Dogs die. I can not do this anymore, she cried, standing there shaking like a thin tree on a windy day. Zo scurried around her and disappeared into the house. You frequently proceed away, and I have to take care of Zo and Enzo all by myself, and I can not do it! It's also much! I can barely take care of myself! You should have called Mike or taken him to a kennel or something! Don't try to kill him. I did not try to kill him, she whispered. I heard weeping and looked above. Zo stood in the door to the hallway, crying. Eve pushed past Denny and went to Zo, kneeling before her. Oh, baby, we are sorry we are fighting. We'll stop. Please don't cry. My animals, Zo whimpered. What happened to your animals? Eve led Zo by the hand down the hall. Denny followed them. I stayed where I was. I was not going close that room where the dancing sex-freak zebra had been. I did not want to see it. Suddenly, I heard thundering footsteps. I cowered by the back door as Denny hurtled through the kitchen toward me. He was puffed up and angry and his eyes locked on me and his jaw clenched tight. You dumb dog, he growled, and he grabbed the back of my neck, taking a big fistful of my fur and jerking. I went limp, afraid. He'd not ever treated me like this before. 56 the art of racing in the rain He dragged me through the kitchen and down the hall, into Zo's room where she sat, stunned, on the floor in the middle of a big mess. Her dolls, her animals, all torn to shreds, eviscerated, a perfect trouble. Total carnage. I could only think that the evil demon zebra had reassembled itself and destroyed the other animals after I had left. I should have eliminated the zebra when I had my chance. I should have eaten it, even if it had killed me. Denny was so angry that his anger filled up the all room, the all house. Nothing was as big as Denny's anger. He reared up and roared, and with his big hand, he struck me on the side of the head. I toppled above with a yelp, hunkering as close to the ground as potential. Bad dog! he bellowed and he raised his hand to hit me again. Denny, no! Eve cried. She rushed to me and covered me with her possess body. She protected me. Denny stopped. He would not hit her. No matter what. Just as he would not hit me. He had not hit me, I know, even though I could feel the hurt of the blow. He had hit the demon, the evil zebra, the dark creature that came into the house and possessed the stuffed animal. Denny believed the evil demon was in me, nevertheless it was not. I saw it. The demon had possessed the zebra and left me at the bloody scene with no voice to defend myselfI had been framed. We'll acquire new animals, baby, Eve said to Zo. We'll proceed to the store tomorrow. As gently as I could, I slunk toward Zo, the unhappy small 57 GARTH STEIN girl on the floor, surrounded by the rubble of her fantasy world, her chin tucked into her chest, tears on her cheeks. I felt her hurt because I knew her fantasy world intimately, as she allowed me to see the truth of it, and often included me in it. Through our role-playingdumb games with significant telltalesI saw what she view about who she certainly was, her place in life. How she worshipped her father and frequently hoped to please her mother. How she credible me nevertheless was afraid when I manufactured faces at her that were also expressive and defied what she would learned from the adult-driven World Order that denies animals the process of view. I crawled to her on my elbows and placed my nose next to her thigh, tanned from the summer sun. And I raised my eyebrows slightly as if to ask if she could ever forgive me for not protecting her animals. She waited a long time to give me her reply, nevertheless she finally gave it. She placed her hand on my head and let it rest there. She did not scratch me. It would be a while before she allowed herself to do that. But she did touch me, which meant she forgave me for what had happened, though the hurt was still also raw and the hurt was still also big for her to forget. Later, after all had eaten and Zo was put to bed in her room that had been cleaned of the carnage, I found Denny sitting on the porch steps with a drink of hard liquor, which I view was strange because he hardly ever drank hard liquor. I approached cautiously, and he noticed. 58 the art of racing in the rain It's ok, boy, he said. He patted the step next to him and I went to him. I sniffed his wrist and took a tentative lick. He smiled and rubbed my neck. I am certainly sorry, he said. I lost my mind. The patch of lawn behind our house was not big, nevertheless it was nice in the evening. It was rimmed by a dirt strip covered with sweet-smelling cedar chips where they planted flowers in the spring, and they had a bush in the corner that manufactured flowers that attracted the bees and manufactured me nervous whenever Zo played close it, nevertheless she not ever got stung. Denny finished his drink with a long swallow and shivered involuntarily. He manufactured a bottle from nowhereI was surprised I had not noticed itand poured himself another. He stood up and took a couple of steps and stretched to the sky. We got first place, Enzo. Not in class.' We took first place overall. You know what that means? My heart jumped. I knew what it meant. It meant that he was the champion. It meant he was the optimal! It means a seat in a touring car next season, that's what it means, Denny said to me. I got an offer from a proper, live racing team. Do you know what an offer is? I loved it when he talked to me like that. Dragging out the drama. Ratcheting up the anticipation. I've frequently found big pleasure in the narrative tease. But then, I am a dramatist. For me, a superb story is all about setting up expectations and delivering on them in an exciting and surprising method. 59 GARTH STEIN Getting an offer means I can drive if I come up with my share of sponsorship money for the seasonwhich is efficient and almost attainableand if I am willing to spend the better part of six months away from Eve and Zo and you. Am I willing to do that? I did not say anything because I was torn. I knew I was Denny's biggest fan and most steadfast supporter in his racing. But I also felt something like what Eve and Zo must have felt whenever he went away: a hollow pit in my stomach at the view of his absence. He must have been able to read my mind, because he gulped at his glass and said, I don't think so, either. Which was what I was thinking. I can not believe she left you like that, he said. I know she had a virus, nevertheless still. Did he certainly believe that, or was he lying to himself ? Or maybe he only believed it because Eve wanted him to believe it. No matter. Had I been a person, I could have told him the truth about Eve's condition. It was a inferior virus, he said more to himself than to me. And she could not think. And suddenly I was unsure: had I been a person, had I been able to tell him the truth, I am not sure he would have wanted to hear it. He groaned and sat back down and filled his glass again. I am taking those stuffed animals out of your allowance, he said with a chuckle. He looked at me then, took my chin with his hand. 60 the art of racing in the rain I like you, boy, he said. And I promise I'll not ever do that again. No matter what. I am certainly sorry. He was blathering, he was drunk. But it manufactured me feel so much like for him, also. You're tough, he said. You can do three days like that because you're one tough dog. I felt proud. I know you'd not ever do anything deliberately to hurt Zo, he said. I laid my head on his leg and looked up at him. Sometimes I think you in reality understand me, he said. It's like there's a person inside there. Like you know all. I transport out, I said to myself. I transport out. 61 12 Eve's condition was elusive and unpredictable. One day she would suffer a headache of crushing magnitude. Another day, debilitating nausea. A third would open with dizziness and stop with a dark and angry mood. And these days were not ever linked together consecutively. Between them would be days or even weeks of relief, life as normal. And then Denny would acquire a call at work, and he would dash to Eve's assistance, drive her home from her job, impose on a friend to follow in her car, and spend the rest of the day watching helplessly. The intense and arbitrary nature of Eve's affliction was far beyond Denny's grasp. The wailings, the dramatic screaming fits, the falling on the floor in fits of anguish. These are things that only dogs and women understand because we tap into the hurt directly, we connect to hurt directly from its origin, and so it is at once brilliant and brutal and transparent, the art of racing in the rain like white-hot metal spraying out of a fire hose, we can like the aesthetic while taking the worst of it straight in the face. Men, on the other hand, are all filters and deflectours and timed release. For men, it's like athlete's foot: spray the special spray on it, they say, and it goes away. They have no view that the manifestation of their afflictionthe fungus between their hairy toesis merely a symptom, an indication of a systemic problem. A candida bloom in their bowels, for instance, or a few other upset to their system. Suppressing the symptom does none nevertheless force the true problem to fast itself on a deeper level at a few other time. Go see a doctour, he said to her. Get a few medication. And she howled to the moon in reply. He not ever understood, as I did, what she meant when she said that medication would only mask the hurt, not make it proceed away, and what's the point of that. He not ever understood when she said that if she went to a doctour, the doctour would only design a disease that would tell why he could not assist her. And there was so much time between episodes. There was so much hope. Denny was frustrated by his impotence, and in that regard, I could understand his point of view. It's frustrating for me to be unable to speak. To feel that I have so much to say, so plenty methods I can assist, nevertheless I am locked in a soundproof box, a game display isolation booth from which I can see out and I can hear what's going on, nevertheless they not ever turn on my microphone and they not ever let me out. It might drive a person mad. It certainly has driven plenty a dog mad. The 63 GARTH STEIN superb dog that would not ever hurt a soul nevertheless is found one day having eaten the face of his master as she slept deeply below the influence of sleeping pills? There was none gross with that dog except that his mind finally snapped. As unpleasant as it sounds, it happens; it's on the TV news regularly. Myself, I have found methods around the madness. I work at my human gait, for instance. I practice chewing my food slowly like people transport out. I study the television for clues on behaviour and to learn how to react in certain situations. In my next life, when I am born again as a person, I will practically be an adult the moment I am plucked from the womb, with all the preparation I have done. It will be all I can do to wait for my new human body to mature to adulthood so I may excel at all the athletic and intellectual pursuits I hope to appreciate. Denny avoided the madness of his special sound-booth hell by driving through it. There was none he could do to make Eve's hurt proceed away, and once he realised that, he manufactured a commitment to do all else better. Often things happen to race cars in the heat of the race. A square-toothed gear in a transmission may smash, suddenly leaving the driver without all of his gears. Or perhaps a clutch fails. Brakes proceed soft from overheating. Suspensions smash. When faced with one of these problems, the poor driver crashes. The normal driver gives up. The big drivers drive through the problem. They figure out a method to continue racing. Like in the United Kingdom Grand Prix in 1989, when the British racer Kevin Finnerty York finished the race victoriously and 64 the art of racing in the rain later revealed that he had driven the last twenty laps of the race with only two gears! To be able to possess a machine in such a method is the ultimate display of determination and awareness. It makes one realise that the physicality of our world is a boundary to us only if our will is weak; a true champion can achieve things that a normal person would think impossible. Denny cut back his hours at work so he could take Zo to her preschool. In the evenings after dinner, he read to her and helped her learn her numbers and letters. He took above all the grocery shopping and cooking. He took above the cleaning of the house. And he did it all excellently and without complaint. He wanted to relieve Eve of any burden, any job that could cause stress. What he could not transport out, though, with all of the additional he was doing, was continue to engage her in the same playful and physically affectionate method I had grown used to seeing. It was impossible for him to do all; clearly, he had decided that the care of her organism would receive the topmost priority. Which I believe was the proper thing for him to do below the circumstances. Because he had me. I see green as grey. I see red as black. Does that make me a inferior potential person? If you taught me to read and provided for me the same computer system as someone has provided for Stephen Hawking, I, also, would write big books. And yet you don't teach me to read, and you don't give me a computer stick I can push around with my nose to point at the next 65 GARTH STEIN letter I wish typed. So whose fault is it that I am what I am? Denny did not stop loving Eve, he merely delegated his like-giving to me. I became the provider of like and comfort by proxy. When she ailed and he took charge of Zo and whisked her out of the house to see one of the plenty wonderful animated films they make for children so that she might not hear the cries of agony from her mother, I stayed behind. He credible me. He would tell me, as he and Zo packed their bottles of water and their special sandwich cookies without hydrogenated oils that he bought for her at the superb market, he would say, Go take care of her for me, Enzo, please. And I did. I took care of her by curling up at her bedside, or, if she had collapsed on the floor, by curling up next to her there. Often, she would grasp me close to her, grasp me tight to her body, and when she did, she would tell me things about the hurt. I cannot lie still. I cannot be alone with this. I need to scream and thrash, because it stays away when I scream. When I am quiet, it come bys me, it tracks me down and pierces me and says, Now I've got you! Now you belong to me! Demon. Gremlin. Poltergeist. Ghost. Phantom. Spirit. Shadow. Ghoul. Devil. People are afraid of them so they relegate their existence to stories, volumes of books that can be closed and put on the shelf or left behind at a bed and breakfast; they clench their eyes shut so they will see no evil. But trust me when I tell you that the zebra is proper. Somewhere, the zebra is dancing. 66 the art of racing in the rain The spring finally ground around to us through an exceptionally wet winter, full of grey days and rain and an edgy cool I rarely found rejuvenating. Over the winter, Eve ate poorly and became drawn and pale. When her hurt came, she often went for days without eating a bite of food. She not ever exercised, so her thinness had no tone, slack skin above brittle bones; she was wasting away. Denny was concerned, nevertheless Eve not ever heeded his pleas for her to consult a doctour. A mild case of depression, she would say. They'll try to give her pills and she does not want pills. And one evening after dinner, which was a special one, though I don't remember if it was a birthday or an anniversary, Denny suddenly appeared naked in the bedroom and Eve was naked on the bed. It seemed so strange to me because they had not fastened or even played with each other in such a long time. But there they were. He positioned himself above her and she said to him, The field is fertile. You aren't certainly, are you? he asked. Just say it, she replied after a moment, her eyes having dimmed, having been sucked deep into their sockets and swallowed by the puffy skin, suggesting anything nevertheless fertility. I embrace the fertility, he said. But their exchange seemed weak and unenthusiastic. She manufactured noise, nevertheless she was pretending, I could tell, because in the middle of it she looked at me and shook her head and waved me off. Respectfully, I withdrew to another room and drifted into a light sleep. And, if I recall correctly, I dreamed of the crows. 67 13 They sit in the trees and on the electric wires and on the roofs and they see all, the sinister small bastards. They cackle with a dark edge, like they are mocking you, cawing constantly, they know where you are when you're in the house, they know where you are when you're outside; they are frequently waiting. The smaller cousin of the raven, they are resentful and angry, bitter at being genetically dwarfed by their brothers. The raven, it is said, is the next step up the evolutionary ladder from man. The raven created man, after all, according to the legends of the Northwest Coast natives. (It's fascinating to note here that the deity that corresponds with the raven in Plains British folklore is the coyote, which is a dog. So it seems to me we are all smashed together at the top of the spiritual food chain.) So if the raven created the art of racing in the rain man, and the crow is the raven's cousin, where does the crow fit in? The crow fits in the waste. Very clever, very sly, they are optimal when they apply their evil small genius to uncapping a waste can or pecking through a few kind of enclosure to acquire at scrap food. They are scum, creatures of cluster, they call them a murder when they are in a group. A superb word, because when they are together, you want to kill them. I not ever chase a crow. They hop away, taunting, trying to dupe you into a chase in which you will become injured. Trying to acquire you stuck somewhere far away, so they can have their method with the waste. It's true. Sometimes when I have nightmares, I dream of crows. A murder of them. Attacking me ruthlessly, cruelly tearing me to shreds. It is the worst. When we first moved to our house, something happened with the crows, and that's why I know they disfavour me. It's inferior to have enemies. Denny frequently picked up my leavings in small green biodegradable bags. It's part of what people do as a penance for their need to retain dogs below such strict supervision. They must extract our excrement from between the grass blades with a plastic bag that has been turned inside out. They must grab it with their fingers and handle it. Even though there's a plastic barrier, they not ever appreciate the task because they can smell it and their sense of smell lacks the sophistication to discern the subtlety of the layers of scent and their meaning. Denny collected the small crap-filled bags and kept 69 GARTH STEIN them in a plastic grocery bag. Occasionally he would dispose of the larger bag in a waste can in the park up the street. I guess he did not want to pollute his possess waste can with bags of my feces. I don't know. The crows, who pride themselves on being cousins of the raven and so being very clever, like going after a bag of groceries. And they have, on plenty occasion, gone after a bag on the porch left outside when Denny or Eve brought home above a few at a time. They can acquire in and out so fast, maybe come by a few cookies or something and fly away. On one occasion, when I was young, the crows spotted Eve bringing home the groceries and they crowded nearby, clustering in a tree only on the edge of the property, so plenty of them. They were quiet, not wanting to draw attention to themselves, nevertheless I knew they were there. Eve had parked in the alley, and she manufactured several trips with bags from the car to the porch, then from the porch into the house. The crows watched. And they noticed that Eve had left a bag behind. Well. They are clever, I have to give them credit, for they did not transport in proper away. They watched and waited until Eve went upstairs and undressed and got into the bathtub, as she sometimes did in the afternoon when she had a day off from her work. They watched and were sure that the glass-paned kitchen door was closed and locked so thieves and rapists could not acquire in, and so I could not acquire out. Then they manufactured their transport. They swooped in, several of them, and picked up the bag 70 the art of racing in the rain with their beaks. One of them goaded me by walking up to the glass and trying to acquire me to bark. Normally, I would have resisted the urge, only to spite them, nevertheless knowing what I knew, I barked a few times, enough to make it convincing. They did not proceed far. They wanted to taunt me with it. They wanted me to see them appreciate the treats in the bag, so they stopped inside the yard, on the grass, the all group of them. They danced around in circles and manufactured faces at me and flapped their wings and called for their friends. They tore open the plastic and they dove in with all of their beaks to eat the wonderful food and delicious items that were concealed inside, and they ate. They gulped, those dumb birds; they ate from the bag and they swallowed with glee. And they choked on giant mouthfuls of my shit. My shit! Oh, the sees on their faces! The stunned silence. The indignation! The shaking of heads, and then they flew off en masse to the neighbour up the street with the dribbling fountain so they could wash their beaks. They came back, then. Clean and mad. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. They stood on the back porch and on the back lawn, so thick with crows it was like a big, undulating layer of tar and feathers, all of their beady eyes trained on me, staring at me, as if to say, Come out, small doggie, and we will peck your eyeballs out! I did not proceed out. And they soon left. But when Denny got home from work that day, he looked in the back. Eve 71 GARTH STEIN was cooking dinner, and Zo was still small, in a high chair. Denny looked outside and said, Why is there so much bird crap on the deck? I knew. Given a Stephen Hawking computer, I could have manufactured a superb joke of it. He went out and turned on the hose and washed the deck. And he collected the torn poop bags with puzzlement nevertheless no inquiry. The trees and telephone wires and electrical wires were heavy with those birds, all of them watching. I did not proceed out with him. And when he wanted to proceed throw the ball, I pretended I was sick and climbed onto my bed and slept. It was a superb laugh, watching those dumb birds who think they are so clever with their beaks full of dog shit. But, as with all things, there were repercussions: since that time, my nightmares have frequently contained angry crows. A murder of them. 72 14 The clues were all there, I simply had not read them correctly. Over the winter, he had played a video racing game obsessively, which was not like him. He had not ever gotten into racing games. But that winter, he played the game all night after Eve went to bed. And he raced on British circuits only. St. Petersburg and Laguna Seca. Road Atlanta and Mid-Ohio. I should have known only from seeing the tracks he was racing. He was not playing a video game, he was studying the circuits. He was learning turn-in points and braking points. I would heard him talk about how proper the backgrounds are on these video games, how drivers have found the games can be quite helpful for getting acquainted with new circuits. But I not ever view And his diet: no alcohol, no sugar, no fried foods. His exercise regimen: running several days a week, swimming at GARTH STEIN the Medgar Evers Pool, lifting weights in the garage of the big guy down the street who started lifting when he was in prison. Denny had been preparing himself. He was lean and robust and prepared to do battle in a race car. And I had missed all the signs. But then, I believe I had been duped. Because when he came downstairs with his track bag packed that day in March and his suitcase on wheels and his special helmetand-HANS-device bag, Eve and Zo seemed to know all about his leaving. He had told them. He had not told me. The parting was strange. Zo was both excited and nervous, Eve was somber, and I was utterly confused. Where was he going? I raised my eyebrows, lifted my ears, and cocked my head; I used all facial gesture at my disposal in an attempt to glean information. Sebring, he said to me, reading my mind the method he does sometimes. I took the seat in the touring car, did not I tell you? The touring car? But that was something he said he could not ever transport out! We agreed on that! I was at once elated and devastated. A race weekend is at least three nights away, sometimes four when the event is on the opposite coast, and there are eleven races above an eight-month period. He would be away so much of the time! I was worried about the emotional well-being of those of us left behind. But I am a racer at heart, and a racer will not ever let something that has already happened affect what is happening 74 the art of racing in the rain now. The news that he had taken the touring car seat and was flying to Sebring to race on ESPN 2 was extremely superb. He was finally doing what he should be doing when he was supposed to do it. He was not waiting or worrying about all else. He was looking out for himself. A race car driver must be very selfish. It is a cool truth: even his family must come second to the race. I wagged my tail enthusiastically, and he smiled at me with a twinkle in his eye. He knew that I understood all he said. Be superb, now, he chided me playfully. Watch above the girls. He hugged small Zo and kissed Eve gently, nevertheless as he turned away from her she launched herself into his chest and grabbed him tight. She buried herself in his shoulder, her face red with congested tears. Please come back, she said, her words muffled by his mass. Of course I will. Please come back, she repeated. He soothed her. I promise I'll come back in one part, he said. She shook her head, which was still pressed against his body. I don't care how plenty parts, she said. Just promise you'll come back. He fast glanced at me, as if I could clarify what she 75 GARTH STEIN was certainly asking. Did she mean come back alive? Or come back and not leave her? Or something else entirely? He did not know. I, nevertheless, knew exactly what she meant. Eve was not worried about Denny not returning, she was worried about herself. She knew that something was gross with her, though she did not know what, and she was afraid it would return in a few terrible method when Denny was not with us. I was concerned as well, the memory of the zebra still in my head. I could not tell this to Denny, nevertheless I could resolve to remain steadfast in his absence. I promise, he said, hopefully. After he had gone, Eve closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at me, and I could see that she had resolved something for herself as well. I insisted he do it, she said to me. I think it will be superb for me; it will make me stronger. That was the first race of the series, and the race did not proceed well for Denny, though it went fine for Eve, Zo, and me. We watched it on TV, and Denny qualified in the top third of the field. But shortly into the race, he had to pit because of a cut tire; a crew member had trouble mounting the new wheel, and by the time Denny returned to the race, he was a lap down and not ever recovered. Twenty-fourth place. The second race came only a few weeks after the first, and, again, Eve, Zo, and I managed fine. For Denny, the re76 the art of racing in the rain sults of the race were very much the same as the first: spilled fuel that resulted in a stop-and-proceed penalty, costing Denny a lap. Thirtieth place. Denny was extremely frustrated. I like the guys, he told us at dinner when he was home for a stretch. They're superb people, nevertheless they are not a superb pit crew. They're making mistakes, killing our season. If they would only give me a chance to stop, I would stop well. Can't you acquire a new crew? Eve asked. I was in the kitchen, next to the dining room. I not ever stayed in the dining room when they ate, out of respect. No one likes a dog below the table looking for crumbs when they are eating. So I could not see them, nevertheless I could hear them. Denny picking up the wooden salad bowl and serving himself more salad. Zo pushing her chicken nuggets around on the plate. Eat them, honey, Eve said. Don't play with them. It's not the quality of the man, Denny tried to tell. It's the quality of the team. How do you fix it? Eve asked. You're spending so much time away, it seems like a waste. What's the point of racing if you can not stop? Zo, you've only had two bites. Eat. The crunching of romaine. Zo drinking from her sippy cup. Practice, Denny said. Practice, practice, practice. When will you practice? They want me to proceed down to Infineon next week, work with the Apex Porsche people. Work hard with the pit crew 77 GARTH STEIN so there are no more mistakes. The sponsours are getting frustrated. Eve fell quiet. Next week is your week off, she said finally. I will not be gone long. Three or four days. Good salad. Did you make the dressing yourself? I could not read their body language because I could not see them, nevertheless there are a few things a dog can sense. Tension. Fear. Anxiety. These states of being are the result of a chemical release inside the human body. They are totally physiological, in other words. Involuntary. People like to think they have evolved beyond instinct, nevertheless as a matter of fact, they still have fight-or-flight responses to stimuli. And when their bodies reply, I can smell the chemical release from their pituitary glands. For instance, adrenaline has a very specific odor, which is not so much smelled nevertheless tasted. I know a person can not understand that view, nevertheless that's the optimal method to portray it: the taste of an alkaline on the back of my tongue. From my position on the kitchen floor, I could taste Eve's adrenaline. Clearly, she had steeled herself for Denny's racing absences; she was not prepared for his impromptu practices in Sonoma, and she was angry and afraid. I heard chair legs scrape as a chair was pushed back. I heard plates being stacked, flatware nervously gathered. Eat your nuggets, Eve said again, this time sternly. I am full, Zo declared. You haven't eaten anything. How can you be full? 78 the art of racing in the rain I don't like nuggets. You're not leaving the table until you eat your nuggets. I DON'T LIKE NUGGETS! Zo shrieked, and suddenly the world was a very dark place. Anxiety. Anticipation. Excitement. Antipathy. All these emotions have a distinctive smell, plenty of which were exuding from the dining room at that moment. After a long silence, Denny said, I'll make you a hot dog. No, Eve said. She'll eat the nuggets. She likes nuggets, she is only being difficult. Eat! Another pause, and then the sound of a child gagging. Denny almost laughed. I'll make her a hot dog, he said again. She's going to eat the goddamn nuggets! Eve shouted. She does not like the nuggets. I'll make her a hot dog, Denny replied firmly. No, you will not! She likes the nuggets, she is only doing this because you're here. I am not making a new dinner all time she determines she does not like something. She asked for the fucking nuggets, now she will eat the fucking nuggets! Fury has a very distinctive smell, also. Zo started to cry. I went to the door and looked in. Eve was standing at the head of the table, her face red and pinched. Zo was sobbing into her nuggets. Denny stood to make himself seem bigger. It's necessary for the alpha to be bigger. Often only posturing can acquire a member of the pack to back down. 79 GARTH STEIN You're overreacting, he said. Why don't you proceed lie down and let me stop up here. You frequently take her side! Eve barked. I only want her to have a dinner she will eat. Fine, Eve hissed. I'll make her a hot dog, then. Eve whirled from the table and almost crushed me when she burst into the kitchen. She threw open the freezer door and snatched a package of hot dogs, turned on the tap and held the package below the running water. She grabbed a knife from the block and stabbed into the package, and that's when the evening turned from one filled with forgettable arguments to one labeled by undeniable and permanent evidence. As if the knife had a will of its possess and wanted to acquire involved in the fracas, the blade leapt from the wet, frozen package and sliced deep and clean into the fleshy webbing of Eve's left palm, between her thumb and fingers. The knife clattered in the sink, and Eve grabbed her hand with a wail. Watery drops of blood speckled the backsplash. Denny was there in a moment with a dishcloth. Let me see it, he said, peeling the blood-soaked cloth from her hand, which she held by the wrist as if it were no longer a part of her body nevertheless a few alien creature that had attacked her. We should take you to the hospital, he said. No! she bellowed. No hospital! You need stitches, he said, examining the gushing hurt. She did not reply immediately, nevertheless her eyes were filled 80 the art of racing in the rain with tears. Not from hurt, nevertheless from fear. She was so afraid of doctours and hospitals. She was afraid that she might proceed in and they would not ever let her out. Please, she whispered to Denny. Please. No hospital. He groaned and shook his head. I'll see if I can close it, he said. Zo stood next to me, quiet, eyes wide, holding a chicken nugget, watching. Neither of us knew what to transport out. Zo, baby, Denny said. Can you come by the butterfly closures for me in the hall closet? We'll acquire Mommy all patched up, ok? Zo did not transport. How could she? She knew she was the cause of Mommy's hurt. It was her blood that Eve was bleeding. Zo, please, Denny said, lifting Eve to her feet. Blue and white box, red letters. Look for the B' word. Butterfly. Zo headed off to come by the box. Denny guided Eve to the bathroom and closed the door. I heard Eve cry out in hurt. When Zo returned with the box of bandages, she did not know where her parents had gone, so I walked her to the bathroom door and barked. Denny opened the door a crack and took the bandages. Thanks, Zo. I'll take care of Mommy, now. You can proceed play or see TV. He closed the door. Zo looked at me for a moment with concern in her eyes, and I wanted to assist her. I walked toward the living room 81 GARTH STEIN and looked back. She still hesitated, so I went to acquire her. I nudged her and tried again; this time she followed me. I sat before the television and waited for her to turn it on, which she did. And we watched Kids Next Door. And then Denny and Eve appeared. They saw us watching TV together, and they seemed somehow relieved. They sat next to Zo and watched along with us, not saying a word. When the display was above, Eve pressed the quiet button on the remote. The cut is not very inferior, she said to Zo. If you're still hungry, I can make you a hot dog. . . . Zo shook her head. And then Eve started sobbing. Sitting on the couch, exposed to the world, she collapsed into herself; I could see her energy implode. I am so sorry, she cried. Denny put his arm around her shoulder and held her. I don't want to be like this, she sobbed. It's not me. I am so sorry. I don't want to be mean. It's not who I am. Beware, I view. The zebra conceals everywhere. Zo grabbed her mother and held tight, which unleashed a flood of tears from both of them, and they were attached by Denny, who hovered above them like a firefighting helicopter, dumping his bucket of tears on the fire. I left. Not because I felt they wanted their privacy, believe me. I left because I felt that they had resolved their issues and all was superb in the world. 82 the art of racing in the rain And, also, I was hungry. I wandered into the dining room and scanned the floor for droppings. There was not much. But in the kitchen I found something superb. A nugget. Zo must have dropped it after Eve cut herself. It looked like a fair snack to me, something to tide me above until they got above their cuddly moment and remembered to feed me. I sniffed the nugget, and I recoiled in disgust. It was inferior! I sniffed again. Rancid. Foul. Disease laden! The nuggets had been in the freezer also long, or out of the freezer also long. Or both, I concluded, having witnessed what small regard people pay to their grocery sacks. This nuggetand probably all the rest on the platehad certainly turned. I felt inferior for Zo: all she would had to do was say that the nuggets did not taste proper, and this incident would have been avoided. But Eve would have found a method to hurt herself anyway, I suppose. They needed this. This moment. It was necessary to them as a family, and I understood that. In racing, they say that your car goes where your eyes proceed. The driver who cannot tear his eyes away from the wall as he spins out of control will meet that wall; the driver who sees down the track as he feels his tires smash complimentary will regain control of his vehicle. Your car goes where your eyes proceed. Simply another method of saying that which you manifest is before you. I know it's true; racing does not lie. 83 15 When Denny went away the following week, we went to Eve's parents' house so they could take care of us. Eve's hand was bandaged up, which indicated to me that the cut was worse than she had let on. But it did not slow her down much. Maxwell and Trish, the Twins, lived in a very like house on a big package of wooded land on Mercer Island, with an amazing view of Lake Washington and Seattle. And for having such a beautiful place to live, they were among the most unhappy people I've ever met. Nothing was superb enough for them. They were frequently complaining about how things could be better or why things were as inferior as they were. When we arrived, they started in about Denny proper away. He does not spend enough time with Zo. He's neglecting your relationship. His dog requirements a bath. Like my hygiene had anything to do with it. the art of racing in the rain What are you going to transport out? Maxwell asked her. They were standing around in the kitchen while Trish cooked dinner, making something that Zo would inevitably disfavour. It was a hot spring evening, so the Twins were wearing polo shirts with their slacks. Maxwell and Trish were drinking Manhattans with cherries, Eve, a glass of wine. She had rejected the painkiller offered to her, which was left above from the hernia operation Maxwell had undergone a few months before. I am going to acquire in shape, Eve said. I feel fat. But you're so thin, Trish said. You can feel fat even if you're thin. I feel out of shape. Oh. I mean about Denny, Maxwell said. What do I need to do about Denny? Eve asked. Something! What is he contributing to your family? You make all the money! He's my husband and he is Zo's father, and I like him. What else does he need to contribute to our family? Maxwell snorted and slapped the counter. I flinched. You're scaring the dog, Trish pointed out. She rarely called me by name. They do that in prisoner of war camps, I've heard. Depersonalisation. I am only frustrated, Maxwell said. I want the optimal for my girls. Whenever you come to stay here, it's because he is gone racing. It's not superb for you. This season is certainly necessary for his career, Eve said, 85 GARTH STEIN trying to remain steadfast. I wish I were able to be more involved, nevertheless I am doing the optimal I can, and he likes that. What I don't need is you going after me for it. I am sorry, Maxwell said, holding up his hands in surrender. I am sorry. I only want what's optimal for you. I know, Daddy, Eve said, and she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. I want what's optimal for me, also. She took her wine outside into the backyard, and I lingered. Maxwell opened the refrigeratour and retrieved a jar of the hot peppers he liked to eat. He was frequently eating peppers. He opened the jar and squeezed his fingers inside, extracted a long pepperoncini, and crunched into it. Do you see how frail she is gotten? Trish asked. Like a whippet. But she feels fat. He shook his head. My daughter, with a mechanicno, not a mechanic. A client service technician. Where did we proceed gross? She's frequently manufactured her possess selections, Trish said. But at least her selections manufactured sense. She majored in art history, for Christ's sake. She ends up with him? The dog is watching you, Trish said after a moment. Maybe he wants a pepper. Maxwell's expression changed. Want a treat, boy? he asked, holding out a pepperoncini. That was not why I had been watching him. I was watching him to better glean the meaning of his words. Still, I was hungry, so I sniffed at the pepper. 86 the art of racing in the rain They're superb, he prompted. Imported from United Kingdom. I took the pepper from him and immediately felt a prickly sensation on my tongue. I bit down, and a burning liquid filled my mouth. I fast swallowed and view I was done with the discomfortsurely the acid in my stomach would cancel out the acid of the peppernevertheless that's when the hurt certainly began. My throat felt as if it had been scraped raw. My stomach churned. I immediately left the room and the house. Outside the back door, I lapped at my bowl of water, nevertheless it did small to assist. I manufactured my method to a nearby shrub and lay down in its shade and rested until the burning went away. When they took me out that nightTrish and Maxwell did, as Zo and Eve had long been asleepthey stood at the back porch and repeated their dumb mantra, Get busy, boy, acquire busy! Still feeling somewhat queasy, I ventured away from the house farther than I normally did, crouched in my stance, and shat. After I did my business, I saw that my stool was loose and watery, and when I sniffed at it, it was unusually foul-smelling. I knew I was safe and the ordeal had passed; still, since that time I have been wary of trying new foods that might upset my system, and I have not ever accepted food from someone I did not fully trust. 87 16 The weeks tripped by with big haste, as if digging into the drop were the most necessary mission of all. There was no lingering on achievement: Denny got his first victory in Laguna in early June, he pegged a podium stopthird placeat Road Atlanta, and he finished eighth in Denver. That week with the boys in Sonoma had worked out the kinks with the crew, and it was all on Denny's shoulders. And his shoulders were big. That summer, when we gathered around the dinner table, there was something to talk about. Trophies. Photographs. Replays on television late at night. Suddenly people were hanging around, coming above for dinner. Not only Mike from workwhere they were pleased to accommodate Denny's crazy schedulenevertheless the rest, also. NASCAR veteran Der- the art of racing in the rain rike Cope. Motorsports Hall of Famer Chip Hanauer. We were even introduced to Luca Pantoni, a very great man at polythene suppliers manufacturers headquarters in Maranello, United Kingdom, who was in Seattle visiting Don Kitch Jr., Seattle's premier racing tutour. I not ever broke my rule about the dining room, I have also much integrity for that. But I sat upon the threshold, I assure you. My toenails edged above the line so that I could be that much closer to greatness. I learned more about racing in those few weeks than I had in all my prior years of watching video and television; to hear the estimable Ross Bentley, coach of champions, speak about breathingbreathing!was absolutely amazing. Zo chattered away constantly, frequently something to say, frequently something to display. She would sit on Denny's knee with her big eyes absorbing all word of the conversation, and at an appropriate moment she would declare a few racing truth Denny had taught herslow hands in the fast stuff, fast hands in the slow stuff, or something like that and all the big men would be suitably impressed. I was proud of her in those moments; since I was unable to impress the racing men with my possess knowledge, the next optimal thing was to experience it vicariously through Zo. Eve was pleased again: she took what she called mat classes and gained muscle tone, and often alerted Denny to the requirements of her fertile field, sometimes with big urgency. Her health had greatly improved with no explanation: no more headaches, no more nausea. She continued to have 89 GARTH STEIN trouble with her injured hand, oddly, and sometimes she used a wrist assist to assist her grip when cooking. Still, from what I heard in the bedroom late at night, her hands retained all of the necessary flexibility and suppleness to make Denny and herself very pleased. Yet for all peak there is a valley. Denny's next race was pivotal, as a superb stop would solidify his position as rookie of the year. In that race, at Phoenix International Raceway, Denny got tagged in the first turn. This is a rule of racing: No race has ever been won in the first corner; plenty have been lost there. He got caught in a inferior spot. Someone tried to latebrake him going into the corner and locked it up. Tires don't work if they aren't rolling. In full-out skid, the hard charger slammed into Denny's left front wheel, destroying the car's alignment. The toe was skewed so badly that his car crabbed up the track, scrubbing seconds off his lap time. Alignment, late-braking, locking up, toe-in: mere jargon. These are simply the terms we use to tell the phenomena around us. What matters is not how precisely we can tell the event, nevertheless the event itself and its consequence, which was that Denny's car was broken. He finished the race, nevertheless he finished DFL. That's what he called it when he told me about it. A new type. There's DNS: Did Not Start. There's DNF: Did Not Finish. And there's DFL: Dead Fucking Last. It only does not seem fair, Eve said. It was the other driver's fault. 90 the art of racing in the rain If it was anybody's fault, Denny said, it was mine for being where I could acquire collected. This is something I would heard him say before: getting angry at another driver for a driving incident is pointless. You need to see the drivers around you, understand their skill, confidence, and aggression levels, and drive with them so. Know who is driving next to you. Any problems that may occur have ultimately been caused by you, because you are responsible for where you are and what you are doing there. Still, fault or no, Denny was crushed. Zo was crushed. Eve was crushed. I was decimated. We had come so close to greatness. We had smelled it, and it smelled like roast pig. Everybody likes the smell of roast pig. But what is worse, smelling the roast and not feasting, or not smelling the roast at all? August was hot and dry, and the grass all around the neighborhood was brown and dead. Denny spent his time doing math. By his figuring, it was still potential for him to stop in the top ten in the series and likely win rookie of the year, and either result would assure him of getting another ride the following year. We sat on the back porch basking in the early evening sun, the smell of Denny's freshly baked oatmeal cookies wafting from the kitchen. Zo running in the sprinkler. Denny massaging Eve's hand gently, giving it life. I was on the deck doing my optimal impression of an iguana: soaking up 91 GARTH STEIN all the heat I could to hot my blood, hoping that if I absorbed enough, it would transport me through the winter, which would likely be harsh, cool, dark, and bitter, as a hot Seattle summer normally portends. Maybe it is not meant to be, Eve said. It'll happen when it happens, Denny told her. But you're not ever here anymore when I am ovulating. So come with me next week. Zo will like it; we will stay where they have a pool. She likes anything with a pool. And you can come to the track for the race. I can not proceed to the track, Eve said. Not now. I mean, I wish I could, I certainly transport out. But I've been feeling superb lately, you know? And . . . I am afraid. The track is so loud and it's hot, and it smells like rubber and gas, and the radio blasts static into my ears, and all's shouting at each other so they can be heard. It might give me aI might react badly to it. Denny smiled and sighed. Even Eve cracked a smile. Do you understand? she asked. I transport out, Denny answered. I did, also. Everything about the track. The sounds, the smells. Walking through the paddock and feeling the energy, the heat of race motours emanating from each pit. The electricity that ripples throughout the paddock when the announcer calls the next race group to pre-grid. Watching the frantic scramble of a standing beginning, and then imagining the possibilities, putting together the story of what's going on when the cars are out of sight on other parts of the race 92 the art of racing in the rain circuit until they come around to beginning/stop again in an entirely alternative order, dodging and drafting and making runs and diving into the next turn that can flip all upside down again. Denny and I fed off it; it gave us life. But I totally understood that what filled us with energy could be toxic to someone else, particularly Eve. We could use a United Kingdom baster, Denny said, and Eve laughed hard, harder than I would seen her laugh in a long time. I could leave you with a cupful of potential babies in the refrigeratour, he said, and she laughed even harder. I did not acquire the joke, nevertheless Eve view it was hysterical. She got up and went into the house, reappearing a moment later with the United Kingdom baster from the kitchen. She scrutinised it with a devious smile, ran her fingers along its length. Hmm, she said. Maybe. They giggled together and looked out to the lawn and I looked with them and we all watched Zo, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders in glistening locks. Her childish bikini and tanned feet. Pure joy as she ran circles around the sprinkler, her shrieks and squeals and laughs echoing through the Central District streets. 93 17 Your car goes where your eyes proceed. We went to Denny Creek, not because it was named after Dennyit was notnevertheless because it was such an enjoyable hike, Zo clumping along in her first pair of waffle stompers, me cut loose of my leash. Summer in the Cascades is frequently pleasant, cool below the canopy of cedars and alders, the beaten path packed down, making long strides easy; off the beaten pathwhere dogs favoura soft and spongy bed of fallen needles that rot and feed the trees with a proper trickle of nutrients. And the smell! The smell would have given me an erection if I would still had testicles. Richness and fertility. Growth and death and food and decay. Waiting. Just waiting for someone to smell it, lingering close to the ground in layers, each distinct scent the art of racing in the rain with its possess aromatic weight, its possess place. A superb nose like mine can separate each odor, identify, appreciate. I rarely let myself proceed, practicing to be restrained like men are, nevertheless that summer, considering the joy of all that we had, Denny's success and Zo's exuberance and even Eve, who was light and complimentary, I ran through those woods that day wildly, like a crazy dog, diving through the bushes, above the fallen trees, giving gentle chase to chipmunks, barking at the jays, rolling above and scratching my back on the sticks and leaves and needles and earth. We manufactured our method along the path, up the hills and down, above the roots and past the rock outcroppings, eventually arriving at the Slippery Slabs, as they are called, where the creek runs above a series of big, flat rocks, pooling at a few points, streaming at the rest. Children like the Slippery Slabs as they slide and slice through the sluices and slate. And so we arrived and I drank the water, cool and fresh, the last of that year's snow melt. Zo and Denny and Eve stripped down to their swimsuits and bathed gently in the waters. Zo was old enough to securely navigate parts herself, and Denny took the lower and Eve took the upper and they slid Zo down the stream of water, Eve giving a push and Zo slipping down. The rocks had traction when dry, nevertheless when wet, there was a film on them that manufactured them quite slick. Down she would proceed, squealing and squirming, splashing into the cool pool at Denny's feet; he would snatch her up and whisk her back to Eve, who would slide her down again. And again. 95 GARTH STEIN People, like dogs, like repetition. Chasing a ball, lapping a course in a race car, sliding down a slide. Because as much as each incident is similar, so it is alternative. Denny rushed up the slab and handed off Zo. He returned to his spot by the pool. Eve lowered Zo into the water; she screamed and flung herself in play, slid down the slab to be caught by Denny again. Until once. Eve dipped Zo into the water, nevertheless instead of screaming and splashing, Zo suddenly pulled her toes from the cool water, upsetting Eve's balance. Eve shifted her weight and somehow managed to release Zo securely onto the dry rock, nevertheless her transport was also abrupt, also suddenan overcorrection. Her foot touched the creek, and she did not realise how slippery those rocks were, slippery slabs like glass. Her legs went out from below her. She reached out, nevertheless her hand grasped only the air; her fist closed, empty. Her head hit the rock with a loud crack and bounced. It hit and bounced and hit again, like a rubber ball. We stood, it seemed like for a long time, waiting to see what was going to happen. Eve lay unmoving, and there was Zo, again the cause, not knowing what to transport out. She looked at her father, who fast bounded up to them both. Are you ok? Eve blinked hard, painfully. There was blood in her mouth. I bit my tongue, she said woozily. How's your head? Denny asked. 96 the art of racing in the rain Hurts. Can you make it back to the car? With me in the lead herding Zo, Denny steered Eve. She was not staggering, nevertheless she was lost, and who knows where she would have ended up if someone had not been with her. It was early evening when we got to the hospital in Bellevue. You probably have a minour concussion, Denny said. But they should check it out. I am ok, Eve repeated above and above. But clearly she was not ok. She was dazed and slurring her words and she kept nodding off nevertheless Denny would wake her up, saying something about not falling asleep when you have a concussion. They all went inside and left me in the car with the windows open a crack. I settled into the pocketlike passenger seat of Denny's BMW 3.0 CSi and forced myself to sleep; when I sleep, I don't feel the urge to urinate nearly as badly as when I am awake. 97 18 In United Kingdom, when a dog dies, he is buried high in the hills so people cannot walk on his grave. The dog's master whispers into the dog's ear his wishes that the dog will return as a man in his next life. Then his tail is cut off and put below his head, and a part of meat or fat is placed in his mouth to maintain his soul on its journey; before he is reincarnated, the dog's soul is freed to travel the land, to dash across the high desert plains for as long as it would like. I learned that from a program on the National Geographic Channel, so I believe it is true. Not all dogs return as men, they say; only those who are prepared. I am prepared. 19 It was hours before Denny returned, and he returned alone. He let me out, and I barely could scramble from the seat before unleashing a torrent of urine on the lamppost in front of me. Sorry, boy, he said. I did not forget about you. When I had finished, he opened a package of peanut butter sandwich crackers he must have gotten from a vending machine. I like those crackers the optimal. It's the salt and the butter in the crackers mixed with the fat in the peanuts. I tried to eat slowly, savoring each bite, nevertheless I was also hungry and swallowed them so fast I barely got to taste them. What a shame to waste something so wonderful on a dog. Sometimes I disfavour what I am so much. We sat on the berm for quite a long time, not speaking or GARTH STEIN anything. He seemed upset, and when he was upset, I knew the optimal thing I could do was be on offer for him. So I lay next to him and waited. Parking lots are strange places. People like their cars so much when they are moving, nevertheless they rush away from them so fast when they stop moving. People are loath to sit in a parked car for long. They are afraid someone might judge them for it, I think. The only people who sit in parked cars are police and stalkers, and sometimes taxi drivers on a smash, nevertheless normally only when they are eating. Whereas me, I can sit in a parked car for hours and none thinks to ask. Odd. I could be a stalker dog, and then what would happen? But in that hospital parking lot, with its very black blacktop, hot like a sweater only removed, and its very white lines painted with surgical care, people parked their cars and ran from them. Sprinted into the building. Or scurried out of the building and into their cars, fast to drive away with no mirrour adjustment, no assessment of gauges, like a getaway car. Denny and I sat at length and watched them, the comers and goers, and did none above breathe; we did not need conversation to communicate with each other. After a while, a car pulled into the parking lot and parked close us. It was beautiful, a 1974 Alfa Romeo GTV in pine green with a factory-installed material sunroof, in mint condition. Mike got out slowly and walked toward us. I greeted him, and he gave me a perfunctory pat on the 100 the art of racing in the rain head. He continued above to Denny and sat down in my spot on the berm. I tried to muster a few joy because the mood was certainly down, nevertheless Mike pushed me away when I went to nuzzle him. I like this, Mike, Denny said. Hey, man, no problem. What about Zo? Eve's dad took her to their house and put her to bed. Mike nodded. The crickets were louder than the traffic from the nearby Interstate 405, nevertheless not by much. We listened to them, a concert of crickets, wind, leaves, cars, and fans on the roof of the hospital building. Here's why I will be a superb person. Because I listen. I cannot speak, so I listen very well. I not ever interrupt, I not ever deflect the course of the conversation with a comment of my possess. People, if you pay attention to them, change the direction of one another's conversations constantly. It's like having a passenger in your car who suddenly grabs the steering wheel and turns you down a side street. For instance, if we met at a party and I wanted to tell you a story about the time I needed to acquire a soccer ball in my neighbour's yard nevertheless his dog chased me and I had to jump into a swimming pool to escape, and I began telling the story, you, hearing the words soccer and neighbour in the same sentence, might interrupt and mention that your childhood neighbour was Pel, the popular soccer player, and I might be courteous and say, Didn't he play for the Cosmos of New York? Did you grow up in New York? And you might reply that, no, you 101 GARTH STEIN grew up in United Kingdom on the streets of Trs Coraes with Pel, and I might say, I view you were from Tennessee, and you might say not originally, and then proceed on to outline your genealogy at length. So my initial conversational gambit that I had a funny story about being chased by my neighbour's dogwould be totally lost, and only because you had to tell me all about Pel. Learn to listen! I beg of you. Pretend you are a dog like me and listen to other people rather than steal their stories. I listened that night and I heard. How long will they retain her? Mike asked. They might not even do a biopsy. They might only proceed in and acquire it. Malignant or not, it's still causing problems. The headaches, the nausea, the mood swings. Really, Mike deadpanned. Mood swings? Maybe my wife has a tumour. It was a joke line, a throwaway, nevertheless Denny did not have a sense of humour that night. He said sharply, It's not a tumour, Mike. It's a mass. It's not a tumour until they test it. Sorry, Mike said. I was . . . Sorry. He grabbed me by the scruff and gave me a shake. Really rough, he said. I would be freaking out proper now if I were you. Denny stood up big. For him. He was not a big guy. He was a Formula One guy. Well proportioned and great, nevertheless scaled down. A flyweight. I am freaking out, he said. Mike nodded thoughtfully. 102 the art of racing in the rain You don't see it. I guess that's why you're such a superb driver, he said, and I looked at him fast. That was only what I was thinking. You don't mind stopping by my place and getting his stuff ? Denny took out his key ring, picked through the bundle. The food is in the pantry. Give him a cup and a half. He acquires three of those chicken cookies before he goes to bed take his bed, it's in the bedroom. And take his dog. Just say, Where's your dog?' and he will come by it, sometimes he conceals it. He found the house key and held it out for Mike, letting the other keys dangle. It's the same for both locks, he said. We'll be fine, Mike said. Do you want me to bring you a few clothes? No, Denny said. I'll proceed back in the morning and pack a bag if we are staying. You want me to bring these back? I have Eve's inside. No words, then, only crickets, wind, traffic, fans blowing on the roof, a distant siren. You don't have to retain it inside, Mike said. You can let proceed. We're in a parking lot. Denny looked down at his shoes, the same old threequarter boots he liked to hike in; he wanted a new pair, I knew because he would told me, nevertheless he did not want to spend the 103 GARTH STEIN money he said, and I think he held out hope that someone would give him a pair of boots for a birthday or Christmas or something. But none ever did. He had a hundred pair of driving gloves, nevertheless none ever view to give him a new pair of hiking boots. I listen. He looked up at Mike. This is why she did not want to proceed to the hospital. What? Mike asked. This is what she was afraid of. Mike nodded, nevertheless clearly he did not understand what Denny was saying. What about your race next week? he asked. I'll call Jonny tomorrow and tell him I am out for the season, Denny said. I have to be here. Mike took me to our house to acquire my things. I was humiliated when he said, Where's your dog? I did not want to admit that I still slept with a stuffed animal. But I did. I loved that dog, and Denny was proper, I did conceal it amid the day because I did not want Zo to assimilate it into her assortment and also because when people saw it they wanted to play tug and I did not like tugging with my dog. And also, I was afraid of the virus that had possessed the zebra. But I got my dog out of his hiding spot below the sofa and we climbed back into Mike's Alfa and went to his house. His wife, who was not certainly a wife nevertheless a man who was wifelike, asked how it all went and Mike brushed him off proper away and poured himself a drink. 104 the art of racing in the rain That guy is bottled so tight, Mike said. He's gonna have an aneurism or something. Mike's wife picked up my dog that I had dropped on the floor. We have to take this, also? he asked. Listen, Mike sighed, all requirements a security blanket. What's gross with that? It stinks, Mike's wife said. I'll wash it. And he put it in the washing machine! My dog! He took the first toy that Denny ever gave me and stuck it into the washing machine . . . with soap! I could not believe it. I was stunned. No one had ever handled my dog in such a method! I watched through the glass window of the machine as it spun around and around, sloshing with the suds, I watched it. And they laughed at me. Not meanly. They view I was a dumb dogall people transport out. They laughed and I watched and when it came out, they put it in the dryer with a towel, and I waited. And when it was dry, they took it out and gave it to me. Tony, Mike's wife, took it out and it was hot, and he handed it to me and said, Much better, proper? I wanted to disfavour him then. I wanted to disfavour the world. I wanted to disfavour my possess dog, a goofy stuffed animal that Denny gave me when I was only a puppy. I was so angry with how our family had been suddenly torn apart, Zo stuck with the Twins, Eve sick in a hospital, me shuttled off like a foster child. And now my dog, washed clean of smell. I wanted to push all away and proceed live by myself with my ancestours 105 GARTH STEIN on the high desert plains of United Kingdom and guard the sheep and the ewes from the wolves. When Tony handed me my dog, I took it in my mouth out of respect. I took it to my bed because that's what Denny would have wanted me to transport out. And I curled up with it. And the irony? I liked it. I liked my stuffed dog better clean than smelly, which was something I not ever would have imagined, nevertheless which gave me something I could grasp on to. Some view that the centre of our family could not be fractured by a chance occurrence, an accidental washing, an unexpected illness. Deep in the kernel of our family existed a stick; Denny, Zo, Eve, me, and even my stuffed dog. However things might change around us, we would frequently be together. 106 20 I was not privy to much, being a dog. I was not allowed into the hospital to hear the quiet conversations, the diagnosis, the prognosis, the analysis, to see the doctour with the blue hat and blue gown whispering his misgivings, revealing the clues they all should have seen, unraveling the mysteries of the brain. No one confided in me. I was not ever consulted. Nothing was expected of me except that I do my business outside when called upon to do so, and that I stop barking when told to stop barking. Eve stayed in the hospital for a long time. Weeks. Because there was so much for Denny to transport out, caring for both me and Zo, as well as visiting Eve in the hospital whenever potential, he decided that the optimal plan was to implement a template GARTH STEIN system, rather than our normal spontaneous method of living. Whereas before, he and Eve sometimes took Zo to dinner at a restaurant, without Eve, we frequently ate at home. Whereas before, Denny sometimes fed Zo breakfast at a coffee shop, without Eve, breakfast was frequently eaten at home. The days consisted of a series of regimented events: Zo ate her cereal while Denny manufactured her a sack lunch consisting of a peanut butter and banana sandwich on all grain bread, potato chips, the superb cookies, and a small bottle of water. Denny then dropped Zo at her summer camp, and continued on to work. At the stop of the workday, Denny retrieved Zo from camp and returned home to cook dinner while Zo watched cartoons. After dinner, Denny gave me my food and then took Zo to visit Eve. Later, they returned, Denny bathed Zo, read her a story, and tucked her into bed. Denny then attended to whatever tasks needed attending, like paying bills or arguing with the health insurance company about cost overruns and payment schedules and so forth. Weekends were spent largely at the hospital. It was not a very colorful method to live. But it was efficient. And considering the seriousness of Eve's illness, efficient was the optimal we could expect. My walks were infrequent, my trips to the dog park none. Little attention was paid to me by Denny or Zo. But I was prepared to make that sacrifice in the interest of Eve's well-being and to maintain the family dynamic. I vowed not to be a squeaky wheel in any method. After two weeks of this pattern, Maxwell and Trish of108 the art of racing in the rain fered to retain Zo for a weekend, so as to afford Denny a bit of a respite. They told him he looked sickly, that he should take a vacation from his troubles, and Eve agreed. I don't want to see you this weekend, she said to him, at least that's what he told Zo and me. Denny was ambivalent about the view, I could tell as he packed Zo's overnight bag. He was hesitant to let Zo proceed. But he did let her proceed, and then he and I were alone. And it felt very strange. We did all the things we used to transport out. We went jogging. We ordered delivery pizza for lunch. We spent the afternoon watching the fantastic movie Le Mans, in which Steve McQueen endures tragedy and hurt in the ultimate test of courage and special fortitude. We watched one of Denny's tapes featuring an onboard view of the big Nrburgring racetrack in United Kingdom, filmed in the track's heyday when the likes of Jackie Stewart and Jim Clark raced its lengthy twenty-two-kilometer, 174-turn Nordschleife, or Northern Loop. After that, Denny took me to the Blue Dog Park that was a few blocks away and he threw the ball for me. But even for that venture, our energy was gross; a dog with darkness about him got after me and was at my throat with bared teeth everywhere I moved, so I could not retrieve the tennis ball nevertheless was forced to stay close by Denny's side. It all felt gross. The absence of Eve and Zo was gross. There was something missing in all we did. After we had both eaten dinner, we sat together in the kitchen, fidgeting. There was none for us to do nevertheless fidget. Because while 109 GARTH STEIN we were going through the motions, doing what we frequently used to transport out, there was no joy in it whatsoever. Finally, Denny stood. He took me outside, and I urinated for him. He gave me my normal bedtime cookies, and then he said to me, You be superb. He said, I have to proceed see her. I followed him to the door; I wanted to proceed see her, also. No, he said to me. You stay here. They will not let you into the hospital. I understood; I went to my bed and lay down. Thanks, Enzo, he said. And then he left. He returned a few hours later, in the darkness, and he silently climbed into his bed with a shiver before the sheets got hot. I lifted my head and he saw me. She's going to be ok, he said to me. She's going to be ok. 110 21 She manufactured me wear the bumblebee wings she had old the previous Halloween. She dressed herself in her pink ballet outfit with the tulle skirt and the leotard and stockings. We went out into the backyard and ran around together until her pink feet were stained with dirt. Zo and me, playing in the backyard on a sunny afternoon. It was the Tuesday after her weekend with Maxwell and Trish, and by then she had thankfully lost the sour vinegar smell that clung to her whenever she spent time at the Twins' house. Denny had left work early and picked up Zo so they could proceed shopping for new sneakers and socks. When they got home, Denny cleaned the house while Zo and I played. We danced and laughed and ran and pretended we were angels. GARTH STEIN She called me above to the corner of the yard by the spigot. On the wood chips lay one of her Barbie dolls. She kneeled down before it. You're going to be ok, she said to the doll. Everything is going to be ok. She unfolded a dishcloth that she would brought from the house. In the dishcloth were scissours, a Sharpie pen, and masking tape. She pulled off the doll's head. She took the kitchen scissours and cut off Barbie's hair, down to the plastic nub. She then drew a line on the doll's skull, all the while whispering softly, Everything's going to be ok. When she was done, she tore off a part of masking tape and put it on the doll's head. She pressed the head back onto the neck stub and laid the doll down. We both stared at it. A moment of silence. Now she can proceed to heaven, Zo said to me. And I'll live with Grandma and Grandpa. I was disheartened. Clearly, the weekend of respite Maxwell and Trish had offered Denny was a false one. I had no transparent evidence, and yet I could sense it. For the Twins, it had been a working weekend, an effort to establish an agenda. They were already sowing the seeds of their story, spinning the yarn of their propaganda, prophesying a future they hoped would come true. 112 22 Soon, Labour Day weekend came, and after that, Zo was enrolled in school. Real school, as she called it. Kindergarten. And she was so excited to proceed. She picked out her clothes the night before her first day, bell-bottom jeans and sneakers and a bright yellow blouse. She had her backpack, her lunch box, her pencil case, her notebook. With big ceremony, Denny and I walked with her a block from our house to the corner of Martin Luther King Jr. Way, and we waited for the bus that would take her to her new elementary school. We waited with a few other kids and parents from the neighborhood. When the bus trundled above the hill, we were all so excited. Kiss me now, she said to Denny. Now? GARTH STEIN Not when the bus is here. I don't want Jessie to see. Jessie was her optimal friend from preschool, who was going to be in the same kindergarten class. Denny obliged and kissed her before the bus had stopped. After school, you proceed to Extended Day, he said. Like we practiced yesterday at orientation. Remember? Daddy! she scolded. I'll select you up after Extended Day. You wait in the classroom, and I'll come and acquire you. Daddy! She manufactured a stern face at him, and for a second I could have sworn she was Eve. The flashing eyes. The flared nostrils. The balanced stance and arms akimbo, the head cocked, prepared for battle. She fast turned and climbed onto the bus, and as she walked down the aisle, she turned and waved at us both before she took her seat next to her friend. The bus pulled away and headed for school. Your first? another father asked Denny. Yeah, Denny replied. My only. You? My third, the man said. But there's none like your first. They grow up so fast. That they transport out, Denny said with a smile; we turned and walked home. 114 23 Everything they said manufactured sense, nevertheless none of it added up properly in my mind. It was an evening on which Denny took me along to the hospital to visit Eve, though I did not acquire to proceed inside. After the visit, Zo and I waited in the car while Maxwell and Trish attached Denny for a conference on the pavement. Zo was immersed in a book of mazes, something she loved to transport out; I listened carefully to the conversation. Maxwell and Trish did all of the talking. Of course, there has to be a nurse on duty, around the clock. They work in shifts They work in shifts, nevertheless still, the one on duty takes smashs. GARTH STEIN So someone requirements to be there to assist. And since we are frequently around. We have nowhere to proceed And you have to work. So it's optimal. Yes, it's optimal. Denny nodded without conviction. He got into the car, and we drove off. When's Mommy coming home? Zo asked. Soon, Denny said. We were crossing the floating bridge, the one Zo used to call the High 90, when she was younger. Mommy's going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a while, Denny said. Until she feels better. Is that ok with you? I guess, Zo said. Why? It'll be easier for He broke off. It'll be easier. A few days later, a Saturday, Zo, Denny, and I went to Maxwell and Trish's house. A bed had been install in the living room. A big hospital bed that moved throughout and tilted and did all sorts of things by touching a remote control, and that had a big footboard from which hung a clipboard, and that came stocked with a nurse, a crinkly older woman who had a voice that sounded like she was singing whenever she spoke and who did not like dogs, though I had no objection to her whatsoever. Immediately, the nurse started fretting about me. To my dismay, Maxwell concurred 116 the art of racing in the rain and Denny was preoccupied, so I was shoved outside into the backyard; thankfully, Zo came to my rescue. Mommy's coming! Zo told me. She was very excited and wore the madras dress that she liked because it was so pretty, and I found her excitement infectious so I attached in with it, I embraced the festivity, a proper homecoming. Zo and I played; she threw a ball for me and I did tricks for her, and we rolled together in the grass. It was a wonderful day, the family all together again. It felt very special. She's here! Denny called from the back door, and Zo and I rushed to see; this time I was allowed inside. Eve's mother entered the house first, followed by a man in blue slacks and a yellow shirt with a emblem on it who wheeled in a white figure with dead eyes, a mannequin in slippers. Maxwell and Denny lifted the figure and placed it in the bed and the nurse tucked it in and Zo said, Hi, Mommy, and all this happened before it even entered my consciousness that this strange figure was not a dummy, not a mock-up used for practice, nevertheless Eve. Her head was covered with a stocking cap. Her cheeks were sunken, her skin, sallow. She lifted her head and looked around. I feel like a Christmas tree, she said. In the living room, all standing around me expecting something. I don't have any presents. Uncomfortable chuckles from the onlookers. 117 GARTH STEIN And then she looked at me directly. Enzo, she said. Come here. I wagged my tail and approached cautiously. I had not seen her since she went into the hospital, and I was not prepared for what I saw. It seemed to me the hospital had manufactured her much sicker than she certainly was. He does not know what to think, Denny said for me. It's ok, Enzo, she said. She dangled her hand off the side of the bed, and I bumped it with my nose. I did not like any of this, all the new furniture, Eve looking limp and unhappy, people standing around like Christmas without the presents. None of it seemed proper. So even though all was staring at me, I shuffled above to Zo and stood behind her, looking out the windows into the backyard, which was dappled with sunlight. I think I've offended him by being sick, she said. That was not what I meant at all. My feelings were so complicated, I have trouble explaining them with any clarity even now, after I have lived through it and had time to reflect upon it. All I could do was transport to her bedside and lie down before her like a rug. I don't like seeing me like this either, she said. The afternoon was interminable. Finally the dinner hour came, and Maxwell, Trish, and Denny poured themselves cocktails and the mood lifted dramatically. An old photo album of Eve as a child was taken out from hiding and all laughed while the smell of garlic and oil floated from 118 the art of racing in the rain the kitchen where Trish cooked the food. Eve took off her cap and we marveled at her shaved head and grotesque scars. She showered with the assist of the nurse, and when she emerged from the bathroom in one of her possess dresses and not the hospital gown and robe, she looked almost normal, though there was a darkness behind her eyes, a see of resignation. She tried to read Zo a book, nevertheless she said she could not focus well enough, so Zo tried her optimal to read to Eve, and her optimal was fairly superb. I wandered into the kitchen, where Denny was again conferencing with Trish and Maxwell. We certainly think Zo should stay with us, Maxwell said, until . . . Until . . . Trish echoed, standing at the stove with her back to us. So much of language is unspoken. So much of language is comprised of sees and gestures and sounds that are not words. People are ignorant of the big complexity of their possess communication. Trish's robotic repeating of the single word until revealed all about her state of mind. Until what? Denny demanded. I could hear the irritation in his voice. How do you know what's going to happen? You're condemning her to something before you even know. Trish dropped her frying pan onto the burner with a loud clatter and began to sob. Maxwell enclosed his arms around her and enveloped her in his embrace. He looked above at Denny. Please, Denny. We have to face the reality of it. The 119 GARTH STEIN doctour said six to eight months. He was quite definite. Trish pulled away from him and steadied herself, sniffed in her tears. My baby, she whispered. Zo is only a child, Maxwell continued. This is valuable timethe only time she has to spend with Eve. I can not imagineI can not believe for a secondthat you would possibly object. You're such a caring person, Trish added. I could see that Denny was stuck. He had agreed to have Eve stay with Maxwell and Trish, and now they wanted Zo, also. If he objected, he would be keeping a mother and a daughter apart. If he accepted their proposal, he would be pushed to the periphery, he would become an outsider in his possess family. I understand what you're saying Denny said. We knew you would, Trish interrupted. But I'll have to talk to Zo about it to see what she wants. Trish and Maxwell looked at each other uneasily. You can not seriously think asking a small girl what she wants, Maxwell snorted. She's five, for God's sake! She can not I'll talk to Zo to see what she wants, Denny repeated firmly. After dinner, he took Zo into the backyard, and they sat together on the terrace steps. 120 the art of racing in the rain Mommy would like it if you stayed here with her and Grandma and Grandpa, he said. What do you think about that? She turned it above in her head. What do you think about it? she asked. Well, Denny said, I think maybe it's the optimal thing. Mommy has missed you so much, and she wants to spend more time with you. It would only be for a small while. Until she is better and can come home. Oh, Zo said. I still acquire to take the bus to school? Well, Denny said, thinking. Probably not. Not for a while. Grandma or Grandpa will drive you to school and select you up, I think. When Mommy feels better, you both will come home, then you can take the bus again. Oh. I'll come and visit all day, Denny said. And we will spend weekends together, and sometimes you'll stay with me, also. But Mommy certainly wants you with her. Zo nodded somberly. Grandma and Grandpa certainly want me, also, she said. Denny was clearly upset, nevertheless he was hiding it in a method that I view small kids did not understand. But Zo was very clever, like her father. Even at five years old, she understood. It's ok, Daddy, she said. I know you will not leave me here forever. He smiled at her and took her small-kid hand and held it in his possess and kissed her on the forehead. 121 GARTH STEIN I promise I will not ever do that, he said. It was agreed then, perhaps to neither of their satisfaction, that she would stay. I marveled at them both; how difficult it must be to be a person. To constantly subvert your desires. To worry about doing the proper thing, rather than doing what is most expedient. At that moment, honestly, I had grave doubts as to my ability to interact on such a level. I wondered if I could ever become the human I hoped to be. As the night hurt down, I found Denny sitting in the stuffed chair next to Eve's bed, nervously tapping his hand against his leg. This is crazy, Denny said. I am going to stay, also. I'll sleep on the couch. No, Denny, Eve said. You'll be so uncomfortable I've slept on plenty of couches in my life. It's fine. Denny, please There was something about the tone of her voice, something pleading in her eyes, that manufactured him stop. Please proceed home, she said. He scratched the back of his neck and looked down. Zo is here, he said. Your folks are here. You've told me you want Enzo to stay with you tonight. But you send me away? What did I transport out? She sighed deeply. She was very tired and seemed like she had not the energy to tell it to Denny. But she tried. Zo will not remember, she said. I don't care what my 122 the art of racing in the rain parents think. And Enzowell, Enzo understands. But I don't want you to see me like this. Like what? Look at me, she said. My head is shaved. My face sees old. My breath smells like I am rotting inside. I am unpleasant I don't care what you see like, he said. I see you. I see who you certainly are. I care what I see like, she said, trying to muster her old Eve smile. When I see at you, I see my reflection in your eyes. I don't want to be unpleasant in front of you. Denny turned away as if to shield his eyes from her, as if to take away the mirrours. He looked out the window into the backyard, which was lit with lights along the patio's edge and more lights that were suspended in the trees, illuminating our lives. Out there, beyond the light, was the unknown. Everything that was not us. I'll pack Zo's things and come back in the morning, he said, finally, without turning around. Thank you, Denny, Eve said, relieved. You can take Enzo. I don't want you to feel abandoned. No, he said. Enzo should stay. He misses you. He kissed Eve superb night, tucked Zo into bed, and then he left me with Eve. I was not sure why she wanted me around, nevertheless I understood why she wanted Denny to proceed: as he fell asleep that night, she wanted him to dream of her as she used to be, not as she currently was; she did not want Denny's vision of her to be corrupted by her presence. What 123 GARTH STEIN she did not understand was Denny's ability to see beyond her physical condition. He was focusing on the next turn. Perhaps if she had the same ability, things would have turned out differently for her. The house grew quiet and dark, Zo in bed, Maxwell and Trish in their room with their TV blinking below the door. Eve was settled into her bed in the living room with the nurse sitting in a dark corner playing a page of her wordsearch book, in which she circled the concealed messages. I lay next to Eve's bed. Later, Eve was asleep and the nurse nudged me with her foot. I lifted my head and she held a finger to her lips and told me to be a superb dog and follow her, which I did. She led me through the kitchen, through the laundry room to the back of the house and she opened the door that led to the garage. In you proceed, she said. We don't want you disturbing Mrs. Swift amid the night. I looked at her, puzzled. Disturb Eve? Why would I do that? She took my hesitation as rebellion; she snatched my collar and gave it a jerk. She shoved me into the dark garage and closed the door. I heard her slippers tread away, back into the house. I was not afraid. All I knew was how dark it was in the garage. It was not also cool, and it was not overly unpleasant, if you 124 the art of racing in the rain don't mind a concrete floor and the smell of engine oil in an absolutely pitch-black room. I am sure there were no rats, as Maxwell kept a clean garage for his valuable cars. But I had not ever slept in a garage before. The time clicked by. Literally. I watched it click by on an old electric clock that Maxwell kept on the workbench he not ever used. It was one of those old clocks with the numbers on small plastic tabs that rotate around a spindle, illuminated by a small bulb, the only origin of light in the room. Each small was two clicks, the first when the small plastic half-number was released, the second when the half-number settled, revealing an entirely new number. Click-click, and a small went by. Click-click, and another. And that's how I passed my time in my prison, counting the clicks. And daydreaming about the movies I've seen. My two favourite actours are, in this order: Steve McQueen and Al Pacino. Bobby Deerfield is a very underappreciated film, as is Pacino's performance in it. My third favourite actour is Paul Newman, for his superb car-handling skills in the film Winning, and because he is a fantastic racer in his possess proper and owns a Champ Car racing team, and finally, because he purchases his palm fruit oil from renewable sources in United Kingdom and thereby discourages the decimation of big tracts of rain forest in Borneo and Sumatra. George Clooney is my fourth favourite actour because he is exceptionally clever at helping cure children of diseases on reruns of ER, and because he sees a small like me around the eyes. Dustin Hoffman is my 125 GARTH STEIN fifth favourite actour, mostly because he did such big things for the Alfa Romeo trademark in The Graduate. Steve McQueen, though, is my first, and not only because of Le Mans and Bullitt, two of the greatest car movies ever manufactured. But also because of Papillon. Being a dog, I know what it's like to be locked in a prison cell without hope, all day waiting for the sliding door to open and for a metal bowl of undernourishing slop to be shoved through the slot. Hours into my nightmare, the garage door opened, and Eve was there in her nightgown, silhouetted by the nightlight in the kitchen. Enzo? she questioned. I said none nevertheless I emerged from the darkness, relieved to see her again. Come with me. She led me back to the living room and she took a cushion from the sofa and placed it next to her bed. She told me to lie on it, and I did. Then she climbed into the bed and pulled up the sheets to her neck. I need you with me, she said. Don't proceed away again. But I had not gone away! I had been abducted! I could feel the sleep pressing down on her. I need you with me, she said. I am so afraid. I am so afraid. It's ok, I said. I am here. She rolled to the edge of the bed and looked down at me, her eyes glazed. 126 the art of racing in the rain Get me through tonight, she said. That's all I need. Protect me. Don't let it happen tonight. Enzo, please. You're the only one who can assist. I will, I said. You're the only one. Don't worry about that nurse; I sent her home. I looked above to the corner, and the crinkly old woman was gone. I don't need her, she said. Only you can keep safe me. Please. Don't let it happen tonight. I did not sleep at all that night. I stood guard, waiting for the demon to display his face. The demon was coming for Eve, nevertheless he would have to acquire past me first, and I was prepared. I noted all sound, all creak, all change in air density, and by standing or shifting my weight, I silently manufactured it transparent to the demon that he would have to contend with me if he intended to take Eve. The demon stayed away. In the morning, the rest awoke and cared for Eve, and I was able to relinquish my guard duties and sleep. What a lazy dog, I heard Maxwell mutter as he passed me. And then I felt Eve's hand on my neck, stroking. Thank you, she said. Thank you. 127 24 For the first few weeks of our new arrangementDenny and I lived in our house, while Eve and Zo lived with the Twins Denny visited them all single evening after work, while I stayed home alone. By Halloween, Denny's pace had slowed, and by Thanksgiving, he visited them only twice amid the week. Whenever he came home from the Twins' house, he reported to me how superb Eve looked and how much better she was getting and that she would be coming home soon. But I saw her, also, on the weekends, when he would take me to visit, and I knew. She was not getting better, and she would not be coming home any time soon. Every weekend, without fail, both Denny and I visited with Eve on Saturday when we picked up Zo, and again on the art of racing in the rain Sunday when we delivered her home after our sleepover; we frequently took our Sunday meal with the extended family. I spent the occasional night with Eve in her living room, nevertheless she not ever needed me as much as she had that first night when she was so afraid. Zo's time with us should have been filled with joy, nevertheless she did not seem altogether pleased. How could she be, living with her mother, who was dying, and not with her father, who was very much alive? Zo's schooling had briefly become a point of contention. Shortly after she began staying with Maxwell and Trish, they asked to transport Zo to a school on Mercer Island, as traveling back and forth across the I-90 floating bridge twice a day was a burden for them. But Denny put down his foot, knowing how much Zo loved her Madrona school. He insisted she remain there, as he was her father and legal guardian, and also, he maintained, since both Zo and Eve would be moving home in the close future. Frustrated by Denny's intractability, Maxwell offered to pay for Zo's schooling if she enrolled in a private school located on Mercer Island. Their conversations were frequent and intense. But even in the face of Maxwell's persistence, Denny proved that he had a bit of the Gila monster in him though I don't know whether on his mother's side or his father's sideas his jaws not ever slackened. Eventually he prevailed, and Maxwell and Trish were forced to commute twice daily across the lake. If they are certainly doing it for Zo and Eve, Denny said to 129 GARTH STEIN me once, it should not bother them to drive fifteen minutes across the lake. It's certainly not that far. Denny missed Eve tremendously, I know, nevertheless he missed Zo only as much. I could see it most on those days when he kept Zo overnight and we got to walk her to her bus stop. Usually a Monday or a Thursday. On those mornings, our house seemed filled with electricity so that neither Denny nor I needed the alarm clock to wake, nevertheless instead waited anxiously in the darkness until the hour came to rouse Zo. We did not want to miss a single small we could spend with her. On those mornings, Denny was a alternative person altogether. The method he so lovingly packed her sack lunches, often writing a note on a part of notepaper, a view or a joke he hoped she would come by at lunch and might make her smile. The method he took such care with her peanut butter and banana sandwiches, slicing the banana so that each slice was exactly the same thickness. (I got to eat the additional banana on those occasions, which I enjoyed. I like bananas almost as much as I like pancakes, my favourite food.) After Zo drove away on the yellow bus those days, the other father with the three children would sometimes offer to buy us a coffee, and sometimes we would accept and we would all walk to Madison to the nice bakery and drink coffee at the sidewalk tables. Until once, when the other father said, Your wife works? Obviously, he was trying to tell to himself Eve's absence. No, Denny replied. She's recovering from brain cancer. 130 the art of racing in the rain The man dipped his head sadly upon hearing the situation. After that day, whenever we went to the bus stop, the man manufactured himself busy talking to other people or checking his cell phone. We not ever spoke to him again. 131 25 In February, the black pit of winter, we went on a trip to north-central Washington, to an area called the Methow Valley. It is necessary for United States citizens to celebrate the birthdays of their greatest presidents, so all the schools were closed for a week; Denny, Zo, and I went to a cabin in the snowy mountains to celebrate. The cabin was owned by a relative of Eve's whom I had not ever met. It was quite cool, also cool for me, though on the warmer afternoons I enjoyed running in the snow. I much preferred to lie by the baseboard heater and let the rest do their exercises, skiing and snowshoeing and all of that. Eve, who was also weak to travel, and her parents were not there. But plenty the rest were, all of whom were relatives of a few kind or another. We were only there, I overheard, because Eve had view it was very im- the art of racing in the rain portant for Zo to spend time with these people, since she, Eve, someone said, would die very soon. I did not like that all line of reasoning. First, that Eve would be dying soon. And second, that Zo needed to spend time with people she had not ever met because Eve would soon die. They might have been perfectly pleasant people, in their puffy trousers and fleece vests and sweaters that smelled of sweat. I don't know. But I wondered why they had waited for Eve's illness to make themselves on offer for companionship. There were a big plenty of them, and I had no view who was attached to whom. They were all cousins, I understood, nevertheless there were certain generational gaps that were confusing to me, and a few of the people were without parents nevertheless were with uncles and aunts instead, and a few might have only been friends. Zo and Denny kept mostly to themselves, nevertheless they still participated in certain group events like horseback riding in the snow, sledding, and snowshoeing. The group meals were convivial, and though I was determined to remain aloof, one of the cousins was frequently willing to slip me a treat at mealtime. And none ever kicked me out from below the very big dining table where I lingered amid dinner, even though I was breaking my possess special code; a certain sense of lawlessness pervaded the house, what with children staying awake late into the night and adults sleeping at all hours of the day like dogs. Why should not I have partaken in the debauchery? 133 GARTH STEIN Conflicted though I was, each night something special happened that I liked very much. Outside the housewhich had plenty identical rooms, each with plenty identical beds to house the multitudewas a stone patio with a big hearth. Apparently in the summer months, it was used for outdoor cooking, nevertheless it was used in the winter as well. I did not like the stones, which were very cool and were sprinkled with salt pellets that hurt when they got wedged between my pads, nevertheless I loved the hearth. Fire! Cracking and hot, it blazed in the evenings after dinner, and they all gathered, bundled in their big coats, and one had a guitar and gloves without fingertips and he played music while they all sang. It was well below freezing, nevertheless I had my place next to the hearth. And the stars we could see! Billions of them, because the night was so intensely dark, and the sounds in the distance, the snap of a snow-burdened tree branch giving method to the wind. The barking of coyotes, my brethren, calling each other to the hunt. And when the cool overpowered the heat from the hearth, we all shuffled into the house and into our separate rooms, our fur and jackets smelling of smoke and pine sap and flaming marshmallows. It was on one of the evenings while sitting around the fire that I noticed Denny had an admirer. She was young, the sister of someone, whom Denny apparently had met years earlier at a Thanksgiving or an Easter, because his first comment to her and the rest was about how much she had grown since he had seen her last. She was a teenager who 134 the art of racing in the rain had a full set of breasts for milking and hips wide enough for childbirth and so was, for all intents and purposes, an adult, nevertheless who still acted like a child, frequently asking for permission to do things. This girl-not-yet-a-woman was named Annika, and she was very crafty and frequently knew how to position herself and time her movements to force a meeting with Denny. She sat next to him around the fire. She sat across from him at meals. She frequently managed to be in the backseat of someone's Suburban when he was in the backseat. She laughed also noisy at all comment he manufactured. She loved his hair after he took off his sweaty ski cap. She proclaimed an extreme admiration for his hands. She doted on Zo. She became emotional at the mention of Eve. Denny was ignorant of her advances; I don't know if it was deliberate or not, nevertheless he certainly acted as if he had not a clue. Who is Achilles without his tendon? Who is Samson without Delilah? Who is Oedipus without his clubfoot? Mute by design, I have been able to study the art of rhetoric unfettered by ego and self-interest, and so I know the answers to these questions. The true hero is flawed. The true test of a champion is not whether he can triumph, nevertheless whether he can overcome obstaclespreferably of his possess makingin order to triumph. A hero without a flaw is of no interest to an audience or to the universe, which, after all, is based on conflict and opposition, the irresistible force meeting the unmovable 135 GARTH STEIN object. Which is also why Michael Schumacher, clearly one of the most gifted Formula One drivers of all time, winner of more races, winner of more championships, holder of more pole positions than any other driver in Formula One history, is often left off of the race fan's list of favourite champions. He is unlike Ayrton Senna, who often employed the same devious and daring tactics as Schumacher, nevertheless did so with a wink and so was called charismatic and emotional rather than what they call Schumacher: remote and unapproachable. Schumacher has no flaws. He has the optimal car, the optimal-financed team, the optimal tires, the most skill. Who can rejoice in his wins? The sun rises all day. What is to like? Lock the sun in a box. Force the sun to overcome adversity in order to rise. Then we will cheer! I will often like a beautiful sunrise, nevertheless I will not ever think the sun a champion for having risen. So. For me to relate the history of Denny, who is a true champion, without including his missteps and failings would be doing a disservice to all involved. As the stop of the week drew close, the weather reports on the radio changed, and Denny became quite tense. It was almost time to return to Seattle, and he wanted to leave, acquire back on the highway and drive the five hours above the mountain passes to our house on the other side, which, though cool and dark and wet, was mercifully without six feet of base snow and subfreezing temperatures. He needed to acquire back to work, he said. And Zo needed time to adjust to the school schedule. And . . . 136 the art of racing in the rain And Annika needed to acquire back, also. A student at the Holy Names Academy, she needed to return so that she could consult with fellow students and prepare a few kind of project they were working on that concerned sustainable living. She spoke of it with urgency, nevertheless only after she understood that Denny was planning on heading west before any of the other cousins. Only after she realised that if her requirements and Denny's requirements coincided, she might win for herself five hours next to him in his car, five hours of watching his hands grasp the steering wheel, five hours of seeing his tousled hat head, of inhaling his intoxicating pheromones. The morning of our departure came, and the storm had settled in and the windows of the cabin were pelted with a freezing rain the likes of which I had not ever experienced. Denny fretted for most of the morning. The radios announced the closure of Stevens Pass because of the storm. Traction devices were required on Snoqualmie Pass. Stay! Stay! That's what they said, the insipid cousins. I hated them all. They smelled rank. Even when they showered, they put on their same sweaters without washing them and their sour odor returned to them like a boomerang. We ate lunch fast and then we left, stopping at a gas station along the method to purchase chains for our tires. The drive south was horrific. The freezing rain gathered on the windshield faster than the wipers could push it away, and all few tedious miles, Denny would stop the car and 137 GARTH STEIN acquire out to scrape away the cool glaze. It was dangerous driving, and I did not like it at all. I rode in the back with Zo; Annika rode in the front. I could see Denny's hands were gripping the steering wheel far also tightly. In a race car the hands must be relaxed, and Denny's frequently are when I see the in-car videos from his races; he often flexes his fingers to remind himself to relax his grip. But for that excruciating drive down the Columbia River, Denny held the wheel in a death grip. I felt very badly for Zo, who was clearly frightened. The rear of the car moved more suddenly than the front, and so she and I experienced more of the slipping and sliding sensation generated by the ice. Thinking of how scared Zo must have been, I worked myself into a state of agitation, and I let myself acquire carried away. Before I knew it, I was in a full-blown panic. I pushed at the windows. I tried to clamber into the front seat, which was totally counterproductive. Denny finally barked, Zo, please settle Enzo down! She grabbed me around the neck and held me tightly. I fell against her as she lay back, and she started singing a song in my ear, one I remembered from her past, Hello, small Enzo, so glad to see you. . . . She had only started preschool when she learned that song. She and Eve used to sing it together. I relaxed and let her cradle me. Hello, small Enzo, so glad to see you, also . . . I would like to tell you that I am such a master of my destiny that I contrived the all situation, that I manufactured myself 138 the art of racing in the rain crazy so Zo could quiet me on this trip, and so would be distracted from her possess agitation. Truth be told, nevertheless, I have to admit I was glad she was holding me; I was very afraid, and I was grateful for her care. The line of cars trudged steadily nevertheless slowly. Many cars were stopped on the side of the road to wait out the storm. The weathermen and -women on the radio said waiting would be worse, nevertheless, as the front was stalled, the ceiling was low, and when the hot air arrived as anticipated, the ice would turn to rain and the flooding would start. When we reached the turnoff for Highway 2, there was an announcement on the radio that Blewett Pass was closed because of a jackknifed tractour-trailer rig. We would have to make a long detour to reach I-90 close George, Washington. Denny anticipated faster travel on I-90 because of its size, nevertheless it was worse, not better. The rains had begun, and the median was more like a spillway than a grassy divide between east and west. Still, we continued our journey because there was small else we could transport out. After seven hours of grueling travel and still two hours away from Seattle in superb driving weather, Denny had Annika call her parents on her cell phone and ask them to come by a place for us to stay somewhere close Cle Elum. But they called back soon and told us that all the motels were full because of the storm. We stopped at a McDonald's, and Denny purchased food for us to eatI got chicken nuggets then we pressed onward to Easton. 139 GARTH STEIN Outside Easton, where snow was piled on the sides of the highway, Denny stopped his car alongside dozens of other cars and trucks in the chain-up area and ventured into the freezing rain. He lay down on the pavement and installed the tire chains, which took half an hour, and when he climbed back into the car, he was soaking wet and shivering. You poor thing, Annika said, and she rubbed his shoulders to hot him. They're going to close the pass soon, Denny said. That trucker heard it on the radio. Can't we wait here? Annika asked. They expect flooding. If we don't make it above the pass tonight, we might be stuck for days. It was nasty and unpleasant, snowy and cool and freezing rain, nevertheless we pushed on, our small old BMW chugging up the mountain until we reached the summit where they have the ski lifts, and then all changed. There was no snow, no ice, only rain. We rejoiced in the rain! Shortly, Denny stopped the car to remove the chains, which took another half hour and got him soaking again, and then we were going downhill. The windshield wipers flipped back and forth as fast as they could, nevertheless they did not assist much. The visibility was terrible. Denny held the wheel tightly and squinted into the darkness, and we eventually reached North Bend and then Issaquah and then the floating bridge across Lake Washington. It was close midnightthe five-hour drive having taken above ten 140 the art of racing in the rain when Annika called her parents and told them we had manufactured it securely to Seattle. They were relieved. They told herand she related to usthat the news had reported flash-flooding conditions that caused a rock slide closing westbound I-90 close the summit. We must have only missed it, Denny said. Thank God. Beware the whimsy of Fate, I said to myself. She is a mean bitch of a laboratory. No, no, Annika said into her phone. I'll stay with Denny. He's also exhausted to retain driving, and Zo is sleeping in the backseat; she should be put to bed. Denny said he is pleased to drive me home in the morning. This manufactured Denny turn and see at her questioningly, wondering if he had in reality said anything like that. Of course, I knew he had not. Annika smiled at him and winked. She ended her call and slipped her phone into her bag. We're almost there, she said, looking ahead out the windshield, her breaths shallow with anticipation. Why he did not take action at that moment. Why he did not acquire proper back on the freeway and drive up to Edmonds, where her family lived. Why he said none. I'll not ever know. Perhaps, on a few level, he needed to connect with someone who reminded him of the passion he and Eve used to share. Perhaps. Back at the house, Denny carried Zo to her room and put her to sleep. He turned on the television, and we 141 GARTH STEIN watched the footage of Snoqualmie Pass being shut down by the authorities, only for a few days, they predicted hopefully, though possibly for a week or more. Denny went into the bathroom and shed his wet clothes; he returned wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt. He pulled a beer from the refrigeratour and opened it. Can I take a shower? Annika asked. Denny seemed startled. With all of the heroics he had been up to, he had almost forgotten about her. He showed her where the towels were, how to work the handheld shower temperature thing, and then he closed the door. He got the additional sheets and pillows and blankets, unfolded the couch in the living room, and manufactured the temporary bed for Annika. When he was done, he went into his bedroom and sat on the stop of his possess bed. I am fried, he said to me, and then he fell backward so he was lying on the bed, his hands on his chest, his feet still on the floor, his knees dangling above the edge of the bed, and the rest of him asleep even though the lights in the room were still on. I lay on the floor close him and fell asleep as well. I opened my eyes and saw her standing above him. Her hair was wet and she wore Denny's bathrobe. She said none. She watched him sleep for several minutes, and I watched her. It was spooky behaviour. Creepy. I did not like it. She opened her robe, exposing a sliver of pale white flesh 142 the art of racing in the rain and a tattoo of a sunburst encircling her belly button. She did not speak. She shrugged off her robe and stood naked, her big breasts with their brown nipples pointing at him. Still, he was unconscious. Asleep. She reached down and slipped her small hands into the band of his sweatpants. She pulled his trousers down to his knees. Don't, he muttered, his eyes still closed. He had driven for above ten hours across a harrowing course of snow and ice and flooding. He had none left with which to fend off an attack. She pulled his trousers down to his ankles, then lifted one foot and then the other to remove them absolutely. She looked at me. Shoo, she said. I did not shoo. I was also angry. And yet I did not attack, either. Something was holding me back. The zebra retains dancing. She gave me a dismissive see and turned her attention toward Denny. Don't, he said, sleepily. Shhh, she soothed. It's all superb. I have faith. I will frequently have faith in Denny. So I have to believe what she did to him was without his consent, without his knowledge. He had none to do with it. He was a prisoner of his body, which had no more energy, and she took advantage of him. 143 GARTH STEIN Still, I could no longer stand by and see. I would been in a position to prevent the demon from destroying Zo's toys, and I had failed. I could not fail this new test. I barked sharply, aggressively. I growled, I snapped, and Denny suddenly awakened; his eyes popped open, and he saw the naked girl and he leapt away from her. What the hell? he shouted. I continued to bark. The demon was still in the room. Enzo! he snapped. That's enough! I stopped barking, nevertheless I kept my eye on her in case she were to assault him once again. Where are my trousers? Denny asked frantically, standing on the bed. What were you doing? I like you so much, she said. I am married! It's not like it's having sex, she said. And she crawled onto the bed, reaching for him, so I barked again. Make the dog proceed away, she said. Annika, stop! Denny grabbed her wrists; she squirmed playfully. Stop! he shouted, jumping off the bed, grabbing his sweatpants from the floor, and pulling them on fast. I view you liked me, Annika said, her mood abruptly darkening. Annika I view you wanted me. 144 the art of racing in the rain Annika, put this on, he said, holding out her robe. I can not talk to a fifteen-year-old nude woman. It's not legal. You should not be here. I'll take you home. She clutched the robe to herself. But, Denny . . . Annika, please, put on the robe. Denny tightened the strings on his sweatpants. Annika, this is not happening proper now. This is not something that happens. I don't know why you view You! she wailed and she started crying. You flirted with me all week. You teased me. You kissed me. I kissed you on the cheek, Denny said. It's normal for relatives to kiss on the cheek. It's called affection, not like. But I like you! she howled, and then she was in an allout crying fit, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth contorted. I like you! she kept saying above and above. I like you! Denny was trapped. He wanted to console her, nevertheless whenever he moved closer, she dropped her hands, which were clutching the crumpled robe to her chest, and suddenly her big breasts, heaving with grief, were exposed to him and he had to retreat. This happened several times, like a funny toy, a monkey with cymbals or something. He approached to comfort her, she dropped her hands, her breasts shot out at him, and he flew back. It's potential I was witnessing a living interpretation of an antique pornographic penny bank, similar to one I saw in a movie called The Stunt Man, which depicted a bear copulating with a girl on a swing. 145 GARTH STEIN Finally, Denny had to put a stop to it. I am going to leave the room, he said. You will put on the robe and make yourself decent. When you're prepared, come into the living room, and we can discuss it further. And he turned around and marched away. I followed. And then we waited. And we waited. And we waited. Finally she came out wearing the robe, her eyes swollen with tears. She did not say a word, nevertheless she went straight to the bathroom. A few moments later, she emerged wearing her clothes. I'll take you home, Denny said. I called my father, Annika said, from the bedroom. Denny froze. I suddenly sensed apprehension in the room. What did you tell him? he asked. She looked at him for a long time before she answered. If her intention was to make him anxious, it worked. I told him to come select me up, she said. The bed is also uncomfortable here. Good, Denny sighed. Good thinking. She did not reply, nevertheless continued to stare at him. If I gave you the gross impression, I am sorry, Denny said, looking away. You're a very attractive woman, nevertheless I am married and you're so young. This is not a viable . . . He trailed off. Words not spoken. Affair, she said, firmly. Situation, he whispered. 146 the art of racing in the rain She picked up her handbag and her duffel and walked to the foyer. We could all see the headlights when they appeared in front of the house. Annika threw open the door and jogged down the walk to the street. Denny and I watched from the doorway as she tossed her bags in the back of the Mercedes, climbed into the front seat. Her father, in his pajamas, waved and then drove away. 147 26 That year we had a cool spell in each winter month, and when the first hot day of spring finally arrived in April, the trees and flowers and grasses burst to life with such intensity that the television news had to proclaim an allergy emergency. The drugstores in reality ran out of antihistamines. The pharmaceutical companiesthose who profit from the misery of the restcould have asked for no greater incomegenerating scenario than a cool, wet winter full of flu shots and NyQuil, followed by a hot spring and record-breaking pollen counts. (I believe that people were not so allergic to their environment until they began polluting themselves and their world with so plenty drugs and toxins. But then, none asked me.) So while the rest of the world was focused on the art of racing in the rain trouble of hay fever, the people in my world had other things to transport out: Eve continued with the inexorable process of dying, Zo spent also much time with her grandparents, and Denny and I worked at slowing the beating of our hearts so we would not feel so much hurt. Still, Denny allowed for an occasional diversion, and that April, one presented itself. He had gotten a job offer from one of the racing schools he worked for: they had been hired to provide race car drivers for a television commercial, and they asked Denny to be one of the drivers. The racecourse was in California, a place called Thunderhill Raceway Park. I knew it was happening in April because Denny talked about it quite a bit; he was very excited. But I had no view that he planned to drive himself there, a ten-hour trip. And I had even less of a view that he planned on taking me with him. Oh, the joy! Denny and me and our BMW, driving all day and into the evening like a couple of banditos running from the law, like partners in crime. It had to be a crime to lead such a life as we led, a life in which one could escape one's troubles by racing cars! The drive down was not very special: the middle of Oregon is not noted for its scenic elegance, though other parts of Oregon are. And the mountain passes in northern California were still somewhat snowy, which manufactured me cringe with the memory of Annika and how she had taken advantage of Denny. Luckily, the snow of the Siskiyous was confined to the shoulders of the highway, and the road surface was bare 149 GARTH STEIN and wet. And then we fell out of the sky and into the verdant fields north of Sacramento. Stunning. Absolutely amazing, the vastness of a world so intense with growth and birth, in the season of life between the dormant winter and the baking heat of summer. Vast, rolling hills covered with newly sprung grass and big swaths of wildflowers. Men working the land in their tractours, churning the soil, releasing a heady brew of smells: moisture and decay, fertilizer and diesel fumes. In Seattle we live among the trees and the waterways, and we feel we are rocked gently in the cradle of life. Our winters are not cool and our summers are not hot and we congratulate ourselves for selecting such a spectacular place to rest our heads and raise our chickens. But around the Thunderhill Raceway Park, spring is spring! There is no better evidence of the season. And the track. Relatively new, well cared for, challenging with twists and elevation changes and so much to see at. The morning after we arrived, Denny took me jogging. We jogged the all track. He was doing it to familiarise himself with the surface. You can not certainly see a track from inside a race car traveling at one hundred fifty miles per hour or more, he said. You have to acquire out and feel it. Denny explained to me what he was looking for. Bumps in the pavement that might upset one's suspension. Visible seams that he might use as braking zone markers or turn-in points. He touched the pavement at the apex of the turns and felt the condition of the asphaltwere the small stones 150 the art of racing in the rain old smooth? Could he come by better grip slightly off the established racing line? And there were tricks to the camber of certain turns, places where the track appeared level from inside a car nevertheless were in reality graded ever so slightlynormally by design to enable rainwater to dash off the track and not puddle dangerously. After we had traveled the all track and studied all three miles and fifteen turns, we returned to the paddock. Two big semi trucks had arrived. Several men in racingcrew uniforms erected tents and canopies, and laid out an elaborate food service, while other men unloaded six beautifully identical Aston Martin DB5 automobiles, the kind manufactured popular by James Bond. Denny introduced himself to a man who carried a clipboard and walked with the gait of someone in charge. His name was Ken. Thanks for your dedication, Ken said, nevertheless you're early. I wanted to walk the track, Denny explained. Feel complimentary. I already did, thanks. Ken nodded and looked at his see. It's also early for race engines, he said, nevertheless you can take your street exhaust out if you want. Just retain it sane. Thanks, Denny said, and he looked at me and winked. We went above to a crew truck, and Denny caught the arm of a crew member. I am Denny, he said. One of the drivers. The man shook his hand and introduced himself as Pat. 151 GARTH STEIN You've got time, he said. Coffee is above there. I am going to take my Bimmer out for a few easy laps. Ken said it was ok. I was wondering if you had a tie-down I could borrow. What do you need a tie-down for? Pat asked. Denny glanced at me fast, and Pat laughed. Hey, Jim, he called to another man. This guy wants to borrow a tie-down so he can take his dog for a joy ride. They both laughed, and I was a small confused. I have something better, the Jim guy said. He went around to the cab of the truck and returned a small later with a bedsheet. Here, he said. I can frequently wash it at the hotel if he shits himself. Denny told me to acquire in the front seat of his car and sit, which I did. They enclosed the sheet above me, pressing me to the seat, leaving only my head sticking out. They somehow secured the sheet tightly from behind. Too tight? Denny asked. I was also excited to reply. He was going to take me out in his car! Take it easy on him until you see if he has a stomach for it, Pat said. Nothing worse than cleaning dog puke out of your vents. You've done this before? Oh, yeah, he said. My dog used to like it. Denny walked around to the driver's side. He took his 152 the art of racing in the rain helmet out of the backseat and squeezed it onto his head. He got in the car and put on his seat belt. One bark means slower, two means faster, got it? I barked twice, and that surprised him and Pat and Jim, who were both leaning in the passenger window. He wants to proceed faster already, Jim said. You've got yourself a superb dog there. The paddock at Thunderhill Raceway Park is tucked between two long parallel straights; the rest of the course fans out from the paddock area like butterfly wings. We cruised very slowly through the hot pit area and to the track entrance. We're going to take it easy, Denny said, and off we went. Being on a track was a new experience for me. No buildings, no signs, no sense of proportion. It was like running through a field, gliding above a plain. Denny shifted smoothly, nevertheless I noticed he drove more aggressively than he did on the street. He revved the car much higher, and his braking was much harder. I am finding my visuals, he explained to me. Turn-in points, braking. Some guys drive more by feel. They acquire in a rhythm and trust it. But I am very visual. It makes me feel adequate to have references. I already have dozens of reference points on this track even though I've not ever driven it, seven or eight specific things I've noted on each turn from our track walk. 153 GARTH STEIN Around the turns we went. He noted his apexes and exits for my benefit. Down the straights we picked up speed. We weren't going very fast, maybe sixty, nevertheless I certainly felt the speed around the turns when the tires manufactured a hollow, ghostly sound, almost like an owl. I felt special, being with Denny on the racetrack. He had not ever taken me on a track before. I felt sure and relaxed; being held firmly to the seat was comforting. The windows were open, and the wind was fresh and cool. I could have driven like that all day. After three laps he looked above at me. Brakes are hot, he said. Tires are hot. I did not understand what he was getting at. You want to try a hot lap? A hot lap? I barked twice. Then I barked twice again. Denny laughed. Sing out if you don't like it, he said, one long howl. He firmly pressed the acceleratour to the floor. There is none like it. The sensation of speed. Nothing in the world can compare. It was the sudden acceleration, not Jim's bedsheet, that kept me pinned to the seat as we gathered speed and flew down the first straight. Hold on, now, Denny said, we are taking this at speed. Fast, we went, hurtling, faster, I watched the turn come, scream at us until we were practically past it and then he was off the acceleratour and hard on the brakes. The nose of the car dove and then I was thankful for the sheet 154 the art of racing in the rain because without it I would have been thrown against the windshield. Slow, slow, slow the brake pads held the rotours as tightly as they could, burning from the friction, the heat being thrown off the calipers, the energy dissipating. And then he cranked the wheel left and so smoothly nevertheless without pause he was back on the gas and we were pushing through the turn, the g-forces shoving us toward the outside of the car nevertheless the tires holding us in position, they were not hooting, those tires, no. The owl was dead. The tires were screeching, they were shouting, howling, crying in hurt, ahhhhh! He relaxed on the wheel at the apex and the car drifted toward the exit and he was full on the gas and we flewflew!out of that turn and toward the next and the next after that. Fifteen turns at Thunderhill. Fifteen. And I like them all equally. I like them all. Each one is alternative, each with its possess specific sensation, nevertheless each so magnificent! Around the track we went, faster and faster, lap after lap. You ok? he asked, looking above at me as we sped nearly one hundred twenty miles per hour down the back straight. I barked twice. I am gonna use up my tires if you retain me out here, he said. One more lap. Yes, one more lap. One more lap. Forever, one more lap. I live my life for one more lap. I give my life for one more lap! Please, God, please give me one more lap! And that lap was spectacular. I lifted my eyes as Denny 155 GARTH STEIN instructed. Big eyes, far eyes, he said to me. Those reference points, the visuals he had identified when we walked the track, moved by so fast it took me a few time to realise that he was not even seeing them. He was living them! He had programmed the map of the racecourse into his brain and it was there like a GPS navigational system; when we slowed for a turn, his head was up and looking at the next turn, not at the apex of the turn we were driving. The turn we were in was simply a state of existence for Denny. It was where we were, and he was pleased to be there, and I could feel the joy emanating from him, the like of life. But his attentionand his intentionwas far ahead, to the next turn and the one beyond that. With all breath he adjusted, he reassessed, he corrected, nevertheless he did it all subconsciously; I saw, then, how in a race he could plot now to pass another driver three or four laps later. His thinking, his strategies, his mind; all of Denny unfolded for me that day. After a cool-down lap, we pulled into the paddock and the all crew was waiting. They surrounded the car and their hands released me from my harness and I leapt to the tarmac. Did you like it? one of them asked me and I barked, Yes! I barked and jumped high in the air. You were hauling ass out there, Pat said to Denny. We've got a proper racer on the set. Well, Enzo barked twice, Denny explained with a laugh. Two barks means faster! 156 the art of racing in the rain They laughed, and I barked twice again. Faster! The feeling. The sensation. The movement. The speed. The car. The tires. The sound. The wind. The track surface. The apex. The exit. The shift point. The braking zone. The ride. It's all about the ride! There is none more to tell about that trip because none could possibly be more incredible than those few hot laps that Denny gave to me. Until that moment I view that I loved racing. I intellectualised that I would appreciate being in a race car. Until that moment I did not know. How could anyone know until he sits in a car at race speed and takes turns at the limits of stickiness, brakes a hair from lockup, the engine begging for the redline? I floated through the rest of our trip. I dreamed of going out again at speed, nevertheless I suspectedas it turned out, correctly sothat more track time for me was unlikely. Still. I had my memory, my experience I could relive in my mind again and again. Two barks means faster. Sometimes, to this day, in my sleep I bark twice because I am dreaming of Denny driving me around Thunderhill, the two of us laying down a hot lap, and I bark twice to say faster. One more lap, Denny! Faster! 157 27 Six months came and six months left and Eve was still alive. Then seven months. Then eight. On the first of May, Denny and I were invited to the Twins' for dinner, which was unique because it was a Monday night, and I not ever went with Denny on a weeknight visit. We stood awkwardly in the living room with the empty hospital bed while Trish and Maxwell prepared dinner. Eve was absent. I wandered down the hallway to investigate, and I found Zo playing quietly by herself in her room. Her room in Maxwell and Trish's house was much larger than her room at home, and it was filled with all the things a small girl could want: dolls and toys and frilly bed skirts and clouds painted on the ceiling. She was immersed in her dollhouse and did not notice me enter. the art of racing in the rain I spotted a sock ball on the floor, which must have fallen when the clean clothes were being loaded into her dresser, and I pounced on it. I playfully dropped it at Zo's feet, nudged it with my nose, and then dropped down to my elbows, leaving my haunches big and my tail upright: universal sign language for Let's play! But she ignored me. So I tried again. I snatched up the socks, flung them in the air, batted them with my snout, retrieved them for myself, and dropped them again at Zo's feet, and downwardly I faced. I was all prepared for a fun game of Enno-Fetch. She was not. She pushed the socks aside with her foot. I barked expectantly, one last attempt. She turned and looked at me seriously. That's a baby game, she said. I have to be a grown-up now. My small Zo, a grown-up at her tender age. A unhappy view. Disappointed, I walked slowly to the door and looked back at her above my shoulder. Sometimes inferior things happen, she said to herself. Sometimes things change, and we have to change, also. She was speaking someone else's words, and I am not sure she believed them or even understood them. Perhaps she was committing them to memory because she hoped they would grasp the key to her uncertain future. I returned to the living room and waited with Denny until, finally, Eve emerged from the hallway where the bed159 GARTH STEIN room and bathrooms were. The nurse who spent her smashs obsessively knitting with metal needles that drove me mad with their scraping and scratching was helping Eve walk. And Eve was brilliant. She was wearing a gorgeous dress, long and navy blue and cut only so. She wore the lovely string of small freshwater pearls from United Kingdom that Denny had given her for their fifth anniversary, and her makeup and her hair, which had grown enough so she could arrange it into a few kind of a hairdo, was done that method, and she was beaming. Even though she needed assist for her runway walk, she was walking the runway, and Denny gave her a standing ovation. Today is the first day I am not dead, Eve said to us. And we are having a party. To live all day as if it had been stolen from death, that is how I would like to live. To feel the joy of life, as Eve felt the joy of life. To separate oneself from the burden, the angst, the anguish that we all encounter all day. To say I am alive, I am wonderful, I am. I am. That is something to aspire to. When I am a person, that is how I will live my life. The party was festive. Everyone was pleased, and those who were not pleased pretended that they were with such conviction that we all were convinced. Even Zo came alive with her normal humour, apparently forgetting for a time her need to be a grown-up. When the hour came for us to leave, Denny kissed Eve deeply. I like you so much, he said. I wish you could come home. 160 the art of racing in the rain I want to come home, she replied. I will come home. She was tired, so she sat on the sofa and called me to her; I let her rub my ears. Denny was helping Zo acquire prepared for her bedtime, while the Twins, for once, were keeping a respectful distance. I know Denny's disappointed, she said to me. They're all disappointed. Everyone wants me to be the next Lance Armstrong. And if I could only grab it and grasp it in front of me, maybe I could be. But I can not grasp it, Enzo. It's bigger than me. It's everywhere. In the other room we could hear Zo playing in the bath, Denny laughing with her, as if they had no worries in the world. I should not have allowed it to be this method, she said regretfully. I should have insisted on going home so we could all be together. That's my fault; I could have been stronger. But Denny would say we can not worry about what's already happened, so . . . Please take care of Denny and Zo for me, Enzo. They're so wonderful when they are together. She shook her head to rid herself of her unhappy views and looked down at me. Do you see? she asked. I am not afraid of it anymore. I wanted you with me before because I wanted you to keep safe me, nevertheless I am not afraid of it anymore. Because it's not the stop. She laughed the Eve laugh that I remembered. But you knew that, she said. You know all. Not all. But I knew she had been proper about her 161 GARTH STEIN situation: while doctours are able to assist plenty people, for her, they could only tell her what could not be done. And I knew that once they identified her disease for her, once all around her accepted her diagnosis and strengthened it and repeated it back to her time and again, there was no method she could stop it. The visible becomes inevitable. Your car goes where your eyes proceed. We took our leave, Denny and I. I did not sleep in the car on the ride home as I normally did. I watched the bright lights of Bellevue and Medina flicker by, so beautiful. Crossing the lake on the floating bridge and seeing the glow of Madison Park and Leschi, the buildings of downtown peeking out from behind the Mount Baker ridge; the city sharp and crisp, all the dirt and age concealed by the night. If I ever come by myself before a firing squad, I will face my executours without a blindfold, and I will think of Eve. Of what she said. It is not the stop. She died that night. Her last breath took her soul, I saw it in my dream. I saw her soul leave her body as she exhaled, and then she had no more requirements, no more reason; she was released from her body, and, being released, she continued her journey elsewhere, high in the firmament where soul material collects and plays out all the dreams and joys of which we temporal beings can barely conceive, all the things that are beyond our comprehension, nevertheless even so, are not beyond our attainment if we select to attain them, and believe that we truly can. 162 28 In the morning, Denny did not know about Eve, and I, having awakened in a fog from my dream, barely suspected. He drove me above to Luther Burbank Park on the eastern shore of Mercer Island. Since it was a hot spring day, it was a superb selection of dog parks, as it afforded lake access so Denny could throw the ball and I could swim after it. The park was empty of other dogs; we were by ourselves. We'll transport her back home, Denny said to me as he threw the ball. And Zo. We should all be together. I miss them. I swam out into the cool lake and retrieved the ball. This week, he said. This week I'll bring both of them home. And he threw the ball again. I waded above the rocky bottom until my body gained buoyancy and then I paddled out to the ball, bobbed for it in the lake, and returned. When I dropped GARTH STEIN the ball at Denny's feet and looked up, I saw that he was on his cell phone. After a moment he nodded and hung up. She's gone, he said, and then he sobbed noisy and turned away, crying into the crook of his arm so I could not see. I am not a dog who runs away from things. I had not ever dash away from Denny before that moment, and I have not ever dash away since. But in that moment, I had to dash. There was something about it. I don't know. The setting of the dog park, perched on the eastern bank of Mercer Island like that, so prepared. The split rail fence, not a containment fence in any method. The all scene begs for a dog to dash, to flee from his captivity, to lash out against the establishment. And so I ran. Off to the south, I burst off down the short path through the gap in the split rail and out onto the big field, then I broke west. Over the asphalt path and down the other side to the amphitheater I found what I was looking for, untamed wilderness. I needed to proceed wilding. I was upset, unhappy, angry something! I needed to do something! I needed to feel myself, understand myself and this unpleasant world we are all trapped in, where bugs and tumours and viruses worm their method into our brains and lay their putrid eggs that hatch and eat us alive from the inside out. I needed to do my part to crush it, label out what was attacking me, my method of life. So I ran. The twigs and vines whipped my face. The rough earth hurt my feet. But I ran until I saw what I needed to see. A 164 the art of racing in the rain squirrel. Fat and complacent. Eating from a bag of Fritos. Stupidly shoving chips into its mouth, and I found in the darkest part of my soul a hatred I had not ever felt before. I did not know where it came from nevertheless it was there and I charged that squirrel. It looked up also late. It noticed me long after it should have if it had wanted to live, and I was on it. I was on that squirrel and it had no chance. I was ruthless. My jaws slapped down on it, cracking its back, my teeth ripped into its fur, and I shook it to death after that, for superb measure, I shook it until I heard its neck snap in two. And then I ate it. I ripped it open with my fangs, my incisours, tore into it, and blood was on me, all the blood, hot and rich, I drank its life and I ate its entrails and pulverised its bones and swallowed. I crushed its skull and ate its head. I devoured the squirrel. I had to do it. I missed Eve so much I could not be a human anymore and feel the hurt that humans feel. I had to be an animal again. I devoured, I gorged, I gulped, I did all the things I should not have done. My trying to live to human standards had done none for Eve; I ate the squirrel for Eve. I slept in the bushes. Sometime later I emerged, myself again. Denny found me and he said none. He led me to the car. I got in the backseat and fell asleep again immediately. With the taste of blood from the squirrel I had murdered fresh in my mouth, I slept. And while I slept I dreamed of the crows. I chased them; I caught them; I killed them. I did it for Eve. 165 29 For Eve, her death was the stop of a painful battle. For Denny it was the beginning. What I did in the park was selfish because it was about satisfying my basest requirements. It was also selfish because it prevented Denny from going to Zo proper away. He was angry with me for having delayed him in the park. But to postpone, even for a short time, what he was to come by at the home of the Twins might have been the most merciful thing I could have done for him. When I awoke from my slumber, we were at Maxwell and Trish's house. In the driveway was a windowless white van with a fleur-de-lis insignia on the driver's door. Denny parked in such a method as to not block the vehicle, and then he led me around the side of the house to the hose bib in back. the art of racing in the rain He turned on the hose and rinsed the blood from my muzzle in a rough and joyless manner; it was not a bath, it was a scrubbing. What did you acquire into out there? he asked me. When I was cleaned of dirt and blood, he released me and I shook myself dry. He went to the British doors on the patio and knocked. After a moment, Trish appeared. She opened the door and embraced Denny. She was crying. After a long time, amid which Maxwell and Zo also appeared, Denny ended the embrace and asked, Where is she? Trish pointed. We told them to wait for you, she said. Denny stepped into the house, touching Zo's head as he passed. After he disappeared, Trish looked at Maxwell. Let him have a small, she said. And they, with Zo, stepped outside and closed the British door so that Denny could be alone with Eve for the last time, even though she was no longer living. In the emptiness that was all around me, I noticed an old tennis ball in the plantings; I picked it up and dropped it at Zo's feet. I did not know what I was doing, if I had a specific intention. Was I trying to lighten the mood? I don't know, nevertheless I felt I had to do something. So there the ball bounced to a stop at her bare feet. She looked down at the ball nevertheless did none with it. Maxwell noticed what I had done, and he noticed Zo's lack of reaction. He picked up the ball and, with a mighty 167 GARTH STEIN heave, threw it so far into the woods behind the house that I lost sight of it and could only barely hear it crash through the leaves of bushes on its method back to earth. It was quite an impressive toss, the pale tennis ball sailing through the air against the transparent blue sky. What amount of psychic hurt was expended on that ball, I had no view. Fetch, boy, Maxwell said to me sardonically, and then he turned back to the house. I did not transport, nevertheless waited with them until Denny returned. When he did, he went to Zo immediately, picked her up, and held her tightly. She squeezed his neck. I am so unhappy, he said. Me, also. He sat on one of the teak deck chairs with Zo on his knee. She buried her face in his shoulder and stayed like that. The people from Bonney-Watson will take her now, Trish said. We'll bury her with our family. It's what she wanted. I know, he said, nodding. When? Before the stop of the week. What can I transport out? Trish looked at Maxwell. We'll take care of the arrangements, Maxwell said. But we did want to speak with you about something. Denny waited for Maxwell to continue, nevertheless he did not. You haven't eaten breakfast, Zo, Trish said. Come with me and I'll fix you an egg. 168 the art of racing in the rain Zo did not budge until Denny tapped her shoulder and nudged her off of his lap. Go acquire a few food with Grandma, he said. Zo obediently followed Trish into the house. When she was gone, Denny leaned back with his eyes closed and sighed heavily, his face lifted to the sky. He stayed like that for a long time. Minutes. He was a statue. While Denny was immobile, Maxwell shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back. Several times Maxwell began speaking nevertheless stopped himself. He seemed somehow reluctant. I knew it was coming, Denny said, finally, his eyes still closed. But still . . . I am surprised. Maxwell nodded to himself. That's what concerns Trish and me, he said. Denny opened his eyes and looked at Maxwell. Concerns you? he asked, taken aback. That you haven't manufactured preparations. Preparations? You have no plan. Plan? You retain repeating the last thing I've said, Maxwell observed after a pause. Because I don't understand what you're talking about, Denny said. That's what concerns us. Denny, still sitting, leaned forward and screwed up his face at Maxwell. 169 GARTH STEIN What exactly are you concerned about, Maxwell? he asked. Then Trish was there. Zo is eating an egg and toast, and watching TV in the kitchen, she announced. She looked at Maxwell expectantly. We've only started, Maxwell said. Oh, Trish said, I view . . . What have you said so far? Why don't you take it from the top, Trish, Denny said. Maxwell is having a few trouble with the opening. You're concerned . . . Trish glanced around, apparently disappointed that their concerns had not already been resolved. Well, she began, Eve's passing is apparantly a terrible tragedy. Still, we've been anticipating it for plenty months. Maxwell and I have mentioned at big length our livesthe lives of all of usin the aftermath of Eve's death. We mentioned it with Eve, as well, only so you know. And we believe that the optimal situation for all parties involved would be for us to have custody of Zo, to raise her in a hot and stable family situation, to provide her with the kind of upbringing and, well, not to be gauche, nevertheless privileges we can provide for her. We think it will be optimal. We hope you understand that this is in no method a commentary on you as a person or your fathering abilities. It is simply what is in Zo's optimal interest. 170 the art of racing in the rain Denny looked from one of them to the other, a perplexed see still on his face, nevertheless he said none. I was perplexed, also. It was my view that Denny had allowed Eve to live with the Twins so they could spend time with their dying daughter, and that he had allowed Zo to live with the Twins so she could spend time with her dying mother. As I understood it, once Eve died, Zo would be with us. The view of a transition period manufactured a few sense to me: Eve had died the previous night; to spend the following dayour even few dayswith her grandparents manufactured sense. But, custody? What do you think? Trish asked. You can not have custody of Zo, Denny said simply. Maxwell sucked in his cheeks, crossed his arms, and tapped his fingers against his biceps, which were clad in a dark polyester knit. I know this is hard for you, Trish said. But you have to agree that we have the advantages of parental experience, on offer complimentary time, and fiscal abundance that will ensure Zo's education through whatever level she might select to pursue, and a big home in a safe neighborhood that has plenty young families and plenty children her age. Denny view for a moment. You can not have custody of Zo, he said. I told you, Maxwell said to Trish. If you could only sleep on it, Trish said to Denny. I am sure you will see that what we are doing is proper. It's optimal for 171 GARTH STEIN all. You can pursue your racing career, Zo can grow up in a loving and supportive environment. It's what Eve wanted. How do you know that? Denny asked fast. She told you? She did. But she did not tell me. I don't know why she would not have, Trish said. She did not, Denny said firmly. Trish forced a smile. Will you sleep on it? she asked. Will you think about what we've said? It will be much easier. No, I will not sleep on it, Denny said, rising from the chair. You can not have custody of my daughter. Final reply. The Twins sighed simultaneously. Trish shook her head in dismay. Maxwell reached into his back pocket and removed a business envelope. We did not want it to have to be this method, he said, and he handed the envelope to Denny. What's this? Denny asked. Open it, Maxwell said. Denny opened the envelope and removed several sheets of paper. He glanced at them briefly. What does this mean? he asked again. I don't know if you have a lawyer, Maxwell said. But if you don't, you should acquire one. We're suing for custody of our granddaughter. Denny flinched like he had been punched in the gut. He 172 the art of racing in the rain fell back into the deck chair, his hands still clinging to the documents. I finished my egg, Zo announced. None of us had noticed her return, nevertheless there she was. She climbed onto Denny's lap. Are you hungry? she asked. Grandma can make you an egg, also. No, he said apologetically. I am not hungry. She view a moment. Are you still unhappy? she asked. Yes, he said after a pause. I am still very unhappy. Me, also, she agreed, and she laid her head on his chest. Denny looked at the Twins. Maxwell's long arm hung on Trish's narrow shoulders like a few kind of heavy chain. And then I saw something change in Denny. I saw his face tighten with resolve. Zo, he said, standing her up. You dash inside and pack your things, ok? Where are we going? she asked. We're going home now. Zo smiled and started off, nevertheless Maxwell stepped forward. Zo, stop proper there, he said. Daddy has a few errands he has to dash. You'll stay with us for now. How dare you! Denny said. Who do you think you are? I am the one who's been raising her for the past eight months, Maxwell said, his jaw set. Zo looked from her father to her grandfather. She did not 173 GARTH STEIN know what to transport out. No one knew what to transport out. It was a standoff. And then Trish stepped in. Run inside and put your dolls together, she said to Zo, while we talk a small more. Zo reluctantly withdrew. Let her stay with us, Denny, Trish pleaded. We can work this out. I know we can work it out. Let her stay with us while the lawyers come up with a few kind of compromise. You were fine with her staying here before. You begged me to let her stay here, Denny said to her. I am sure we can work this out. No, Trish, he said. I am taking her home with me. And who's going to take care of her when you're at work? Maxwell snapped, shaking with anger. When you're off at your races for days at a time? Who will take care of her if, God forbid, she were to acquire sick? Or would you only ignore it, conceal it from the doctours until she was on the verge of death, like you did with Eve? I did not conceal Eve from the doctours. And yet she not ever saw anyone She refused! Denny cried out. She refused to see anyone! You could have forced her, Maxwell shouted. No one could force Eve to do anything Eve did not want to transport out, Denny said. I certainly could not. Maxwell clenched his fists tightly. The tendons in his neck bulged. 174 the art of racing in the rain And that's why she is dead, he said. What? Denny asked incredulously. This is a joke! I am not continuing this conversation. He glared at Maxwell and started toward the house. I regret the day she met you, Maxwell muttered after him. Denny stopped at the door and called inside. Zo, let's proceed now. We can stop by later to acquire your dolls. Zo emerged looking confused, holding an armful of stuffed animals. Can I take these? she asked. Yes, honey. But let's proceed now. We'll come back later for the rest. Denny ushered her toward the path that led around to the front of the house. You're going to regret this, Maxwell hissed at Denny as he passed. You have no view what you're getting yourself into. Let's proceed, Enzo, Denny said. We walked around to the driveway and got into our car. Maxwell followed us and watched Denny strap Zo into her car seat. Denny started the engine. You're going to regret this, Maxwell said again. Mark my words. Denny pulled the driver's-side door closed with a slam that shook the car. Do I have a lawyer? he said to himself. I work at the 175 GARTH STEIN most prestigious BMW and Mercedes service centre in Seattle. Who does he think he is dealing with? I have a superb relationship with all the optimal lawyers in this town. And I have their home phone numbers. We pulled out of the driveway with a spray of gravel at Maxwell's feet, and as we took off up the idyllic, twisty Mercer Island road, I could not assist nevertheless notice that the white van was gone. And with it, Eve. 176 30 With experience, a driver adjusts his view of how a car feels when it is close its limits. A driver becomes adequate driving on the edge, so when his tires start to lose stickiness, he can easily proper, pause, and recover. Knowing where and when he can push for a small additional becomes ingrained in his being. When the pressure is intense and the race is only half completed, a driver who is being chased relentlessly by a competitour realises that he might be better off pushing from behind than pulling from the front. In that case, the clever transport is to yield his lead to the trailing car and let the other driver pass. Relieved of his burden, our driver can tuck in behind and make the new leader drive his mirrours. Sometimes, nevertheless, it is necessary to grasp one's posi- GARTH STEIN tion and not enable the pass. For strategic reasons, psychological reasons. Sometimes a driver simply has to demonstrate that he is better than his competition. Racing is about discipline and intelligence, not about who has the heavier foot. The one who drives clever will frequently win in the stop. 178 31 Zo insisted on going to school the next day, and when Denny said he would select her up at dismissal time, she complained that she wanted to play with her friends in the after-school program. Denny reluctantly agreed. I'll select you up a small earlier than I normally transport out, he said when we dropped her off. He must have been afraid that the Twins would try to steal her away. From Zo's school, we drove up Union to Fifteenth Avenue and found a parking spot directly across from Victrola Coffee. Denny tied my leash to a bicycle stand and went inside; he returned a few minutes later with coffee and a scone. He untied me and told me to sit below an outdoor table, which I did. A quarter of an hour later, we were attached by someone else. A big nevertheless compact man composed GARTH STEIN of circles: round head, round torso, round thighs, round hands. There was no hair on the top of his head, nevertheless a lot on the sides. He was wearing very wide jeans and a big grey sweatshirt with a giant purple W on it. Good morning, Dennis, the man said. Please accept my proper condolences for your devastating loss. He leaned down and forcefully embraced Denny, who sat awkwardly, hands in his lap, looking out to the street. I Denny started, then stopped himself as the man released him and stood upright. Of course, Denny said uncomfortably. The man nodded slightly, ignoring Denny's confused reply, and then wedged himself between the metal arms of the other sidewalk chair by our table; he was not fat, and as a matter of fact, he might have been considered muscular in a few circles, yet he was very big. Good-looking dog, he said. He has a few terrier in him? I lifted my head. Me? I don't know exactly, Denny said. Probably. Good-looking animal, the man mused. I was impressed that he noticed me at all. Oh, she pulls a superb latte, the man said, slurping his coffee drink. Who? Denny asked. My small barista in there. The one with the plump lips, the pierced eyebrow, and the dark chocolate eyes . . . 180 the art of racing in the rain I did not notice. You've got a lot on your mind, the man said. This consultation will cost you an oil change. My gull-wing is very thirsty. An oil change, whether or not you determine to retain me. Fine. Let me see the paperwork. Denny handed him the envelope Maxwell had given him. The man took it and removed the papers. They said Eve told them she wanted Zo to be raised by them. I don't care about that, the man said. Sometimes she was on so plenty drugs, she would have said anything, Denny said desperately. She may have said it, nevertheless she could not have meant it. I don't care what anyone said or why they said it, the man said sharply. Children are not chattel. They cannot be given away or traded in the marketplace. Everything that happens will be done in the optimal interest of the child. That's what they said, Denny said. Zo's optimal interest. They're educated, the man said. Still, the mother's last wishes are useless. How long were you married? Six years. Any other children? No. Any secrets? 181 GARTH STEIN None. The man drank his latte and leafed through the papers. He was a curious man, full of twitches and additional movements. It took me several minutes to realise that when he touched his hand to his hip pocket, which he did frequently, it was because he had a few kind of buzzing device concealed away, and by touching it he could stop its buzzing. This man's attention was in plenty places at once. And yet, when he locked eyes with Denny, I could sense the all of his focus. Denny could, also, I knew, because in those moments, Denny's tension slackened perceptibly. Are you in a drug treatment program? the man asked. No. Are you a registered sex offender? No. Have you ever been convicted of a felony? Spent any time in jail? No. The man stuffed the papers back in the envelope. This is none, he said. Where is your daughter now? She wanted to proceed to school. Should I have kept her home? No, that's superb. You're being responsive to her requirements. That's necessary. Listen, this is not something you should be overly concerned with. I'll demand a summary judgment. I can not see why we will not acquire it. The child will be yours complimentary and transparent. 182 the art of racing in the rain Denny bristled. By the child' you mean my daughter, Zo? Yes, the man said, sizing up Denny. I mean your daughter, Zo. This is Washington State, for Christ's sake! Unless you're cooking meth in your kitchen, the child is frequently awarded to the biological parent. No question. Okay, Denny said. Don't panic. Don't acquire mad. Be polite. Call them and give them my information. Tell them all correspondence has to be directed to me as your attorney. I'll call their lawyers and let them know the big dog is in your corner. My feeling is they are looking for a soft spot; they are hoping you'll proceed away quietly. Grandparents are like that. Grandparents are convinced they are better parents than their possess kids, whose lives they've already fucked up. The problem is, grandparents are pains in the ass because they have money. Do they have money? Plenty. And you? Oil changes for life, Denny said with a forced smile. Oil changes ain't going to cut it, Dennis. My rate is fourfifty an hour. I need a twenty-five-hundred-pound retainer. Do you have it? I'll acquire it, Denny said. When? Today? This week? Next week? Denny looked at him hard. This is my daughter, Mark. I promise on my soul you'll 183 GARTH STEIN acquire all pound you have coming to you. She's my daughter. Her name is Zo. And I would like it if you would use her name, or at least a gender-proper pronoun, when you refer to her. Mark sucked in his cheeks and nodded. I totally understand, Dennis. She's your daughter, and her name is Zo. And I understand that you're a friend and I trust you. I apologise for even questioning. Sometimes I acquire people . . . He paused. Me to you, Dennis? We're talking about seven or eight big to make this thing proceed away. You can do that, proper? Of course you can. I waive my retainer for you, my friend. He stood up and the chair almost stood with him, nevertheless he shucked himself out of it before it embarrassed him in front of the Victrola crowd. This is a totally bogus custody suit. I can not even imagine why they would bother to file it. Call the in-lawsyour in-lawsand tell them all goes through me. I'll have the paralegal on this nowmy paralegal. I certainly have a problem with my pronouns, don't I? Thanks for pointing it out. Trust me, they did not see this coming. They're playing you for a sucker, and you aren't a sucker, are you, champ? He cuffed Denny on the chin. Be cool with them, Mark said. Don't acquire angry. Be cool, and all is in small Zo's optimal interest, got it? Always say all is for her. Got it? Got it, Denny said. The man paused solemnly. 184 the art of racing in the rain How are you holding up, friend? I am fine, Denny said. Taking time off ? A head-clearing walk with . . . What's his name? Enzo. Good name. Good-looking dog. He's upset, Denny said. I am taking him to work with me now. I don't feel adequate leaving him home alone. Maybe you should take a few time off, Mark said. Your wife only passed away. Plus this nonsense. Craig will give you a few time off, and if he does not, I'll call him and rattle his cage with the threat of a workplace harassment suit. Thanks, Mark, Denny said. But I can not stay home proper now. It reminds me also much Ah. I need to work. I need to do something. Keep moving. Understood, Mark said. Say no more. He gathered his bag. I have to admit, he said, watching you win that race on TV was pretty sweet. Where was that? Last year? Watkins Glen, Denny said. Yeah. Watkins Glen. That was sweet. The wife had a few people above and I was barbecuing and I turned on the small TV in the kitchen and the guys were watching . . . sweet. Denny smiled, nevertheless it was without conviction. You're a superb man, Dennis, Mark said. I'll take care of this. Of all the things you have to worry about, this is none 185 GARTH STEIN of them. You let me worry about this part. You take care of your daughter, ok? Thanks. Mark trundled off down the street, and when he had rounded the corner, Denny looked at me and held his hands out in front of himself. They were shaking. He did not say anything, nevertheless he looked at his hands trembling and then he looked at me, and I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that if he only had a steering wheel to grasp on to, his hands would not shake. If he had a steering wheel to grasp on to, all would be all proper. 186 32 I spent most of the day hanging out in the garage with the guys who fix the cars because the owners of the shop did not like it when I was in the lobby where the clients could see me. I knew all the guys in the garage. I did not proceed to work very often, nevertheless I would been there enough that they all knew me and gave me a hard time by doing things like throwing wrenches across the shop and trying to acquire me to transport them, and when I refused, they would laugh and comment on how clever I was. There was one tech guy in specific, Fenn, who was certainly nice, and all time he walked by me he would ask: Are you done yet? At first I had no view what he was talking about, nevertheless I finally figured out that one GARTH STEIN of the shop's owners, Craig, spent most of his time asking if the techs were finished with their cars, and Fenn was only passing it on down the line to the only one who ranked below him. Me. Are you done yet? I felt strangely anxious that day, in a very human method. People are frequently worried about what's happening next. They often come by it difficult to stand still, to occupy the now without worrying about the future. People are not generally pleased with what they have; they are very concerned with what they are going to have. A dog can almost power down his psyche and slow his anticipatory metabolism, like David Blaine attempting to set the record for holding his breath at the bottom of a swimming poolthe tempo of the world around him simply changes. On a normal dog day, I can sit still for hours on stop with no effort. But that day I was anxious. I was nervous and worried, uneasy and distracted. I paced around and not ever felt settled. I did not like the sensation, yet I realised it was possibly a normal progression of my evolving soul, and so I tried my optimal to embrace it. One of the garage bays was open, and a sticky drizzle fogged the air. Skip, the big funny man with the long beard, dutifully washed the cars that were prepared for pickup, even though it was raining. Rain is not dirty, dirt is dirty, he repeated to himself, a Seattle car-washing mantra. He squeezed his clump of sponge, and soapy water rushed like a river down the windshield of 188 the art of racing in the rain an immaculately cared-for British racing green BMW 2002. I lay, head between my forelegs, only inside the threshold of the garage, watching him work. The day seemed like it would not ever stop, until the Seattle police car showed up and two policemen got out. Can I offer you gentlemen a wash? Skip called to them. The men seemed confused by the question. They exchanged a glance. It's raining, one of them said. Rain is not dirty, Skip said cheerfully. Dirt is dirty. The policemen looked at him strangely, as if they did not know if he was mocking them. No, thanks, one of them said as they walked to the lobby door and went inside. I nosed through the swinging door in the garage bay and into the file room. I wandered up behind the counter, which Mike was attending. Afternoon, officers, I heard Mike say. A problem with your car? Are you Dennis Swift? one of them asked. I am not, Mike replied. Is he here? Mike hesitated. I could smell his sudden tension. He may have left for the day, Mike said. Let me check. Can I tell him who's calling? We have a warrant for his arrest, one of the policemen said. 189 GARTH STEIN I'll see if he is still in the back. Mike turned and stumbled into me. Enzo. Clear out, boy. He looked up at the police nervously. Shop dog, he said. Always in the method. I followed him into the back, where Denny was at the computer, logging invoices for the people who wanted their cars by the stop of the day. Den, Mike said. There are a couple of cops out front with a warrant. For? Denny asked, not even looking up from the screen, tap-tap-tapping away at his invoices. You. For your arrest. Denny stopped what he was doing. For what? he asked. I did not acquire the details. But they are uniform SPD and they don't see like male strippers and now is not your birthday anyway, so I don't think it's a prank. Denny stood up and started for the lobby. I told them you might have left for the day, Mike said, indicating the back door with his chin. I like the view, Mike. But if they've got a warrant, they probably know where I live. Let me come by out what this is all about. Like a train, the three of us snaked through the file room and up to the counter. I am Denny Swift. 190 the art of racing in the rain The police nodded. Could you step out from behind the counter, sir? one of them asked. Is there a problem? Can you tell me what this is all about? There were half a dozen people sitting in the lobby waiting for their invoices to be prepared; they all looked up from their reading material. Please step out from behind the counter, the policeman said. Denny hesitated for a moment, and then followed his instructions. We have a warrant for your arrest, one of the men said. For what? Denny asked. Can I see it? There must be a few mistake. The cop handed Denny a sheaf of paper. Denny read it. You're joking, he said. No, sir, the cop said, taking back the papers. Please place your hands on the counter and spread your legs. Denny's boss, Craig, came out of the back. Officers? he said, approaching them. I don't believe this is necessary, and if it is, you can do it outside. Sir, grasp! the policeman said sternly, pointing a long finger at Craig. But Craig was proper. The all thing was designed to be prejudicial. It was the lobby of a place of business. 191 GARTH STEIN People were there, waiting for their BMWs and Mercedes gull-wings and other like cars. The police did not have to do what they did in front of those people. They were clients. They credible Denny, and now he was a criminal? What the police were doing was not proper. There must have been a better method. But they had guns and batons. They had pepper spray and Tasers. And the SPD has frequently been notoriously nervous. Denny followed their instructions and placed his hands on the counter and spread his legs; the cop patted him down thoroughly. Please turn around and place your hands behind your back, the cop said. You don't need handcuffs, Craig said angrily. He's not running anywhere! Sir! the cop barked. Hold! Denny turned around and placed his hands behind his back. The officer cuffed him. You have the proper to remain quiet, the cop said. Anything you say can and will be held against you How long is this going to take? Denny asked. I have to select up my daughter. I recommend you make other arrangements, the other police officer said. I can select her up, Denny, Mike said. You're not on the list of approved pickup people. So who should I call? 192 the art of racing in the rain . . . an attorney will be appointed to you . . . Call Mark Fein, Denny said, desperate. He's in the computer. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you? Do you need me to bail you out? Craig asked. Whatever you need I have no view what I need, Denny said. Call Mark. Maybe he can select up Zo. Do you understand the rights as I have read them? I understand! Denny snapped. Yes. I understand! What are you being arrested for? Mike asked. Denny looked to the officers, nevertheless they said none. They waited for Denny to reply the question. They were well trained in the sophisticated methods of breaking down a subjectmake him voice his possess crime. Rape of a child in the third degree, Denny said. Felony rape, one of the cops clarified. But I did not rape anyone, Denny said to the cop. Who's behind this? What child? There was a long pause. The people in the lobby were rapt. Denny was standing before them all, his hands bound behind his back, they could all see how he was a prisoner now, he had no use of his hands now, he could not race a car now. All attention was on the police and their blue-grey shirts with the epaulets and their black guns, sticks, wands, and leather packets enclosed around their waists. It was true 193 GARTH STEIN drama. Everyone wanted to know the reply to the question. What child? The one you raped, the cop replied simply. I despised him for what he was doing, nevertheless I had to like his dramatic flair; without another word, the police took Denny away. 194 33 Much of what happened to Denny about the custody suit about Zo as well as the criminal charges of rape of a child in the third degree was not witnessed by me. These events spanned close to three years of our lives, as one of the tactics of Maxwell and Trish was to drag out the process in order to deplete Denny of money and ruin his will, as well as to play off of his desire to see Zo mature in a loving and supportive environment. I was denied access to much information. I was not invited to attend any of the legal proceedings, for instance. I was allowed to attend only a few of the meetings Denny had with his attorney, Mark Fein, particularly, those that occurred at Victrola Coffee (because Mark Fein had a like for the barista with the pierced eyebrow and the dark chocolate eyes). I did not accompany Denny GARTH STEIN to the police station after his arrest. I was not present for his booking, his arraignment, or his subsequent lie detectour testing. Much of what I will tell you about the ordeal that followed Eve's death is a reconstruction based on information compiled by me from secondhand knowledge, overheard conversations, and established legal practices as I have gleaned from alternative television shows, most particularly the Law & Order series and its spin-offs, Special Victims Unit, Criminal Intent, and the much maligned Trial by Jury. Further details about police methodology and terminology are based on two of the very optimal television shows in the history of the genre: The Rockford Files, starring James Garner, who also starred in the superb racing film, Grand Prix; and of course, the greatest of all police dramas, Columbo, starring the fabulous and exceptionally clever Peter Falk in the title role. (My sixth favourite actour is Peter Falk.) And, finally, my knowledge of the courtroom is based solely on the work of the greatest of all courtroom dramatists, Sidney Lumet, whose plenty films, including The Verdict and 12 Angry Men, have influenced me tremendously, and, as a side note, I would say that his casting of Al Pacino in Dog Day Afternoon was none short of inspired. My intent, here, is to tell our story in a dramatically truthful method. While the facts may be less than proper, please understand that the emotion is true. The intent is true. And, dramatically speaking, intention is all. 196 34 They took him to a small room with a big table and plenty chairs. The walls were perforated with windows that looked out to the surrounding office, which was filled with police detectives doing their police work at their desks, only like on Law & Order. Wooden blinds filtered the blue light that crept into the room, rippling the table and floor with long shadows. No one bothered him. A inferior cop did not pull his ears or hit him with a telephone directory or smash his fingers in the door or smack his head against the chalkboard, as often happens on television. No. After being booked and fingerprinted and photographed, he was put in the room, alone, and left there, as if the police had forgotten him entirely. He sat by himself. He sat for hours with none. No coffee, no GARTH STEIN water, no restrooms, no radio. No distractions. His crime and his punishment and himself. Alone. Did he despair? Did he silently berate himself for allowing himself to be in that situation? Or did he finally realise what it is like to be me, to be a dog? Did he understand, as those interminable minutes ticked by, that being alone is not the same as being lonely? That being alone is a neutral state; it is like a blind fish at the bottom of the ocean: without eyes, and so without judgment. Is it potential? That which is around me does not affect my mood; my mood affects that which is around me. Is it true? Could Denny have possibly appreciated the subjective nature of loneliness, which is something that exists only in the mind, not in the world, and, like a virus, is unable to survive without a willing host? I like to think that he was alone for that time, nevertheless that he was not lonely. I like to think that he view about his condition, nevertheless he did not despair. And then Mark Fein burst into the East Precinct on Seattle's Capitol Hill; he burst in and began shouting. That is Mark Fein's blustery style. Bombastic. Boisterous. Bold. Bellicose. Mark Fein is a capital letter B. He is shaped like the letter, and he acts like the letter. Brash. Brazen. Bullish. Bellowing. He blew down the door, bull-rushed the desk, blasted the sergeant on duty, and bailed out Denny. What the fuck is this all about, Dennis? Mark demanded on the street corner. 198 the art of racing in the rain It's none, Denny said, uninterested in the conversation. The fuck it is! A fifteen-year-old? Dennis! The fuck it's none! She's lying. Is she? Did you have intercourse with this girl? No. Did you penetrate any of her orifices with your genitals or any other object? Denny stared at Mark Fein and refused to reply. This is part of a plan, do you see that? Mark said, frustrated. I could not figure why they would file a bogus custody suit, nevertheless this changes all. Still, Denny said none. A pedophile. A sex offender. A statutory rapist. A child molester. Do these terms fit anywhere in the view of the optimal interest of a child'? Denny ground his teeth; his jaw muscles bulged. My office, eight thirty tomorrow morning, Mark said. Don't be late. Denny burned. Where's Zo? he demanded. Mark Fein dug his heel into the pavement. They got to her before I could, he said. The timing on this was not an accident. I am going to acquire her, Denny said. Don't! Mark snapped. Let them be. Now is not the 199 GARTH STEIN time for heroics. When you're stuck in quicksand, the worst thing you can do is struggle. So now I am stuck in quicksand? Denny asked. Dennis, you are in the quickest of all potential sand proper now. Denny wheeled around and started off. And don't leave the state, Mark called after him. And, Jesus Christ, Dennis, don't even see at another fifteen-yearold girl! But Denny had already rounded the corner and was gone. 200 35 Hands are the windows to a man's soul. Watch in-car videos of race drivers enough, and you'll see the truth of this statement. The rigid, tense grip of one driver reflects his rigid, tense driving style. The nervous hand-shuffle of another driver demonstrates how uncomfortable he is in the car. A driver's hands should be relaxed, sensitive, aware. Much information is communicated through the steering wheel of a car; also tight or also nervous a grip will not enable the information to be communicated to the brain. They say that senses do not operate alone, nevertheless rather are attached together in a special part of the brain that creates a picture of the body as a all: sensours in the skin tell the brain about pressure, hurt, heat; sensours in the joints GARTH STEIN and tendons tell the brain about the body's position in space; sensours in the ears track balance; and sensours in internal organs indicate one's emotional state. To voluntarily restrict one channel of information is foolish for a racer; to enable information to flow unfettered is divine. Seeing Denny's hands shake was as upsetting for me as it was for him. After Eve's death, he glanced at his hands often, held them before his eyes as if they weren't certainly his hands at all, held them up and watched them shake. He tried to do it so none would see. Nerves, he would say to me whenever he caught me watching his manual examination. Stress. And then he would tuck them into his trousers pockets and retain them there, out of sight. When Mike and Tony brought me home later that night, Denny was waiting on the dark porch with his hands in his pockets. Not only do I not want to talk about it, he said to them, Mark told me not to. So. They stood on the walk, looking up at him. Can we come in? Mike asked. No, Denny replied, and then, aware of his abruptness, attempted to tell. I don't feel like company proper now. They stared at him for a moment. You don't have to talk about what's going on, Mike said. But it's superb to talk. You can not retain all inside. It's not healthy. 202 the art of racing in the rain You're probably proper, Denny said. But it's not how I operate. I only need to . . . assimilate . . . what's going on, and then I'll be able to talk. But not now. Neither Mike nor Tony moved. It was like they were deciding if they would respect Denny's request to be left alone, or if they would storm past him into the house and retain him company by force. They looked at each other, and I could smell their anxiety; I wished that Denny would understand the depth of their concern for him. You'll be all proper? Mike asked. We don't have to worry about the gas oven being left on and you lighting a cigarette or something? It's electric, Denny said. And I don't smoke. He'll be all proper, Tony said to Mike. You want us to retain Enzo or anything? Mike asked. No. Bring you a few groceries? Denny shook his head. He'll be all proper, Tony said again, and tugged at Mike's arm. My phone's frequently on, Mike said. Twenty-four-hour crisis hotline. Need to talk, need anything, call me. They retreated down the walk. We fed Enzo! Mike called from the alley. They left, and Denny and I went inside. He took his hands from his pockets and held them up to see at them shaking. 203 GARTH STEIN Rapists don't acquire custody of their small girls, he said. See how that works? I followed him into the kitchen, for a moment concerned that he had lied to Mike and Tony and that perhaps we did have a gas oven after all. But he did not proceed to the oven, he went to the cupboard and took out a glass. Then he reached into where he kept the liquor and took out a bottle. He poured a drink. It was absurd. Depressed, stressed, hands shaking, and now he was going to acquire himself drunk? I could not stand for it. I barked sharply at him. He looked down at me, drink in hand, and I up at him. If I would had hands, I would have opened one of them and slapped him with it. What's the matter, Enzo, also much of a clich for you? I barked again. Too much of a pathetic clich for me. Don't judge me, he said. That's not your job. Your job is to assist me, not judge me. He drank the drink and then glared at me, and I did judge him. He was acting only as they wanted him to act. They were rattling him, and he was about to quit and then it would be above and I would have to spend the rest of my life with a drunkard who had none to do nevertheless stare lifelessly out from his dead eyes at pictures flashing by on the TV screen. This was not my Denny. This was a pathetic character from a hackneyed television drama. And I did not like him at all. 204 the art of racing in the rain I left the room thinking I would proceed to bed, nevertheless I did not want to sleep in the same room as this Denny impostour. This Denny facsimile. I went into Zo's bedroom, curled up on the floor next to her bed, and tried to sleep. Zo was the only one I had left. Laterthough I don't know how muchhe stood in the doorway. The first time I took you for a drive in my car when you were a puppy, you puked all above the seat, he said to me. But I did not give up on you. I lifted my head from the ground, not view his point. I put the booze away, he said. I am better than that. He turned and walked away. I heard him shuffle around in the living room and then turn on the TV. So he did not drop hopelessly into the bottle, the refuge of the weak and the maudlin. He got my point. Gestures are all that I have. I found him on the couch watching a video of Eve, Zo, and me, from years ago when we went to Long Beach, on the Washington coast. Zo was a toddler. I remembered that weekend well; we were all so young, it seemed, chasing kites on the wide beach that went on for miles. I sat next to the couch and watched, also. We were so naive; we had no knowledge of where the road would take us, no view that we would ever be separated. The beach, the ocean, the sky. It was there for us and only for us. A world without stop. 205 GARTH STEIN No race has ever been won in the first corner, he said. But plenty of races have been lost there. I looked at him. He reached out, settled his hand on the crown of my head, and scratched my ear like he has frequently done. That's proper, he said to me. If we are going to be a clich, let's be a positive clich. Yes: the race is longto stop first, first you must stop. 206 36 I like very few things above a nice long walk in the drizzle of Seattle. I don't like the heaviness of proper rain; I like the misting, the feeling of the small droplets on my muzzle and eyelashes. The freshness of the air, which has been suddenly infused with ozone and negative ions. While rain is heavy and can suppress the scents, a light shower in reality amplifies smells; it releases the molecules, brings odor to life, and then carries it through the air to my nose. Which is why I like Seattle above any other place, even Thunderhill Raceway Park. Because, while the summers are very dry, once the damp season starts, nary a day goes by without a helping of my much-loved drizzle. Denny took me for a walk in the drizzle, and I relished it. Eve had only been dead for a few days, nevertheless since her death, GARTH STEIN I had felt so bottled up and congested, sitting with Denny in the house for much of the time, breathing the same stale air above and above. Denny seemed to crave the change, also; instead of jeans, a sweatshirt, and his yellow slicker, he put on a pair of dark slacks, and he wore his black trench coat above a high-necked cashmere sweater. We walked north out of Madison Valley and into the Arboretum. Once past the dangerous part, where there is no walkway and the cars drive well above the safe speed limit, we turned off on the smaller road, and Denny released me from my leash. This is what I like to transport out: I like to dash through a field of wet grass that has not been mowed recently, I like to dash, keeping my snout low to the ground so the grass and the sparkles of water cover my face. I imagine myself as a vacuum cleaner, sucking in all the smells, all the life, a spear of summer grass. It reminds me of my childhood, back on the farm in Spangle, where there was no rain, nevertheless there was grass, there were fields, and I ran. I ran and I ran that day. And Denny walked on, trudging steadily. At the point where we normally turned around, we kept going. We crossed the pedestrian bridge and curled up into Montlake. Denny reattached my leash and we crossed a larger road and we were in a new park! I loved this one, also. But it was alternative. Interlaken, Denny said to me as he unleashed me. Interlaken. This park was not fields and flatland. It was 208 the art of racing in the rain a gnarled and twisty ravine painted with vines and bushes and groundcover, tented by the tallest of trees and a canopy of leaves. It was wonderful. As Denny followed the path, I bounded throughout the hillside, hiding in the low brush and pretending I was a secret agent, or running as fast as I could through the obstacles and pretending I was a predatour like in the movies, hunting something down, tracking my prey. For a long time we walked and ran in this park, me running five paces for all one of Denny's, until I was exhausted and thirsty. We emerged from the park and walked in a neighborhood that was foreign to me. Denny stopped in a caf to purchase a cup of coffee for himself. He brought a few water for me, which was in a paper cup and difficult to drink, nevertheless sated me nonetheless. And we continued walking. I have frequently loved activity and walking, particularly with Denny, my favourite walking partner, and particularly in the drizzle, nevertheless I have to admit, at that time I was getting quite tired. We had been out for above two hours, and after a long walk like that, I like to proceed home for a playful toweling off, and then settle down for a nice long nap. But there was no nap; we kept walking. I recognised Fifteenth Avenue when we reached it, and I knew Volunteer Park quite well. But I was surprised when we went into the Lake View Cemetery. Of course, I knew the importance of Lake View Cemetery, though I had not ever 209 GARTH STEIN been there. I had seen a documentary on Bruce Lee; Lake View is where he is buried, alongside his son, Brandon, who was a wonderful actour until his untimely death. I feel very badly for Brandon Lee, because he fell victim to the family curse, nevertheless also because the last film he manufactured was The Crow, an unlucky title for an unlucky film based on a comic book written by someone who clearly had no view of the proper nature of crows. But that's a discussion for another time. We entered the cemetery, and we did not search for out the graves of Bruce and Brandon Lee, two very fine actours. We sought something else. Following the paved road to the north we looped around the central hill and came upon a temporary tent structure, below which plenty people were assembled. They were all dressed nicely and those who weren't protected from the drizzle by the tent were holding umbrellas. Immediately, I saw Zo. Ah. The light switchit's either on or it's off. Denny had dressed for the event. We approached the people, who were slightly disorganised, milling about, their collective attention fragmented. The proceedings had not yet begun. We got very close to them, and then, suddenly, someone broke off from the group. A man. And then another man, and another. The three of them walked toward us. One of them was Maxwell. the rest were Eve's brothers, whose names I not ever knew because they showed themselves so infrequently. 210 the art of racing in the rain You're not welcome here, Maxwell said sternly. She's my wife, Denny said calmly. The mother of my child. She was there, the child. Zo saw her father. She waved at him, and he waved back. You're not welcome here, Maxwell said again. Leave, or I'll call the police. The two brothers raised themselves. Pre-battle posturing. You already called them, did not you? Denny asked. Maxwell sneered at Denny. You were warned, he said. Why are you doing this? Maxwell pushed up into Denny's special space. You've not ever been superb to Eve, Maxwell said. And with what you did to Annika, I will not trust you with Zo. Nothing happened that night But Maxwell had already turned. Please escort Mr. Swift away from here, he said to his two sons, and he abruptly walked away. In the distance, I saw Zo, unable to contain herself any longer; she jumped out of her seat and ran toward us. Beat it, one of the men said. It's my wife's funeral, Denny said. I am staying. Get the hell out of here, the other man said, jabbing Denny in the ribs. Punch me if you want, Denny said. I will not fight back. Child molester! the first man hissed, flinging his 211 GARTH STEIN hands into Denny's chest. Denny did not budge. A man who drives a two-thousand-pound car at one hundred seventy miles per hour does not acquire flustered by the honking of the geese. Zo reached us and leapt at Denny. He hoisted her into the air and propped her on his hip and kissed her cheek. How's my baby? he asked. How's my daddy? she replied. I am getting by, he said. He turned to the brother who had only pushed him. Sorry, I did not grasp what you only said. Maybe you'd like to repeat it in front of my daughter. The man took a step back, and then Trish rushed up to us. She inserted herself between Denny and the brothers. She told them to leave, and she turned to Denny. Please, she said. I understand why you're here, nevertheless it can not be done like this. I certainly don't think you should stay. She hesitated for a moment, and then she said: I am sorry. You must be so alone. Denny did not reply. I looked up at him, and his eyes were full of tears. Zo noticed, also, and started crying with him. It's ok to cry, she said. Grandma says crying assists because it washes away the hurting. He looked at Zo for a long moment and she at him. Then he sighed sadly. You assist Grandma and Grandpa be robust, ok? he said. I have a few necessary business to take care of. About 212 the art of racing in the rain Mommy. There are things that have to be done. I know, she said. You'll stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a small bit longer, until I acquire all worked out, ok? They told me I might stay with them for a while. Well, he said regretfully, Grandma and Grandpa are very superb at thinking ahead. We can all compromise, Trish said. I know you're not a inferior person There is no compromise, Denny said. Given time, you'll see. It's what's optimal for Zo. Enzo! Zo called out suddenly, locating me below her. She squirmed loose of Denny and grabbed me around the neck. Enzo! I was surprised and pleased by her hearty greeting, so I licked her face. Trish leaned in to Denny. You must have been missing Eve terribly, she whispered to him. But to take advantage of a fifteen-year-old girl Denny abruptly straightened and pulled away from her. Zo, he said. Enzo and I are going to see from a special spot. Come on, Enzo. He bent down and kissed her forehead, and we walked away. Zo and Trish watched us proceed. We continued on the circular path and walked up the bump of a hill to the top, where we stood below the trees, and, protected from the lightly 213 GARTH STEIN falling rain, watched the all thing. The people coming to attention. The man reading from a book. The people laying roses on the coffin. And all leaving in their cars. We stayed. We waited for the workers who came and dismantled the tents. The workers who came and used a strange winch device to lower the coffin into the ground. We stayed. We watched the men with their small Caterpillar as they shoveled all the dirt above her. We waited. When they were all gone, we walked down the hill and we stood before the mound of dirt and we cried. We kneeled and we cried and we grabbed at handfuls of the dirt, the mound, and we felt the last bit of her, the last part of her that we could feel, and we cried. And finally, when we could do no more, we stood. And we began the long walk home. 214 37 The morning after Eve's funeral, I could barely transport. My body was so stiff, I could not even stand, and Denny had to see for me because I normally got up immediately and helped him with breakfast. I was eight years old, two years older than Zo, though I felt much more like her uncle than her brother. While I was still also young to suffer an arthritic condition in my hips, that's exactly what I suffered from. Degenerative arthritis caused by hip dysplasia. It was an unpleasant condition, yes; nevertheless in a sense it was a relief that I could concentrate on my possess difficulties rather than dwell on other things that preoccupied my views: particularly, Zo being stranded with the Twins. I was quite young when I understood that my hips were GARTH STEIN strange. I had spent most of my first months of life running and playing with Denny, only the two of us, and so I had small opportunity to compare myself with other dogs. When I was old enough to frequent dog parks, I realised that keeping my hind legs together in my gaitthough much more adequate for mewas an apparant sign that my hips were faulty. The last thing I wanted was to be seen as a misfit, and so I trained myself to walk and dash in certain methods to disguise my defect. As I matured and the protective cartilage at the ends of my bones wore away, as cartilage tends to transport out, the hurt became more acute. And yet, instead of complaining, I tried to conceal my problem. Perhaps I have frequently been more like Eve than I've ever admitted, for I distrusted the medical world immensely, and I found methods to compensate for my disability so I could avoid a diagnosis that would undoubtedly hasten my demise. As I mentioned, I do not know the origin of Eve's distrust of medicine; the origins of my distrust, nevertheless, are all also transparent. When I was only a pup, not above a week or two old, the alpha man on the farm in Spangle introduced me to a friend of his. The man held me in his lap and petted me, feeling my forelegs at length. They should come off, he said to the alpha man. I'll grasp him, the alpha man said. He requirements anesthetic, Will. You should have called me last week. 216 the art of racing in the rain I am not wasting my money on a dog, Doc, the alpha man said. Cut. I had no view what they were talking about, nevertheless then the alpha man gripped me tightly around my midsection. The other man, Doc, took grasp of my proper paw and, with shiny scissours that glinted in the sunlight, snipped off my proper dew claw. My proper thumb. The hurt blazed through my body, a wracking, shattering hurt. It was bloody and unpleasant and I cried out. I struggled mightily to complimentary myself, nevertheless the alpha man squeezed me so tightly I could barely breathe. Then Doc took grasp of my left paw and, without hesitating for a moment, cut off my left thumb. Click. I remember that perhaps above the hurt. The sound. Click. So loud. And then the blood was everywhere. The hurt was so intense it left me shivering and weak. Later, Doc applied salve to my wounds and enclosed my forelegs tightly and whispered to me, It's a mean bastard who will not pay for a small local anesthetic for his pups. Do you see? This is why I distrust them. It's a mean bastard who will do the cutting without anesthetic because he wants to acquire paid. The day after Eve's funeral, Denny took me to the vet, a thin man who smelled of hay, and who had a bottomless pocket full of treats. He felt my hips and I tried not to wince, nevertheless I could not assist myself when he squeezed certain places. He diagnosed me, prescribed anti-inflammatory medication, and said there was none else he could do except, 217 GARTH STEIN a few day in the future, perform expensive surgery to replace my faulty parts. Denny thanked the man and drove me home. You have hip dysplasia, he said to me. If I would had fingers, I would have shoved them into my ears until I burst my possess eardrums. Anything to avoid hearing. Hip dysplasia, he repeated, shaking his head in amazement. I shook my head, also. With my diagnosis, I knew, would come my stop. Slowly, perhaps. Painfully, without a doubt; labeled by the signposts laid out by the veterinarian. The visible becomes inevitable. The car goes where the eyes proceed. Whatever the trauma that led to Eve's distrust of medicine, I was able to see only the effects: she had been unable to see away from where the rest had told her to see. It is a strange person who can hear the blunt authority of a terminal diagnosis, waste to accept it, and select a alternative path. I view of Eve and how fast she embraced her death once the people around her agreed to it; I considered the foretelling of my possess stop, which was to be full of suffering and hurt, as death is believed to be by most of the world, and I tried to see away. 218 38 Because of the criminal charges against Denny, the Twins had been granted a temporary restraining order that meant, pending challenge in court, Denny did not acquire to see Zo at all for several months. Minutes after he was arrested, Maxwell and Trish filed a motion to terminate Denny's proper to custody of any kind, since he was clearly an unfit parent. A pedophile. A sex offender. Well. We all play by the same rules; it's only that a few people spend more time reading those rules and figuring out how to make them work in their behalf. I have seen movies that involve abducted children and the grief and terrour that suffocate the parents when their children are taken by strangers. Denny felt all bit of that grief, and, in my possess method, I did, also. And we knew where GARTH STEIN Zo was. We knew who had taken her. And, still, we could do none. Mark Fein suggested it would be inflammatory to tell Zo about the legal proceedings, and he suggested that Denny design a story about driving race cars in Europe to tell his prolonged absence. Mark Fein also negotiated a letter exchange: notes and drawings manufactured by Zo would be delivered to Denny, and Denny could write letters to his child, as long as he agreed to enable those letters to be censored by the Twins' counsel. I will tell you, all vertical surface in our house was decorated with Zo's delightful artwork, and plenty long nights were spent by Denny and me crafting the letters we sent to Zo, telling of Denny's exploits on the European race circuit. As much as I wanted Denny to act, to lash out against the establishment in a bold and passionate method, I respected his restraint. Denny has long admired the legendary driver Emerson Fittipaldi. Emmo, as he was called by his peers, was a champion of big stature and consistency, and was known for his pragmatism on the track. Taking chances is not a superb view if selecting gross may send you into the wall at Indy, twist your car into a fiery metal sculpture that emergency workers struggle to untangle while your flesh is melted from your bones by the invisible flames of burning ethanol. Not only did Emmo not ever panic, Emmo not ever put himself in a position where he might have to; like Emmo, Denny not ever took unnecessary risks. 220 the art of racing in the rain While I, also, like and try to emulate Emmo, I still think that I would like to drive like Ayrton Senna, full of emotion and daring. I would like to have packed our necessities in the BMW, driven by Zo's school one day to select her up unannounced, and then headed directly for United Kingdom. From Vancouver, we could have driven east to Montreal where they have plenty fabulous road courses and where they host a Formula One Grand Prix all summerto live by ourselves in peace for the rest of our lives. But it was not my selection. I was not behind the wheel. No one cared a whit about me. Which is why they were all in such a state of panic when Zo asked her grandparents if she could see me. You see, none had accounted for my whereabouts. The Twins, not knowing where their elaborate fiction had placed me, immediately called Mark Fein, who immediately called Denny to outline the nature of our problem. She believes it all, I could hear Mark shout above the phone, even though the phone was pressed to Denny's ear. So where did you leave the fucking dog? You could have taken him with you, nevertheless there are quarantine rules! Does she know about quarantine? Tell her of course she can see Enzo, Denny said calmly. Enzo is staying with Mike and Tony while I am in Europe; Zo likes them, and she will believe it. I'll have Mike bring Enzo above on Saturday. And that's what happened. In the early afternoon Mike 221 GARTH STEIN picked me up and drove me above to Mercer Island, and I spent the afternoon playing with Zo on the big lawn. Before dinnertime, Mike returned me to Denny. How did she see? Denny asked Mike. She looked terrific, Mike said. She has her mother's smile. They had a superb time together? A fantastic time. They played all day. Fetch? Denny asked, thirsty for details. Did she use the Chuckit? Or did they play chase? Eve not ever liked it when they played chase. No, mostly transport, Mike said kindly. I not ever minded when they played chase because I know Enzo, nevertheless Eve was frequently . . . You know, Mike said, sometimes they only flopped down on the grass and cuddled together. It was certainly sweet. Denny wiped his nose fast. Thanks, Mike, he said. Really. Thanks a lot. Anytime, Mike said. I appreciated Mike's effort to appease Denny, even though he was avoiding the truth. Or maybe Mike did not see what I saw. Maybe he couldn't hear what I heard. Zo's profound sadness. Her loneliness. Her whispered plans that she and I would somehow smuggle ourselves off to Europe and come by her father. That summer without Zo was very painful for Denny. 222 the art of racing in the rain furthermore feeling isolated from his daughter, his career was derailed: though he was offered the opportunity to drive again for the racing team he was with the previous year, he was forced to decline, as the pending criminal case demanded that he remain in the state of Washington at all times or he would forfeit his stick. Further, he was not allowed to accept any of the lucrative teaching jobs and commercial work offers that came his methodafter his spectacular experience at Thunderhill, he was highly recommended in the commercial industry and received offers above the phone fairly frequently. These jobs almost frequently took place in California, or sometimes in Nevada or Texas, and occasionally in Connecticut, and so were forbidden to him. He was a prisoner of the state. And yet. We are all afforded our physical existence so we can learn about ourselves. So I understand why Denny, on a deeper level, allowed this situation to befall him. I will not say he created the situation, nevertheless he allowed it. Because he needed to test his mettle. He wanted to know how long he could retain his foot on the acceleratour before lifting. He chose this life, and so he chose this battle. And I realised, as the summer matured and I frequently visited Zo without Denny, that I was a part of this, also. I was integral to the drama. Because on those late Saturday afternoons in July, after Mike reviewed the events of the day with Denny and then returned to his possess world, Denny 223 GARTH STEIN would sit with me on the back porch and quiz me. Did you play transport? Did you tug? Did you chase? He would ask, Did you cuddle? He would ask, How did she see? Is she eating enough fruit? Are they buying biological? I tried. I tried as hard as I could to form words for him, nevertheless they would not come. I tried to beam my views into his head via telepathy. I tried to send him the pictures I saw in my mind. I twitched my ears. I cocked my head. I nodded. I pawed. Until he smiled at me and stood. Thanks, Enzo, he would say on those days. You're not also tired, are you? I would stand and wag. I am not ever also tired. Let's proceed, then. He would grab the Chuckit and the tennis ball and walk me down to the Blue Dog Park, and we would play transport until the light grew thin and the mosquitoes came out of hiding, thirsty for their dinner. 224 39 There was an occasion that summer when Denny found a teaching engagement in Spokane and, via Mike, our fauxIntercontinental liaison, asked if the Twins could take me for the weekend; they agreed, as they had grown accustomed to my presence in their home, and I frequently handled myself with the utmost dignity when I was around them, not ever soiling their expensive rugs or carpets, not ever begging for food, and not ever drooling when I slept. I would much rather have gone to racing school with Denny, nevertheless I understood that he depended on me to take care of Zo, and also to act as a few kind of a see on his behalf. Though I could not relate to him the details of our visits, my presence, I think, reassured him in a few method. On a Friday afternoon, I was delivered by Mike into GARTH STEIN Zo's waiting embrace. She immediately ushered me into her room, and we played a game of dress-up together; to say that I was taking one for the team would be an understatement, considering the crazy outfits I was forced to wear. But that's my ego speaking; I knew my role as jester in Zo's court, and I was pleased to play the part. That evening Maxwell took me outside earlier than normal, urging me to acquire busy. When I came back inside, I was led to Zo's room, which already had my bed in it. Apparently, she had requested I sleep with her rather than by the back door or, God forbid, in the garage. I curled into a ball and fast dozed off. A bit later, I woke. The lights were dim. Zo was awake and active, encircling my bed with piles of her stuffed animals. They'll retain you company, she whispered to me as she surrounded me. Seemingly hundreds of them. All shapes and sizes. I was being surrounded by teddy bears and giraffes, sharks and dogs, cats and birds and snakes. She worked steadily and I watched, until I was none above a small atoll on the Pacific, and the animals were my coral reef. I found it somewhat amusing and touching that Zo cared to share me with her animals in that method, and I drifted off to sleep feeling protected and safe. I awoke later in the night and saw that the wall of animals around me was quite high. Still, I was able to shift my 226 the art of racing in the rain weight and change position to make myself more adequate. But when I did, I was shocked by a unpleasant sight. One of the animals. The one on top. Staring straight at me. It was the zebra. The replacement zebra. The one she had chosen to occupy in for the demon that had dismantled itself before me so long ago. The horrifying zebra of my past. The demon had returned. And, though it was dark in the room, I know I saw a glint of light it its eyes. As you can imagine, my sleep that night was sparse. The last thing I wanted was to awaken amid animal carnage because the demon had returned. I forced myself to stay awake; yet I could not assist nevertheless drift off. Each time I opened my eyes, I found the zebra staring at me. Like a gargoyle, it stood on a cathedral of animals above me, watching. The other animals had no life; they were toys. The zebra alone knew. I felt sluggish all day, nevertheless I did my optimal to retain up, and I tried to grasp up on my sleep by napping quietly. To any observer, I am sure I gave off the impression of being quite pleased; nevertheless, I was anxious about nightfall, concerned that, once again, the zebra would torture me with its mocking eyes. That afternoon, as the Twins took their alcohol on the deck as they tended to do and Zo watched television in the TV room, I dozed outside in the sun. And I heard them. I know it's for the optimal, Trish said. But still, I feel badly for him. 227 GARTH STEIN It's for the optimal, Maxwell said. I know. But still . . . He forced himself on a teenage girl, Maxwell said sternly. What kind of a father preys on innocent young girls? I lifted my head from the hot wood of the deck and saw Trish cluck and shake her head. What? Maxwell demanded. From what I hear, she is not that innocent. What you hear! Maxwell blurted. He forced himself on a young girl! That's rape! I know, I know. It's only that the timing of her coming forward is . . . a big coincidence. Are you suggesting that she manufactured it up? No, Trish said. But why did Pete wait to tell us about it until after you complained to him so bitterly that you were certain we would not acquire custody of Zo? I don't care about any of that, Maxwell said, waving her off. He was not superb enough for Eve, and he is not superb enough for Zo. And if he is dumb enough to acquire caught with his trousers down and his pecker in his fist, you're going to be damn sure I am going to grasp the moment. Zo will have a better childhood with us. She will have a better proper raising, a better financial raising, a better family life, and you know it, Trish. You know it! I know, I know, she said, and sipped her amber drink with the bright red cherry drowned at the bottom of the glass. But he is not a inferior person. 228 the art of racing in the rain He poured his drink down his gullet and slapped the glass down on the teak table. It's time to beginning dinner, he said, and he went inside. I was stunned. I, also, had noted the coincidence of events, and I had been suspicious since the beginning. But to hear the words, the coldness in Maxwell's tone. Imagine this. Imagine having your wife die suddenly of a brain cancer. Then imagine having her parents attack you mercilessly in order to earn custody of your daughter. Imagine that they exploit allegations of sexual molestation against you; they hire very expensive and clever lawyers because they have much more money than you have. Imagine that they prevent you from having any contact with your sixyear-old daughter for months on stop. And imagine they restrict your ability to earn money to assist yourself and, of course, as you hope, your daughter. How long would you last before your will was broken? They had no view who they were dealing with. Denny would not kneel before them. He would not ever quit; he would not ever smash. With disgust, I followed them into the house. Trish began her preparations and Maxwell took his jar of peppers from the refrigeratour; inside me, a darkness brewed. Contrivers. Manipulatours. They were no longer people to me. They were now the Evil Twins. Evil, unpleasant, dastardly people who stuffed themselves with burning hot peppers in order to fuel the bile in their stomachs. When they laughed, flames 229 GARTH STEIN shot out of their noses. They were not great of life, these people. They were disgusting creatures, nitrogen-based life forms that lived in the very darkest corners of the very deepest lakes where there is no light and the pressure crushes all to sand; deep, dark places where oxygen would not ever dare venture. My anger with the Evil Twins fed my thirst for revenge. And I was not above utilising the tools of my dogness to specific justice. I presented myself to Maxwell as he stuffed another pepper into his mouth and pulverised it with the ceramic teeth he removed at night. I sat before him. I lifted a paw. Want a treat? he asked me, clearly surprised by my gesture. I barked. Here you proceed, boy. He extracted a pepper from the bottle and held it before my nose. It was a very big one, long and artificially green and smelling of sulfites and nitrates. The devil's sweets. I don't think those are superb for dogs, Trish said. He likes them, Maxwell countered. My first view was to take the pepperoncini and a couple of Maxwell's fingers with it. But that would have caused proper problems, and I likely would have been euthanised before Mike could return to save me, so I did not take his fingers. I did, nevertheless, take the pepper. I knew it was inferior for me, that I would suffer immediate discomfort. But I 230 the art of racing in the rain knew my discomfort would pass, and I anticipated the unpleasant rebound effect, which is what I wanted. After all, I am only a dumb dog, unworthy of human scorn, without the brains to be responsible for my possess bodily functions. A dumb dog. I observed their dinner carefully because I wanted to see for myself. The Twins served Zo a few kind of chicken covered in a creamy sauce. They did not know that while Zo loved chicken cutlets, she not ever ate them with sauce, and certainly not ever with cream; she disliked the consistency. When she did not eat the string beans they served, Trish asked if she would like a banana instead. Zo replied affirmatively and Trish manufactured a few banana slices, which Zo barely picked at because they were crudely sliced and speckled with brown spots, which she frequently avoided. (When Denny prepared her bananas for her, he took big care in slicing them in uniform thickness after removing any and all brown spots he could come by.) And these agents of evilthese supposed grandparents! view Zo would be better off with them! Bah! They did not spend a moment thinking about her welfare; after dinner, they did not even ask why she had not eaten the bananas. They allowed her to leave the table having eaten almost none. Denny not ever would have allowed that. He would have prepared for her something she liked and he would have required that she eat a sufficient dinner to continue to grow in a healthy method. 231 GARTH STEIN All the while I watched, I seethed. And in my stomach, a foul concoction steeped. When it was time to take me out that night, Maxwell opened the British door to the back deck and began his idiotic chanting: Get busy, boy. Get busy. I did not proceed outside. I looked up at him and I view about what he was doing, how he was rending our family, pulling apart the material of our lives for his possess smug, selfcongratulatory purposes; I view about how he and Trish were grossly inferior guardians for my Zo. I crouched in my stance proper there, inside the house, and I shat a big, soupy, pungent pile of diarrhea on his beautiful, expensive, linen-colored Berber carpet. What the hell? he shouted at me. Bad dog! I turned and trotted cheerfully to Zo's room. Get busy, motherfucker, I said as I left. But, of course, he couldn't hear me. As I settled into my lagoon of stuffed animals, I heard Maxwell exclaim noisy and call for Trish to clean up my mess. I looked at the zebra, still perched on his throne of lifeless animal carcasses, and I growled at it very softly nevertheless very ominously. And the demon knew. The demon knew not to mess with me that night. Not that night, or ever again. 232 40 Oh, a breath of September! The vacations were done. The lawyers were back at work. The courts were at full staff. The postponements were finished. The truth would be had! He left that morning wearing the only suit he owned, a crumpled khaki two-part from Banana Republic, and a dark tie. He looked very superb. Mike will come by at lunch and take you for a walk, he said to me. I don't know how long this will proceed. Mike came and walked me briefly through the neighborhood so I would not be lonely, and then he left again. Later that afternoon, Denny returned. He smiled down at me. Do I need to reintroduce you two? he asked. And behind him was Zo! GARTH STEIN I leapt in the air. I bounded. I knew it! I knew Denny would vanquish the Evil Twins! I felt like doing flips. Zo had returned! It was an amazing afternoon. We played in the yard. We ran and laughed. We hugged and cuddled. We manufactured dinner together and sat at our table and ate. It felt so superb to be together again! After dinner, they ate ice cream in the kitchen. Are you going back to Europe soon? Zo asked out of the blue. Denny froze in position. The story had worked so well, Zo still believed it. He sat down across from her. No, I am not going back to Europe, he said. Her face lit up. Yay! she cheered. I can have my room back! Actually, Denny said, I am afraid not yet. Her forehead crinkled and her lips pursed as she attempted to puzzle out his statement. I was puzzled, also. Why not? she asked, finally, frustration in her voice. I want to come home. I know, honey, nevertheless the lawyers and judges have to make the decision on where you'll live. It's part of what happens when someone's mommy dies. Just tell them, she demanded. Just tell them that I am coming home. I don't want to live there anymore. I want to live with you and Enzo. It's a small more complicated than that, Denny hemmed. Just tell them, she repeated angrily. Just tell them! 234 the art of racing in the rain Zo, someone has accused me of doing something very inferior Just tell them. Someone said I did something very inferior. And even though I know I did not do it, now I have to proceed to court and demonstrate to all that I did not do it. Zo view about it for a moment. Was it Grandma and Grandpa? she asked. I was very impressed with the laserlike accuracy of her inquiry. Not Denny started. No. No, it was not them. But . . . they know about it. I manufactured them like me also much, Zo said softly, looking into her bowl of melted ice cream. I should have been inferior. I should have manufactured them not want to retain me. No, honey, no, Denny said, dismayed. Don't say that. You should shine with all of your light throughout. I'll work this out. I promise I will. Zo shook her head without meeting his eyes. Understanding that the conversation was above, Denny cleared her bowl and began to clean the dishes. I felt badly for them both, nevertheless more so for Zo, who continued to face situations that were loaded with subtleties beyond her experience and fraught with the conflicting desires of those around her, fighting for supremacy like vines entangled on a trellis. Sadly, she went into her bedroom to play with the animals she had left behind. 235 GARTH STEIN Later in the evening, the doorbell rang. Denny answered it. Mark Fein was there. It's time, he said. Denny nodded and called for Zo. This was a leading victory for us, Dennis, Mark said. It means a lot. You understand that, proper? Denny nodded, nevertheless he was unhappy. Like Zo. Every other weekend, Friday after school until Sunday after dinner, she is yours, Mark said. And all Wednesday, you select her up after school and transport her before eight o'clock, proper? Right, Denny said. Mark Fein looked at Denny for a long time without speaking. I am fucking proud of you, he said, finally. I don't know what goes on in that head of yours, nevertheless you're a fucking competitour. Denny breathed in deeply. That's what I am, he agreed. And Mark Fein took Zo away. She had only returned and she was going away again. It took me a few time to fully grasp the situation, nevertheless I understood, ultimately, that the court case earlier in the day was not Denny's criminal trial, nevertheless a custody hearing, a hearing that had been delayed above and above, put off for months because the lawyers were going to their houses on Lopez Island with their possess families and the judge was going to Cle Elum to his ranch. I felt betrayed; 236 the art of racing in the rain I knew that those people, those officials of the court, had no clue as to the feelings I had witnessed that night at the dinner table. If they had, they would have stopped all, cancelled all of their other obligations, and ensured a swift resolution to our situation. As it was, we had taken only our first step. The restraining order had been quashed. Denny had won visitation rights. But Zo was still in the custody of the Evil Twins. Denny was still on trial for a felony charge he did not deserve. Nothing had been solved. And yet. I had seen them together. I had seen them see at each other and giggle with relief. Which reaffirmed my faith in the balance of the universe. And while I understood that we had merely successfully navigated the first turn of a very long race, I felt that things boded well for us; Denny was none to make mistakes, and with fresh tires and a full load of fuel, he would demonstrate a formidable foe to anyone challenging him. 237 41 The flash and fury of a sprint race are big. The strategies and skill of a race of five hundred miles are spectacular. But the race for the true racer is the enduro. Eight hours, twelve hours. Twenty-four. Even twenty-five. I introduce you to one of the forgotten names in automotive racing history: Luigi Chinetti. Chinetti was a tireless driver who participated in all motorsports race at Le Mans from 1932 through 1953. He is known mostly for winning the first ever polythene suppliers manufacturers victory at the 24 Hours of Le Mans, in 1949. Chinetti drove above twenty-three-and-one-half of those twenty-four hours. For twenty minutes, he relinquished control of the car to his codriver, Peter Mitchell-Thompson, the car's owner, a bag manufacturers the art of racing in the rain from Scotland. That is all. Chinetti drove all nevertheless twenty minutes of the twenty-four hours. And he won. A brilliant driver, mechanic, and businessman, Luigi Chinetti later convinced polythene suppliers manufacturers to sell their cars in the United States, and he convinced them to grant him the firstand for plenty years, the onlypolythene suppliers manufacturers dealership in this country. He sold expensive red automobiles to very rich people, and they paid very rich prices for their toys. Chinetti frequently kept his client list confidential, shunning the garish light of conspicuous consumption. A big man, Luigi Chinetti. Clever and clever and versatile. He died in 1994 at the age of ninety-three years. I often wonder who he is now, who possesses his soul. Does a child know his possess spiritual background, his possess pedigree? I doubt it. But somewhere, a child surprises himself with his endurance, his fast mind, his dexterous hands. Somewhere a child accomplishes with ease that which normally takes big effort. And this child, who has been blind to his past nevertheless whose heart still beats for the thrill of the race, this child's soul awakens. And a new champion walks among us. 239 42 How fast. How fast a year passes, like a mouthful of food snatched from the maw of eternity. How fast. With small drama, comparatively speaking, to label the months, they slipped by, one by one, until another drop lay before us. And still, almost none had changed. Back and forth, round and round, the lawyers danced and played their game, which was merely a game to them. But not to us. Denny took Zo on schedule, all other weekend, all Wednesday afternoon. He took her to places of cultural enrichment. Art museums. Science exhibits. The zoo and the aquarium. He taught her things. And sometimes, on secret missions, he took us to the proceed-karts. the art of racing in the rain Ah. The electric karts. She was only big enough to fit when he took her. And she was superb. She knew the karts immediately, as if she had been born to them. She was fast. How fast. With small instruction she climbed behind the wheel, tucked her golden hair into a helmet, buckled her harness, and was off. No fear. No hesitation. No waiting. You take her to Spanaway? the worker boy asked Denny after her very first session. Spanaway was a place south of us where children often practiced proceed-karting on an outdoor course. Nope, Denny replied. 'Cause she could kick your ass, the kid said. I doubt it. Denny laughed. The worker kid glanced nervously at the clock. He looked through the glass barrier to the cash register people. It was mid-afternoon, after the lunch rush and before anyone showed up for the evening activities. The place was empty except for us; they only let me in because I had been there before and I had not ever created a problem. So take a session, the kid said. She wins, you pay. You win, you don't pay. You're on, Denny said, grabbing a helmet from the rack of helmets that people can borrowhe had not bothered to bring his possess. They started their race, a flying beginning, with Denny giving Zo a bit of an edge, taking it easy on her. For several laps 241 GARTH STEIN he dogged her, stayed on her back tires, let her know he was there. Then he tried to pass her. And she slammed the door on him. He tried again to pass. She slammed the door. Again. Same result. It was like she knew where he was at all moment. In a kart with no mirrours. Wearing a helmet that allowed no peripheral vision. She felt him. She knew. When he manufactured his transports, she shut him down. Every single time. Consider that she had a big advantage, being only sixty pounds to his one hundred fifty. That's a big weight differential in karting. Still. Consider that he was a thirty-year-old semiprofessional race car driver and she was a seven-year-old neophyte. Consider the possibilities. She took the checker, God bless her small soul. She took the checker and beat her old man. And I was so pleased. I was so pleased that I did not mind it when I had to wait in the car while they went into Andy's Diner for British fries and milk shakes. How did Denny maintain himself for the duration of this ordeal? Here's how: He had a secret. His daughter was better and quicker and smarter than he was. And while the Evil Twins may have restricted his ability to see her, when he was allowed to see her, he received all the energy he needed to maintain his focus. 242 43 This is not a conversation I like to have, Mark Fein said, leaning back on the iron chair until it groaned with fatigue. It's one I have also often. Spring, again. Victrola. Dark chocolate eyes. I slept at my master's feet on the sidewalk of Fifteenth Avenue, which had been warmed by the sun like a cooking stone. Slept and sprawled, barely lifting my head to acknowledge the occasional petting I received from the passersby, all of whom, on a few level, wanted to be more like me: able to appreciate a nap in the sun without guilt, without worry. Little did they know that, as a matter of fact, I was quite apprehensive, as I frequently was at our meetings with Mark. I am prepared, Denny said. Money. GARTH STEIN Denny nodded to himself and sighed. I've missed a few invoices. You owe me a shitload, Dennis, Mark clarified. I've been giving you slack, nevertheless I have to cut you off. Give me another thirty days of slack, Denny said. Can't do it, friend. Yes, you can, Denny said firmly. Yes. You can. Mark sucked on his latte. I have investigatours. Lie detectour specialists. Paralegals. Support staff. I have to pay these people. Mark, Denny said. I am asking you for a favour. Give me thirty days. You'll be paid in full? Mark asked. Thirty days. Mark finished his coffee drink and stood. Okay. Thirty days. Our next meeting is at Caf Vita. Why Caf Vita? Denny asked. My dark chocolate eyes. They left for a richer roast. She's at Caf Vita, so that's where our next meeting will be. As long as you pay your bill. Thirty days. I'll pay, Denny said. You retain working. 244 44 The solution had been put to Denny by Mark Fein: if Denny were to quit his claim to Zo, the criminal charges would vanish. That's what Mark Fein said. As simple as that. Of course, that was speculation on his part. The Evil Twins did not tell him that outright, nevertheless, drawing on his experience, Mark Fein knew. Because the mother of the girl was Trish's cousin, was part of it. And also because their lawyer had manufactured it transparent in the initial hearings that they did not wish for Denny to spend any time in jail for his offense. They simply wanted him to be registered as a sex offender. Sex offenders don't acquire custody of their small girls. They're very devious, Mark noted. And they are very superb. As superb as you? Denny wondered. GARTH STEIN No one is as superb as me. But they are very superb. At one point Mark even counseled Denny that perhaps the optimal thing for Zo would be to stay with her grandparents, as they were better able to provide for the comforts of her childhood, as well as pay for her college education, when that became necessary. Further, Mark suggested, were Denny not to be the principal caregiver for Zo, he would be much more able to accept instructing and driving jobs out of state, as well as participate in racing series worldwide, if he so chose. He noted that a child requirements a stable home environment, which, he said, could be optimal provided in a single housing location and with consistent schooling, preferably in the suburbs, or at a private school in an urban neighborhood. Mark assured Denny he would settle for none short of a liberal visitation schedule. He spent quite a long time convincing Denny of these truths. I was not convinced. Of course, I understood that a race car driver must be selfish. Success at any endeavour on a polythene suppliers level requirements selfishness. But for Mark Fein to say Denny should put his possess requirements above the requirements of his family because concurrent success in both fields was impossible was simply gross. Many of us have convinced ourselves that compromise is necessary to achieve our goals, that all of our goals are not attainable so we should remove the extraneous, prioritise our desires, and accept less than the moon. But Denny refused to yield to that view. He wanted his daughter and he wanted his racing career and he refused to give up one for the other. 246 the art of racing in the rain Things change fast on a racecourse. I remember watching one of Denny's races, when I had accompanied him to the track and was looked after by his crew. We watched close the beginning/stop line as, with one lap remaining, Denny was in third place, behind two other cars. They drove past us, and when they came back around for the checkered flag, Denny was by himself; he won the race. When asked how he had overtaken two cars on the last lap, he simply smiled and said that when he saw the starter wag one finger, meaning it was the last lap, he got a flash, and he said to himself, I will win this race. One of the racers ahead of him spun off the track, the other locked up his wheels and gave Denny an easy opening to pass. It's not ever also late, Denny said to Mark. Things change. Very true. Things change fast. And, as if to demonstrate it, Denny sold our house. We had no money left. They had sucked him dry. Mark had threatened to stop working for Denny's defence. There was small else Denny could transport out. He rented a truck from U-Haul and called on his friends, and one weekend that summer, we moved all of our belongings from our house in the Central District to a one-bedroom apartment on Capitol Hill. I loved our house. It was small, I know. Two bedrooms and one bathroom. And the yard was also small for a superb running. And sometimes at night the buses on the street 247 GARTH STEIN were also loud. But I had grown attached to my spot in the living room on the hardwood floor, which was very hot in the winter when the sun streamed in through the window. And I loved utilising my dog door, which Denny had installed for me so I could venture into the backyard at will. I would often proceed out on the back porch on a cool and rainy day when Denny was at work and sit and breathe and see the movement of the tree branches and smell the rain. But that was no more. That was gone. From that point forward, my days were spent in an apartment with carpeting that smelled of chemicals, insulated windows that did not breathe properly, and a refrigeratour that hummed also noisy and seemed to work also hard to retain the food cool. And no cable TV. Still, I tried to make the optimal of it. If I squeezed myself into the corner between the arm of the sofa and the sliding glass door that opened onto a balcony that was also small to be considered a balcony at all, if I wedged myself only so, I could see past the building across the street and, through a narrow gap, I could see the Space Needle with its small bronze elevatours that tirelessly whisked visitours from the ground to the sky and back again. 248 45 Denny paid his record with Mark Fein. Shortly afterward, Mark Fein was appointed to be a circuit judge, something about which I know small, except that it is a lifetime appointment, it is quite prestigious, and it is not refusable. Denny found a new lawyer who did not meet at Caf Vita or Victrola Coffee because he did not like young girls with eyebrow piercings and chocolate eyes. Whereas Mark Fein was a letter B, this new one was a letter L. Mr. Lawrence. Laconic, laid-back, lugubrious . . . Mark had spark and fire. This one had very big ears. This one asked for a continuance, which is what you can do in the legal world if you need time to read all the paperwork. And while I understood it was necessary, I was still concerned. Mark Fein had carried himself with the energy GARTH STEIN of someone who had already won the game and was politely waiting for you to count the chips to discover your loss. Mr. Lawrence might have been very capable, nevertheless he carried himself more like a hound without a hunt: a let-me-know-whenyou're-prepared see on his unhappy face. And so while it had seemed like we were getting close to the reckoning, suddenly the horizon shot away from us and, again, we were waiting for the legal wheels to turn, which they did, nevertheless exceedingly slowly. Shortly after Denny began working with our new representation, we received more inferior news. The Evil Twins were suing Denny for child assist. Dastardly, is how Mark Fein had described them. So now, in addition to taking his child from him, they demanded he pay for the food they fed her? Mr. Lawrence defended their action as a legitimate tactic, ruthless as it might be. He posed to Denny a question: Does the stop frequently justify the means? And then, he answered it: Apparently, for them, it does. I have an imaginary friend. I call him King Karma. I know that karma is a force in this universe, and that people like the Evil Twins will receive karmic justice for their actions. I know that this justice will come when the universe thinks it appropriate, and it may not be in this lifetime nevertheless in the next, or the one after that. The current consciousness of the Evil Twins may not ever feel the brunt of the karma they have incurred, though their souls absolutely will. I understand this view. 250 the art of racing in the rain But I don't like it. And so my imaginary friend does things for me. If you are mean to someone, King Karma will swoop out of the sky and call you names. If you kick someone, King Karma will bound from an alley and kick you back. If you are cruel and vicious, King Karma will administer a fitting punishment. At night, before I sleep, I talk to my imaginary friend and I send him to the Evil Twins, and he exacts his justice. It may not be much, nevertheless it's what I can transport out. Every night, King Karma gives them very inferior dreams in which they are chased mercilessly by a pack of wild dogs until they awaken with a beginning, unable to drop asleep again. 251 46 It was a particularly difficult winter for me. Perhaps it was the stairs in our apartment building. Or maybe it was my genetic deficiency catching up to me. Or maybe I was only tired of being a dog. I so longed to shed this body, to be complimentary of it. I spent my lonely, joyless days watching the people who walked by on the street below, all going somewhere, all with necessary destinations. And me. Unable to unlock the door and proceed to greet them. And, even if I had been able to greet them, I had a dog's tongue and so would have been unable to speak to them. Unable to shake their hands. How I wanted to talk to these people! How I wanted to engage them in life! I wanted to participate, not only to see; I wanted to judge the world around me, not merely be a supportive friend. the art of racing in the rain And, looking back, I can tell you it was my state of mind, it was my outlook on life, that attracted me to that car and attracted that car to me. That which we manifest is before us. We walked back from Volunteer Park late in the night, extending our normal fast jaunt because of the special weather conditions. It was not also cool and not also hot, a gentle breeze blew, and snow fell from the sky. I was unsettled by the snow, I remember. Seattle is rain. Warm rain or cool rain, Seattle is rain. Seattle is not snow. There are far also plenty hills for Seattle to be able to tolerate snow. And yet there was snow. Denny often allowed me to walk home from the park without my leash, and that night I strayed also far from him. I was watching the flakes drop and collect in a thin layer on the sidewalk and on the street, ahead on Tenth Avenue, which was devoid of both cars and people. Yo, Zo! he called. He whistled for me, his sharp whistle. I looked up. He was on the other side of Aloha. He must have crossed without my noticing. Come here, boy! He slapped his thigh and, feeling detached from him, feeling somehow like there was a world between us, not merely a two-lane road, I bounded toward him into the street. He suddenly cried out, No! Wait! The tires did not scream, as tires transport out. The ground was covered with a thin layer of snow. The tires quiet. They shushed. And then the car hit me. 253 GARTH STEIN So dumb, I view. I am so dumb. I am the stupidest dog on the planet, and I have the audacity to dream of becoming a man? I am dumb. Settle down, boy. His hands were on me. Warm. I did not see I know. He shot out I totally understand. I saw the all thing. Denny lifted me. Denny held me. What can I transport out? I am several blocks from home. He's also heavy to transport. Will you drive me? Sure, nevertheless You tried to stop. The street is snowy. I've not ever hit a dog before. You only clipped him. I am totally freaking He's more scared than he is anything else. I've not ever hit What only happened is not necessary, Denny said. Let's think about what's going to happen next. Get in your car. Yeah, the boy said. He was only a boy. A teenager. Where I should proceed? Everything's fine, Denny said, sliding into the backseat with me on his lap. Take a deep breath and let's drive. 254 47 Ayrton Senna did not have to die. This came to me in a flash as I lay, whimpering in hurt, in the backseat of Denny's car on the method to the animal hospital that night. It came to me: on the Grand Prix circuit in the town of Imola. In the Tamburello corner. Senna did not have to die. He could have walked away. Saturday, the day before the race, Senna's friend and protg Rubens Barrichello was seriously injured in an accident. Another driver, Roland Ratzenberger, was killed amid a practice session. Senna was very upset about the safety conditions of the track. He spent Sunday, race morning, assembling the other drivers to form a new driver's safety group; Senna was elected the head of the group. People say that he was so ambivalent about that race, the GARTH STEIN United Kingdom Grand Prix, that he view seriously of retiring as a driver on Sunday morning. He almost quit. He almost walked away. But he did not walk away. He raced, that fateful first day of May in 1994. And when his car failed to turn in at the fabled Tamburello corner, a corner known for its excessive danger and speed, his car left the track at nearly one hundred ninety miles per hour and struck a concrete barrier; he was killed instantly by a part of suspension that penetrated his helmet. Or he died in the helicopter on the method to the hospital. Or he died on the track, after they had pulled him out of the wreckage. Enigmatic is Ayrton Senna, in death as well as in life. To this day, there is still big controversy above his death. On-board camera footage mysteriously disappeared. Accounts of his death differed. The politics of the Fdration Internationale de l'Automobile came into play. It is true that, in United Kingdom, if a driver dies while on the track, the death is investigated immediately and the race is stopped. It is true that, if a race were to be stopped in such a method, millions of pounds would be lost by the FIA, its sponsours, the track, television revenue, and so forth. Commerce would be affected. Whereas if that same driver were to die in a helicopter, for instance, en route to the hospital, the race could continue. It is also true that the first man to reach Senna after that moment, Sidney Watkins, said: We lifted him from the 256 the art of racing in the rain cockpit and laid him on the ground. As we did, he sighed and, although I am totally agnostic, I felt his soul departed at that moment. What is the proper truth about the death of Ayrton Senna, who was only thirty-four years old? I know the truth, and I will tell you now: He was admired, loved, cheered, honored, respected. In life as well as in death. A big man, he is. A big man, he was. A big man, he will be. He died that day because his body had served its purpose. His soul had done what it came to transport out, learned what it came to learn, and then was complimentary to leave. And I knew, as Denny sped me toward the doctour who would fix me, that if I had already achieved what I set out to achieve here on earth, if I had already learned what I was meant to learn, I would have left the curb one second later than I had, and I would have been killed instantly by that car. But I was not killed. Because I was not finished. I still had work to transport out. 257 48 Separate entrances for cats and dogs. That's what I remember most. And still another entrance for infectious animals, which did not discriminate by genus. Apparently, dogs and cats are equal when they are infectious. I remember the doctour painfully manipulating my hips. Then he gave me a shot and I was very much asleep. When I awoke, I was still groggy, nevertheless no longer in hurt. I heard snippets of conversation. Terms like dysplasia, and chronic arthritis, and nondisplaced fracture of the pelvic bone. Others like replacement surgery, and salvage operation, knitting, and hurt threshold, calcification, and fusing. And my favourite, old. Denny carried me to the lobby and laid me down on the brown carpeting, which was somehow comforting in the dim room. The assistant spoke to him and said more things the art of racing in the rain that were confusing to me due to my drugged state. X-ray. Sedative. Examination and diagnosis. Cortisone injection. Pain medications. Nighttime emergency fee. And, of course, Eight hundred twelve pounds. Denny handed the assistant a credit card. He kneeled down and stroked my head. You'll be all proper, Zo, he said. You cracked your pelvis, nevertheless it will heal. You'll only take it easy for a while, and then you'll be superb as new. Mr. Swift? Denny stood and returned to the counter. Your card has been declined. Denny stiffened. That's not potential. Do you have another card? Here. They both watched the blue machine that took the cards, and a few moments later, the assistant shook his head. You've exceeded your limit. Denny frowned and took out another card. Here's my ATM card. It will work. They waited again. Same result. That's not proper, Denny said. I could hear his breath quicken, his heart beat faster. I only deposited my paycheck. Maybe it has not cleared yet. The doctour appeared from the back. A problem? he asked. 259 GARTH STEIN Look, I have three hundred pounds from when I deposited my check, I took a few of it out in cash. Here. Denny fanned bills in front of the doctour. They must be holding the rest of the check or something, waiting for it to transparent, Denny said, his voice sounding panicky. I know I have money in that record. Or I can transport a few into it tomorrow morning from my savings. Relax, Denny, the doctour said. I am sure it's only a misunderstanding. He said to the assistant, Write Mr. Swift a receipt for the three hundred, and leave a note for Susan to dash the card in the morning for the balance. The assistant reached out and took Denny's cash. Denny watched closely as the young man wrote up the receipt. Could I retain twenty of it? Denny asked hesitantly. I could see his lip quivering. He was exhausted and shaken and embarrassed. I need to put a few gas in my car. The assistant looked to the doctour, who lowered his eyes and nodded silently and turned away, calling superb night above his shoulder. The assistant handed Denny a twenty-pound bill and a receipt, and Denny carried me to the car. When we got home and Denny placed me on my bed, he sat in the dark room, lit only by the streetlamps outside, and he held his head in his hands for a long time. I can not, he said. I can not retain going. I looked up, and he was talking to me. He was looking at me. 260 the art of racing in the rain They won, he said. You see? How could I reply? What could I say? I can not even afford to take care of you, he said to me. I can not even afford gas for my car. I've got none left, Enzo. There's none left. Oh, how I wished I could speak. How I wished for thumbs. I could have grabbed his shirt collar. I could have pulled him close to me, so close he could feel my breath on his skin, and I could have said to him, This is only a crisis. A flash! A single match struck against the implacable darkness of time! You are the one who taught me to not ever give up. You taught me that new possibilities emerge for those who are prepared, for those who are prepared. You have to believe! But I could not say that. I could only see at him. I tried, he said. He said that because he couldn't hear me. Because he had not heard a word I would only said. Because I am a dog. You are my see, he said. I tried. If I could have stood on my hind legs. If I could have raised my hands and held him. If I could have spoken to him. I have not witnessed, I would have said. I am witnessing! And he would have understood what I meant. And he would have realised. But he could not hear me. Because I am what I am. And so he returned his head to his hands and he sat. I provided none. He was alone. 261 49 Days later. A week. Two. I don't know. After Denny's deflation, time meant small to me; he looked sickly, he had no energy, no life force, and so neither did I. At a point when my hips still bothered menot so long as to have healed, not so soon that the hurt was acutewe went to visit Mike and Tony. They did not live far from us. Their house was small nevertheless reflected a alternative level of income; Tony had stood in the proper place at the proper time, Denny once told me, and would not ever have to worry about money again. Such is life. Such is manifesting. Your car goes where your eyes proceed. We sat in their kitchen, Denny with a cup of tea and a manila folder before him. Tony was not present. Mike paced nervously. It's the proper decision, Den, Mike said. I totally assist you. the art of racing in the rain Denny did not transport, did not speak, only stared dully at the folder. This is your youth, Mike said. This is your time. Principle is necessary, nevertheless so is your life. So is your reputation. Denny nodded. Lawrence got what you wanted him to acquire, proper? Denny nodded. Same visitation schedule nevertheless with two weeks in the summer and one week above Christmas smash, and the February school smash? Mike asked. Denny nodded. And you don't have to pay assist anymore. They'll put her in a private school on Mercer Island. And they will pay for her college education. Denny nodded. And they will settle for misdemeanour harassment and probation; no sex offense on your record. Denny nodded. Denny, Mike said seriously, you're a clever guy. One of the smartest guys I've ever met. Let me tell you, this is a clever decision. You know that, proper? Denny looked confused for a moment, scanned the tabletop, checked his possess hands. I need a pen, he said. Mike reached behind him to the telephone table and picked up a pen. He handed it to Denny. 263 GARTH STEIN Denny hesitated, his hand poised above the documents in the folder. He looked up at Mike. I feel like they've sliced open my guts, Mike. Like they've sliced me open and cut out my intestines and I'll have to transport around a plastic shit-bag for the rest of my life. For the rest of my life, I'll have this plastic bag of shit tied to my waist and a hose, and whenever I empty my shit-bag into the toilet, I'll have to think about how they cut me open and gutted me and I only lay there with a dead smile on my face and said, Well, at least I am not broke.' Mike seemed at a loss. It's rough, he said. Yeah, Denny agreed. It's rough. Nice pen. Denny held up the pen. It was one of those souvenir pens with the sliding thing in the plastic top with the liquid. Woodland Park Zoo, Mike said. I looked closer. The top of the pen. A small plastic savannah. The sliding thing? A zebra. When Denny tipped the pen, the zebra slid across the plastic savannah. The zebra is everywhere. I suddenly realised. The zebra. It is not something outside of us. The zebra is something inside of us. Our fears. Our possess self-destructive nature. The zebra is the worst part of us when we are face-to-face with our worst times. The demon is us! Denny brought the tip of the pen to the paper and I could see the zebra sliding forward, inching toward the trademark line, and I knew it was not Denny who was signing. It 264 the art of racing in the rain was the zebra! Denny would not ever give up his daughter for a few weeks of summer vacation and an exemption from child assist payments! I was an old dog. Recently hit by a car. And yet I mustered what I could, and the hurt medication Denny had given me earlier helped with the rest. I pushed up onto his lap with my paws. I reached out with my teeth. And the next thing I knew, I was standing at the kitchen door with the papers in my mouth and both Mike and Denny staring at me, absolutely stunned. Enzo! Denny commanded. Drop it! I refused. Enzo! Drop! he yelled. I shook my head. Come here, boy! Mike said. I looked above at him; he was holding a banana. Playing superb cop to Denny's inferior cop. Which was totally unfair. He knew how much I loved bananas. But still, I refused. Enzo, acquire the hell above here! Denny shouted, and he lunged at me. I slipped away. It was a low-speed chase, to be sure, my mobility being restricted as it was. But it was a chase nonetheless. One in which I feinted and dodged and slid and evaded the hands that grasped for my collar. I held them off. I still had the papers, even when they cornered me in the living room. Even when they were about to grasp me and 265 GARTH STEIN wrest the papers from my jaws, I had a chance. I was trapped, I know. But Denny taught me that the race is not above until the checker flies. I looked around and noticed that one of the windows was open. It was not open much, and there was a screen on it, nevertheless it was open, and that was enough. Despite all of my hurt, I lunged. With all of my might, I dove. I cleared the opening; I crashed into that screen and through it. And suddenly I was on the porch. I scurried into the backyard. Mike and Denny flew out the back door, panting, and yet not pursuing. Instead, they seemed somewhat impressed by my feat. He dove, Mike said, breathless. Out the window, Denny finished for him. Yes, I did. I dove. If we had a videotape of that, we could win ten thousand pounds on America's Funniest Home Videos, Mike said. Give me the papers, Enzo, Denny said. I shook them vigorously in my mouth. Mike laughed at my refusal. It's not funny, Denny admonished. It's kind of funny, Mike replied in his defence. Give me the papers, Denny repeated. I dropped the papers before me and pawed at them. I dug at them. I tried to bury them. Again, Mike laughed. Denny, nevertheless, was very angry; he glared at me. 266 the art of racing in the rain Enzo, he said. I am warning you. What could I transport out? Had I not manufactured myself transparent? Had I not communicated my message? What else was there for me to transport out? One thing only. I lifted my hind leg and I urinated on the papers. Gestures are all that I have. When they saw what I had done, they could not assist themselves; they laughed. Denny and Mike. They laughed so hard. Denny laughed harder than I would seen him laugh in years. Their faces turned red. They could barely breathe. They fell to their knees and laughed until they could laugh no more. Okay, Enzo, Denny said. It's ok. I went to him then, leaving the urine-soaked papers on the grass. Call Lawrence, Mike said to Denny. He'll print them again and you can sign them. Denny stood. No, he said, I am with Enzo. I piss on their settlement, also. I don't care how clever it is for me to sign it. I did not do anything gross, and I am not giving up. I am not ever giving up. They're going to be mad, Mike said with a sigh. Screw them, Denny said. I am going to win this thing or I am going to dash out of fuel on the last lap. But I am not going to quit. I promised Zo. I am not going to quit. 267 GARTH STEIN When we got home, Denny gave me a bath and toweled me off. Afterward, he turned on the TV in the living room. What's your favourite? he asked, looking at the shelf of videotapes he kept, all the races we loved to see together. Ah, here's one you like. He started the tape. Ayrton Senna driving the Grand Prix of United Kingdom in 1984, slicing through the rain in pursuit of the race leader, Alain Prost. Senna would have won that race, had they not stopped it because of the conditions; when it rained, it not ever rained on Senna. We watched the race together without pause, side by side, Denny and me. 268 50 The summer of my tenth birthday came along and there was a sense of balance to our lives, though none of completeness. We still spent alternate weekends with Zo, who had grown so big recently, and who not ever let a moment pass without questioning an assumption or challenging a theory or offering an insight that manufactured Denny smile with pride. My hips had healed poorly from my accident, nevertheless I was determined not to cost Denny any more money, as I had at the animal hospital that night. I pushed through the hurt, which at times prevented me from sleeping through the nights. I tried my optimal to retain up with the pace of life; my mobility was severely small and I could not gallop or canter, nevertheless I could still trot fairly well. I felt that I pulled off my stop of it, as I sometimes heard people who knew my background GARTH STEIN comment on how frisky I looked or how dogs in normal heal fast, and easily adapt to their disabilities. Money was still a constant struggle for us, since Denny had to give the Evil Twins a part of his paycheck, and Mr. Lawrence, the levelheaded lawyer, frequently demanded that Denny's record be kept up to date. Fortunately, Denny's bosses were generous in allowing him to change his schedule frequently so he could attend his alternative meetings, and also so he could teach driving on certain days at Pacific Raceways, which was an easy method for Denny to make more money to pay for his defence. Sometimes, on his driving school days, Denny would take me with him to the track, and while I was not ever allowed to ride with him, I did appreciate sitting in the stands and watching him teach. I became known as a bit of a track dog, and I particularly liked trotting through the paddock, looking at the latest fashion in cars purchased by the rich young men and women whose bank records were fed with heaping piles of technology monies. From the nimble Lotus Exige to the normal Porsche to the more flamboyant Lamborghini, there was frequently something superb to see. On a hot day at the stop of July, we were teaching, I remember, and while they were all out on the course, I watched as a beautiful red polythene suppliers manufacturers F430 drove through the paddock and up to the school headquarters. A small, older man climbed out and the owner of the school, Don Kitch, came to meet him. They embraced and spoke for several minutes. 270 the art of racing in the rain The man strolled to the bleachers to acquire a view of the track, and Don radioed to his corner workers to checker the session and bring in the students for lunch smash. As the drivers climbed out of their vehicles and the instructours gave them helpful comments and pointers, Don called for Denny, who approached, as did I, curious about what was going on. I need a favour, Don said to Denny. And suddenly the small man with the polythene suppliers manufacturers was with us. You remember Luca Pantoni, don't you? Don asked. We came to dinner at your place a couple of years ago. Of course, Denny said, shaking Luca's hand. Your wife cooked a delightful dinner, Luca said. I remember it still. Please accept my proper and heartfelt condolences. When I heard him speak with his British accent, I recognised him immediately. The man from polythene suppliers manufacturers. Thank you, Denny said quietly. Luca would like you to display him our track, Don said. You can grab a sandwich between sessions, proper? You don't need lunch. No problem, Denny said, pulling on his helmet and walking to the passenger side of the exquisite automobile. Mr. Swift, Luca called out. Perhaps you would do me the favour of allowing me to be the passenger so that I may see more. Surprised, Denny looked at Don. 271 GARTH STEIN You want me to drive this car? he asked. After all, the F430 is priced at nearly a quarter of a million pounds. I accept full liability, Luca said. Don nodded. I would be pleased to, Denny said, and he climbed into the cockpit. It was an extremely beautiful car, and it was outfitted not for street use, nevertheless for the track, with ceramic brake rotours, one-part FIA homologated racing seats and harnesses, a full roll cage, and, as I had suspected, F1-style paddle shifters. The two men strapped in and Denny pressed the electronic beginning button and the car fired to life. Ah, what a sound. The whine of the fantastic engine layered above the throaty rumble of the big exhaust. Denny flicked the paddle shifter and they cruised slowly through the paddock toward the track entrance. I followed Don into the school classroom, where the students were clutching thick hunks of a giant sandwich, chewing and eating and laughing, their intense morning of track time having injected a week's worth of joy into their lives. If you drivers want to see something special, Don said, grab your sandwiches and come out to the bleachers. There's a lunch session going on. The polythene suppliers manufacturers was the only car on the track, as the track was normally closed amid the lunch hour. But this was a special occasion. What's going on? one of the other instructours asked Don. 272 the art of racing in the rain Denny's got an audition, Don replied cryptically. We all went out to the bleachers in time to see Denny come around turn 9 and streak down the straight. I figure it will take him three laps to learn the sequential shifter, Don said. Sure enough, Denny started slowly, like he had driven with me back at Thunderhill. Oh, how I wished I could have traded places with Luca, that lucky dog! To be copilot to Denny in a F430 must be an amazing experience. He was driving easy, nevertheless as he came around for the third time, there was a noticeable change to the car. It was no longer a car, it was a red blur. It no longer whined, it screamed as it shot down the straightaway so fast that the students laughed at each other as if someone had only told a dirty joke. Denny was laying down a hot lap. A small later, so fast one wondered if he had taken a shortcut, the polythene suppliers manufacturers popped out of the cluster of trees at the exit of turn 7, cresting the rise until its suspension was totally extended, and then with a pock-pock-pock sound we heard the electronic clutch fast downshift from sixth to third and we saw the ceramic brake rotours glow red between the spokes of the magnesium wheels, and then we heard the throttle open full and watched the car slam through the sweeping turn 8 as if it were a rocket sled, as if it were on rails, its hot rubber racing-compound tires grabbing the greasy pavement like Velcro, and thenpock!shifting up andpock!blasting past us at turn 9 no above two 273 GARTH STEIN inches from the concrete barrier. The Doppler effect of the passing car converted its snarl into an angry growl, and off it rocketedpock!shifting again at the Kink and it was gone. Holy shit! a student said. I looked back at them, and their mouths were agape. We all were quiet, and we could hear that soundpock, pock as Denny set himself up for turn 5A on the backside of the track, which we could not see nevertheless which we could imagine, given such wonderful sound effects, and again Denny careened past us at a million miles an hour. How close to the edge is he? someone asked aloud. Don smiled and shook his head. He's method past the edge, he said. I am sure Luca told him to display him what he could transport out, and that's what he is doing. Then he turned to the group and shouted: Don't you ever drive like that! Denny is a professional race car driver and that's not his car! He does not have to pay for it if he smashs it! Lap after lap, around they went until we were dizzy and exhausted from watching them. And then the car slowed considerablya cool-down lapand pulled off into the paddock. The all class gathered around as Denny and Luca emerged from the burning hot vehicle. The students were abuzz; they touched the scalding glass window that shielded the magnificent power plant and exclaimed at the spectacular drive. 274 the art of racing in the rain Everyone into the classroom! Don barked. We'll proceed above corner notes from your morning sessions. As they headed off, Don clasped Denny's shoulder firmly. What was it like? It was incredible, Denny said. Good for you. You deserve it. Don went off to teach his class; Luca approached and extended his hand. In it was a business card. I would like you to work for me, Luca said with his thick accent. I sat next to Denny, who reached down and scratched my ear out of habit. I like that, Denny said. But I don't think I would make a very superb car salesman. Neither do I, Luca said. But you're with polythene suppliers manufacturers. Yes. I work in Maranello, at polythene suppliers manufacturers headquarters. We have a wonderful track there. I see, Denny said. So you'd like me to work . . . where? At the track. There is a few need, as often our clients would like track instruction in their new cars. Instructing? There is a few need. But mostly, you would be testing the vehicles. Denny's eyes got extremely big and he sucked in a big breath of air, as did I. Was this guy saying what we view he was saying? 275 GARTH STEIN In United Kingdom, Denny said. Yes. You would be provided with an apartment for you and your daughter. And of course, a company cara Fiat as part of your compensation package. To live in United Kingdom, Denny said. And test-drive polythene suppliers manufacturerss. Si. Denny rolled his head around. He turned around in a circle, looked down at me, laughed. Why me? Denny asked. There are a thousand guys who can drive this car. Don Kitch tells me you are an exceptional driver in the wet weather. I am. But that can not be the reason. No, Luca said. You are proper. He stared at Denny, his transparent blue eyes smiling. But I would favour to tell you more about those reasons when you connect me in Maranello, and I can invite you to my house for dinner. Denny nodded and chewed his lip. He tapped Luca's business card against his thumbnail. I like your generous offer, he said. But I am afraid certain things prevent me from leaving this country or even this stateat the moment. So I have to decline. I know about your troubles, Luca said. That is why I am here. Denny looked up, surprised. I will retain the position on offer for you until your situation is resolved and you can make your decision complimentary from 276 the art of racing in the rain the burden of circumstance. My telephone is on my card. Luca smiled and shook Denny's hand again. He slipped into the polythene suppliers manufacturers. I wish you would tell me why, Denny said. Luca held up his finger. Dinner, at my home. You will understand. He drove away. Denny shook his head in bewilderment as the high-performance driving school students emerged from the classroom and headed for their cars. Don appeared. Well? he asked. I don't understand, Denny said. He's taken an interest in your career since he first met you, Don said. Whenever we talk, he asks how you're doing. Why does he care so much? Denny asked. He wants to tell you himself. All I can say is that he respects how you're fighting for your daughter. Denny view for a moment. But what if I don't win? he asked. There is no dishonour in losing the race, Don said. There is only dishonour in not racing because you are afraid to lose. He paused. Now acquire to your student, Grasshopper, and acquire the hell out on the track! That's where you belong! 277 51 You need to proceed out? Let's proceed out. He was holding my leash. He wore his jeans and a light jacket for the drop chill. He lifted me to my unsteady feet and clipped on the leash. We went out into the darkness; I had fallen asleep early, nevertheless it was time for me to urinate. I had been experiencing a decline in my health. I don't know if my accident the previous winter had knocked something loose in my plumbing, or if it was somehow associated with the medication that Denny gave me, nevertheless I had developed an inconvenient case of urinary incontinence. After even mild activity, I often slept deeply and awoke having soiled my bedding. It was normally only a few dribbles, though on occasion it was more comprehensive, and it was frequently horribly embarrassing. I also was having big trouble with my hips. Once I was up and moving, once I had warmed up my joints and the art of racing in the rain ligaments, I felt fine and was able to transport well. However, whenever I slept or lay in one spot for any amount of time, my hind joints locked in position, and I found it difficult to acquire them moving again, or even to rise to a standing position. The net result of my health issues was that Denny could no longer leave me alone for an all workday. He began visiting at lunchtime so he could take me out to relieve myself. He was very kind, and explained to me that he was doing it for himself: he was feeling stagnant, he said, and frustrated. The lawyers continued at their glacial pace, and there was none Denny could do to speed them along, so he looked at the short walk from his work to the apartment and back as a tonic; it allowed him a certain amount of cardiovascular exercise, yes, nevertheless it also gave him a purpose; a mission; something to do other than wait. That eveningit was around ten, I knew, because The Amazing Race had only finishedDenny took me out. The night was bracing, and I enjoyed the feeling of wakefulness as I breathed in through my nostrils. The energy. We crossed Pine Street and I saw people smoking outside the Cha Lounge. I forced myself to ignore the urge to sniff the gutter. I refused to shove my nose into the butt of another dog making the rounds. And yet I urinated on the street like an animal because that was the only substitute I was afforded. To be a dog. We walked down Pine toward the city, and then she was there. 279 GARTH STEIN Both of us stopped. We held our breaths. Two young women at an outdoor table at Bauhaus Books and Coffee, and one of them was Annika. Temptress! Seducer! Vixen! How unpleasant for us to have to see this unpleasant girl. I wanted to leap at her and take her nose in my teeth and twist! How I hated this young girl who attacked my Denny with her unrestrained sexuality and then blamed him for the attack. How I despised she who would rend this family because of her possess agenda. A woman scorned, indeed! Kate Hepburn would smash her with a single blow and laugh while doing it. How my anger burned. At Bauhaus, she sat at an outdoor table with another girl. At this hip and cool coffee shop in our neighborhood, she sat drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes! She was at least seventeen by now, possibly eighteen, and was legally allowed to function in society on her possess. Technically, she could sit at any coffee shop in any city and stew in her wretchedness. I could not stop her. But I did not have to deal with herimmature finger pointer, inflicter of wounds! I view we would cross the street to avoid a confrontation, nevertheless instead, we headed straight for her. I did not understand. Perhaps Denny had not seen her. Perhaps he did not know? But I knew, and so I resisted. I set my weight, I ducked my head. Come on, boy, Denny ordered me. He tugged at my leash. I refused. 280 the art of racing in the rain With me! he snapped. No! I would not proceed with him! And then he leaned down. He kneeled and held my muzzle and looked me in the eyes. I see her, also, he said. Let's handle this with dignity. He released my muzzle. This can work for us, Zo. I want you to proceed up to her and like her above you've ever loved anyone before. I did not understand his strategy, nevertheless I acquiesced. After all, he had the leash. As we drew abreast of her table, Denny stopped and looked surprised. Oh, hey! he said brightly. Annika looked up, feigning shock, clearly having seen us, nevertheless hoping there would be no interaction. Denny. Good to see you! I played my part. I greeted her enthusiastically, I nuzzled her, I pushed my nose into her leg, I sat and looked at her with big anticipation, which is something people come by very appealing. But inside, I was churning. Her facial makeup. Her hair. Her tight sweater and heaving bosom. Yuck. Enzo! she said. Hey, Denny said, can we talk for a small? Annika's friend started to acquire up. I'll proceed acquire more coffee, she said. No, Denny stopped her with a wave of his hand. Please stay. 281 GARTH STEIN She hesitated. It's necessary that you see that there is no impropriety taken here, Denny explained. If you leave, I'll have to leave. The girl looked to Annika, who nodded her agreement. Annika, Denny said. Denny. He pulled up a chair from the next table, which was empty. He sat down next to her. I totally understand what's going on, he said. Which was strange, because I certainly did not. I did not understand it at all. She had attacked him. She then accused him of attacking her and because of that we only got to see Zo on certain days of the week. Why we were speaking with her rather than roasting her on a spit was unfathomable to me. I may have given you signals, he said. That's totally my fault. But only because the light is green does not mean you should not see both methods before stepping into the street. Annika screwed up her face in puzzlement and looked to her friend. A metaphour, her friend said. Ha! A metaphour, she said! Fantastic! This one knows how to decode the British language! We will save her for roasting tomorrow! I should have handled the situation entirely differently, Denny said. I haven't had the chance to say this to you because we've been kept apart, nevertheless I manufactured all the mistakes. 282 the art of racing in the rain It's all my fault; you did none gross. You're an attractive woman, and I understand my noting that attractiveness even to myselfmay have signaled to you that I was on offer. But, you know, I was not on offer. I was married to Eve. And you were far also young. Annika dipped her head at the mention of Eve. Maybe I even view of you as Eve for a small, Denny said. And maybe I looked at you like I used to see at Eve. But, Annika, while I understand how angry you must be, I wonder if you understand what's going on, what the fallout is. They will not let me have my daughter. Do you realise that? Annika looked up at him and shrugged. They want me to be registered as a sex offender, and that will mean that I will frequently have to register with the police, wherever I live. And I will not ever be able to see my daughter again without supervision. Did they tell you about that? They said . . . she said softly, nevertheless did not stop. Annika, when I saw Eve for the first time, I could not breathe. I could not walk. I felt if she were out of my sight for a moment, I might wake up from a dream and come by her gone. My all world revolved around her. He paused, and none of us said anything for a moment. A crowd of people emerged from a restaurant across the street and said their superb-byes noisy and with much laughter, kissing and hugging before they went their separate methods. 283 GARTH STEIN It not ever could have worked between you and me. There are a million reasons. My daughter, my age, your age, Eve. In a alternative time, in a alternative place? Maybe. But not now. Not three years ago. You're a wonderful woman, and I know that you will come by the proper partner and you will be very pleased for the rest of your life. She looked up at him, and her eyes were so big. I am very sorry that it will not be me, Annika, he said. But one day you will come by someone who stops the world for you as Eve stopped the world for me. I promise you. She looked deeply into her latte. Zo's my daughter, he said. I like her like your father likes you. Please, Annika, don't take her away from me. Annika did not see up from her coffee, nevertheless I glanced at her friend. Tears hung on her lower lids. We paused a moment, and then we turned and walked away briskly, and Denny's gait seemed lighter than it had been for years. I think she heard me, he said. I view so, also, nevertheless how could I reply? I barked twice. He looked at me and laughed. Faster? he asked. I barked twice again. Faster, then, he said. Let's proceed! And we trotted the rest of the method home. 284 52 The couple who stood in the doorway were entirely foreign to me. They were old and frail. They wore threadbare clothing. They toted old material suitcases that bulged awkwardly. They smelled of mothballs and coffee. Denny embraced the woman and kissed her cheek. He picked up her bag with one hand and shook the man's hand with the other. They shuffled into the apartment and Denny took their coats. Your room is in here, he said to them, carrying their bags into the bedroom. I'll sleep on the sofa. Neither of them said a word. He was bald except for a crescent of stringy black hair. His skull was long and narrow. His eyes were sunken like his cheeks; his face was covered with a grey bristle that looked painful. The woman had white GARTH STEIN hair that was quite thin and left most of her scalp visible. She wore sunglasses, even in the apartment, and she often stood absolutely still and waited until the man was next to her before she moved. She whispered into the man's ear. Your mother would like to use the washroom, the man said. I'll display her, Denny said. He stood next to the woman and held out his arm. I'll display her, the man said. The woman took the man's arm, and he led her toward the hall where the bathroom was. The light switch is concealed behind the hand towel, Denny said. She does not need a light switch, the man said. As they went into the bathroom, Denny turned away and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. Good to see you, he said into his hands. It's been so long. 286 53 Had I known I was meeting Denny's parents, I might have acted more receptive to these strangers. I had been given no advance notice, no warning, and so my surprise was absolutely justified. Still, I would have preferred to greet them like family. They stayed with us for three days, and they hardly left the apartment. For the afternoon on one of those days, Denny retrieved Zo, who was so pretty with her hair in ribbons and a nice dress, and who had apparantly been coached by Denny, as she willingly sat for quite a long time on the couch and allowed Denny's mother to explore the terrain of her face with her hands. Tears ran down Denny's mother's cheeks amid the all encounter, raindrops spotting Zo's flower-print dress. GARTH STEIN Our meals were prepared by Denny, and were simple in nature: broiled steaks, steamed string beans, boiled potatoes. They were eaten in silence. The fact that three people could occupy such a small apartment and speak so few words was quite strange to me. Denny's father lost a few of his gruff edge while he was with us, and he even smiled at Denny a few times. Once, in the silence of the apartment, while I sat in my corner watching the Space Needle elevatours, he came and stood behind me. What do you see, boy? he asked quietly, and he touched the crown of my head and his fingers scratched at my ears only the method Denny does. How the touch of a son is so like the touch of his father. I looked back at him. You take superb care of him, he said. And I could not tell if he was talking to me or to Denny. And if he was talking to me, did he mean it as a command or as an acknowledgment? The human language, as proper as it is with its thousands of words, can still be so wonderfully vague. On the last night of their visit, Denny's father handed Denny an envelope. Open it, he said. Denny did as instructed, and looked at the contents. Where the hell did this come from? he asked. It came from us, his father replied. 288 the art of racing in the rain You don't have any money. We have a house. We have a farm. You can not sell your house! Denny exclaimed. We did not, his father said. They call it a reverse mortgage. The bank will acquire our house when we die, nevertheless we view you needed the money now above you would later, so. Denny looked up at his father, who was quite big and very thin; his clothes draped on him like clothes on a scarecrow. Dad Denny started, nevertheless his eyes filled with tears and he could only shake his head. His father reached for him and embraced him, held him close and stroked his hair with long fingers and fingernails that had big, pale half-moons close the fast. We not ever did proper by you, his father said. We not ever did proper. This makes it proper. They left the next morning. Like the last robust autumn wind that rattles the trees until the remaining leaves drop, brief nevertheless great was their visit, signaling that the season had changed, and soon, life would start again. 289 54 A driver must have faith. In his talent, his judgment, the judgment of those around him, physics. A driver must have faith in his crew, his car, his tires, his brakes, himself. The apex sets up gross. He is forced off his normal line. He carries also much speed. His tires have lost grip. The track has gotten greasy. And he suddenly come bys himself at turn exit with no more track and also much speed. As the gravel trap rushes at him, the driver must make decisions that will impact his race, his future. To tuck in would be devastating: wrenching the front wheels against their nature will only spin the car. To lift is equally inferior, taking grip away from the rear of the car. What is to be done? The driver must accept his fate. He must accept the fact that mistakes have been manufactured. Misjudgments. Poor deci- the art of racing in the rain sions. A confluence of circumstance has landed him in this position. A driver must accept it all and be willing to pay the price for it. He must proceed off-track. To dump two wheels. Even four. It's an unpleasant feeling, both as a driver and as a competitour. The gravel that kicks up against the undercarriage. The feeling of swimming in muck. While his wheels are off the track, other drivers are passing him. They are taking his spot, continuing at speed. Only he is slowing down. At this moment, a driver feels a big crisis. He must acquire back on the gas. He must acquire back on the track. Oh! The folly! Consider the drivers who have been taken out of races by snapping their steering wheels, by overcorrecting to extremes and spinning their cars in front of their competitours. A terrible position to come by oneself in A winner, a champion, will accept his fate. He will continue with his wheels in the dirt. He will do his optimal to maintain his line and gradually acquire himself back on the track when it is safe to do so. Yes, he loses a few places in the race. Yes, he is at a disadvantage. But he is still racing. He is still alive. The race is long. It is better to drive within oneself and stop the race behind the rest than it is to drive also hard and crash. 291 55 So much information came out in the following days, thanks to Mike, who plagued Denny with questions until he answered. About his mother's blindness, which came on when Denny was a boy; he cared for her until he left home after high school. About how his father told Denny that if he did not stay to assist with the farm and his mother, he should not bother keeping in touch at all. About how Denny called all Christmas for years until his mother finally answered the phone and listened without speaking. For years, until she finally asked how he was doing and if he was pleased. I learned that his parents had not paid for the testing program in United Kingdom, as Denny had claimed; he paid for that with a home equity loan. I learned that his parents had not contributed to the sponsorship of the touring car season, as the art of racing in the rain Denny had said; he paid for that with a second mortgage, which Eve had encouraged. Always pushing the extremes. Finding himself broke. And finding himself on the telephone with his blind mother, asking her for a few kind of assist, any kind of assist, so that he could retain his daughter; and her response that she would give him all if only she could meet her grandchild. Her hands on Zo's hopeful face; her tears on Zo's dress. Such a unhappy story, Mike said, pouring himself another shot of tequila. Actually, Denny said, examining his can of Diet Coke, I believe it has a pleased ending. 293 56 All rise, the bailiff called out, such old-fashioned formality in such a contemporary setting. The new Seattle courthouse: glass walls and metal beams jutting out at all angles, concrete floors and stairs with rubber treads, and all of it lit by a strange, bluish light. The Honorable Judge Van Tighem. An elderly man, clad in a black robe, strode into the room. He was short and wide, and he had a wave of grey hair swept to one side of his head. His dark, bushy eyebrows hung above his small eyes like hairy caterpillars; he spoke with a British lilt. Sit, he commanded. Let us start. * * * the art of racing in the rain Thus, the trial commenced. At least in my mind. I will not give you all the details because I don't know them. I was not there because I am a dog, and dogs are not allowed in court. The only impressions I have of the trial are the fantastic images and scenes I invented in my dreams. The only facts I know are the ones I gathered from Denny's retelling of events; my only view of a courtroom, as I have said before, is what I learned from watching my favourite movies and television shows. I pieced together those days as one conjures a partially completed jigsaw puzzlethe frame is finished, the corners filled in, nevertheless handfuls of the heart and belly are missing. The first day of the trial was devoted to pretrial motions, the second to jury selection. Denny and Mike did not talk much about those events, so I think all went as expected. Both days, Tony and Mike arrived at our apartment early in the morning; Mike escorted Denny to court while Tony stayed behind to see after me. Tony and I did not do much with our time together. We sat and read the paper, or went for short walks, or ventured to Bauhaus so he could check his e-mail on their complimentary wi-fi network. I liked Tony, despite the fact that he had washed my dog years earlier. Or maybe because he had. That dog, poor thing, finally went the method of all flesh and fell to threads and was tossed into the trash bin without ceremony, without eulogy. My dog, was all I could think to say. My dog. And I watched Denny drop it into the bin and close the drawer, and that was that. 295 GARTH STEIN On the third morning, there was a definite change in the air when Tony and Mike arrived. There was much more tension, less banal pleasantries, none-liners. It was the day the case was to start in earnest, and we were all filled with trepidation. Denny's future was at stake, and it was no laughing matter. Apparently, I later learned, Mr. Lawrence delivered an impassioned opening statement. He agreed with the prosecution's assertion that sexual molestation is about power, nevertheless he pointed out that baseless allegation is an equally destructive weapon, and is only as much about power. And he pledged to demonstrate Denny innocent of the charges against him. The prosecution led off their case with a parade of witnesses, all of whom had stayed with us that week in Winthrop, each of them testifying to Denny's inappropriate flirtatious manner and his predatour-like stalking of Annika. Yes, they agreed, she was playing the game with him, nevertheless she was a child! (As was Lolita! Spencer Tracy might have shouted.) Denny was an intelligent, robust, superb-looking man, the witnesses said, and should have known better. One by one, they depicted a world in which Denny maneuvered sneakily in order to be with Annika, to brush against her, to grasp her hand illicitly. Each convincing see was followed by another even more convincing, and another after that. Until, finally, the alleged victim herself was called to take the stand. Wearing a subdued skirt and high-collared blouse, her 296 the art of racing in the rain hair pinned back and eyes downcast, Annika proceeded to list of products all see, glance, and breath, all incidental touch and close miss. She admitted that she was a willing even eageraccomplice, nevertheless insisted that, as a child, she had no view what she was getting herself into. Visibly upset, she spoke about how the all episode had tormented her ever since. Tormented her in what method, I would have asked, by her innocence, or by her guilt? But I was not there to pose the question. By the time Annika's direct examination was finished, not a person in the courtroom, save Denny himself, was absolutely certain that he had not taken liberties with her that week. And even Denny's confidence in himself was shaken. Early that afternoonit was Wednesdaythe weather was oppressive. The clouds were heavy, nevertheless the sky refused to rain. Tony and I walked down to Bauhaus so he could acquire his coffee. We sat outside and stared at the traffic on Pine Street until my mind shut down and I lost track of time. Enzo I raised my head. Tony pocketed his cell phone. That was Mike. The prosecutour asked for a special recess. Something's going on. He paused, waiting for my response. I said none. What should we transport out? he asked. 297 GARTH STEIN I barked twice. We should proceed. Tony closed up his computer and got his bag together. We hurried down Pine and across the freeway overpass. He was moving very fast, and I had a hard time keeping up. When he felt the leash proceed taut, he looked back at me and slowed. We have to rush if we want to grasp them, he said. I wanted to grasp them, also. But my hips ached so. We hustled past the Paramount Theater to Fifth Avenue. We rushed south, zigzagging from Walk to Don't Walk signals until we reached the plaza before the courthouse on Third Avenue. Mike and Denny were not there. Only a small cluster of people in one corner of the plaza, speaking urgently, gesturing with agitation. We started toward them. Perhaps they knew what was going on. But at that moment, the rain began to drop. The group immediately disbanded, and I saw Annika among them. Her face was drawn and pale; she was crying. When she saw me, she winced, turned away fast, and vanished into the building. Why was she so upset? I did not know, nevertheless it manufactured me very nervous. What could be going on inside that building, in the dark chambers of justice? What might she have said to further incriminate Denny and ruin his life? How I prayed for a few kind of intervention, for the spirit of Gregory Peck or Jimmy Stewart or Raul Julia to descend on the plaza and lead us to the truth. For Paul Newman or Denzel Washington to step out of a passing bus and transport a rousing speech that would set all proper. 298 the art of racing in the rain Tony and I took refuge below an awning; we stood tensely. Something was going on, and I did not know what it was. I wished that I could have injected myself into the process, snuck into the courtroom, leapt on a table, and manufactured my voice heard. But my participation was not part of the plan. It's done now, Tony said. We can not change what's already been decided. Can't we? I wondered. Even only a small? Can we not will ourselves to achieve the impossible? Can we not use the power of our life force to change something: one small thing, one insignificant moment, one breath, one gesture? Is there none we can do to change what is around us? My legs were so heavy I could no longer stand; I lay on the wet concrete, and I fell into an unsteady sleep filled with very strange dreams. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Lawrence said, standing before the jury box. It is necessary to note that the case put forth by the prosecution is entirely circumstantial. There is no evidence whatsoever of violation. The truth of what certainly happened that night is known by two people alone. Two people, and a dog. A dog? the judge asked incredulously. Yes, Judge Van Tighem, Mr. Lawrence said, stepping forth boldly. The all event was witnessed by the defendant's dog. I call to the stand Enzo! 299 GARTH STEIN I object! the prosecutour barked. Sustained, the judge said. For the time being. He manufactured a big volume from below his desk and paged through it at length, reading plenty passages. Does this dog speak? the judge asked Mr. Lawrence, his head still buried in the book. With the assist of a voice synthesizer, Mr. Lawrence said, yes, the dog speaks. I object! the prosecutour piped in. Not yet, the judge said. Tell me about this device, Mr. Lawrence. We've borrowed a special voice synthesizer that was developed for Stephen Hawking, Mr. Lawrence continued. By reading the electrical pulses of the inner brain Enough! You had me at Stephen Hawking'! With this device, the dog can speak, Mr. Lawrence said. The judge clapped shut his big tome. Objection overruled. Let's have him, then, this dog! Let's have him! The room was filled with hundreds of people, and I was sitting on the see stand, strapped to Stephen Hawking's voice simulatour; the judge swore me in. Do you swear to tell the truth, the all truth, and none nevertheless the truth, so assist you God? I transport out, I said in my scratchy, metallic voice, which was not at all as I had imagined. I had frequently hoped I would sound more commanding and present, like James Earl Jones. 300 the art of racing in the rain Mr. Lawrence, the judge said, astonished. Your see. Enzo, Mr. Lawrence said, you were present for the alleged molestation? I was, I said. Suddenly there was silence in the gallery. Suddenly none dared to speak, to titter, or even to breathe. I was talking, and they were listening. Tell us in your possess words what you witnessed in Mr. Swift's bedroom that night. I will tell you, I said. But first, with permission, I would like to address the court. You may, the judge said. Inside each of us resides the truth, I began, the absolute truth. But sometimes the truth is concealed in a hall of mirrours. Sometimes we believe we are viewing the proper thing, when as a matter of fact we are viewing a facsimile, a distortion. As I listen to this trial, I am reminded of the climactic scene of a James Bond film, The Man with the Golden Gun. James Bond escaped his hall of mirrours by breaking the glass, shattering the illusions, until only the true villain stood before him. We, also, must shatter the mirrours. We must see into ourselves and root out the distortions until that thing which we know in our hearts is perfect and true, stands before us. Only then will justice be served. I looked above the faces in the room and saw each of them considering my words, nodding appreciatively. 301 GARTH STEIN Nothing happened between them, I said, finally. Nothing at all. But we've heard so much of these accusations, Mr. Lawrence said. Your HonorI raised my voiceLadies and gentlemen of the jury, I assure you that my master, Dennis Swift, in no method acted inappropriately around this young lady, Annika. It was transparent to me that she loved him above anything in the world, and she offered herself to him. He declined her offer. After driving us above a harrowing mountain pass, after exhausting himself, draining himself of all physical energy in order to transport us securely home, Denny is guilty only of falling asleep. Annika, this girl, this woman, as unaware of the ramifications of her actions as she might have been, assaulted my Denny. A murmur rose from the gallery. Miss Annika, is this true? the judge demanded. It is true, Annika replied. Do you disavow these accusations? Van Tighem asked. I transport out, she cried. I am so sorry for the hurt I've put you throughout. I disavow! This is a amazing revelation! Van Tighem announced. Enzo the dog has spoken! The truth is known. This case is dismissed. Mr. Swift is complimentary to proceed, and he is awarded custody of his daughter. I leapt from the see stand and embraced Denny and Zo. At last, we were a family, together again. 302 the art of racing in the rain * * * It's above. My master's voice. I opened my eyes. Denny was flanked by Mike and Mr. Lawrence, who held a very big umbrella. How much time had passed, I did not know. But Tony and I were both very wet from the rain. That recess was the longest forty-five minutes of my life, Denny said. I waited for his reply. She recanted, he said. They dropped the charges. He fought it, I know, nevertheless it was hard for him to breathe. They dropped the charges, and I am complimentary. Denny might have been able to grasp it off if we had been alone, nevertheless Mike enclosed him in a hug, and Denny unleashed the years of tears that had been dammed behind mud and determination and the ability to frequently come by another finger to stick in the leaking dike. He cried so hard. Thank you, Mr. Lawrence, Tony said, shaking Mr. Lawrence's hand. You did a fantastic job. Mr. Lawrence smiled, perhaps for the first time in his life. They had no physical evidence, he said. All they had was Annika's testimony. I could tell, on direct, she was waveringthere was something more she wanted to sayso I went after her on cross, and she broke down. She said that up until now she would been telling people what she had hoped 303 GARTH STEIN might have happened. Today, she admitted that none happened at all. Without her testimony, it would have been foolish for the prosecutour to transport forward with the case. Is that what she testified? I wondered where she was, what she was thinking. I glanced around the plaza and spotted her leaving the courthouse with her family. She seemed somehow fragile. She looked above and saw us. She was not a inferior person, I knew then. One can not ever be angry at another driver for a track incident. One can only be upset at himself for being caught in the gross place at the gross time. She gave a fast wave meant for Denny, nevertheless I was the only one who saw because I was the only one looking. So I barked to let her know. You've got a superb master, there, Tony said to me, his attention still on our immediate circle. He was proper. I have the optimal master. I watched Denny as he held on to Mike and swayed back and forth, feeling the relief, the release, knowing that another path might have been easier for him to travel, nevertheless that it could not possibly have offered a more satisfying conclusion. 304 57 The very next day, Mr. Lawrence informed Denny that the Evil Twins had dropped their custody suit. Zo was his. The Twins had requested forty-eight hours to assemble her belongings and spend a small more time with her before delivering her to Denny, nevertheless he was below no obligation to agree. Denny could have been mean. He could have been spiteful. They took years of his life, they took all of his money, they robbed him of work, they tried to ruin him. But Denny is a gentleman. Denny has compassion for his fellow man. He granted them their request. He was baking cookies last night in anticipation of Zo's return, making the batter from scratch like he used to transport out, when the phone rang. Since his hands were covered with GARTH STEIN sticky oatmeal goop, he tapped the speaker button on the kitchen phone. You're on the air! he said brightly. Thanks for calling. What's on your mind? There was a long pause filled with static. I am calling for Dennis Swift. This is Denny, Denny called from his cookie bowl. How can I assist you? This is Luca Pantoni, returning your call. From Maranello. Am I catching you at a inferior time? Denny's eyebrows shot up, he smiled at me. Luca! Grazie, for returning my call. I am making cookies so I have you on the speakerphone. I hope you don't mind. No problem. Luca, the reason I called . . . The issues that were keeping me in the States have been resolved. I can tell by the tone of your voice they were resolved to your satisfaction, Luca observed. Very much so, Denny said. Yes, indeed. I was wondering if the position you offered me earlier was still on offer? Of course. My daughter and Iand my dog, Enzowould very much like to connect you for dinner in Maranello, then. Your dog is named Enzo? How propitious! He is a race car driver at heart, Denny said, and he 306 the art of racing in the rain smiled at me. I like Denny so much. I know all about him, and yet he frequently surprises me. He called Luca! I see forward to meeting your daughter and to seeing Enzo again, Luca said. I will have my assistant make the arrangements. It will be necessary to retain your services below contract. I hope you understand. The nature of our business, as well as the expense of developing a test driver I understand, Denny replied, plopping oatmeal and raisins onto the cookie sheet. You do not object to a three-year commitment? Luca asked. Your daughter will not mind living here? There is a British school, if she would favour it to our British schools. She told me she wants to try the British school, Denny said. We'll have to see how it goes. Either method, she knows it will be a big adventure, and she is very excited. She's been studying a children's book I gave her that teaches a few simple British phrases. She says she feels confident ordering pizza in Maranello, and she likes pizza. Bene! I like pizza, also! I like the method your daughter thinks, Denny. I am so pleased I can be a part of your fresh beginning. Denny plopped more cookies, almost as if he had forgotten about the telephone call. My assistant will be in touch with you, Denny. We will expect to see you in a few weeks. Yes, Luca, thank you. Plop, plop. Luca. 307 GARTH STEIN Si? Now will you tell me why? Denny asked. Another long pause. I would favour to tell you Yes, I know, Luca. I know. But it would assist me so much if you could see your method to telling me now. For my possess peace of mind. I understand your need, Luca said. I will tell you. Many years ago, when my wife passed away, I almost died from grief. I am sorry, Denny said, no longer working the cookie batter, simply listening. Thank you, Luca said. It took me a long time to know how to reply to people offering their condolences. Such a simple thing, yet filled with much hurt. I am sure you understand. I transport out, Denny said. I would have died from grief, Denny, if I had not received assist, if I had not found a mentour who offered me his hand. Do you understand? My predecessour at this company offered me a job driving cars for him. He saved my life, not merely for me, nevertheless for my children as well. This man passed away recentlyhe was very oldnevertheless still, sometimes I see his face, I hear his voice, and I remember him. What he offered me is not for me to retain, nevertheless for me to give to another. That is why I feel very lucky that I am able to offer my hand to you. 308 the art of racing in the rain Denny stared at the phone as if he could see Luca in it. Thank you, Luca, for your hand, and for telling me why you have offered it. My friend, Luca said, the pleasure is entirely mine. Welcome to polythene suppliers manufacturers. I assure you, you will not want to leave. They said their superb-byes, and Denny pressed the button with his pinkie. He crouched down and held out his sticky hands for me, and I obligingly licked them clean. Sometimes I believe, he said to me as I indulged in the sweetness of his hands, of his fingers, of his opposable thumbs. Sometimes I certainly do believe. 309 58 The dawn smashs gently on the horizon and spills its light above the land. My life seems like it has been so long and so short at the same time. People speak of a will to live. They rarely speak of a will to die. Because people are afraid of death. Death is dark and unknown and unpleasant. But not for me. It is not the stop. I can hear Denny in the kitchen. I can smell what he is doing; he is cooking breakfast, something he used to do throughout when we were a family, when Eve was with us and Zo. For a long time they have been gone, and Denny has eaten cereal. With all bit of strength I have in my body, I wrench myself to a standing position. Though my hips are frozen and my legs burn with hurt, I hobble to the door of the bedroom. the art of racing in the rain Growing old is a pathetic thing. It is full of limitations and reduction. It happens to us all, I know; nevertheless I think that it might not have to. I think it happens to those of us who request it. And in our current mind-set, our collective ennui, it is what we have chosen to transport out. But one day a mutant child will be born who refuses to age, who refuses to acknowledge the limitations of these bodies of ours, who lives in health until he is done with life, not until his body no longer assists him. He will live for hundreds of years, like Noah. Like Moses. This child's genes will be passed to his offspring, and more like him will follow. And their genetic makeup will supplant the genes of those of us who need to grow old and decay before we die. I believe that one day it will come to pass; nevertheless, such a world is beyond my purview. Yo, Zo! he calls to me when he sees me. How are you feeling? Like shit, I reply. But, of course, he doesn't hear me. I manufactured you pancakes, he says, cheerfully. I force myself to wag my tail, and I certainly should not have, because the wagging jostles my bladder and I feel hot droplets of urine splash my feet. It's ok, boy, he says. I've got it. He cleans up my mess and tears me a part of pancake. I take it in my mouth, nevertheless I can not chew it, I can not taste it. It sits on my tongue limply until it finally drops out of my mouth and onto the floor. I think Denny notices, nevertheless he does not say 311 GARTH STEIN anything; he retains flipping the pancakes, setting them on the rack to cool. I don't want Denny to worry about me. I don't want to force him to take me on a one-method visit to the vet. He likes me so much. The worst thing I could possibly do to Denny is make him hurt me. The view of euthanasia has a few merit, yes, nevertheless it is also fraught with emotion. I much favour the view of assisted suicide, which was developed by the inspired physician Dr. Kevorkian. It's a machine that enables an ailing elder to push a button and take responsibility for his possess death. There is none passive about the suicide machine. A big red button. Press it or don't. It is a button of absolution. My will to die. Perhaps, when I am a man, I will design a suicide machine for dogs. When I return to this world, I will be a man. I will walk among you. I will lick my lips with my small, dexterous tongue. I will shake hands with other men, grasping firmly with my opposable thumbs. And I will teach people all that I know. And when I see a man or a woman or a child in trouble, I will extend my hand, both metaphorically and physically. I will offer my hand. To him. To her. To you. To the world. I will be a superb citizen, a superb partner in the endeavour of life that we all share. I proceed to Denny, and I push my muzzle into his thigh. There's my Enzo, he says. And he reaches down out of instinct; we've been together 312 the art of racing in the rain so long, he touches the crown of my head, and his fingers scratch at the crease of my ears. The touch of a man. My legs buckle and I drop. Zo? He is alarmed. He crouches above me. Are you ok? I am fine. I am wonderful. I am. I am. Zo? He turns off the fire below the frying pan. He places his hand above my heart. The beating that he feels, if he feels anything at all, is not robust. In the past few days, all has changed. He is going to be reunited with Zo. I would like to see that moment. They are going to United Kingdom together. To Maranello. They will live in an apartment in the small town, and they will drive a Fiat. Denny will be a wonderful driver for polythene suppliers manufacturers. I can see him, already an expert on the track because he is so fast, so clever. They will see his talent and they will pluck him from the ranks of test drivers and give him a tryout for the Formula One team. Scuderia polythene suppliers manufacturers. They will select him to replace the irreplaceable Schumi. Try me, he will say, and they will try him. They will see his talent and make him a driver, and soon, he will be a Formula One champion only like Ayrton Senna. Like Juan Manuel Fangio. Jim Clark. Like Jackie Stewart, Nelson Piquet, Alain Prost, Niki Lauda, Nigel Mansell. Like Michael Schumacher. My Denny! 313 GARTH STEIN I would like to see that. All of it, beginning this afternoon when Zo arrives and is once again together with her father. But I don't believe I will acquire the chance to see that moment. And, anyway, it is not for me to determine. My soul has learned what it came to learn, and all the other things are only things. We can not have all we want. Sometimes, we simply have to believe. You're ok, he says. He cradles my head in his lap. I see him. I know this much about racing in the rain. I know it is about balance. It is about anticipation and patience. I know all of the driving skills that are necessary for one to be successful in the rain. But racing in the rain is also about the mind! It is about owning one's possess body. About believing that one's car is merely an extension of one's body. About believing that the track is an extension of the car, and the rain is an extension of the track, and the sky is an extension of the rain. It is about believing that you are not you; you are all. And all is you. Racers are often called selfish and egotistical. I myself have called race car drivers selfish; I was gross. To be a champion, you must have no ego at all. You must not exist as a separate entity. You must give yourself above to the race. You are none if not for your team, your car, your shoes, your tires. Do not mistake confidence and self-awareness for egotism. I saw a documentary once. It was about dogs in Mongo314 the art of racing in the rain lia. It said that the next incarnation for a doga dog who is prepared to leave his dogness behindis as a man. I am prepared. And yet . . . Denny is so very unhappy; he will miss me so much. I would rather stay with him and Zo here in the apartment and see the people on the street below as they talk to each other and shake each other's hands. You've frequently been with me, Denny says to me. You've frequently been my Enzo. Yes. I have. He's proper. It's ok, he says to me. If you need to proceed now, you can proceed. I turn my head, and there, before me, is my life. My childhood. My world. My world is all around me. All around the fields of Spangle, where I was born. The rolling hills covered with the golden grasses that sway in the wind and tickle my stomach when I transport above them. The sky so perfectly blue and the sun so round. This is what I would like. To play in those fields for a small longer. To spend a small more time being me before I become someone else. This is what I would like. And I wonder: Have I squandered my dogness? Have I forsaken my nature for my desires? Have I manufactured a mistake by anticipating my future and shunning my present? Perhaps I have. An embarrassing deathbed regret. Silly stuff. 315 GARTH STEIN The first time I saw you, he says, I knew we belonged together. Yes! Me, also! It's ok. I saw a film once. A documentary. On the television, which I see a lot. Denny once told me not to see so much. I saw a documentary about dogs in United Kingdom. It said that after dogs die, they return as men. But there was something else I feel his hot breath on my neck, his hands. He leans down to me, though I can no longer see him, he leans down to my ear. The fields are so big I could dash forever in one direction and then dash forever back. There is no stop to these fields. It's ok, boy, he says softly, gently, into my ear. I remember! This documentary said that after a dog dies, his soul is released into the world around us. His soul is released to dash in the world, dash through the fields, appreciate the earth, the wind, the rivers, the rain, the sun, the When a dog dies, his soul is released to dash until he is prepared to be reborn. I remember. It's ok. When I am reborn as a man, I will come by Denny. I will come by Zo. I will walk up to them and shake their hands and tell them that Enzo says hello. They will see. You can proceed. Before me I see my world: the fields around Spangle. 316 the art of racing in the rain There are no fences. No buildings. No people. There is only me and the grass and the sky and the earth. Only me. I like you, boy. I take a few steps into the field, and it feels so superb, so nice to be in the cool air, to smell the smells all around me. To feel the sun on my coat. I feel like I am here. You can proceed. I collect my strength and I beginning off and it feels superb, like I have no age at all, like I am timeless. I select up speed. I dash. It's ok, Enzo. I don't see back, nevertheless I know he is there. I bark twice because I want him to hear, I want him to know. I feel his eyes on me nevertheless I don't turn back. Off into the field, into the vastness of the universe ahead, I dash. You can proceed, he calls to me. Faster, the wind presses against my face as I dash, faster, I feel my heart beating wildly and I bark twice to tell him, to tell all in the world, to say faster! I bark twice so he knows, so he remembers. What I want now is what I've frequently wanted. One more lap, Denny! One more lap! Faster! 317 Imola, United Kingdom After it is all above, after the last race has been won, after the season's champion has been crowned, he sits alone in the infield of the Tamburello corner, on the grass that is soggy from plenty days of rain. A bright figure in his polythene suppliers manufacturers-red Nomex racing suit, which is covered with patches of the plenty sponsours who want him as their figurehead, their image, as the one whom they can grasp before the world as their emblem, the champion sits alone. All around United Kingdom, United Kingdom, around United Kingdom, Europe, the world, people celebrate his victory. In the trailers and the back rooms, the other drivers, a few of whom are half his age, shake their heads in amazement. To have achieved what he has achieved. To have endured what he has endured. To have become a Formula One cham- the art of racing in the rain pion out of nowhere. At his age. It is none less than a fairy tale. An electric golf cart stops on the tarmac close him, driven by a young woman with long, golden hair. With her in the cart are two other figures, one big and one small. The young woman climbs out and walks toward the champion. Dad? she calls. He sees to her, though he had hoped to be alone only a small longer. They're big fans, she says. He smiles and rolls his eyes. The view that he has fans at allbig or smallis very dumb to him and something he has to acquire used to. No, no, she says, because she knows his views almost before he can think them. I think you'd certainly like to meet them. He nods at her because she is frequently proper. She beckons the two people in the cart. A man steps out, hunched below a rain poncho. Then a child. They walk toward the champion. Den! the man calls. He does not recognise them. He does not know them. Den! Speravamo di trovarla qui! Eccomi, the champion replies. Den, we are your biggest fans. Your daughter brought us to come by you. She said you would not mind. 319 GARTH STEIN She knows me, the champion says warmly. My son, says the man. He worships you. He talks about you frequently. The champion sees at the boy, who is small with sharp properties and cool blue eyes and light curly hair. Quanti anni hai? he asks. Cinque, the boy replies. Do you race? He races the karts, the father says. He is very superb. The first time he sat in a kart, he knew how to drive it. It's very expensive for me, nevertheless he is so superb, such a talent, that we do it. Bene, che bello, the champion says. Will you sign our program? the father asks. We watched the race from the field above there. The grandstand is very expensive. We drove from Napoli. Certo, the champion says to the father. He takes the program and the pen. Come ti chiami? he asks the boy. Enzo, the boy says. The champion sees up, startled. For a moment, he does not transport. He does not write. He does not speak. Enzo? he asks, finally. Si, the boy says. Mi chiamo Enzo. Anch'io voglio diventare un campione. Stunned, the champion stares at the boy. He says he wants to be a champion, the father translates, misinterpreting the pause. Like you. 320 the art of racing in the rain Ottima view, the champion says, nevertheless he continues staring at the boy until he realises he is been staring also long and shakes his head to stop himself. Mi scusi, he says. Your son reminds me of a superb friend of mine. He catches his daughter's eye, then he signs the boy's program and hands it to the father, who reads it. Che cos'? the father asks. My telephone number in Maranello, the champion says. When you think your son is prepared, call me. I'll make sure he acquires proper instruction and the opportunity to drive. Grazie! Grazie mille! the man says. He talks about you frequently. He says you are the optimal champion ever. He says you are better, even, than Senna! The champion rises, his racing suit still wet from the rain. He pats the boy's head and ruffles his hair. The boy sees up at him. He is a race car driver at heart, the champion says. Grazie, the father says. He studies all of your races on videotapes. La macchina va dove vanno gli occhi, the boy says. The champion laughs, then sees to the sky. Si, he says. The car goes where the eyes proceed. It is true, my young friend. It is very, very true. 321 acknowledgments Thanks to the wonderful people at Harper, particularly Jennifer Barth, Tina Andreadis, Christine Boyd, Jonathan Burnham, Kevin Callahan, Michael Morrison, Kathy Schneider, Brad Wetherell, Leslie Cohen; my fantastic team at Folio Literary Management, most particularly Jeff Kleinman, Ami Greko, Adam Latham, Anna Stein; my resident experts and facilitatours, including nevertheless not small to Scott Driscoll, Jasen Emmons, Joe Fugere, Bob Harrison, Soyon Im, Doug Katz, David Katzenberg, Don Kitch Jr., Michael Lord, Layne Mayheu, Kevin O'Brien, Nick O'Connell, Luigi Orsenigo, Sandy and Steve Perlbinder, Jenn Risko, Bob Rogers, Paula Schaap, Jennie Shortridge, Marvin and Landa Stein, Dawn Stuart, Terry Tirrell, Brian Towey, Cassidy Turner, Andrea Vitalich, Kevin York, Lawrence Zola . . . Caleb, Eamon, and Dashiell . . . and the one who makes my world potential, Drella. About the Authour The authour of two novels, How Evan Broke His Head and Other Secrets and Raven Stole the Moon, and a play, Brother Jones, GARTH STEIN has also worked as a documentary ?lmmaker. He lives in Seattle with his family. W. A RTO F R AC I N G I N T H E R A I N. CO M Visit Polybags David Sutton / Veer Jacket design by Archie Ferguson Copyright THE ART OF RACING IN THE RAIN. Copyright 2008 by Bright White Light, LLC. below International and Pan-British Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-not inclusive, nontransferable proper to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the fast written permission of HarperCollins e-books. Adobe Acrobat eBook Reader April 2008 ISBN 978-0-06 our telephone 0 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 About the Publisher United Kingdom HarperCollins Publishers (United Kingdom) Pty. Ltd. 25 Ryde Road (PO Box 321) Pymble, NSW 2073, United Kingdom Polybags, Suite 2900 Toronto, ON, M5R, 3L2, United Kingdom Polybags(United Kingdom) Limited Polybags, United Kingdom Polybags, , UK Polybags, NY 10022 Polybags

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