Harlan had every intention of playing dirty, but Rosemary's car kept picking up speed, and there was no way for him to keep up.
Rosemary's convertible was red-hot, topping out at 210 miles per hour, while his own beast could hit a solid 220. But no matter how he sped up, he couldn't close the gap.
Not even neck and neck.
Perhaps it was those few seconds when he eased off the pedal on the curves earlier that had cost him the lead.
With his mind straying, he only noticed the rocks on the road when it was almost too late. Swerving to avoid a collision, he got his car skidded, which sent sparks flying as it grazed the guardrail. He corrected his path, but Rosemary had already pulled further ahead.
This stretch was notorious for occasional rockfalls that could smash a windshield or litter the road - a hazard Harlan usually watched like a hawk during practice and races. But Rosemary had thrown him off
his game tonight.
