The Art of Racing in the Rain

by Garth Stein

“Yes, Luca, thank you.” Plop, plop. “Luca.” “Si?” “Now will you tell me why?” Denny asked. Another long pause. “I would prefer to tell you—” “Yes, I know, Luca. I know. But it would help me so much if you could see your way to telling me now. For my own 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’m 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 respond to people offering their condolences. Such a simple thing, yet filled with much pain. I’m sure you understand.” “I do,” Denny said. “I would have died from grief, Denny, if I had not received help, if I had not found a mentor who offered me his hand. Do you understand? My predecessor at this company offered me a job driving cars for him. He saved my life, not merely for me, but for my children as well. This man passed away recently—he was very old—but still, sometimes I see his face, I hear his voice, and I remember him. What he offered me is not for me to keep, but for me to give to another. That is why I feel very fortunate that I am able to offer my hand to you.” 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.”

I can remember only a few times, with Johnny Ford, Jeff Dunn, Doug Dorman, offering even a facsimile of this kind of mentoring and always eventually proving it was conditional or temporary and never for such deep reasons, reasons they never disclosed.