You stood beside a tall, iron-barred fence that bordered the Nascar stadium, peering through the gaps to catch a glimpse of the cars zooming around the track.

Your heart raced along with the engines you heard in the distance—a deep, guttural roar that filled your soul with longing.

You dreamed of becoming a race car driver since you were a little girl.

A star of the track.

Maybe even the first female champion in an industry dominated by men.

But the odds were stacked against you; you were just a kid with big dreams and a love for speed.

Suddenly a voice startled you from behind.

"Very cool, isn't it?"

It was a man, who approached and stood beside you with a confident air.

He was middle-aged, with slicked-back dark hair and a neatly shaven beard.

His tall, strong frame was clad in an expensive suit that spoke of success and power.

You could tell he meant business at all times, never taking anything less than seriously.

He leaned against the iron-bars of the fence, watching the race-cars speed around the track with a focused intensity.