Sterling led the pack in a perfect parade lap. At the green flag, he peeled off into the infield, his job done. He wasn’t the fastest or the newest. But as he watched the race begin, he realized that purpose isn't about being the star. It’s about being the one who makes sure the stars get to shine.
That night, Moxie towed him back to the museum. But as she left, she saw his headlights flicker on—not from a jump, but from something warmer.
He didn’t have working lights, so Moxie clamped a flashlight to his roof. His tires were bald, but he remembered the feel of the asphalt.
Sterling coughed. “Kid, my battery hasn’t held a charge since McQueen was a rookie. I’m a ghost.”
