I completed three more laps without hitting the tires, driving into a tree, or putting the vehicle on its side.
That made me an expert.
Chenghai disagreed, but he kept that opinion to himself while I took the mound faster than before. The front wheels lifted at the top, my stomach dropped, and we landed hard enough to send mud flying over both sides of the vehicle.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
The sound came easier now. I had spent the first lap holding onto the steering wheel like it had personally threatened me. By the fifth, I had learned when the tires were sliding and when the entire vehicle was about to throw itself into the grass.
Chenghai's hand remained on my thigh through most of it. He only moved it when I needed help with the wheel, which happened less every time we went around.
On the final turn, I pressed the gas too early and sent us sideways through the largest puddle on the track.
Mud covered Chenghai from his shoulder to his boots.
