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Placed in the second 450 heat, Peick set out to stamper the field and make quick work of the
competition. Seventh on lap one, he looked to escalate. With Musquin’s misfortune, the field
shuffled up a position, and sixth he sat.
What a coincidence, a familiar friend in all white, Vince Friese was next on the pecking order, “surprise sunshine”, and away he went. The valiant effort was just a tad too short however, and Peick would settle for fifth; to the semi we go.
The linebacker quickly reacted to the snap count and leaped into third following the gatedrop in semi two. While many were looking at the whoop section with pupils full of fear, Peick would zero in, and a smirk would develop below his mouthpiece. With the field encountering the section for the first time, many would blip the throttle and begin to descend; not Weston, the wrist began to twist, and the gears were upshifted, to the lead he went. He would develop a comfortable cushion and cruise to the finish, ready to dance under the lights in the latter hours.
As the field whizzed by the flaggers stand for the 450 main event, Weston sat eleventh on lap one with Ken Roczen nipping at his heels. Tenth on lap three, he began to pressure his teammate, Phil Nicoletti. Using his bulldog style, the number 28 simply buried his head and dozed past the fellow Yamaha rider, now ninth. He would then slip to tenth in the next few laps, now behind Trey Canard and Mike Alessi.
With the fuel tank nearing E, Peick decided to throw it in overdrive and let loose, moving to sixth with four to go. Fighting tooth and nail with Ken Roczen, the German would land a hefty final second blow and force Peick’s effort to subside.
With no reason to feel disappointed, Peick would leave Detroit with a seventh place finish.
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