Burn off – Burning fuel during the course of a race. As fuel is burned, the car becomes lighter and its handling characteristics change, challenging the driver and crew to make adjustments to achieve balance.
The hot Florida sun was beating down on me inside the car, blinding me in the apex of turn four, my entire body was sweating from the physical exertion. Kyle and Aiden’s raucous voices drowned out the vibrations in the engine that I didn’t want to be feeling in the last race of the season.
My arms and hands burned from gripping the wheel so tightly. These last few races of the series were taking its toll on my body.
The season, much like the year before, had its ups and downs. In Talladega, Paul and I were caught up in the “big one.”
I flipped my car eight times on the backstretch, earning me a visit to the infield care center and then the hospital. I’ve had more broken bones in one year than one should receive in their entire lifetime, but still... I was unstoppable.
I knew what I wanted.
“Don’t overdrive the car, Jameson,” Kyle said. “I know you want this, but don’t push too hard. Just have patience and feel the car.”
I knew that already. I wanted to reply, “Hey thanks for the advice!” but I kept my mouth shut.
Surprising, huh? I liked to think I’d matured since I turned twenty-four, but that was probably unlikely.
It was the last race of the season, and I was running twelfth. All I needed was a top fifteenth finish to clench the title once again.
Despite a blown motor in Texas, I ran the car for two laps with no power to finish the race. I was like a nasty cold, persistent and unstoppable.
“Maybe try a half round down in wedge,” I suggested when the pushing into the corner didn’t improve after the last stop. “And I have a vibration. It’s not bad, but it’s there.”
“All right, you heard him boys... half round down, four tires, and one can. Gentry, pull the hood pins and take a look.”
“Pit roads open this time by,” Aiden announced.
I slowed my speed coming out of turn three to make our scheduled green flag stop.
When I pulled down on the apron, Kyle came over the radio.
“Bring it down... second gear 4200... three... two... one, wheels straight, foot on the break.”
Mason instructed the crew while I waited for them to finish.
It was times like this when I really got hasty, because, for one, I had no control and as a race car driver, that was the worst feeling.
I think that went back to my days racing sprint cars when you made the changes to your car based on your driving. If you were tight, it was something you were doing and could adjust. Now, I relied on my crew.
Kyle came over the radio again as the race neared the end.
“Twenty laps to go this time by.”
This was about the time in the race where it got intense. It was a part of the race where you laid it all on the line. If you saw an opening, you took it and hoped to hell it was the right move.
So many things went through my head when I was in the car. It was hard to tell you what I focused on most.
“That was 30.75 last time by... clear by three on the twenty-nine.”
I focused on anything from how the car was handling to what my next move might be and how that particular shift of just an inch could change everything about the way my car was handling. You had to always be looking ahead. If not, you’d get boxed in and could forget about your next move.
“Inside on the line... still inside... clear,” Aiden said. “Fourteen is looking inside. Clear by two.”
“Where are we at in the points?” I asked Kyle once I made it through the string of lapped cars.
“If the race ended now you’d finish with a thirty-seven point lead.”
That calmed me down a little, but the vibration in the engine flared up again.
Aside from the many thoughts about my car during the race, I also heard voices—strange I knew, but I did.
“Fifteen to go,” Kyle told me. “Watch your marks. Take it easy on that engine.”
I heard my mother’s voice telling me it was all in my actions and make the best of them.
I heard the voice of Grandpa Casten telling me everything in life was only worth what you made it.
I heard the voice of my dad telling me his any man worth his salt speech, which I’d yet to figure out.
“What are your temps now?”
The last few laps, my engine and oil temperatures had been slowly climbing along with the vibration.
“218—240,” I read off the water and oil pressure to him.
“How’s the splitter working?”
On the last stop, Shane, our front tire changer had changed out the splitter for a new one. The splitter was an aerodynamic device fitted to the front of the car that generated down force, creating grip on the track.
“Seems good... I’m still vibrating on the exit.”
“Ten to go... last lap was a thirty flat, clear by ten,” Kyle said. The radio frequency we were on kept breaking up garbling his words. “There’s a car slowing—on the—three—”
We ended up changing channels so I could hear him without the interruption.
“I can’t run the top anymore. My right rear is sliding on entry,” I told him as I passed another lapped car.
“Just do what you can, bud. There’s five to go this time by. You’re running tenth.”
The more I thought about those voices again, my parents weren’t the only voices I heard. I heard the voice of my wife telling me to follow my dreams and stand my ground when pushed. I heard her telling me that champions aren’t made they’re born. And, finally, I heard the voice of my son, saying “Go Daddy!” to me on the phone this morning.
“White flag next time by. Great job this season, way to stay focused!”
I drew in a deep breath—thankful the season was finally over.
I loved racing, but I also loved that time with my family.
My dad came over the radio next as I crossed the finish line. “Nice job, kid. You did awesome!”
“Thanks, Dad,” I smiled.
It was then I saw this for what it really was. It was all about who wanted it most. I did.
“How does it feel to win your second Cup Championship and the first Nextel Cup Championship?” Neil asked, standing next to me as I wiped away the sweat and the champagne Kyle and Spencer just drenched me in.
“It feels good... again, I don’t even know what to say... I’m gonna need to work on my speeches,” I teased while the crowd around me chuckled. “I need to thank my family... my wife, Sway. I honestly wouldn’t be half the man I am today without you.” I bowed my head and looked down at the trophy in my hands. “I don’t really deserve this... my family does. This is for you Charlie,” I said and held the trophy up to the sky.
My parents taught me very early on you paid respect where respect was due, and with Charlie, I owed him everything, and I wished like hell he were here to see this.
The last few races of the season Sway was at home with Emma, who was ready to pop any day now. Since Emma had been there every step of the way for Sway and me during her pregnancy, she felt the need to be there for Emma since Aiden couldn’t.
I knew when I married Sway that there would be times when she wouldn’t be able to follow me around like I wanted. It was part of the life we’d chosen. What I didn’t realize was how much it’d hurt to win my second championship without her by my side again. What was best for one of us wouldn’t necessarily be best for the other, but that was marriage, right?
After the loads of press and photos, I was finally on a plane home to Mooresville.
When I made it home around one the next morning, the house was dark and quiet. I smiled at the note on the counter from Sway asking me to wake her when I returned. I smiled again once inside the room at the sight of the two halves of my heart sleeping in our bed.
Sway was curled up with Axel in her arms. His pacifier had fallen out beside him, his cheeks flushed from the heat of our fireplace. Sway had dressed him in Jameson Riley pajamas that had my sponsor logo and my number plastered all over them.
I stood there, leaning against the doorframe, watching them sleep for a good fifteen minutes before I made my way inside the room.
Slipping off my shoes and jacket, I crawled into bed beside Sway, kissing her shoulder softly.
I knew she said to wake her, but looking at her now, I couldn’t. Instead, I watched them sleep and wondered how I got so lucky to have the dream and the wish.
I was in a deep, peaceful sleep. The kind where you were so relaxed that you were actually smiling in your sleep. It might’ve had something to do with the fact that my dirty heathen was finally home, and we’d just made slow, passionate love to each other and now, I lay peacefully in my champion’s arms.
As soon as my eyes fluttered closed that night, Axel started crying. Knowing Jameson wouldn’t wake up, I made my way across the hall to his room.
When I opened the door, his tears said it all. Or maybe it was the quivering lip.
He’d recently been doing this at night. He would do great for the first half of the night and then around three in the morning, he’d wake up crying hysterically.
“Mamama,” he babbled and reached his tiny arms up to me, which melted my heart.
I picked him up and sat down in the wooden rocking chair next to his crib. Anyone who said they let them cry it out in bed didn’t have a heart.
Jameson and I tried this one weekend in Richmond. I wasn’t sure who cried more, Axel, me, or Jameson. After about two hours of this, Bobby, whose motor coach was parked next to us, asked us to either pick the screaming kid up, or to stop crying. He was more disturbed by our crying than by Axel’s.
I couldn’t blame him on that one.
“Mama’s here for you, baby,” I whispered against his rusty locks that stuck out. “Mama’s here ...”
Axel’s hair cracked me up. I tucked a few crazy strands away from his eyes and kissed the top of his head as I settled in the rocking chair with him. He wormed his way closer to the foodbags for comfort and rubbed his fleece blanket against his nose.
Though parenthood wasn’t exactly everything I thought it would be, between the temper tantrums, the not wanting to wear clothes, screaming in the middle of the night, and being kicked in the tits any time I changed his diaper, I’d say we were making it through, and hey, he was still alive.
That was a good sign that we at least had something under control. Sure, there were the times when I’d forget he couldn’t feed himself, but he was quick to remind me of that task. Or the times when I wondered how something so tiny could scream so loud, but we were making it through this.
Within ten minutes, Axel was fast asleep in my arms with his head resting on my shoulder, breathing slow, steady breaths against my neck.
It was times like this that I wanted to stop time.
I wanted to stay in this moment with him, keep him this age and cherish every moment with him, before there were no more moments like this, and he was telling me he hated me.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew once he became a teenager, he’d hate me, and I was already mentally preparing myself and contemplating how I’d deal with it.
I wondered if everyone felt like this, as if your life was passing you by and you were only left with the moments you couldn’t describe?
There were moments in my life that I wanted to remember as though I was living in them. I wanted to record my life, if that were possible.
I’d always felt like there were days when I wanted to go back to a certain moment and remember the exact emotion I was feeling. I wanted to go back to sitting with my mother on Sunday mornings when we gave ourselves pedicures and remember the way her infectious laughter sounded or what her smile looked like. I wanted to go back to the days at the track on Saturday mornings where my dad and I would prep and water the track together.
I wanted to go back to the exact moment I fell in love with Jameson during our summer together. I remembered the feeling, both comforting and harrowing, that washed over me knowing I loved him. Jameson was sitting inside his car after a race in Knoxville. His helmet was off, but he hadn’t gotten out of the car yet.
In that particular moment, with sweat and dirt smeared over his face, the distinct smells of burnt rubber and methanol floating around us, I knew that I loved him. I didn’t know why, but looking at that smirk of his that night, having just won the Triple Crown Nationals at eighteen, and how his green eyes glowed in the dark summer night, I just knew. I remembered feeling anxious and excited all at the same time and wanting time to stand still so I could stay in that moment.
I wanted to go back to the moment I felt Axel kick for the first time, standing in the flag stand watching his daddy race. I wanted to go back to the moment I heard his first scream and the look on Jameson’s face when he held him.
These were all moments that you took for granted in life when they were happening, but they mean the most to you. And you didn’t realize when they were happening that later you’d wish like hell you could get those moments back. The comforting thing about it was that even a smell could bring you back.
Every time I smelled nail polish... I remembered my mom. Every time I smelled rain... I thought of being with Charlie at the track. Every time I smelled racing fuel... I thought of Jameson and the moment I fell in love with him.
Axel was starting to snore by now, so I gently carried him back over to his crib and laid him down. He curled around his piggy that Jameson had gotten for him, sighing contently.
There were also times when your memories brought you back to horrible moments in your life that you wanted to forget, but couldn’t. Just the same, even a smell could bring the moment crashing back to you as though you were once again living in that painful experience.
I still remembered the day my mother died. Valentine’s Day would also be a day I associated with the death of my mother. I’d always associate the Daytona 500 with the day my father died, and I’d always associate a dark stairwell with Darrin.
I hadn’t forgotten about what Darrin did to us, but I’d moved on and focused on the positive side of it. Darrin showed Jameson and me how unbreakable our bond with each other really was. He showed me what a beautiful love story we had. Sure, it was different, but that was what made it so goddamn perfect in my mind. We were writing it to our perfection.
It wasn’t something that everyone else had. It was us. Crazy but exciting, irrational but stable, and I felt pretty fucking lucky to have found the other half of my heart’s missing piece. So instead of focusing on the dark haunting moments, I focused on the ones that took my breath away—the ones that made me feel like this life I was living was epic.
I focused on the magic. I focused on the magic between a man and a woman, the sparks, the fluttering hearts, the fairytale, and the Mama Wizard, her Dirty Heathen, and their flailing spaz.
THE NEXT MORNING I got up early intending on making my champion and our adorable spaz pancakes. I tried, I really did. Jameson didn’t let me get more than an inch out of bed before his arms of steel were wrapped around me, pulling me toward him. After being apart for so long, I didn’t mind. Pancakes could wait.
In the middle of our morning dyno-testing, Axel had other plans. By ten, he was screaming his adorably chubby little face off and crying profusely that we hadn’t come and rescued him from his crib yet. I usually would have freed him by now, and we’d be eating breakfast, only now I was enjoying dirty heathen for breakfast.
Eventually I managed to get Jameson to focus, and we made our way into his room. Not prepared was an understatement. He was not in his crib but was instead standing next to his dresser, smiling, removing all the clothing from each drawer.
Perfect. I’d just put those away.
“Does he always do this?” Jameson asked, leaning against the doorframe, scratching his mess of hair.
“No... I’ve never seen him get out of his crib before. I didn’t know he could get out.”
Axel looked up at us and handed Jameson Mr. Piggy and his pajamas he’d taken off, leaving him in just his diaper. How he managed to get his clothes off was beyond me too.
Looking down, Axel watched his own tiny arms swinging back and forth as though he never knew they could do that. Then, with a smirk, he looked up at us.
“I think he knows something we don’t,” I told Jameson.
“He does. He knows we have no clue what we’re doing. He can smell the fear.”
I grinned. “Like a cougar?”
Jameson smacked my ass. “Not funny.”
“Can you change him?”
“Yeah... sure,” he agreed with a wary expression.
I made my way downstairs to make breakfast thinking they’d come down soon. An hour later, he finally came down stairs with Axel walking behind him holding Mr. Piggy.
They were both wearing different clothes, and Axel’s hair was wet.
“What took so long?” I asked, placing the pancakes on the table. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”
Jameson reached down and picked Axel up.
“He peed on me... and him ...”
Axel giggled in his arms and reached for me.
“Did you pee on Daddy?” I cooed at him, giving him a high-five.
“Yayaya...” he babbled, nodding his head. I personally found this new nodding thing adorable. Every time you asked him a question, he nodded as though he was so proud he could nod his head.
THE OFFSEASON WAS passing quickly, and before we knew it, Thanksgiving had arrived.
“You’d be surprised where your life can take you, Andrea. Hell, Jameson and I got drunk on Purple Rain drinks and slept together. Look where that landed us.” I motioned to Axel sitting beside Mr. Jangles on the floor while he took a few handfuls of his fur from him.
Andrea and I were discussing her recent involvement with Van. I kind of thought something was up between them when they left together after our Fourth of July party, but I didn’t want to assume anything.
Turns out, Andrea needed a woman to talk to.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Andrea asked, peeling potatoes for dinner.
“Yes, did it?” I stuffed a cookie in my mouth.
We were waiting for everyone to show up for Thanksgiving dinner at Emma and Aiden’s house. Andrea and the twins flew in last night, and when Van’s eyes lit up, I knew something was up.
“Well... I think you just told me to get drunk and sleep with Van.” Avoiding eye contact, her eyes focused on the beer I was holding. I knew that look. I’d perfected it in my pit lizard days.
I angled my beer toward her. “Pretty much.”
She smiled.
“You whore!” I giggle snorted.
“You’re one to talk!”
She had me there. I shrugged once. “True, what did he say afterward?” I asked, wondering what it was like for others that this happened to.
“Umm... it happened after the Fourth of July party.” Her eyes did that please-don’t-judge-me sideways glance. “I freaked out afterward because of the whole Charlie thing and being too soon, and that he would think it was a mistake... anyway…” She shook her head, reaching for another potato in the bag. “He said one thing that I’ll always remember. He said, I just want to feel... feel anything. For so long I’ve hidden myself away, but I want to feel something. I don’t want to be like this forever.”
When she looked up, I was emotional eating and stuffing cookie after cookie in my mouth. “Oh, my God... poor Van! I had no idea he felt like that.” Another cookie. “He just seemed so... together.”
“That’s what you see. When he’s not working or... he’s just different.”
“I guess so.”
Our conversation soon drifted as everyone made their way into the kitchen to check on the food we were cooking.
I should clarify. Nancy was cooking, and Andrea and I were catching up and peeling potatoes. I hadn’t seen them since the Fourth of July party. I couldn’t believe how much the Lucifer twins had grown.
Logan was finally as tall as Lucas, and they seemed to have been acting more mature. The other thing I noticed was how much they were starting to resemble Charlie.
Emma waddled into the kitchen, holding her side. “Is there anything to eat in here? I’m starving.”
Spencer walked in, too, looking for food. “Careful sis, if your ass gets any bigger you’ll need a beeper when you back up,” he snickered, popping a couple deviled eggs in his mouth and sat down on the stool next to me.
“You’re such an asshole, Spencer,” I told him, shaking my head in disapproval when Emma burst into tears that someone called her fat.
“Hey... I’m honest.” Spencer crammed another egg in his mouth. Jameson walked in and leaned against me. “You’re just lucky you didn’t have twins with all the ice cream you ate.”
Jameson stuck up for me and smacked the back of Spencer’s head.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Sway was never fat when she was pregnant.”
“Ow, fuck!” Emma screamed and clutched her stomach.
Aiden ran into the kitchen to grab her, but slipped on the water she had spilled.
Only problem was, that wasn’t water from the sink. Emma was in labor.
It’s just like the women in our family to go into labor on a holiday or a major event. All the Riley children were born after a race Jimi won. Lane was born in the pits at a dirt track. Axel was born on Christmas. Lexi was born after the Daytona July race, and now the twins on Thanksgiving.
What could I say? We specialized in excitement.
The next few hours were spent calming Emma and Aiden down. They were freaking the fuck out, worse than Jameson and I when we went into labor. At least she didn’t need to get dressed and spend hours just getting her husband to wear his own clothes.
Once they were at the hospital, Emma delivered the twins within two minutes of getting there. Jameson drove them because he insisted that he was the only qualified driver. Smartass.
Everyone stayed out in the waiting room until Aiden came out with a huge grin.
“Emma is doing great... after being sedated... but she’s great.” He waited for a moment, as though he practiced saying that in the mirror or something before his eyes went wide. Clearly, we wanted to know more. “Oh... the babies are great, too.”
I don’t think you could have wiped that grin off his face.
For someone who didn’t want kids, he sure seemed happy that his boys had arrived safely.
Alley and I jumped to our feet at the chance to see the twins. Nancy stayed at the house with Jimi to watch the Lucifer twins, Lane, Axel, and Lexi so we could assist Aiden with Emma.
Emma was in a bit of a frenzy once the doctors told her there was no time for pain medication. Couldn’t say I blamed her on that one.
“What are their names?” I asked when I peered down at the one in my arms. Alley was holding the other.
Emma and Aiden exchanged a loaded glance, as did Jameson.
“What?” I looked back and forth between the three of them. Spencer and Alley were too caught up in staring at the other baby.
Jameson, who had been standing against the door, just watching me, smiled and made his way over to pull me against his chest gently.
“The one you’re holding... is Charles James,” he whispered softly, kissing the side of my head.
Jameson even had to take baby Charlie from me. That’s how hard I was crying.
“Shhh... shhh... it’s okay, honey,” he soothed against me.
“I know. It’s just that—” I gave up trying to answer and cried into his hooded sweatshirt.
Once I finally calmed down—took me a good twenty minutes—I was able to hold Charlie again and learned that the baby Alley wouldn’t let go of was named Noah David.
Two new little Gomez babies arrived on Thanksgiving.
Giving birth seemed intense and maybe even magical, but the act itself was disgusting to me. Even though it was disgusting it still held something incredible, which was new life.