Drivers’ Meeting – In NASCAR the drivers’ meeting is held two hours before the race where officials go over important rule changes and other issues with teams.
“Why is it that we are always here, at this very table, trying to decide on punishment for our youngest?”
I groaned, running my hand through my hair. “Because he’s paying us back for all the shit we did when we were kids.”
Casten had once again been involved in recreational drug use and we had specifically told him we didn’t want him involved in that. Logan, Noah, and Charlie had been there, too, but I personally felt Casten was old enough to know the difference so my beef wasn’t with them. I had a feeling Logan was providing the drugs and I would be talking to him about that, but still, Casten was old enough to know the difference between right and wrong.
“So... let’s uh... ground him from going to Frost Nationals with you guys?”
“Great idea, he wanted to go to that.” I high-fived Sway, “Well done, mama.”
Sway winked. “I’m good. Now, go get me coffee.”
“Yes. On my way,” I grabbed my keys from the counter and was out the door.
“And donuts!” she yelled after me.
I did what any good husband would do.
When I was at home during the off-season, it was a normal life. I still felt like I was coming or maybe I was going, a revolving door to nowhere? Who knows but I took comfort in days like today when I was a part of the field. I felt normal.
I saw this all the time with rookies and Brody was a prime example of it. They flew all around the world during the week, taking trips to New York and the Hamptons but that was never me. Even in the beginning. I was never in it for the celebrity all-star lifestyle or the money so that side of the lifestyle never appealed to me. Racing did.
Later, I spoke with Casten about his drug use and he listened but decided to spin it to his advantage and told me that I should reconsider letting him go to Frost Nationals for moral support.
Just when I think that Casten might be maturing he goes and does shit like that. I was referring to the drugs rather than the negotiating.
“Stop it. You’re sixteen. Act like it.”
“Well,” he looked at me, a small grin tugged at his lips, “... last week I was seventeen. Now I’m sixteen. Which is it? The way you add, I’ll be back in diapers by next Tuesday.”
“Shut up and go clean the kitchen,” I told him heading upstairs to find Sway.
“I thought that was Rosa’s job.” Casten laughed and then snapped his finger pointing at Rosa sleeping on the couch. “Oh, right, she doesn’t clean because it’s against her religion.”
He had a very good point.
Sway wasn’t upstairs. Instead, she was with Alley going over the last minute details for Frost Nationals in Knoxville.
Making my way to the shop, Noah and Charlie were there preparing the cars for the race. They looked nervous but my beef wasn’t with them. Like I said, Casten was old enough to be making better decisions about the shit he participated in. He liked to blame it on peer pressure but, at some point, his fifteen-year-old ass needed to claim responsibility.
Grady was there too preparing the frame to my car I was taking. Quiet as usual, he kept his head down and worked. Since our conversations at the Monster Million he understood, or so I thought, he was on shaky ground with me. I didn’t take well to people stealing from me but, then again, I had no actual proof of him stealing. So far there was roughly about $156,000 in parts and an engine missing.
Deep down, I knew it was Grady but I needed proof before I could believe that someone I gave a chance was stealing from me.
Tommy and Willie caught me after we did a break in run on the track behind the shop. Both engines had problems and we needed to replace them.
“What’s going on with these?” I asked Willie who kept a close eye on the engines and how they were being built for the sprint cars.
I didn’t have to worry about the Cup side, though I did after the mishap in Homestead, Harry usually had that handled. Now with Kerry on board over there, we had a better handle with those engines.
Because the 410 engines are essentially very different than an engine put inside a Cup car, I had Noah and Charlie there for the sprint cars as well as Greg Lynch, Justin’s brother in-law, doing machine work. We also had Slater and Bob Davis, Tommy’s cousins, doing dyno testing and break-ins. Everything we did, whether it was building the engine to performance, was done in house and by people we trusted. Grady was the only one we didn’t know.
About a mile up the street from my sprint car shop was Riley-Simplex Racing and CST Engines, all housed under a forty-thousand-square-foot building complete with a dyno room where the engines were tested.
When the engines came in, CST built them from parts to ready-to-go engines. We cleaned the parts, inspected them, did the entire machine work including align boring and porting the heads. We assembled the parts making sure they all lined up correctly. We made sure there was deck height clearance, cylinder roundness and measuring pistons to be sure they fit to the cylinders correctly. We did all this in-house because that was originally how CST Engines was designed back when my grandpa Casten developed the procedures. Staying true to his legend in the industry of engine building, we kept it exactly the same.
Among the engine builders, we had two machine guys, Kevin and Brad, who were related to Kyle. We also had a few guys doing quality control along with Willie and Tommy. The quality control was now handled mostly by Noah and Charlie since they were both currently going to school for it and have been able to take an engine apart since they were four.
As you can see, it’s a family business as always will be.
Examining the engine, Willie looked up at me holding the oil line. “There’s our problem,” he said, “the oil coupler was loose and all the oil drained out. Grady was doing final assembly last night with Noah.”
My gaze shifted from the car to Willie and then over to Grady. He was there with headphones in, bobbing his head to music, doing a final walk around on the four cars heading to Knoxville. He stopped near the rear tires, his hand reached up to run over the bars under the wing of my car. Seeming satisfied, he moved on to check off his list as he went, never looking up from his meticulous effort.
Kneeling down, I took a look at the engine on the hoist. In sprint car engines we use a dry sump system where the oil is stored in a tank outside the engine rather than in the oil pan and then pumped to the rest of the engine. In this case, the oil line wasn’t sealed correctly and allowed for the oil to drain out.
“We can’t be having this kind of stuff happening,” Willie said to me when I sat against the wall going through emails on my phone. “The kid needs to go. No one trusts him and you know what that does around here.”
Willie sat next to me.
Setting my phone on the floor, I reached up to place my hands on the bill of my hat. “We will deal with it when we get back from Knoxville.”
“Jameson, you—”
“We can’t prove anything, Willie,” I snapped back at him. “Until then, he is still employed here.”
Tommy knew me well enough to drop it but Willie kept up. “Come on Jameson, he’s stealing from you and you know it.”
“No, I don’t know it for sure.” I looked over the inventory Sway printed yesterday and noticed that everything seemed to add up this time.
Sway and Alley stopped by. Sway immediately sensed the apprehension in the air. “What’s going on?” she whispered handing me a hamburger they picked up on the way over. Alley handed the rest of the guys’ burgers, as well. Spencer, having smelled food, came in from outside where he and Lane had been loading tools and equipment for the race.
“We gotta put a new engine in my car tonight before we can head out tomorrow.”
Sway nodded taking a drink from her milkshake. “What happened?”
“There was a coupler left loose and all the oil drained out. It blew it up after only two laps.”
In the distance, I saw Arie, who was there shipping merchandise for Rager’s’ fan club, walk from the office to the parts room and then back with a box of merchandise I assumed. Conversations continued around me but my attention remained on the interaction that occurred between Grady, who was still here, and my daughter.
She passed by him and he looked up at her. I couldn’t hear what he said but she stopped and stared at him. Looking over her shoulder at me, I knew something was going on, her eyes quickly drifting back to Grady. Stepping closer, she said something else to him and he reached out to her as she began to walk away.
The boys went to work getting the new engine prepped and Grady took off after that without saying anything. Something about his quick departure struck me as unusual. Normally he said something but I had the impression it had to do with Arie’s conversation with him.
Sway kissed me goodbye and then planned on heading home to get my bag ready since we would be here most of the night getting the car ready. “I love you,” she said with a supportive smile before heading out.
“Hey,” I caught her hand before she left, “... have you noticed anything going on between Grady and Arie?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but, Arie doesn’t tell me anything.” Sway shrugged. “Apparently we don’t have that mother-daughter-bonding-thing down.”
“She loves you, honey. She’s just ...” I kissed her forehead drawing her into my chest to wrap my arms around her, “... she’s just Arie.”
Sway understood that statement because, unlike our boys, Arie was secretive and like I’ve said before, if she didn’t want you know, she didn’t tell you.
Sway left after that and I made my way inside the office where Arie was filling boxes with merchandise and then placing mailing labels on them. She looked up when the door opened her eyes wide for a moment and then she relaxed. “Hey, Dad, you scared me.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.” I leaned against the table, my arms resting against the table. “What was that between you and Grady?” There was no sense in tiptoeing around it, she knew by my appearance that I knew something was going on.
“It’s nothing, Dad,” she replied avoiding my stare.
“It sure didn’t look like nothing.”
Arie stopped packing the box she had set in front of her and sighed, the top of her hand dropped to the table. “Like I said Dad, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Can’t handle, huh?” I repeated sarcastically. “Arie ...” by my deep sigh she sensed my mood shifting and stood up to grab her bag. I stopped her. “I’m not going to get involved in whatever it is that’s going on. But I do not want you seeing Grady.”
She made it to the door before she turned to look back at me, tears threatening. “I assure you there’s nothing going on between me and Grady. He made sure of that.”
My stomach dropped at her words. The lingering glances Grady had given her along with her shy smiles over the weeks confirmed what I hated to even think about and wouldn’t let myself.
Tommy stuck his head inside when Arie left. “Hey, man, we need your help out here.”
The rest of the night we finished up with the engine and had everything loaded by midnight. Sway was waiting up for me when I got home. No conversation was had, instead, it was lingering touches and heated breaths. It was days like this when I remember what was important and what wasn’t worth the fight. It was where the revolving door closed for the night and the going seemed slow to the breathing in and out, the taking time to ensure that time was spent taking care of what needed to be.
Just like any scheduled race, there was a drivers’ meeting to go over rules and regulations. Then there was a team meeting followed by the driver introductions. This time with my wife was like introductions. It was a time where two hearts that beat for one another spoke to what didn’t need to be said.
I had a lot on my mind that night but in her arms, skin to skin, none of that mattered.