Collected – When a car is caught in an incident that they did not cause.
Everyone from the fans waiting in the lobby to the pressing media pushing their way past security wanted to know what happened and why?
The biggest question was with a nearly five-million-dollar contract racing in the Cup series, why was Jameson allowed to race sprint cars?
When tragedy hit the racing community, it shook them to their core. No one was left unaffected in the wake that spread past the confines of concrete walls and cheering fans. It was a tragedy that could rip you apart and leave you wondering if there would be any pieces left.
We understood the feeling and knew what it meant.
The news hit the media instantly and our phones rang non-stop. The hours and days went by slowly as I ignored my phone. Anyone I wanted to talk to was here already.
Most of that time waiting was spent fielding the media and consoling our family but there were times where I just sat and stared at that photo of him next to the condom ad. I also called his cell phone over and over again to hear his voice. Every time it made me cry.
Would he wake up? Would he remember me? Would he remember his family?
Only time would tell. By Friday night, he was still listed in critical condition and the doctor was going in again to control more bleeding in his brain. So far, it wasn’t looking good for him.
Alley was kind enough to let me stay with Nancy as I was worried about her. Kyle dealt with all the media and Speedweek issues. Daytona would be starting in just two weeks and, as of now, Jameson wasn’t awake and there was no way he would make Daytona.
This left one option: we hired another driver who was racing in the Nationwide series to step up.
Easton Levi had been driving for Tate in the Nationwide series for the last few years and had won last year’s championship.
As soon as Tate heard, he asked if we wanted Easton in the car. After talking with Kyle and Mason, they agreed he would be a good addition.
Essentially that decision would have been up to Jimi or Jameson, who was a partial owner of Riley-Simplex Racing. Randy still acted as the vice president but Jimi usually made it clear he didn’t make decisions like that regarding drivers.
Now is where all the legalities came in.
Somehow, and I don’t exactly know how or when this happened, Jameson had given me power of attorney for the company if something were to happen to him or Jimi.
Imagine my surprise.
With my newfound responsibility, I turned to Tate and Kyle who both thought Easton would be a perfect fit in Jameson’s No. 9 Simplex car and who would team up nicely with Bobby Cole who was now back in the No. 90 car and Paul Leighty in the No. 19.
The news was released to the media formally by Alley at ten o’clock Friday morning.
She kept it simple by stating, “I’m sorry to say that Jimi Riley, retired World of Outlaws champion, has passed away following a fatal accident at the Knoxville Raceway on Wednesday night. His son and NASCAR Cup driver Jameson Riley is listed in critical condition. We would like to say more about his condition but at this time, we don’t know.”
Right after Alley made the announcement, news broke out and soon Knoxville Raceway issued their statement.
Knoxville, IA – January 27, 2022
“After hours of touch and go, Jimi Riley, the 31-time retired World of Outlaws champion was pronounced dead at 2:21 a.m. at the University of Iowa,” Director of Competition for Knoxville Raceway, Larry Shields, said Friday morning. “Races for the remainder of the first annual Frost Nationals have been cancelled.”
Jimi Riley was pronounced dead just hours after a horrific crash during the Frost Nationals at Knoxville Raceway. Riley had retired from the tour last year handing over the reins to his grandson, Axel Riley, who was also racing last night.
The initial crash happened on Thursday night when a left rear tire blew on Jimi’s car as he was attempting a pass on the outside of turns one and two. When that happened, his car took a sharp left-hand turn coming down on his son, NASCAR Cup driver Jameson Riley.
Both cars made a series of flips, were hit by other cars trying to avoid the wreck and then eventually came to a rest.
Jimi, who suffered a severed spinal cord at the base of his skull never regained consciousness. Jameson, whose injuries are unknown at this time, has been listed in critical condition.
From track officials it’s believed that he suffered a head injury but they wouldn’t say to what level.
I appreciated the fact that doctors and family were not releasing details surrounding Jameson’s injuries. We didn’t know the extent right now and didn’t want speculation.
No matter how many times I read the news reports, or watched ESPN and SPEED, it still hadn’t sunk in that Jimi was gone. I just kept imagining him sleeping like Jameson was.
NASCAR, and more importantly, its president Patrick, wasn’t pleased that Jameson was in a sprint car again. Jameson brought a lot of money to NASCAR. I knew Patrick cared for Jameson, but to me it was about money for them. Money they were losing out on.
Simplex understood but I knew it wouldn’t be the last we heard about the incident. If Jameson made it, and still raced in the Cup series, I knew they would never let him race anything other than in the Cup car they sponsored.
Come Saturday afternoon, I was getting nervous that Jameson hadn’t improved enough to be taken off the coma-inducing medication as of yet. Dr. Howe assured me that there were positive signs of improvement but that Jameson needed a little more time.
I had another chance to talk to Justin and Axel about the accident. They were both right behind them when it happened. In general, the group who had been in Knoxville agreed that something had broken on Jimi’s car but the way Jameson’s roll cage hadn’t held up was a concern.
Tommy, Willie, and Axel flew back to Mooresville to take care of business back home. I had a feeling they were about to deal with what should have been done months ago.
For the rest of us at the hospital, we waited. Our lives were on hold.
I would love to say that I was helpful to my family around me and supportive of the loss that we had endured but I can’t say that I was. My mind could only concentrate on my husband’s life being supported by machines. The other part that bothered me was that I wasn’t allowed to see him.
On Monday afternoon, they decided it was time that they could start to ease him off the medication but it was a slow process. By Tuesday, January 31st, he was finally breathing on his own but still heavily medicated. I listened to the doctors and never left his side.
Their response was, “We wait. The longer you’re out, the longer it takes to wake up. Once he does, we wait even longer to see the extent of the damage.”
In the meantime, we had to decide what to do about Jimi and the funeral. His wishes were to be cremated. After that, we weren’t sure when we would have a funeral as it didn’t feel right with Jameson not knowing. We all agreed to postpone the funeral until Jameson was well enough to attend.
It was something our family had faced before, but in the blink of an eye, a race that was supposed to be just for fun, turned deadly.
In the blink of an eye, we were staring into darkness. Could it be that your entire world was shattered in that instant? It sure felt like it to us.
I kept hoping and praying I would blink and he would wake up. Or when I would return in the morning, maybe it would have all been a dream. I thought that every time someone left, but it never changed. He remained sleeping. Healing, I hoped.
I don’t think I would ever understand death any more than I understood the addiction I had to coffee. As I waited, all I knew was that I would be here for him in any way I could, waiting.
By Friday afternoon, over a week of being out of it, they moved Jameson to a room on the third floor where he could finally have one visitor at a time.
And we waited.
And we waited longer.
At some point, it felt like we had been living in that hospital for months when we had only been there for sixteen days.
On Saturday, February 11th, our praying and wishing came true. Jameson showed signs of improvement.
I was in his room at the time, staring at him again when I noticed his hand twitch inside of mine. Up until this point, he would twitch every once in a while but nothing would happen. This time, his eyelids fluttered. They didn’t open, but they fluttered as a sign that my husband was in there somewhere.
What did I do?
I burst into tears. Classic emotional Mama Wizard move.
It was if I was wading through concrete. Everything was so heavy.
Voices shouted around me, ordering others around, or maybe it was me who was being ordered around. Hovering shapes moved about and were shining in my eyes. There were more stabbing pains as I fought for each breath that wouldn’t come.
I wasn’t sure where I was. The room felt cold, unbearably cold.
I was tired, I knew that much. Tired and cold, my eyes felt heavy, deep black was the only color I could see at times and then those lights faded, as did my memories.
The lights were bright, whooshing around me in waves or circles. Looping around, then they were black, fading with the memories of where I was.
I hurt. The worst possible pain I’d ever felt before. It radiated throughout me, took power over every emotion I had. There was a stabbing feeling, or maybe it was the noise. I wasn’t sure any more. There was loud ringing in my ears or my head. I wasn’t sure but I wanted it to stop. I wanted to move away from the sounds and pain, but I couldn’t. My arms and legs felt bound.
When I thought I couldn’t take the searing pains in my head and chest any longer, the light would fade and I wouldn’t see the darker images.
The wreck, I saw it over and over again only I couldn’t focus on what went wrong.
I saw my wife holding my kids when they were younger, the image burned into my brain hovering thickly over any of the thoughts anchoring me from fading completely. They begged me to stay with them.
I saw my dad, only I was younger, just a child sitting in his sprint car in the shop back in Elma.
It felt real.
I talked to him and he told me over and over again that he was proud, so proud. I knew he was proud, I did. Why was he repeating it so much?
And then he said, “I love you.”
It was odd, he never said it. He never had too. I knew. Then he told me, “Be a legend. Be the greatest this sport has ever seen because you are to me.”
What did that mean? Why was he talking to me?
Everything around me was hazy and white, and then the light would shift. The lights whirled past with images but I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think. No, thinking hurt. I wanted to break, as though being in pieces would be easier than feeling this as a whole. It hurt too fucking badly.
My lungs wouldn’t expand, the breaths felt forced.
When the light around me changed, I saw my mother beside me crying. I tried to comfort her, tell her I was fine. But I knew I wasn’t. Something was very wrong and I often wondered if I was dying. It felt like I was. I wasn’t in control of anything.
Sway was there at that moment, standing above me. Tears fell from her cheeks landing on me and then I felt like I was drowning in everyone’s tears, burning my skin like acid. I couldn’t breathe again and then I hurt more for trying.
I wanted to tell them I was fine but I wasn’t… and I couldn’t.
Like my body, my lips denied me any relief and when I tried to speak, nothing happened. No words. Nothing.
The light turned to the darker images of a crash again, metal against metal, burning, dirt was everywhere, a thick suffocating cloud. My skin burned and felt like it was melting from my bones.
It was so loud, disorienting and confusing sounds. It was a mangled hum of noise and nothing made sense. Somewhere is the distance a rhythmic beeping pinged clearly and loudly with a low whirl of electronics.
I couldn’t focus again before the images stopped and all I saw was black, cold and dark.
I wanted the pain to stop, I wanted to die. Surely, that would make it go away; this fire burning me alive inside.
Something held me there, the images again and a voice. The only voice I heard now after my dad.
Sway.
She was here with me somewhere. She whispered to me, “Please, come back.”
I tried. I wouldn’t die on her now. I would stay alive for her.
She was crying again then the black returned before I could tell her I was trying to return to her.
Time didn’t seem to exist any longer. It was just images and lights, loud beeping and ringing. Cold and burning agony took its turn.
At some point the darker images seemed to stay away. I didn’t see my dad anymore, I saw Sway.
She was there again, sitting beside me. I could hear her light breathing and whimpering.
I tried to move but it didn’t feel like anything happened.
Was I paralyzed?
That might explain the pain.
The light appeared once again, the fading seemed to lesson and I was able to focus.
The place wasn’t as bright as the white blinding lights I had been seeing, dimmer maybe.
Thinking hurt, breathing hurt, so I knew movement would. I tried to speak but I don’t know if the words came out. Maybe I was screaming but no one would respond and look at me. I heard them but they were talking amongst each other. “So we put the funeral off until he wakes up. That’s the only option.”
What funeral? I thought but couldn’t focus again.
Was I dead?
The dark returned but I don’t know for how long.
When the light returned it was the dimmer more pleasant light with Sway beside me. I liked this light. There was no ringing or screaming, just dim light and my Sway. I wanted to stay in that place.
She was holding my hand, I think. It appeared that way through the fog.
Responses came back to me in pieces.
The demand and the action to move were slow but working. I wanted to move my hand, show my wife I was there with her in this darkness.
She startled and squeezed. “Jameson?”
Oh, God, her voice. It was agony to hear the pain in it. I could stand the physical pain. I didn’t want her to be feeling this. No, I would rather die than have to see the hurt in her eyes.
I couldn’t move my hand so I tried my voice again. “S... w... a... y?”
The sound of my voice was strange and hurt. It was an excruciating pain that I felt in my head all the way to my toes. The fire in my throat burned as the light got brighter again and then dimmed when I told myself I wouldn’t let it control me any longer.
“Jameson,” she was sobbing now. “Please... baby, come back to me... please ...”
She was begging and I was trying.
I wanted to come back. I didn’t want to feel this pain any longer.
“... hon....” Goddamn it! I wanted to comfort her so fucking bad but the light returned again, the searing fire taking over. Stabbing... tearing... dragging from my eyes around the back of my head settling in my ears. I gave back into the pain. I couldn’t take it. It was too much.
Ringing, loud ringing. The images returned to haunt me, shaking my soul to the very core. I felt alone. I felt nothing. I felt pain.
Time passed again. I think. I kept hoping if I held out long enough, something, anything would relieve me of the pain. Nothing did.
The images appeared. This time there were people I didn’t know surrounding me and then the loud romp of a sprint car when you shut off the gas and it runs rich as the fuel runs out.
Romp, romp, romp.
I saw flashes and mirages of my career. Trophies handed to me, time spent at the track, my entire life. Sway was by my side again, holding me, weeping over me. Her tears burned when they would hit my face like acid again.
I thought that maybe I had died at that point. Would this be what it was like?
Soon the images faded and the sounds dimmed. I could focus once again on my wife, my soul standing beside me.
“S... sway ...?”
I felt her touch my arm, the sensation was pleasant and I wanted that feeling rather than the painful ache in my chest and throat. My vision was bleary, blurred lines never really becoming clear.
“Oh, Jameson, thank God,” she collapsed beside me, clinging against my side. I moaned, it hurt for her to touch me but I wanted the touch. Gritting against the pain, I let her.
“H-h-h-oney?” I wanted to ask if she was okay but I couldn’t get that many words together at once.
One was all I could manage before the light would return followed by the dark.
Eventually I kept my eyes open.
The room was dim again and Sway was beside me.
This time I was able to turn my head but was immediately knocked with a nauseated pulsing throughout my stomach followed by pain in my chest again.
I breathed through it, bearing down determined to focus on my wife.
She smiled. I wanted to return the gesture but I couldn’t. With the pain, focusing on her took everything I had.
“Clo... ser?” I asked hoping she understand I needed her next to me. She seemed to hesitate at my request and looked around the room. “Pl... e-e-e-ase?”
Words were easier this time. Though it was painful, being away from her was even more painful.
She climbed in beside me, gently lying down, though it wasn’t enough.
I wanted her closer but the pain radiating throughout me kept me from pulling her toward me. I settled on being able to feel the warmth of her. I was still so cold.
I counted her breaths to keep from letting the pain overtake me completely.