Back it In – Term used to describe a non-winged sprint cars’ entry into a corner. The car enters the turn in a slide with the rear of the car leading the front of the car.
Every morning that I woke in bed with my wife was a good morning. So many times, with the crazy schedule we had, I was waking up alone and I didn’t like it. Now that the kids were getting older, it was nice, on days like today, where there were just a few things on our schedule and we didn’t have to worry about anything today. Next week I had to leave for Daytona and Sway was needed in Elma at Grays Harbor Raceway track that we co-owned.
“You ready for this season?” Sway asked rolling onto my chest. Her light breathing evened out as I drew the sheets higher.
I kissed along her collarbone, my mouth lingering in all the places I loved to pay extra attention to. Like right behind her ear, or that spot where her hipbone met the softer less prominent subtle skin of her stomach. I loved every inch of my wife but did find pleasure in a few areas I knew could send her body into overdrive.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she spoke again when I didn’t answer and kept pace with my kisses. Eventually she sprawled against my chest again and listened to my breathing. My fingertips traced the outline of her ribs.
I shrugged with indifference and a lazy smile. Her fingertips brushed over my chest tattoo, the one that matched the scripture on her spine; I had gotten it over the winter. “I’m always ready for racing.”
As racers, we didn’t live our lives by the calendar year but by the racing season, which started in February and ended in late November. Our lives, as well as the lives around us, all lived the life created by the adrenaline and speed. I guarantee you, none of us would argue that. It was our way of life. The life we wanted.
“You leave on Tuesday, right?”
“Yeah,” I focused on her when she looked at me. Beautiful, understanding and loving green gazed back. “Tuesday I’m flying to Barberville and then I’ll be with the boys celebrating Van’s birthday on Wednesday. I should be back late Thursday sometime.”
Sway smiled when I changed positions. She looked up at me hovering over her again, “And then Mom’s birthday next week ...”
“And testing,”
“...then Speedweek,” Sway finished for me, her hands found my shoulders as her index finger ran over the scar from my shoulder surgery.
“And so it begins...” my breath blew across her face. A loose strand of her hair fell to the side.
Leaning forward, I kissed her lips wondering when she’d want to leave this racing on the edge lifestyle behind. Would she want this forever?
Knowing Sway, I knew the answer before I even asked.
“You ready?”
“I’m always ready for racing, winters feel strange.”
It was true. Come December, we were all itching to get to the tracks and back to the life we knew.
We made use of our time alone again before Sway slipped from the bed and into our bathroom for a quick shower. I stayed in bed for a few more minutes when the television caught my attention.
SPEED was doing a special on Tate and this being his last full time season. It was crazy to me that guys I had started racing with in the series eighteen years ago were now retiring.
This question was asked of me a lot now. Was I ready to retire?
No. Not even close. I was only forty-one. For me, I felt like I still had a lot of years left in this sport.
Sway caught me still in bed when she came out of the bathroom. She opened the door, steam rolling behind her, “Seriously dude! Get out of bed.”
“Sorry,” I always felt lazy when I was at home, like I should be doing more. If Sway was up running around, I felt even lazier. It seemed like the longer we lived this lifestyle, the more I felt like I didn’t do enough around the house for her.
“If you get up,” her voice raised slightly, “I’ll make you pancakes.”
“I’m up!” I said, jumping from bed and heading into the bathroom. No way was I passing up Sway’s pancakes.
Before I closed the door, I could hear Sway and Casten in the hallway. “Can I go to a party tonight?” he asked her.
“No. You’re grounded.”
“That’s hardly fair,” he argued, “Cole isn’t grounded. Why should I be? I mean, it was hardly my fault. I feel like I was involuntarily persuaded by my uncle and his poor decisions.”
He had a good point. I could almost hear my wife thinking the same thing.
“Fine, be back by midnight.”
We really needed to set better rules. Sway was the biggest pushover when it came to Casten and I had yet to tell Arie no to almost anything. At least it was a good thing that Axel was at least level headed. The other two were enough to handle.
Our bathroom was entirely too large but it was nice. Heated slate tile floors met warm gray walls and were surrounded by polished nickel accents and dark wood framed windows that overlooked the woods behind the house.
Not knowing where anything was, it took me awhile to find what I needed to take a shower. Having just moved in last week, I was still getting used to the shower and the way the jets came at me from every angle. A few felt a little invasive so I had to adjust those.
When I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist and water still dripping from me, I was not met with my wife in our room.
Instead, I found my sister with her head buried in my closet.
“Em,” I barked holding the towel with both hands so it wouldn’t fall, “What the fuck are you doing in here?”
She acted as though this was no big deal and dismissed me with a roll of her eyes.
“I’m organizing your closet for you,” she turned back around and began to rummage through my jeans and collection of hooded sweatshirts. “You’re getting too old to wear these,” she said to me as I stood there staring at her in disbelief.
“Am not,” I argued starting to feel uncomfortable with her being in my room. Not that I wasn’t already but the fact that she was now staring at me, had me uncomfortable. “I’m forty-one. I can still wear hooded sweatshirts if I want. Now get out!”
I made a slight mistake here but it turned out to be the best decision. I let go of the towel.
“OH MY GOD!” Emma screamed scrambling out of the room. I could hear her scream all the way down the stairs.
“Mission accomplished,” I said to myself and continued to get dressed. I purposely put on a hooded sweatshirt after that.
Making my way downstairs, it was evident my sister was still there to aggravate me a little more this morning. After all, this was her mission in life as far as I was concerned.
“You alphabetized my recipes again?” I heard Sway ask Emma.
“Yeah, so? I was working on your closet too, but your husband decided to flash me.”
“You should probably join the witness protection program for a while, Aunt Emma,” I heard Arie tell her, “When Dad finds out you organized his motor coach he’s gonna go apeshit.”
“Don’t tell him,” Emma said, “it’s not like he has to know. I’ll just say that Sway did it.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sway laughed when she saw me standing in the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest, listening to them at the kitchen island, “I usually organize his motor coach.”
Sway didn’t organize anything. She could cook a mean fried spaghetti dinner but when it came to organization, nope, not a clue. That was what Emma was for as far as Sway was concerned. Usually she knew to stay out of my motor coach. Apparently, this year it’d slipped her mind.
“Don’t tell—”
I cleared my throat. “Don’t tell me what?”
Arie and Emma looked at each other. Sway continued to laugh, her hand clamped over her mouth trying to suppress her giggles.
“He’s been standing there the whole time, hasn’t he?” Emma asked Sway.
My wife couldn’t take it and burst into laughter nodding her head. Shit like this made her day.
Emma looked behind her. “Jameson,” —I knew she was going to change subject— “next time you dump bleach on my lawn, remember to put the bottle away.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
We went about our morning, arguing, laughing and trying to decide on what we were doing for mom’s birthday. None of us agreed on anything and, in turn, we left it up to Emma since she’d get her way anyway.
Before heading to the shop for the morning, Sway asked that I find a few boxes she thought she forgot at the other house. We recently sold it to another driver in the Nationwide Series. He seemed like a nice kid and recently started a family so I knew the house would be perfect for him.
Sway didn’t like moving and actually was against it, but we needed more room. The house on Lake Norman was only around ten acres and with three kids and their cousins, we needed more land and less nosy neighbors.
I gathered the boxes that were left, loaded them into my truck and then took a walk out to the dock where we used to spend a lot of time. Sometimes, like now, when Sway had some mixed emotions about moving, I wondered if it was the right thing to do. Our kids grew up here. We spent nearly every Monday night on this very dock watching them grow, swimming, barbeques, throwing them by their legs into the water. Sway told me she was pregnant with Casten on this dock. I shot my brother in the ass with a potato gun from this dock. Arie broke her arm when she was ten on this dock.
Taking a deep breath, I turned and walked up the dock looking over the markings that made this place a home for us for so long. Burn marks from where the boys tried to water ski through a fire strip. Chipped wood from where I tried to carve our names and ended up slicing my hand.
It’s like changes made to your car during the race, what once worked earlier in the race doesn’t always work halfway through. We’d outgrown this place and there was nothing wrong with that.
I took off to the shop and found my sister’s twin boys, Noah and Charlie, cleaning. After they drove our parts van into Lake Norman, they owed me some free labor so I had them cleaning engine parts, toilets and anything else I thought was a shit job. Emma and Aiden’s twins were assholes and had been since the day they were born. Every set of twins I’d ever known were jerks. Even Sway’s half-brothers were assholes. Even though they were grown up now, they were still a pain in my ass at times.
“Hey, Jameson, are you in here?” Grady called out pushing open the door to the shop and carrying two coffees in his hand. I knew I liked him right then.
“Yeah, I’m in here.”
His dark eyes met mine and he smiled as he drew closer. Grady Andrews was a hungry twenty-one-year-old racer out of Kannapolis looking for a start. He’d grown up around the short tracks of North Carolina and came to me a couple months back looking for a job during the week.
With the way the sprint tour was heating up, we needed all the help we could get with JAR Racing so I offered him a job in fabrication. Usually I never hired anyone without personally knowing them for years or from a family recommendation, but I took a chance on Grady.
“I need you to get those two cars ready go this morning,” with a nod over my shoulder, I gestured to the two bodies next to the bay doors. Both cars were stripped down to bars.
“All right,” Grady nodded looking over the cars for a moment. “Anything else?”
Usually my interactions with the guys around the shop were kept professional. That was unless it was with Tommy and Willie, two people who were not by any means professional. I didn’t know Grady all that well so I kept it professional.
“I think that’ll do it for today. I need them ready before you leave.”
“Will do,” he replied quickly and that was the last I saw of him. He went to work and never asked questions. Something I appreciated these days.
I didn’t spend much time at the shop that morning. I mainly went there to make sure the boys had everything loaded and ready for the start of the season along with the engines for sprint car team and Cup teams.
When my dad arrived, I left. Since he had retired, we couldn’t be around each other for too long before an argument broke out.
He did ask about Grady, which I thought was strange. “Who’s the kid?”
“He’s a racer who needed a job. That’s all.”
Jimi watched him through the large windows that overlooked the twenty-four-thousand-square-foot shop, “How well do you know him?”
Everyone was leery of me hiring Grady for the simple reason that our business, whether it was JAR Racing or Riley-Simplex Racing, was family only with the exception of close friends and people we knew. Dad and the rest of our family weren’t sold on Grady after the mess we had when we caught Kerry stealing money from us last fall.
“I don’t know him but I’m giving him a shot. That’s all he’s looking for.”
Dad grumbled something else and I had to leave. We didn’t need an argument today.
WHEN I ARRIVED home, I found Sway in the kitchen making dinner with Rosa, our housekeeper, if you could even call her that. She was a forty-something woman who loved to piss me off.
Sound familiar?
Yeah, pretty much like everyone else in my family, so she was perfect.
Rosa wasn’t Mexican and didn’t speak Spanish but she liked to make people think she could. She was always rambling off something she said was Spanish but I knew a little Spanish and she wasn’t speaking that language. She was speaking bullshit. And it’s not like her Caucasian appearance didn’t give her away but she still acted like she was Mexican. The thing with Rosa was that she did absolutely nothing around our house but I still found myself writing her checks each week. Who in the hell knew why? It mostly had to do with the fact that everyone in our family loved her, aside from me, of course.
Sway barely noticed me as the television in the family room off the kitchen held most of her attention. I found my attention diverted as well when I saw the segment on the race in Barberville.
She turned up the volume when they interviewed our wide-eyed son.
“Axel Riley, you’re the kid who has taken a legend’s place this year. Are you ready?”
“To race here, in his car, is unbelievable to me,” Axel smiled my same smile and the one I knew very well. He was excited, “I just hope I don’t let him down.”
“Does Jimi help you?” the reporter pushed the microphone back in his face.
“He helps a ton. I couldn’t do it without him, my dad and Tommy, all of them.”
“As a rookie, what are your goals for this year?”
Axel shifted his weight, his hands fumbling with the visor of his helmet. He looked down from the view of the camera. “My goal this year would be to win races and hopefully battle for the championship if we’re close at the end. I’d like to win Kings Royal and Knoxville Nationals. My dad and grandpa always won those two big races. I’d like that. I’d like a few at Lernerville, too. I struggled there and to win there would be huge for me.”
“What’s it like driving for Jimi?”
Axel smiled softly reminding me a little of Sway when she was nervous.
“A lot of people think I’m in this position because he’s my grandpa, which it might have a part in it. But if I didn’t perform, then I wouldn’t be in this position. It’s as simple as that. With Jimi being the owner, he’s easier on me than my dad, but also, if he’s having a bad day, I’m going to hear about it.”
Man, did I understand that. Everyone heard about it when Jimi had a bad day but, then again, I wasn’t any different.
Though Axel had given this reporter the time he requested, Axel was losing interest quickly like any other driver. The biggest challenge, that most of the media and fans don’t understand, is the intensity that drivers have when they suit up for a race. When things don’t go right, whether it be mechanical failures, wrecks, or anything else that can go wrong out there. It happens. What the average person doesn’t realize is that these guys, me included, are doing something that we are all focused on … very focused on. If not, we have no business being out there. It’s not just a game. It’s a race and the moment your concentration slips is the moment you find yourself tied to the back of the wrecker or in the hospital.
If someone said to me, “Your son doesn’t smile a lot. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted. Why not smile?”
They didn’t understand the focus he had to have and it made it hard when all that intensity and focus consumed your thoughts to smile or sign autographs.
The broadcasting station went on to talk about the upcoming season and most of the segment seemed to be a repeat of what was on this morning other than that interview with Axel.
“Do you think he’s ready?” Sway asked continuing to watch the television and throwing pineapple on a pizza I assumed she was making judging by all the dough, sauce, and cheese.
Rosa smiled as though Sway was speaking to her and not me, “He’s ready novio.”
There she went with speaking Spanish again.
“How do you know Rosa? You just met him last week?”
Rosa eyed me while grating cheese and then gave me a dismissive shrug. She did that to me all the time.
Sway giggled at Rosa and then stopped abruptly when I glared. Sometimes I think she forced me to keep Rosa around just to piss me off.
Looking back at the screen, Axel was whipping around Volusia Speedway Park with Tommy and Willie tracking his lap times. Willie Hamlin was our new engineer for JAR Racing and Tyler Sprague’s crew chief. We stole him from another Outlaw driver, Miles Leddy, also from Leddy Motorsports who was our competition in NASCAR, as well. There was always team shuffling going on so when you stole a team member you better be sure you treat ‘em good. They had it good with us.
Between Willie’s drinking problem, immaturity and the ability to start a pit fight at any given moment, he fit in well with all of us and was a great addition to JAR Racing.
“Yes and no,” I looked down at the pizza again and noticed there seemed to be four of them. “Why are you cooking so much?”
Sway smiled and I knew I was in trouble. Rosa laughed holding her side as though this was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“I don’t like my family,” I gave Rosa a bitter smile, “stop inviting them over for dinner.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” she tapped the tip of my nose with a slice of pepperoni when I leaned against the counter, “they’ll be here in about an hour.”
I tried, I really did, but the thought of the oil from the pepperoni on my nose freaked me out and I had to take a shower.
Knowing my phobia, Sway laughed as I headed up the stairs, “Don’t be long.”
I had to take time off that first week in Barberville from preparing for the season to meet up in Knoxville with my grandpa to sign contracts for his team and then the sponsors.
Reading the contracts for the upcoming Outlaw season was probably the coolest thing I’d done besides being the youngest driver to ever win Chili Bowl Midget Nationals. That was pretty awesome if you asked me.
The best part for me was taking over for the king. Forty-five seasons he’d raced in the series and now, this eighteen-year-old kid was taking over.
Throughout his forty-five seasons, he had raced in over three thousand races, brought home well over thirteen hundred wins and twenty-seven championships. He had won more races than any other driver in the series and also won the most championships. It was a huge seat to fill but I knew I could, at least I thought I could.
“What’s this one for?” I held up a yellow sheet of paper my grandpa pushed in front of me. He sighed, squinting his eyes before he had to put his glasses on.
“I don’t understand. Do they just keep making the print on these goddamn things smaller?” he read silently for a moment before pushing the paper back at me over the wooden table. “It’s the liability form. It basically says that if you wad one up in the wall, you ain’t gonna sue me for damage to your brain.”
Even though I was driving for him now, he was still the owner of the team and I worked for him.
“Oh.”
“Hey,” Grandpa shrugged with a twist of his head, “it can happen, kid.”
He was right. It happened. Safety had come a long way recently with most dirt tracks having SAFER barriers just like the NASCAR tracks. Quick release helmets, advanced fire suits, and new chassis that were meant to take force the same as the wall. These were all safety improvements, but things still weren’t foolproof.
Look at what happened to Ryder this last fall. Sometimes it happened. Your head could only take so much force before it gave out just like anything else.
Life went on as it always did after Ryder and the souls lost in that plane crash but I could tell that it took a toll on everyone in our family, my dad especially. He had known Ryder since they were kids. His passing wasn’t easy for him.
Personally, I think it had a lot to do with grandpa’s decision to hang it up.
We signed my life away that day with grandpa’s sponsors, CST Engines and Edan Manufacturing. Over the winter, grandpa had decided to retire and spend some time with grandma before his old ass couldn’t. Those were Lane’s words, not mine.
I had too much respect for the legend to say something like that.
My cousins and brother said that shit all the time. Not me, he deserved more. Out of everyone who has stood by and helped me along the way, Tommy, Justin, Ryder, Cody... my dad and Grandpa were the ones who had the biggest impact.
I guess that was to be expected, right?
They were my family after all. But it wasn’t always like that. My buddy Shane didn’t respect his dad one bit but his dad also never gave two shits whether he won or wrecked, just as long as he was out of his hair.
My family wasn’t like that. Either my mom or my dad was at every race I had ever raced in and, more times than not, my grandpa or grandma was there, too. Family was important to us and with me racing in his car, it was important to my grandpa.
After signing everything, the president of Edan Manufacturing took grandpa and me out to dinner in downtown Knoxville. Then we walked through the Sprint Car Hall of Fame where both my grandpa and my dad were inducted. Talk about pressure.
“I can’t believe you’re driving my car this year, kid,” Grandpa said conversationally as we pulled onto the freeway heading back to Mooresville after the walk through, “it’s hard to believe two dumbass idiots created such a good kid like you.”
“Why does everyone say my parents were dumb? They seem normal to me.”
“Normal,” he snorted throwing his head back with deep laughter, “there is nothing normal about those two. I’m utterly amazed they made it to see twenty-one or managed to raise three kids without too much disaster. Aside from the time you three set the race shop on fire.”
“When did they fall in love?” I ignored the fire comment, wanting to forget my little brother’s moronic idea that day and focused on the love story between my parents. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen and I’ve seen it all around me. My grandparents have a good marriage and my aunts and uncles always seemed happy. That wasn’t to say I didn’t see tension at times. This lifestyle created tension and a lot of drama.
My parents, they were different. Something about them stood out. It was as if their love formed at first sight and grew with time into a full-fledged fire. A fire that burned brighter than the day they promised a vow.
I wanted that eventually.
More and more I was becoming curious about marriage. I just turned eighteen last month and, to me, it seemed like the right thing to do. More than anything, I wanted to make Lily West my wife. Some thought I was too young when your average age that most got married nowadays was thirty. I was never a “most my age” type of kid.
“I figured you would have heard this before,” he said.
I gave a dismissive shrug, “I’ve heard some, I guess. I know they met really young and got pregnant with me before they were married.”
“Well... it’s a love story... that’s for sure.”
I smiled and he continued.
“They met when they were eleven, nearly twelve. Your dad was racing sprint cars at Grays Harbor, the same place I met your grandma in 1977. You know, I think Jameson even won that night, first time in a sprint car and he won,” Grandpa, let out a wistful snort, “anyhow, your mom and he met in the pits that night after the race. They seemed to mix instantly and become best friends. Believe me, there wasn’t a day that went by that those two weren’t either together or calling each other.
“Jameson wasn’t the easiest kid to be around. Racing was literally all he cared ‘bout. He was convinced by the time he was in the second grade that he was above the education system and actually wrote the school board a letter telling them he would no longer be attending class. In the end, the little shit returned to school but it was a nuisance to him and, aside from Sway, friends were not in his plan. Even when they were young, he depended on her and I honestly don’t know if he could’ve made it without her. His temper nearly ended his career a few times.”
I knew that. My dad had one wicked temper. If it blew, you didn’t want to be anywhere close to him or the objects he was throwing. I’d never seen anything like it but I understood it as it was a known trait that defined him and eventually became a trademark.
“Your grandpa Charlie and me knew that eventually they’d end up together but it took Jameson a long time to realize that he could have more than just racing. He also never understood she felt the same way. He thought for sure she was just a friend to him.”
“What made him see she wasn’t?”
“Well, after high school, Jameson left to race the USAC and, more importantly, win a Triple Crown title. It’s all he talked about for years but I made him graduate first. After they left, the first year Sway was with him. Then she left for college. His first season, without her by his side, was tough. Like I said, he depended on her, soon that dependability turned on him. When Sway finally graduated, she came out to see his first Charlotte race... ” Grandpa smirked, his voiced faded slightly. “I think you can guess how things went, after all, you were conceived out of wedlock,” I let out a small chuckle as he continued, “but what really changed during that first year was him breaking her heart. Neither one of them realized what they were doing to each other until it was too late.” He sighed looking over at me. I glanced at him but focused on the road in front of me while he talked, “he was an idiot in the beginning and went about it the wrong way. I think, at that point, when he broke her heart, it broke him worse than her. He knew he was in love,” he smiled.
“Mom broke my dad’s heart?”
“He’d never admit it, but he fell hard for her and when she left, it shattered him, and his hauler.”
“So what happened then? Did it take a while for them to get back together?”
“If there’s one good thing I can say about your dad’s stupidity at times, he’s determined and dangerously so. It took only a few days and he was crawling back on his knees.” His eyes seemed misty. “You know kid, a love like that only comes around every once in a while. They were lucky to find it at such a young age and keep it.”
“Do you think it’s too hard to keep it?”
I was thankful for the night masking my apprehensiveness. I never talked about my relationship with Lily other than with my parents, and mostly with my mom.
Grandpa nodded. “I think you’ll find it. That Lily is a nice girl, Axel. If you treat her the way she deserves to be treated, you’ll do fine.”
I knew that already. This was something both my parents instilled in me when I expressed my intentions of marrying Lily when I was eight. She’s always been the one for me. Not many people understand me. They thought there something wrong with the way I only ever thought about racing. But both my dad and my grandpa were like that. I didn’t see anything wrong with thinking that way and Lily understood that. Her dad was the same way.
“I honestly believe that your parents wouldn’t have survived without each other,” Grandpa added. “As weird as that sounds, the bond they have is even weirder to describe. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
“Not even with you and grandma?”
“No. I mean, I do love your grandmother with all my heart and have for forty-five years. She’s been the only woman I’ve ever loved. If something was to happen to me, grandma is strong enough she’ll go on, as would I. We both know eventually your time runs out,” his brow furrowed in concentration as he looked out over the passing street lamps in the distance. “But Sway and Jameson are different,” his eyes shifted to me. Feeling him looking at me, I looked over at him, “did you ever hear about Darrin Torres?”
“A little, he and dad got into it a lot his first season in Cup and he hurt mom when she was pregnant with me, right?”
“Yeah, something like that. Well, he hurt your mom and, at first, we weren’t sure if she’d make it... or you. Seeing Jameson broken like that is something I never could have imagined seeing in that little boy... if it hadn’t been for Sway, he would have walked away from racing altogether. And now look at him, well on his way to becoming a legend in a sport that never wanted an open wheel kid from Elma.”
“So you think if she would have died then, he would have, too?”
“In a sense... yes. Without her, there’s no Jameson. As I said, the bond is strange but vital. I don’t mean that it’s perilously unstable. I mean, it’s just that strong.”
I thought I understood but to say I truly understood that bond, I didn’t. No one could.
“Have you ever seen twins and the way they react to each other?”
“Yeah, you mean like Lucas and Logan or Noah and Charlie?”
“No, both bad examples,” he said immediately shaking his head disgusted. “Both sets are fucking assholes. I mean normal twins. The ones who have a connection to one another”
“Well, aren’t they supposed to have some kind of ESP?”
“Yes, exactly,” he nodded. “They share a brain. Your parents share a brain.”
“That’s weird, right?”
“You know, I’ve thought that for years,” he mused with a chuckle. “Grandma thinks I’m batshit crazy most of the time but when I say your parents are strange, I mean it.”
I’ve always noticed the unusual bond between them but I never thought it was strange. I liked it. Whenever my dad came home from a race, the smile on his face when he would see her always made me smile. To be that in love was what I wanted, and by chance I had found it with Lily.
I think grandpa must have thought more needed to be said when he shifted his weight leaning on the center console with his elbow. His fingers flipped the lid to his water from one finger to the next rolling it with ease. “Let me put it to you this way, kid. You know how when you slide into a corner and the back end seems to be coming around on you but that’s how you slide through and gain momentum, right?”
“Yeah,” I must have given him the, “What the hell?” look when he smiled.
“What gets you through that slide and out of that drift?”
“Throttle control.”
“There you go. The right girl, that’s like having the right amount of throttle control, once you figure out throttle control in any car, you can go faster than any other driver out there back n’ it in.”
Now that made perfect sense to me.