Displacement – A measure of an engine’s size. It’s the difference between the volume contained in the cylinders when the pistons are at the bottom of the stroke and the volume that remains when the pistons are at the top of the stroke.
I had one of those mornings where I didn’t want to move let alone wake up. But when I thought about the articles I wanted to read, I shot up with a renewed sense of motivation.
I found the daily newspaper. Smiling, I looked over the article a few times, my finger tracing over the title that read:
KID FROM THE WEST COAST OUTSMARTS THE BEASTS FROM THE EAST
Jameson Riley left home a few days after graduation to make the next race in the USAC Division. Having been competing since the season opener in March, he’d made all the races and managed to graduate high school. Don’t expect his dad to let him drive the team hauler to the races any longer but this kid proved he could battle all season with those fire-breathing beasts from the East.
We caught up with Jameson after the Silver Cup in Lernerville. When asked about his goals for this season he replied with, “Well, of course, we want that Triple Crown.”
Some USAC drivers spend their entire lives trying to win a championship in all three of the USAC divisions, only two other drivers have ever done it at this point, so what made the son of legendary World of Outlaw driver, Jimi Riley, think he had what it takes. “I’ve always had too much confidence,” Riley said after Summer Nationals in Williams Grove. “But I know what I want and well... I spend every chance I can in a race car preparing myself. I’m ready.”
And that he was. Jameson struggled in the early part of the season with engine troubles, and pushing a USAC official didn’t help his standings but he prevailed and won events like Oil City Cup, Knoxville Nationals, and still came back to pull off wins in the USAC midget, sprint and silver crown divisions. He’s a dirt track prodigy from the passive Northwest but his talent hasn’t gone unnoticed where the heart of open wheel racing resides. Bucky Miers, USAC owner and World of Outlaw driver, saw his talent back when he raced quarter midgets. “You know I was there when that kid first sat in a quarter-midget and I remember telling Jimi that kid of his would give him a run for his money someday.” Bucky said. “Now look at him. All I do is provide a car and that kid drives the wheels off it. There is nothing he can’t drive. I can give him a fifth place car and he’ll bring home a victory in it. That’s just Jameson.”
We asked Jameson what his plans were for the winter, you have to remember, he not only competed for the Triple Crown and won it by less than ten points over Justin West, he competed in numerous World of Outlaw events, and various winged-sprints and dirt late models, surely the kid needed a rest, right?
“Nah, I got Turkey Night planned and then it’s back to racing in February.” Riley told us in victory lane at Giant Speedway.
So what’s up for the new eighteen-year-old Triple Crown Champion?
“Another Triple Crown?”
Riley laughs. “I don’t know, maybe. West was tough competition.”
I read it again. I couldn’t stop. All that hard work led him to the title he so desperately wanted and I was there to witness it.
We got into town late last night; Jimi flew us home on a private jet because God knows all of us wanted to get home. I personally couldn’t wait to sleep in my own bed. Not that I minded sleeping next to Jameson every night because, let’s be real, I did. I missed my bed though. I had a good bed, comfortable. I was also excited not to be riding around in a car.
I planned my morning out, decided to go for a run as soon as I got up, the road trip did nothing for my ass.
Taking a fist full of it in the mirror, I admired my tan. I looked good, with a few extra pounds.
Charlie was finally up when I bound down the stairs. He smiled, I smiled and then I lunged for him wrapping my arms tightly around him. We had talked every few days or so but I hadn’t seen him since the morning I left in June; it was now a week before Thanksgiving.
“You’ve grown up!” he said with wide eyes.
“Is that your way of saying I got fat,” I questioned arching an eyebrow at him.
“No, Sway, it wasn’t,” he moved to sit down at the kitchen table pushing a plate of cookies toward me I was sure he didn’t make. “What’re your plans today?”
“Nothing much,” I sat down beside him toying with a cookie before taking a bite of one. I then thought about my run, spit the cookie out on the plate and said, “I will be going for a run today.”
Charlie chuckled. “You free for dinner tonight?” he picked up the paper, thumbing to the sports section to read the article about Jameson.
“I don’t have any plans per se, you?”
“Just thinking that maybe we could go to dinner together.”
I looked down at the paper in front, shocked to see the photograph they used. It was the one of me kissing him after the race. My brow furrowed as I examined it, scrutinizing it carefully for any sign he might have felt something. He was still inside the car and I was strained inside his wingless sprint, my chest pressed against the side. He had taken his helmet off, his hair was a mess, eyes closed and, to my surprise, he was leaning into the kiss, one gloved hand touching the side of my face. Hmmm.
“I see you had fun this summer,” Charlie remarked.
I slapped at his shoulder jolting him. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Have you thought about college?”
“Yes, dad,” I sighed standing. “I’m going for a run before I need to roll myself out the door.”
He grabbed my shirt before I got two steps away. “You’re plans then?”
“Oh, yeah, dinner... hmmm,” I evaded. “Sounds good,”
“Though I’m happy we’re going to dinner, I was referring to college.”
“Yes, dad, I start online classes after winter quarter.” My plan was for taking online courses because I thought for sure Emma or Alley would kill Jameson if left alone with him on the road. I seemed to be the only one who could tolerate his bullshit.
Charlie let me be after I promised I would be taking online classes so I continued on with my run. Jameson called asking where I was which then resulted in us going for a run together.
We ran in comfortable silence, both of us listening to our music, conversation wasn’t needed. After the five mile run, I thought for sure I was going to die and collapsed in the street. I moved when I thought I would actually die when a car came by and then stumbled into the grass where Jameson fell next to me.
“Holly shit, I’m out of shape,” he panted fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt.
He lifted his shirt to wipe sweat from his face. I watched the muscles in his honed physique as they flexed with each breath.
I was becoming morbidly obsessed with him.
I felt like every other pit lizard out there but I knew there was more to my love for him. I didn’t see him as this idolized figure, I saw him as the boy I grew up with who, over the span of our summer together, and I discovered that I loved him.
Jameson sighed when his breathing returned to normal and sat up wrapping his arms around his knees to stretch. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked looking back at me; still sprawled out in the grass.
“Charlie and I are going to dinner.”
“Oh, yeah,” he leaned back on his elbows beside me. “Let’s go have lunch then.”
“I could eat.”
And so we went to eat. That was how simple it was with us. No questions, no awkward moments, just two friends. Sure, I was feeling something for him that I associated with love but it wasn’t awkward like you’d think it would be. I think he got that from Nancy. I felt at ease around him.
My alarm clock blared loudly in my ear as my head was right next to it.
Sweet love of sleep, why did I ever purchase that thing?
I whacked my arm in the general direction I thought it would be; it fell to the floor, but continued making that obnoxious sound. I had to hang off the side of the bed to reach it but wasn’t successful so I yanked hard on the cord and ripped the motherfucker out of the wall.
That wasn’t enough for my little temper tantrum so I chucked it across the room and it shattered against the wall. My first thought was, holy shit, what a piece of shit was it that it shattered on impact, but judging by the dent in the drywall, I may have thrown it a little too hard.
I rolled over on my back throwing my arms over my eyes, willing myself to go back to sleep. Alley assured me that didn’t happen when she threatened to send Spencer in my room if I missed my flight.
After showering and getting dressed, I let her in my room. I knew she meant business by the way her glasses were pushed up on her narrow nose, her yellow notepad in hand.
“Your flight leaves at nine tomorrow from SeaTac. Justin, Tyler and Ryder will meet you at gate C. From there, you guys will pick up the rental car and head to the track,” Alley flipped her notepad over. “The track is located twenty-five minutes from Los Angeles in the San Gabriel Valley.”
I nodded and shoved a few t-shirts in my bag. “When do I come back?”
“Your flight leaves on Friday morning.”
I was attending the Turkey Night Grand Prix at Toyota Speedway, once again, in Irwindale, California.
So far, I’ve been there four years in a row and had yet to win it. I wanted that win. My dad has won the event eight times. All eight times he’s gone. I was both happy and depressed to see he wasn’t going. Mostly because if I was going to win it, I wanted to know I won against him. The best. Instead, he was in Australia racing sprint cars and wouldn’t be back until the Chili Bowl.
Turkey Night was an annual national race held on Thanksgiving Day. The first one was held in 1934 so it was a tradition. The only years they hadn’t held it at various tracks in southern California was during the war years. It was more than a tradition to racing though. Families and racers showed up and camped out. The fans cooked Thanksgiving Dinner and served it to the racers, mechanics and team members on these large picnic tables.
The greatest midget racers around the world attended this event each year so, to me, it was a chance to see how I stacked up against the competition. I knew I’d gotten better over the last year; that was evident when I watched highlights from this past summer. Now was a chance to test it out.
I wanted drivers like Justin West, Tyler Sprague, and Ryder Christiansen there. I wanted them there because, to me, they were the best USAC racers out there. If I won against them and the other midget racers, that meant something.
I also needed a break from my family and I didn’t feel an ounce of sadness when Emma and Spencer stayed home.
Spencer, who asked Alley to marry him during an argument, was now planning a wedding. Those two did not need to be married but who was I to judge? I know they told me the date of the wedding but I silently hoped I had other plans. Attending a wedding was not something I wanted to do. It didn’t appeal to me.
Glancing around my room to make sure I didn’t forget anything, I reached for my cell phone. There was a message from Sway telling me good luck. I asked her to come with me but she said she needed to spend some time with Charlie and with the race being on Thanksgiving, she didn’t want to leave him. I couldn’t blame her.
While I played puppet to sponsors this last season racing four nights a week, the rest of our team, Sway included, was as exhausted from the temper tantrums, mood swings, and whatever else I subjected the poor bastards to. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I heard the phrase: “You’re an asshole.”
So I welcomed traveling alone.
I was racing Bucky’s midget that Bowman Oil, Sound Logistics and my new sponsor Skinner Welding, was sponsoring for me.
Bucky lined up a crew. It was a good setup and all I needed to do was show up and drive.
I got to keep sixty percent of whatever I won. That seemed good to me but, then again, it was never about the money. I didn’t do any of this for the money; I did it for myself. I wanted to know I was the best and races like Turkey Night or The Chili Bowl confirmed that. Sadly, I wasn’t making it to the Chili Bowl this year. I’ve been numerous times with my dad but had yet to race it. That was my next goal.
Mom cried when I left because she wanted me there for Thanksgiving. She knew exactly why I was doing it though and ended up fixing Thanksgiving dinner earlier in the week for me.
The race was on Thanksgiving, so I left that Wednesday morning which put me in California that afternoon.
I met the guys where I was supposed to, an hour late. I was never timely while traveling through an airport. I was lucky security hadn’t detained me after I told a flight attendant that she could suck my dick because I wasn’t checking my bag.
I had a real problem with all their damn restrictions. I barely had anything in that bag and yet she wanted me to check it, I don’t think so. I don’t know if I scared her by telling her to suck my dick or if she was tempted but, regardless, she didn’t call security and left me alone for the remainder of the flight.
“It’s about fucking time!” Justin grumbled hoisting himself from the metals chairs they were sitting on. “What took you so long?”
I shrugged and gave them a blank expression. I didn’t think I was that late until they informed me I was an hour late. I blamed the flight attendant.
We went to dinner that night as none of us were old enough for a bar yet so that left us at an Applebee’s.
“I have to ask,” Tyler began smiling and I knew what he was going to ask. It was the same question everyone asked, “What’s with you and Sway?”
I dug the heel of my palms into my eyes and sighed heavily with my arms resting against the table. The rest of the guys chuckled. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
“Are you together or is it just like friends or something with benefits?”
“What?”
“Oh, well, I saw you two. I don’t remember when but you two were drunk and well I thought...” his voice trailed off when I groaned.
“It’s not like that with us, we haven’t... it’s not like that.”
“My God!” Tyler nearly shouted causing a few kids to turn and look toward us. “What is wrong with you, why haven’t you? She’s fucking hot!”
“Do you mind?” a woman’s voice demanded beside us. “There are children present.” Those fucking snot-nosed brats beside us were hardly kids and judging by the appearance of their parents, I highly doubted they were subjected to proper language.
We all nodded but you couldn’t expect a group of guys like us to behave, let alone keep our voices down or censor our language.
I glared sharply at Tyler. “If you want to keep your good looks you won’t ever say that again.”
Tyler laughed at my threat.
“But you want it to be?” Justin continued, still laughing at me.
Why they found this funny was lost on me.
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” I grumbled picking at my fries.
“Didn’t you fuck that Erin chick?” Tyler questioned taking a large bite of his hamburger.
The woman shushed us again. Ryder started laughing at my expression of pure disgust that her snot-nose kid sneezed on my goddamn arm.
I dumped my entire glass of water over my arm to wash off the rheum.
“Who in the fuck is Erin?” Once again, the woman shushed us so I turned around in my seat to face her. “Fuck you, sit somewhere else if this bothers you.” I turned toward Tyler. “Who’s Erin?”
“That chick from Banks,”
I racked my brain trying to remember who Erin was but, then again, I never knew any of their names. I didn’t care to. If I recalled correctly, Erin was the trophy girl the night my engine blew and we used the one out of that guy’s Mustang.
“Oh, yeah... I guess so,” I finally answered.
Justin let out another laugh and leaned back in his chair stretching his arms over his head. “You either did or didn’t,” his voice was muffled from his yawning. “It ain’t that complicated.”
“What is wrong with you guys?” I barked. “I’m not talking about this with you.”
I was never one to share personal details and I wasn’t about to start now. I didn’t do the whole kiss and tell thing, Spencer used to and I saw how many times that backfired on him throughout the years but, most of all, I was private about that sort of thing.
“Hey, we gotta get the dirt somewhere,” Tyler said. “None of us are gettin’ any and you seem to have the largest following. Must be the eyes.”
“Yeah, it’s the eyes,” Ryder commented in a voice I was sure would be considered gay.
This surprised me for a number of reasons, not that Ryder could make his voice sound that feminine but that they didn’t sleep around. I thought for sure Tyler and Ryder would be. I also knew I was the last person Ryder would talk about this with after I found out that he took my sister’s virginity this last summer.
Justin was head over heels for that Ami girl, so I didn’t feel I could connect with any of them.
“I’m sure you two have had your fair share,” I told them.
“Nah, I have a girl,” Ryder said in a normal manly voice again, well, normal for his pint-sized being. “And, no, it’s not your sister,” He added.
Tyler never answered but I saw him leave with a few at times so I knew damn well he wasn’t perfect.
Thankfully, the conversations changed to racing because I’d had enough questioning into my relationship with Sway. I couldn’t answer the questions because I myself had no idea what our relationship was.
Texts messages were something fairly new now and I got ones from Sway, mom, Emma, dad, Spencer, and even Tommy wishing me good luck the night of the race.
They all made me smile but Sway’s hit home when I read it.
S: Thinking of you right now. I have no doubt in my mind you’ll win tonight.
I felt an unfamiliar ache when she wrote the words “thinking of you.” I hoped like hell she was and then that scared me. I was all sorts of a mess during the drivers’ meeting but calmed down when I was around the boys.
The format for the race was a little different; they ran both midgets and sprints that night with a 98-lap midget main event.
I ended up qualifying sixth, Justin got fast time while Tyler got fourth and Ryder ended up tenth.
When the green flag dropped for the main, I was on a mission feinting my way to the lead.
Justin had pulled away to a good lead around lap thirty-five when I caught him. He seemed to be using up his tires because I passed him with ease. That wasn’t normal for him. Justin started strong and stayed strong. I should have known he wouldn’t stay back there for long and, with ten laps to go, him and Tyler were all over me.
I held my own but with one lap to go, Tyler, who came out of nowhere, passed us both like we were sitting still.
I can’t say I wasn’t pissed because I was. I wanted to win Turkey Night just as bad as the next guy but to have a guy like Tyler, who struggled each weekend to make it to these races for lack of sponsorship, win was fine with me.
I was proud of him. He deserved it.
I ended up second with Justin third. Ryder blew a tire halfway through and then pegged the wall so he finished near the rear somewhere.
Despite all this, we were all celebrating with Tyler that night and eating turkey dinner. We put our own envy aside and showed respect and goodwill for the seventeen-year-old kid from Birmingham, Alabama.
We all had a lot of respect for each other going back to our days racing quarter midgets. I think we all developed a real appreciation for our talents.
The hardest part about wanting to win so badly was that it would mean beating another guy, in this case a friend of mine, who deserved that same win just as bad. He got it that night.
I’ve said this before but a good showing at the Chili Bowl Midget Nationals or Turkey Night can make a huge difference in a racer’s career. It can mean leaving with sponsorship or looking for a seat over the winter.
Tyler left there with a full-time ride from Ron Walker, one of the biggest, most respected owners in USAC. So, even though I held some bitterness that I didn’t win Turkey Night, it was rewarding to see a guy like Tyler Sprague pull it off.