Bladder – Located inside the tail tank, the bladder holds fuel and keeps the fuel from spilling and catching fire in case of a rear impact.
In late August after the Bristol race, I was heading out to Knoxville for the World of Outlaws Nationals.
The Busch series had a by-week the following week so schedules lined up and I jumped on the chance to get back behind the wheel of a sprint car.
After I signed with Simplex, I got the same standard question from everyone when I showed up at the local bullring dirt tracks: “What are you doing?”
What did they expect me to do?
It wasn’t like I would settle for bowling in my spare time. I started racing because that was what I loved to do. Just because I’d been signed with a team and they were paying me to do what I loved, didn’t mean I lost that desire to race at the bullrings.
When I asked Sway one afternoon if I should stop, she again offered her timeless advice.
“The people asking you to quit don’t understand why you’re doing it in the first place. It’s what you do, it’s all you’ve ever known. So you now have a job doing it. That doesn’t mean you give up what relaxes you.”
Everyone thought because I was now being paid to race that I had it easy but that wasn’t the truth at all. I had stress, lots of it. I had sponsors breathing down my neck, my dad watching my every move, women hounding me and, to top it off, I was falling for my best friend. So when I’m stressed, I act like any other twenty-two-year-old, I do what relaxes me: racing.
Even though I was battling it out in the Busch series and I’d just signed with Simplex for next year in the Cup series as well, I still showed up at those bullring tracks when I could, for one simple reason, okay, well two, I loved to race and get more seat time. I brought my helmet wherever I went. You race your best when you’re prepared and ready.
I was.
Being back around sprint cars was exactly what I needed. Tyler, Ryder, and Justin were out there. It was the first time I’d seen Ryder racing since his accident. You could tell he still had some setbacks and walked with a limp but he did good.
We hugged when I saw him.
“Look at you big man!” Ryder said, with a bright smile sweeping his golden brown hair from his eyes. “NASCAR driver now, huh?”
“Yeah, so they say.”
“They say? I saw you’ve won a few races.”
“It’s just luck,” I shrugged. “How are you feeling these days?”
“Oh, you know... good. I walk with a limp but other than that, back to normal.”
Justin pushed against him as we walked toward the pit bleachers for the drivers’ meeting. “It’s good to see you back out here, kid.”
“Who you talking to?” Ryder asked looking between Justin and me.
“Both of you actually,” he said as we filed into the bleachers together. I noticed my dad walking toward us now with Bucky and Shey. “I’m lonely out here these days.”
“Hey!” Tyler punched his shoulder.
“I’m just sayin’... we all used to race together. This kid goes and gets hurt and this one...” he gestured to me with a nod. “Goes and gets himself a NASCAR gig.” Justin threw his arm around Tyler. “It’s just you and me Ty.”
Jimi walked up right about then as we were all laughing.
“Hey, Jameson, some girl is looking for you,” he waggled his eyebrows.
“Who?” I glanced down at my cell phone that vibrated. Sway sent me a text.
S: Good luck tonight.
“Uh... I think she said her name was Nikki or Natalie... or something like that. I don’t know,” he sat down next to Ryder. “How ya’ feeling?”
“Pretty good,” Ryder nodded. “These assholes like to make fun of my limp but, yeah... I’m feeling good.”
“I walk with a limp, too.” Dad replied.
“That’s cause you’re old,” I added sending a text to Sway.
J: I need the luck. Thanks.
It felt good racing sprints again and I was pleased to see I was able to pull off another win. It was nice to know I hadn’t lost the ability to race open wheel but it was a gratifying feeling knowing I could battle it out in the Busch series each week and then jump back into open wheel and compete.
I ended up dodging whoever that Nikki or Natalie pit lizard was and, for good measure, I left as soon as the hauler was loaded so I didn’t have a chance at meeting up with her. This was happening way too often.
After what transpired with the nurse in Las Vegas, I swore off women.
I was being paid to race, not fuck around.
I saw the way other drivers were looking at me and I didn’t want to be that guy. So I focused on what I did best, racing. If I wanted to run with those Cup guys next year and compete for a title, I’d need to up my game. No more of this getting a feel for things and, if I won, even better. This needed be something where I let Simplex, my dad, and my uncle, know that I was the right driver for this team.
We spoke habitually about the plans for next season. It was decided around May that we would move to the Winston Cup Series and add another car to the team.
In August, dad and Randy approached Bobby Cole as his contract with Durham Motorsports was ending. Having Bobby as a teammate was exactly what I needed. He was a patient, methodical driver and, let’s face it, I wasn’t. It would be good for someone like me to learn from Bobby.
Every time I opened the paper, Jameson was in it these days. It made me feel closer in a way, seeing him everywhere but it also held a sense of yearning, I missed him.
I opened my laptop, searching the latest articles on him. The article on him in PEOPLE magazine was posted so I clicked on the link waiting for the article to load.
I smiled to myself like a goon when I saw the picture they used. Jameson was in the most form-fitting, tailored, black suit I had ever seen as it clung to his hard body. He was standing tall, against the side of his Busch car, with his arms crossed. On the other side of him was one of his sprint cars.
Though his appearance looked a little different, his eyes were the same.
There was a fire behind him that I adored. I played with the ends of my hair as I read the short biography under the picture.
MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR
JAMESON ANTHONY RILEY
AGE: 22 BIRTHDAY: JUNE 22, 1980
HOMETOWN: ELMA, WASHINGTON
CURRENT RESIDENCE: MOORESVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA
Jameson Riley comes from the inert Northwest where you wouldn’t expect dirt track racing. But it was there this brooding prodigy made his mark. Now he’s tearing it up in the NASCAR Busch Grand National Series and breaking hearts along the way. His World of Outlaw Champion father, Jimi Riley, and mother Nancy, have raised two boys and a daughter but Jameson seems to be the only one making his name in the racing community. As an aggressive, up-and-coming driver, the youngest Riley brother has already been said to be the new James Dean with piercing green eyes that can mesmerize any pit lizard.
“You know, most guys will tell you they like a girl who has a certain amount of confidence. For me, I like both. I love a confident girl who will come up and talk to me but I also find the shy ones enduring and adorable at times,” Riley told PEOPLE.
While Riley isn’t planning on settling down in the near future, with a thirty-six week schedule, he hardly has time but he doesn’t kiss and tell as he puts it. “I can be a gentleman when needed and I don’t talk about things like that. I’m private.”
Most women from 15-35 know who Jameson Riley is these days and would quite literally kill for a chance to run away with the hothead, preferably inside his car. Jameson laughed with a slight flush to his cheeks. Looks like this one might be shy too ladies.
Shy?
I don’t think so. They clearly don’t know him well.
Since I couldn’t sleep, I spent my time on the internet reading about his races.
Raise your hand if you are a pit lizard stalker.
Despite talking to myself, I did raise my hand in the middle of the library.
Sitting back against the large leather chairs in the library at the school, I once again read the article I pulled up on the internet about his last race in Knoxville.
“Why are you smiling like a fool?”
I swear I jumped out of my skin hearing her voice. “What are you doing here?” I scrambled to close my laptop.
“Came to see you,” Emma remarked handing me an iced mocha. She held another securely to her lips as though she was drinking crack. “They don’t have these on the East Coast.”
“Is Jameson with you?”
She laughed and sunk down in the chair next to me kicking her tiny bird legs up on the table. “No, he’s racing in Darlington tonight.” Her brow furrowed at me. “I would think you would know that though.”
“I do, I do. I just thought ... I don’t know.” I wasn’t even making sense to myself right now.
“You thought he’d come see you?”
“Hoped, I guess.”
“He wants too... believe me when I say, he wants to.” She reached over and gave me shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what it means. He’s a moody asshole when you’re gone and he’s constantly staring at his schedule trying to find openings,” she said, lamely. “You don’t know how often he asks Alley if he has any free time.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now let’s go to Bellevue.”
“I have class in an hour. I can’t.”
“Oh, please.” She stood straightening out her summer dress and reaching for her lotion in her suitcase of a bag she carried around. “I’m only here for two days, let’s go do something.”
Emma shot me a sidelong glance before lathering her legs with lotion.
“Just because you come to town doesn’t mean I can blow off class for you.”
“Oh, yes it does, hooker,” she finished polishing herself. “Now, let’s go.”
Emma was about as good at persuasion as Jameson so in the end, I went shopping.
Emma talked endlessly about Aiden, Jameson’s spotter, who I had yet to meet. She had never talked about another guy since high school so it didn’t bother me that much.
Aiden, who was from Alabama, sounded like he was nice.
Those two days with Emma were incredibly strenuous and I was thankful when she left. Emma was only tolerable in small doses and two days was plenty.
Also, she redecorated my dorm. I spent a good week trying to find my underwear.
After my Economical Projections class and Emma’s departure that night, I called Jameson.
It was nice to hear his voice and a relief. He was stressed about racing and I was stressed with school. We both needed to laugh. I could always count on him for that.
He spoke briefly about his engine specialist, Harry, and how he had spent most of the afternoon in the hauler for not paying attention to his temps in practice. Harry sounded like a nice guy but the way Jameson described him made it even funnier.
Jameson sighed. “I’m jealous Emma got to see you and I didn’t.”
“I would have preferred to see you over Em.”
He laughed and I could hear the faint rumbling of engines in the background followed by Spencer’s booming voice.
“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” I asked Jameson as I took a bite of my left over pizza.
“Who knows? I have to look at my schedule but I think that entire week I’m in Los Angeles filming a commercial and then I fly to Tulsa the following week.”
“It sounds like you’ll be all alone.”
“I could come see you maybe,” he suggested.
“I’d like that... but I’ll be here in school.”
“I could. Only for a day and leave for Tulsa.”
“No, that’d be worse,” I said, pretty much dejected. “If you stay for one day, then I’ll be sad when you leave.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Well, no, but everyone will recognize you.” I was going for anything I could think of at that point.
“So?”
“Do you realize how crazed some of these people are? They love you. You’re like their hometown hero or something.”
Other students were constantly asking me if I knew Jameson once they found out I was from Elma.
“What is your point?”
“I just, everyone talks about you here and if you come up here, we won’t get to spend any time together. Even if you are here for one day... things have changed Jameson. You’re a star; you can’t go anywhere you like anymore. Besides, my class on Retail Merchandising starts that week and I need to get together with Blake to go over our assignments.”
Jameson stopped tapping his pen he’d been hitting against the table I assumed, whatever it was that he was obsessively clicking, he stopped.
“Blake? Who’s Blake?”
“You know, Blake,” I stammered. “I’ve told you about him.”
I frantically raked my brain to remember if I’d told him who Blake was, not that he was important.
“Um, no... I know each man’s name that has come out of your mouth and not once have I heard Blake.”
“Oh, well, Blake is just... a friend,” I shrunk back into my bed not knowing what else to say. “We have a few classes together.”
“A friend? I don’t think so. What the hell does that mean?” Jameson demanded.
“A friend, not like you but he’s just a guy here that I’ve had a few classes with.”
“So, he’s your sex buddy?”
“What?”
“How long?” Jameson growled.
“Are you for real?” I asked. “Why does it even matter? What were we originally talking about?”
“I don’t remember. You distracted me. I’m more concerned with this Blake guy. How long have you been fucking him?”
“Jesus Christ, Jameson, what the hell? I haven’t slept with him, not that it’s any of your business anyway. You don’t see me questioning who your pit lizards are these days.”
“That’s hardly relevant.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem?”
“I don’t like this guy. Does Charlie know about him?”
“No,” I sighed.
I knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t jealous, but he and Spencer, hell, even Tommy, felt the need to dictate who I hung around with. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jameson pulled background checks on everyone I went to school with.
It was actually cute and funny to see him this way.
“You’re being irrational.”
“No, I’m not,” he defended. “And now, I’m definitely coming to Bellingham to meet this Blake guy.”
“You stay away from Bellingham, Jameson!” I snapped. “You have to go race.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m buying a ticket,” Jameson said with a hint of finality.
“No, you’re not.”
“I need to meet this boy of yours.”
“He’s not my boy!” I stressed. This was getting out of hand.
“Whatever,” Jameson huffed like a child.
“You’re being irrational.”
“I’m mad.”
Jameson was being petty and angry with me for the rest of the phone call, groaning about how I kept things from him and how could he trust me.
I could only roll my eyes at him. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.
By the time we ended the phone call, he was in a better mood but was threatening to kill Blake.
I finally came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up in Bellingham but it was comforting to know that he really didn’t have the time.
For Blake’s safety, I warned him to avoid Jameson just in case he showed up unannounced.
THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED to happen this way. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for her besides friends. That didn’t bother me as much as the fact that I fell so seamlessly that I hadn’t even realized it.
Now I was ready to fly to Bellingham to meet this Blake jerk. Hearing her acknowledge the fact that she knew I slept around, was even worse. I’m sure she didn’t hear it over the phone line, but I gasped when she said it out loud.
I thought I had been discreet, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t hard to figure out. People knew when I’d disappear and wouldn’t see me for hours. I hated myself for it.
Mostly, I hated the image that it had created of me to her. I never wanted Sway to think of me as someone like Dylan Grady when, in all actuality, I was behaving just like he had. It was repulsive and was just one more reminder that she deserved so much better than someone like me. What kind of relationship could I even provide for her?
Sitting on the couch in my underwear on the only free morning I had for the next two months as I headed into the last few races of the season, I drank whiskey from the bottle as I watched the sun rise over the track Spencer and I built in the backyard of my parent’s Mooresville home.
I thought about calling Sway, but didn’t. Taking another drink of whiskey, I thought about why I felt like this in the first place. What bothered me most was why she had this control over me.
But that was Sway. She did things to me emotionally.
I think that was what made this so hard for me and actually made me angry.
I was supposed to be a hardcore racer who only thought about the next race but now, my best friend was slowly captivating my every thought. She was becoming an obsession.
“Stop being a pussy,” running my hand over my eyes, I set the bottle down in front of me.
It wasn’t even the fact that I felt something more. Something in me had changed. It had been for years and it was making me want to spend time more time with her.
So what did that make me? More than a friend, right? Boyfriend?
I cringed at the word.
Boyfriend was more than I was willing to deal with right then. I wasn’t in any position to offer her the things that came along with that title. The only problem was that I didn’t want her to be out there with some other guy.
She was mine.
The harder I tried to deny it, the more she pulled me in.
What Sway and I had couldn’t even be defined. I thought about her constantly.
We spent time together, we kissed on occasion and we messed around. I took her out to dinner and I held her hand.
What did the word boyfriend mean anyway?
If it meant that, I was fucked.
When the front door opened, I jumped at the sound.
“Jameson...” I heard my mom’s voice, “We’re home.”
“Mom? Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” I yelled back trying to calm myself down.
“Watch your language, asshole,” Dad said, grinning as he made his way inside. “Put some clothes on, boy.” He hit the back of my head with his hand.
“We need to go over your fan club!” Mom said, with wide excited eyes. I groaned.
Dad chuckled. “And, we need to go over your contract for next season.” He held a thick manila envelope in the air and then tossed it on the table with a thud.
Awesome. I thought to myself.
Here I was debating with myself all morning and now more were joining the party.
“What fan club?” I asked apprehensively.
“Yours,” Mom said opening her laptop on the table in the dining room. “You got fans, sweetheart. Those fans need to be able to get in touch with you.”
“No, they don’t. I don’t want to get in touch with them.”
“Yes, you do. You wouldn’t be racing if it wasn’t for them.”
“That’s not entirely true,” I groaned until dad kicked me again.
“Go put some clothes on.” His eyebrow arched at the bottle of whiskey I was holding. “Give me that.”
Mom glared at the bottle. “Jameson, sweetie... it’s a little early for that, don’t you think?”
“Not if I’m spending the day going over a fan club for stalkers.”
“They’re not stalkers. They love you.”
“Stalkers,” I mumbled again. I threw myself down next to her in a wooden chair. My head slumped against the table.
Dad hit my shoulders. “Go put some damn clothes on. I’m not about to have you sitting around here naked. It’s weird.”
So much for trying to decipher my feelings.
The afternoon was spent setting up my fan club website and signing my life away to Simplex and my dad. It was exhausting so I took a nap afterward.
THE SEASON WAS flying by and, before I knew it, we were in Homestead and the Winston Cup career was promising when I won my fourteenth race there in Florida. I finished out my rookie season in the Busch series with a second place finish in the points and won the Rookie of the Year award.
Not bad.
As the leaves turned burgundy and began to fall, the nights got colder and, before I knew it, winter was here.
I thought maybe I would be able to take a quick breather but time was not something I was in control of any longer. Right after Homestead, I was off to Turkey Night, which I finally won. Then the Chili Bowl followed by testing of the new Cup car.
Before testing started, I had a chance to get together with Justin after the Chili Bowl, which was welcomed. It was good to see him. I hadn’t seen him since Knoxville and I forgot how much fun we had hanging out.
“How’ve you been?” I asked taking a drink of my beer and then leaned back in my seat.
He shrugged. “Can’t complain. I lost my ride in USAC though.”
“Really?” this shocked me. “What happened?”
“Sponsors—they ran out of money, apparently?”
“So what’s your plan for next year?”
I’ve known Justin since I was eight years old. He’s raced every season since then just like me.
“I haven’t given much thought to it yet,” he construed taking a drink from his beer. “I could use a break but, then again, come February, I’ll probably be pulling my hair out at home with my parents,” he smiled. “I hear you moved up to the big leagues?”
A small chuckle escaped me when he said big leagues.
“Yeah, we start testing the Cup car at Fontana in about two weeks.” When I told him my plans for next year, that was when an idea came to me. “I’ve got a car running in the Outlaw series this next year, too,” I smiled. “You wanna drive it for me?”
“You can’t find a driver?”
“Nah, I think I just did.”
And that was that. I didn’t need to worry. Justin was one of the best. Even though I would be racing Cup cars, I wasn’t about to get away from dirt all together so I started a sprint car team in the World of Outlaws. I knew eventually I wanted two cars running in it but I started with one.
I got a chance to talk to Sway later that night. It was right before I flew back out to Charlotte to meet with Melissa to go over the merchandise contract.
Sway congratulated me on the win at Turkey Night.
Being the possessive jackass I’d become, I responded with, “Let’s see Blake do that.”
Despite my jealousy, she giggled. “Here we go again.”
“I’m just kidding,” I offered though I wasn’t. “How are you?”
“Eh, pretty good.” I could hear a twinge of sadness in her voice. “Looking forward to school being over with. You know,” she paused for a moment. “I never liked high school. I don’t know what made me think I’d like college.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“I have it easy compared to you.”
“Nah, I love what I do. All the other shit just comes with it but when I’m in the car... I don’t even think about all the other obligations.”
I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t think about it. When I was behind the wheel, nothing mattered. I was in my happy place so to speak.
I had to catch a flight to Charlotte so that ended our conversation early but I promised to call her soon. A day didn’t go by when I didn’t hear her voice. As stupid as it sounds, it was vital for me to keep going.
I’D LIKE TO say I was strong without Sway, but I’d be lying. Everyone noticed, it was hard not to. I was never the same when she wasn’t around and as much as I tried to hide my feelings, I know they saw it.
One afternoon in January, before I left for Florida for testing and Speedweek, I was changing gears and other parts on one of my sprint cars before Justin came to pick it up. I wanted everything done a certain way and didn’t trust anyone else to do it besides Tommy and, alas, he was home in Elma for the holidays so this left me doing it.
I had been at it awhile and my head was pounding in my ears, my vision was blurred so I decided I needed a break.
When I glanced at myself in the mirror, there was no doubt I was in need of a break.
I’m sure everyone knew why, but I tried to convince everyone that I was fine. To be honest, I was getting sick. I could feel it. I was trying so hard to be everything I could and prove to everyone that I could do this, that I was forgetting about myself.
Most of the time I was lucky if I got five hours of sleep a night. I knew come February, this wasn’t going to cut it and I knew something needed to change. I had to get my shit together.
Splashing my face with water, I reached in my bag on the floor and grabbed two pain pills, taking them back dry.
When I got back in the shop, Dad was there knocking on the door, glaring.
“Let me in, asshole.” He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, shaking. “It’s cold out here.”
The beginning of January had brought a rush of frozen air and snow that stuck this time.
“I thought you were in Sydney.”
“I had some things to take care of,” he walked around the sprint car. “Gears?”
“Yeah, coupler, too,” I sat back against the rear tires. I tried to sneak the bottle of Jack Daniels under the car so that he wouldn’t see it but, of course, he saw.
“Drinking again?” He sat across from me on a set of tires, leaning to one side.
“A little,” I shrugged.
“You know what I mean,” he picked up a screwdriver from the floor and began twirling it easily in his fingers.
“I was thirsty.”
“Then drink water, dumbass.”
“I needed something... stronger.”
He sighed through his nose.
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, Dad, is that why you came?”
“Jameson... you need to stop drinking so much.”
“You’re one to talk. You named me after whiskey.”
He didn’t say anything just sighed heavily and shook his head. “How can you drive the way you do and drink this much?”
“I don’t drink on race days. I never have. And it’s not like I have a problem for Christ sakes, just taking the edge off.”
He sighed again and ran a hand through his black hair. “I need you to be focused. I have a lot riding on this new deal with Simplex and, well, I can’t have you drinking all the time or popping pills every day.”
“All right,” I groaned, “I know.”
“Do you though? Do you even understand what this all means? I came to see how you were doing. You look awful.” He gave me a disappointed look before standing and glancing down at me. “I know you miss her and that you love her...” I was about to interrupt him when he shook his head. “Don’t lie to me, Jameson... I can see what you clearly can’t. Just don’t fuck this up,” was his request.
No one knew what was going on with me and Sway. Hell, I didn’t even know.
How could I tell them something I didn’t know?
I think they distinguished from my drinking and mood swings, but I didn’t feel like talking about it, so no one brought it up. I never like people prying into my personal life. And, if they did, I’d throw a fit. If anyone mentioned her name, I’m sure they saw the pained expression flash across my face, so eventually they gave up fearing my reaction.
I knew I needed to lay off the drinking. NASCAR required a physical and prohibited drinking when you’re at the track and had strict guidelines on prescription drugs. I’m sure they knew most race car drivers took pain relievers with the way they are tossed around in the cars but they sure didn’t allow addictions.
I hated the feeling of being hung over. Welcomed the numbness I felt, but the hangovers, I could go without those. So it surprised me that I’d been drinking so much lately.
I never made it back to Elma that winter. With my parents having the house in North Carolina now, we didn’t make it back there as much. I got tired of living with my family real fast, so that winter I purchased a few acres of land in Mooresville and started building my own home.
Mostly, it was living with Emma that I despised. Spencer and Alley had moved into their own house not far from my parents but I saw Spencer and Alley so much it was as though we all lived together. Lane was a hoot and I enjoyed corrupting him for future retaliation against Spencer. Being two now, he had quite the personality.
Sway was trying to finish her classes so she stayed in Bellingham that winter, but to be fair, I didn’t have a chance to see her either. Since that weekend I flew out to Bellingham, I hadn’t seen her. Naturally, we spoke nearly every day but I hadn’t seen her smiling face in months.
I will say it gave me a chance to think, well, that was a lie, I never had time to think. Since the last time I saw her, it was a different track, different city every week and even though it was the off-season right now, I still didn’t have time.
The last few races of the season turned into a media showdown into my personal life to which I was not impressed. Even in Mooresville I was still dealing with the constant banter that surrounded me.
“There’s Jimi Riley’s kid, the Busch driver ...”
“ ... Did you know he slept with that one girl ...?”
“I hear he’s dating some girl from Elma ...”
I’m not sure what the lure into my personal life came from but I had a feeling Ashley had something to do with that or maybe it was that I was just in the public’s gaze more. Ashley did follow me around the track mercilessly but all that did was ensure I didn’t make that mistake again.
Since the nurse in Vegas, I hadn’t slept with anyone and willed off women all together. I had a job to do now and that didn’t entail sleeping around.
It didn’t feel right. I had nothing to offer those women. Sure, they got what they wanted as did I, in a way, but every time I felt the crushing guilt that it was wrong, it was just wrong. They weren’t what I wanted. I wanted Sway, in any way I could have her, and right now, that was as friends.
MY DAD AND I were on our way to Daytona for Speedweek when he felt the need to talk to me about my temper that had been flaring lately.
“This is different this year. You need to keep your head together and stay focused.”
“I know.” I didn’t want another speech about how I needed to keep my shit in line but I had a feeling the first time I fucked up I’d hear about it, only this time I’d hear it from him, my uncle Randy, and Simplex.
Dad pulled through the gates of Daytona International Raceway, handed his credentials over and pulled through the gates.
“I know you know, but I can’t have you causing problems, you understand? No more pain killers either. If you’re in pain, go to the doctor. Drinking is one thing, outside of the track only, but pain killers... that’s not something you need to be abusing. I won’t have my son taking that shit.”
“I know,” I said, again, and reached for the handle of the door before pausing. I felt I needed to say more this time. I wanted him to know that I was ready for this and took this opportunity seriously. “I know you think I don’t understand how this affects all of us, our family that is, but I do.” My eyes stared straight ahead and focused on Spencer walking toward us. He rode over with Kyle and Mason to meet the rest of the pit crew dad hired. “I haven’t forgotten how I got here and why this was all made possible,” I told him.
I finally looked over at him—he smiled. “Let’s go show these guys what Jameson Riley is made of.”
That sounded good to me.
I like to think I was a renewed man and completely focused but I did have distractions. Everywhere I turned another woman was throwing herself in my direction. Other drivers were testing me and we had a new team. A new team in general is frustrating and taxing.
Most of the same crewmembers were the same but anytime you put a new team together, it takes time for everyone to adjust and amend the team dynamics.
I seemed to be the one everyone had a hard time getting used to, for good reason. I wasn’t exactly the nicest guy to be around. I had a few good qualities but they were mostly overshadowed by the bad.
I was possessive of Sway, and though she wasn’t mine my team, unfortunately, knew that when anyone asked about her, jealousy ran through my veins as I had the temper of a bull and little patience to go along with that. I had to be in control at all times and didn’t take orders from anyone besides my mom and dad—mostly my mom.
I didn’t have time to cultivate relationships or friendships and I rarely had time to sleep. Who cared if I didn’t have friends? Well, I did care. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, but there was only one friend who mattered to me … Sway.
As far as my team went, Kyle was the same. Kyle and I trusted each other and you needed that in a crew chief/driver combination, it was vital for trust to be there. When he or I made calls, I had to know he had my back and vice versa.
Aiden transferred over, as did Mason as the car chief since we no longer had a car running in the Busch series. We also added Kyle’s younger brother, Gentry, as a tire carrier. Harry stayed as the engine specialist along with Tony, the tire specialist. Most of the crew was the same other than these few additions but it would be a little different.
Everything was faster paced in Cup. The pit stops had to be perfect as did my racing. So much goes into the pit stops that you don’t realize how crucial they are.
For instance, when you pull down pit road, there are seven guys swarming around your idling race car all waiting to perform their piece of that 12-second stop. You have the tire carriers, front and rear, a jack man, officials, a gasman and then someone who catches the overflow.
Occasionally there is another guy standing by to clean the windshield, hand me water, or assist another crewmember, if needed.
The NASCAR official stands there to make sure you’re not breaking any rules.
When you think about all that happening within twelve seconds and if one guys slips, everything is thrown off.
Talk about pressure, huh?
WHEN TESTING BEGAN I met Darrin Torres again, the asshole who wrecked me a couple years ago in a USAC Silver crown. Now I’d seen Darrin at the tracks this last year. It’s hard not to when you’re both at the same track each weekend. Outside of the occasional glare, we didn’t speak and I had no desire to befriend him anyway.
I was surprised when he approached me after testing one afternoon.
It was our last day before Speedweek started and I had a lot on my mind to begin with so I didn’t need to deal with another confrontation with him.
“So, you’re the badass USAC driver everyone talks about? You don’t look so badass now,” was his kind way of greeting me.
Asshole, huh?
“I’ve had my moments,” I responded signing a few autographs as I walked toward the paddock.
“Guys like you have it easy,” he followed me. “Your father funds everything for you.”
Guys like me? He had no idea how much time I spent racing as a kid. How ever since I was old enough to walk, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. The long hours, the time spent traveling, how I never had a childhood, the things I gave up... Sway... he had no fucking clue what it was like for me.
Fuck him.
Luck... sure I had that on my side at times but I worked hard for everything I had. I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me differently.
“Yeah, I have luck but I’ve worked for everything I have,” I told him unemotionally walking away.
“Yeah... right,” he muttered and walked away himself.
You know that feeling you get when you know something is wrong, yeah, well, anytime I was around Darrin, I felt that unnerving feeling.
He made me nervous.
After testing, we had about two weeks back at the shop where we adjusted the car we needed in preparation for Speedweek. You would think all I would have to do is drive the car but, no, being a NASCAR driver is so much more in-depth than that. There are appearances to make, meet and greets, fan clubs obligations, autograph sessions, commercials, pictures, team meetings ... I could go on and on with this one.
Most see the glamorous side. They see the money and publicity of it all but it’s draining both mentally and physically on everyone involved. Most all the drivers out there are in it to race and now, they were puppets to their sponsors whether they wanted to be or not once they were outside of the car.
Have you ever watched a driver get out of the car?
He immediately puts on his sponsor’s hat and then when the camera swings to him, he takes a drink of whatever drink of choice is sponsoring him. That was advertisement and was exactly what your sponsor wanted when they agreed to provide you with the funds. We promoted them and, in turn, they gave us money to do what we love.
Fair trade? Sometimes.
I hated doing anything that wasn’t racing, but when I was in the car I forgot about all that and raced. It was as though life outside of that cockpit didn’t exist, and that was exactly what I loved most about racing. So, was it a fair trade? Yes, it was to me.
I’d probably stand on the corner in chicken suit waving a sign around while shaking my ass if I got to race each week. That was how badly I wanted this.
I had tested at Daytona, and I ran well there. I was comfortable with the fast speeds and drafting. I definitely was no master at the air, but I was comfortable at least.
But now, I was out there with more than just Bobby and me; try forty-two other cars pulling on and off the track.
Aiden managed to keep me calm by adding simple things like, “Remember to blend,” when other drivers would merge onto the track. Seems silly that he’d have to tell me that but it helps. It helps because when you’re on the track you’re so focused on what’s happening that you don’t necessarily look to the line to see the other drivers until it’s too late.
The other obstacle was getting other drivers to draft with you and drafting with them. Drafting is almost like a fine art or a formal ball as Harry told me. It’s not easy when you’re a rookie driver getting other drivers to dance with you but, thankfully, Bobby was there and other drivers like Tate Harris, another rookie Paul Leighty were all willing to work with me. Others like Darrin and his teammate weren’t easy to work with. I didn’t have a problem with his teammate, but Darrin, I couldn’t stand the asshole.
I spent most of the practice sessions working with the draft and other drivers, trying to get a feel for how the race would be. I raced here in the Busch series but Cup cars held about four hundred more horsepower so, as you could see, they went faster.
I’d take about fifty laps and then come in, give my feedback to Kyle and Mason and then I was off again. Being a new team, we didn’t have a lot of data to form. We just kind of winged it and hoped for some sort of break. I also had to provide feedback for them. I learned a lot in the Busch series and knew when the car was pushing and tight but I still didn’t know everything, and that was hard on everyone. I would get frustrated because I couldn’t drive the car like I wanted and the team was frustrated with me because I couldn’t tell them what the car was doing.
If it weren’t for the help of guys like Tate and Bobby who came from dirt track racing, I wouldn’t know what I was talking about in these cars. But they were there for me and helped me tell Kyle and Harry what I needed from the car.
I MADE IT through practice on Thursday and then came the Budweiser Shootout on Saturday night. It was rare for a rookie driver to be in the Shootout but I was selected as the wild card, so there I was preparing.
I never got nervous prior to a race but I did have some butterflies that night so I did what I always did when I was nervous. I called Sway before heading out to the driver introductions. I only had about an hour, I knew I needed to eat, but Sway was more important.
She answered on the first ring, as she always did. “Hey, honey,” I smiled.
She sighed contently. I could hear the faint sounds of the television in the background and loud voices, one sounded like Tommy.
“I was hoping you’d call before the race.”
“Did you watch my interview this morning?” I groaned. I hated doing interviews generally because I never knew what to say. If I spoke my mind, they wouldn’t be happy.
“I did. It was so weird seeing you on TV.”
“How have you been? How did your class go?”
“Good, I got an A so I guess it went well. Just three more months to graduation!”
“I think I’m more excited for you to graduate than you are,” I told her with a chuckle.
Alley, with Lane on her hip, made her way inside the motor coach. With traveling so often these days, I purchased a Featherlite Motor coach. Most of the drivers had them and I definitely saw the advantages. You didn’t have to find a hotel room and you could sleep longer on race days.
Alley pushed a plate of tacos at me so I began eating while Sway talked about her classes for a moment. After ruffling Lane’s mop of wavy honey blonde hair, Alley went back outside with him.
“What are you going to do after you graduate?”
“Well, I’m sure Charlie has everything lined up for me... he wants me to be the General Manager.”
“I heard that...” I paused, taking a drink of my water. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Yes, and no,” she admitted. “I miss you. I miss everyone. I had lunch with your mom the other day and it just reminded me how much fun I had with everyone.”
“I hope you mean me. I believe I’m the one you like the most.”
She giggled. “Yes, I’d say I’m partial to you.”
“You probably can’t come out for the race, huh?”
“I’m not sure yet. I need to put some finishing touches on my Marketing Management assignment.”
“I understand,” I said, before I gave myself away.
This was a significant step in my racing career but I couldn’t expect her to be there for everything. I wanted her to be but I couldn’t expect it. She wasn’t my girlfriend and I had to stop acting as though she was.
“I’ll try,” she offered. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“Well, when you graduate... we need to get together at some point.”
“We could run away together.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yeah, but there would be a lot of jealous girls if you ran away with me,” Sway teased with a giggle. I’d recently did a magazine interview where all they talked about was how girls wanted to run away with me. Clearly, I’d provided ammo for Sway.
“Shut up,” I groaned pushing my plate away, not surprised I’d just eaten six tacos. I glanced at my phone and realized I needed to get to the pre-race activities. “I need to get to driver introductions but I needed to hear your voice for a minute.”
“Just remember, you’ll do fine.”
“I know,” I rubbed my belly. I definitely ate too much.
“I...” Sway paused and let out a shaky breath. “I will see you soon okay?”
“Yeah, somehow... maybe I can make it out there for graduation or something.”
“I know you’re busy, Jameson, but please don’t forget why tonight... you’re racing in the Budweiser Shootout, that means something. This is what you worked for all those years.”
Honestly though, it hadn’t hit me how real this all was. I’m sure it would when I got inside the car but, as of yet, it hadn’t. I think I was too full to feel anything else.
When I walked out to the grid for introductions, the nerves hit. Knowing I would be fine once inside the car, I wanted to rush all the pre-race activities and get on with it. I didn’t like butterflies.
Having seen the fan fair I was developing throughout Speedweek I was prepared for a few cheers but I wasn’t expecting to hear the crowd roar to life when I stepped on stage after Tate.
He turned around clapping himself and did this stupid bow that made me chuckle.
I waived to the crowd as they cheered louder and then I punched Tate’s arm when I got closer. “Stop that.”
“You have more fans than me,” he gestured to the crowd.
I saw my mom and Emma jumping up and down amongst them. “Nah, just a loud family.”
Races like this, guys put it all on the line and I had to rise to the occasion. I was racing with the best as I should be but I also sensed they thought the kid shouldn’t be racing with them. I had to prove that I was worthy. No one thought a sprint car driver could come out and drive these stock cars competitively but I was hell bent on proving them wrong.