Torsion Bars – Torsion bars are the most common type of suspension used on sprint cars. Used on all four corners of a sprint car, they provide the link between the chassis and track surface.
Just the same as a torsion bar, you can only go one direction for so long before something gives.
That was me and suddenly I was being asked to twist the wrong direction.
I never thought Sway would feel the same way, prayed she didn’t feel the same way. The way she trembled from my touch, leaned into my kiss, sighed when I held her, she felt the same as I. That scared me. It was never that I didn’t want her. It was that I didn’t want her to love me.
I kept my promise to Charlie. I didn’t say anything and, if I was being honest, I couldn’t have told Sway he was dying anyway. That wasn’t something he needed to say. I couldn’t even tell the girl I love her let alone tell her something as life altering as this.
If that were my dad, I would want him to tell me. Lost in thoughts of Charlie, Sway and torsion bars, Wes came over the speaker to tell me we’d be descending into the Talladega Municipal Airport soon.
When I turned my cell phone back on I noticed a new text message from Sway.
S: Call me when you land. Good luck at practice.
My stomach churned thinking of her. The cold claw grabbed my insides again and again as I tried to reason with myself, telling me she wasn’t mine. She never was mine. She never would be mine with the lifestyle I had. What could I possibly offer her besides complicated?
It’s not my place to get all stomach-achy over her.
I spent the entire plane ride home telling myself I was fine, and I was. I was trying to relate my life to a sprint car setup, the only thing that made sense to me.
By the time I reached Talladega that afternoon, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer. Every time I saw her, I wanted more. One kiss left me wanting more, one touch always turned into more. Since Kyle noticed the sexual attraction between us, I thought about it constantly. Maybe she did want to have sex with me. Even the other night when we were on her floor, she didn’t stop me, I did. Believe me, I wanted to continue but it felt wrong. It felt like I was just there for that. I didn’t want her to think I flew in to fuck her and then leave. Not that we ever had before but it felt too much like that wasn’t what it could be construed as.
I didn’t give much thought to my decision. I only knew I wanted more from her. The only reasonable option was to let it happen naturally. I knew we had a sexual attraction and I saw the way she watched me as well as the way she responded to my touch but I also wasn’t sure it went beyond that. She couldn’t have those feelings for me because I’m an asshole. She loved me, that much was obvious, but relationship love, that was different. I knew well that physical and emotional love was entirely different.
No woman in their right mind could stand me. Look at the women in my life now. Emma called me an asshole daily, Alley thought I needed anger management, and my mom, well, she thought I was perfect but she didn’t count.
So who could stand me? I could hardly stand myself sometimes.
But, since we had the sexual attraction—if that was what it was—maybe someday she would want more. Maybe someday there could be a place for us. What’s the harm in starting with physical love first?
I called her before practice began to let her know I made it to Talladega. She seemed down, and to be fair, I sounded the same with the goblin running rampant in my gut.
I could hear commotion in the background and wondered who was with her, hopeful it was not Blake.
“Who’s there?”
“Tommy,” she sighed frustrated. “He’s eating all my food.”
We got on the topic of some of my recent interviews when she called bullshit on me. I denied the fact that I was nicknamed “Rowdy Riley” now.
“It’s on Wikipedia, Jameson,” she said with absolute solemnity, “therefore, it’s valid.”
I rolled my eyes, not ever wanting to open the whole, “truth about Wikipedia” discussion again. “Don’t believe everything you read, Sway.”
“So they don’t call you Rowdy Riley at the track?”
“No, they do. I don’t want you believing everything they write about me. Not all of it’s true.” I wanted her to understand how the media had the ability to pad the truth with their own beliefs.
After meeting with Melissa to go over a few sponsor obligations for the weekend, I was able to relax for a few hours. Bobby stopped by my motor coach and we chatted for a few minutes before he left for dinner with his girlfriend.
After that I decided to take a shower. Being back in the southeastern humidity, I smelled.
Once inside the small bathroom, I leaned against the shower wall. The aches and stresses of the day clustered in my shoulders, my tight muscles relaxing as the hot jets of water pounded against my back. I stared as the water flowed off my shoulders and down the silver drain. The black granite glistened.
My thoughts went back to Sway and how much I missed her. Every time I saw her, she lifted the weight the world was putting upon me and she made spring adjustments at the right times.
The shell I put around myself cracked every time I saw her, breaking away piece by piece. Images of her laying under me on her floor flooded my brain as my breathing accelerated; she was so captivatingly beautiful. I meant it when I told her I’d pay money to see her come apart. It had been a fantasy of mine for as long as I could remember.
I had an interview in less than an hour so when my groin began stirring I turned the water off. I didn’t have time for that right now, even though I wanted to. It’d been at least a week since I had any attention down there and though I needed the relief, I didn’t have time.
THE INTERVIEW WAS held in the infield media center with one of the track promoters. The same series of questions usually flowed, but tonight he asked one that caught me off guard.
“If you could pick one person who has influenced your career both emotionally and for opportunity, who would it be?”
I hesitated for a moment running my hand through my hair. Looking at Emma and Alley standing alongside reporters, I felt one person missing. Sway.
I couldn’t say it’s one person because it wasn’t just one person. It can’t be in a sport like this.
“I can’t say just one person has helped me,” I told him. “My Dad has given me so much emotional and financial support. My mom believes I can do nothing wrong.” I chuckled lightly when a few women in the audience cheered. “My brother is there each week helping on the car, he’s the jack man for our team. My sister runs my fan club because, heaven knows, I wouldn’t be able to. My sister in-law keeps me out of trouble, and then I have my best friend, Sway, who without her, you wouldn’t want to know me. We’ve been friends since I was eleven. She keeps me in line.”
“Fame hasn’t lost that?”
“No. Never. She’s what keeps me grounded. If there is ever a time when she thinks I need a reality check, she lets me know,” I said, with a laugh.
“Would you say they are a big part of your operation?”
“Yes. Very much so. Ever since I started racing, family has always been there.”
I could feel the interview getting more and more personal and my theory was confirmed when he asked his next question.
“Now I hear you’re single?”
Shifting uncomfortably, I heard the women screaming from behind me, eager for my response.
“I, uh... I’ve never been one to date. I am single ... but I don’t have time for dating. All I do is race. If I’m not here at the track, I’m at a local dirt track.”
“That’s what I hear. Tell us about your sprint car team you started this year.”
And just like that, I avoided the personal questions.
They didn’t need to know that I was madly in love with my best friend and that I compared my life to a sprint car setup or that Charlie was dying. That was my life and, to be fair, these fans didn’t want to hear that shit. They wanted hear about the fights. They wanted to hear I was a bachelor and that I slept around. That was what they wanted. They wanted a story. The problem with that was, that wasn’t me.
I would always be a dirt track racer from Washington—that much would never change. I would never settle for less than I knew was possible and would always love Sway. Even if we were never allowed to be together, she showed me who I was, who I wasn’t, and who I wanted to be.
THE RACE IN Talladega, Alabama, was, for one, close to Aiden’s hometown, and two the largest track on the schedule. While I enjoyed Talladega, it didn’t like me.
Last season while racing the Busch race, I got caught up in the “Big One” and ended up being transported to the hospital with a few broken ribs, a sprained ankle and a minor concussion.
I wasn’t exactly excited to come back to the track. Sure, I wanted redemption but some even believe the track is cursed.
One morning prior to the 1974 Cup race, drivers came out to find cut brake lines and sand in their gas tanks. Others believed it used to be an old Indian burial ground and claimed the track itself had been cursed. I tended to believe this as well considering my recent luck there. I wasn’t exactly excited.
Aiden was and he wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
I managed to qualify fourth but ended up clipping the wall in happy hour. Forced to go to a back-up car, I had no idea how it was going to handle. It was the same car we ran at Daytona so I hoped the set-up would be close enough to at least get a decent finish.
Turns out, it was. My only problem was all the traffic I had to get through. Bobby and me were in a pack about midway through the race when he had an opening and didn’t take it. I nailed him in the bumper when he checked up, causing him to get squirrelly coming out of turn four and damage the front of my car.
When you’re driving two hundred miles an hour inches next to another car, it’s not the time to second guess your line. Bobby was for whatever reason.
I ended up with a twelfth place finish which was not too bad considering when I looped back down pit lane after the race, Kyle noticed my right side tires were both riding on cords.
Sway called as we were leaving the track on our way toward Aiden’s house. I spent more time watching the interactions between Aiden and Emma. Something was different with them.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Surveying the two of them, I snorted. “Yeah, I’m listening.”
“Really ... what did I just say?”
“I... uh... um... something...”
“See, pay attention!”
“All right, I’m paying attention now.”
Sway went on to tell me about her class. She finished early and was now heading home to see Charlie. I felt my heart begin to pound and my palms were sweating thinking maybe he was going to tell her tonight. I knew Charlie well enough by now that he wouldn’t, but the notions were still there.
It took us about three hours but Aiden, Emma, Spencer, Alley, Lane and me all made our way to Aiden’s home outside of Talladega. Aiden was from a small town called Pinckard Alabama, population 667.
Meeting Aiden’s dad explained a lot about Aiden. I understood why Aiden had an ulcer and wasn’t surprised to see his dad was just as analytical as he was, maybe even more so if that were possible. I was hardly good company the rest of the evening and felt somewhat remorseful when Aiden’s dad was telling me how to cook a raccoon in his thick southern accent and I paid more attention to my phone than him.
Emma caught me after dinner outside the bathroom and tore my phone out of my hand.
“Show some respect, Jameson. His parents are old-fashioned country folks who don’t even own a cell phone and here you are... Adam praises your skills... checking your cell phone. It’s rude.”
“I should ask you the same question,” I clipped reproachfully, my eyes watched hers carefully, “What’s with you and Aiden?”
She smacked my shoulder, pushing me against the wall.
“Don’t turn your shit on me,” and then walked back inside the kitchen to Aiden’s mom.
I hung my head knowing it was rude. Turning my phone on vibrate, I stuck it inside my jacket and never touched it again that night. Adam, Aiden’s dad, was hilarious.
We ended up sneaking out back to his garage to find he had a pair of riding lawnmowers he and Aiden used to race when they were younger. With a few adjustments, Spencer, Aiden and I were tearing up their lawn.
Despite my earlier behavior toward his family, I couldn’t remember the last time I had that much fun without Sway.
I thought of her, and every time I turned around I was thinking of something I couldn’t wait to tell her. I learned a lot about Aiden that night. Even though he was crazy, I understood him a little more.
His dad, Adam Gomez, was a farmer who was born and raised in the small town. His mom, April, was probably the sweetest woman, besides my mother, who ever existed. I liked them all.
I always wondered how Aiden got involved in racing but I understood after seeing those lawnmowers. He also had a cousin who raced late models out at Montgomery Speedway, a half-mile asphalt track, so that was where Aiden found his calling. He had a remarkable sense of direction but couldn’t decide where he wanted to go.
Much like me on the track, he understood racing and the dynamics, and was essentially worry-free at the track.
We stayed the night there with the Gomez family and then went back to Mooresville the next morning. When we arrived home, it was racing life as usual. Team meetings, sponsorship commitments, testing... same thing it was each week.
You don’t think about it when you’re running yourself ragged until something breaks. Mine was that my torsion bars had been twisting in the wrong direction for so long, fractures were occurring.
For four years now, I’d been denying that I was in love with Sway and now that I saw and felt it. I didn’t know what to do. I tried stagger changes, shocks, weight jacking ... I tried it all, terrified to admit I couldn’t change this feeling. This wasn’t black or white, day or night, good or evil, there was no answer. What scared me more than loving her was not knowing what to do with that love and how to tell her. And, more importantly, what she would do with my love.