The Legend (41 page)

When I
thought I couldn’t take the searing pains in my head and chest any longer, the
light would fade and then I wouldn’t see darker images.

The wreck,
I saw it over and over again only I couldn’t focus on what went wrong.

I saw my
wife holding my kids when they were younger, the image burned into my brain
hovering thickly over any of the thoughts anchoring me from fading completely.
They begged me to stay with them.

I saw my
dad, only I was younger, just a child sitting in his sprint car in the shop
back in Elma.

It felt
real.

I talked
to him and he told me over and over again that he was proud, so proud. I knew
he was proud, I did. Why was he repeating it so much?

And then
he said, “I love you.”

It was
odd, he never said it. He never had too. I knew. Then he told me, “Be a legend.
Be the greatest this sport has ever seen because you are to me.”

What
did that mean? Why was he talking to me?

Everything
around me was hazy and white, and then the light would shift. The lights
whirled past with images but I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think. No, thinking
hurt. I wanted to break, as though being in pieces would be easier than feeling
this as a whole. It hurt too fucking badly.

My lungs
wouldn’t expand, the breaths felt forced.

When the
light around me changed, I saw my mother beside me crying. I tried to comfort
her, tell her I was fine. But I knew I wasn’t. Something was
very
wrong
and I often wondered if I was dying. It felt like I was. I wasn’t in control of
anything.

Sway was
there at that moment, standing above me. Tears fell from her cheeks landing on
me and then I felt like I was drowning in everyone’s tears, burning my skin
like acid. I couldn’t breathe again and then I hurt more for trying. 

I wanted
to tell them I was fine but I wasn’t.

Like my
body, my lips denied me any relief when I tried to speak, nothing happened.

The light
turned to the darker images of a crash again, metal against metal, burning,
dirt was everywhere, a thick suffocating cloud. My skin burned and felt like it
was melting from my bones.

It was so
loud, a cacophony of disharmonious and confusing sounds. A garbled hum of
clamor and noise, nothing made sense. Somewhere is the distance a rhythmic
beeping pinged clearly and loudly with a low whirl of electronics.

I couldn’t
focus again before the images stopped and all I saw was black, cold and dark.

I wanted
the pain to stop, I wanted to die. Surely, that would make it go away; this
fire burning me alive inside.

Something
held me there, the images again and a voice. The only voice I heard now after
my dad.

Sway.

She was
here with me somewhere. She whispered to me. “Please come back.”

I tried. I
wouldn’t die on her now. I would stay alive for her.

She was crying
again then the black returned before I could tell her I was trying to return to
her.

Time
didn’t seem to exist any longer. It was just images and lights, loud beeping
and ringing. Cold and burning agony took its turn.

At some
point the darker images seemed to stay away. I didn’t see my dad anymore, I saw
Sway.

She was
there again, sitting beside me. I could hear her light breathing and
whimpering.

I tried to
move but it didn’t feel like anything happened.

Was I
paralyzed?

That might
explain the pain.

The light
appeared once again, the fading seemed to lesson and I was able to focus.

The place
wasn’t as bright as the white blinding lights I had been seeing, dimmer maybe.

Thinking
hurt, breathing hurt, so I knew movement would. I tried to speak but I don’t
know if the words came out. Maybe I was screaming but no one would respond and
look at me. I heard them but they were talking amongst each other. “So we put
the funeral off until he wakes up. That’s the only option.”

What
funeral?
I thought but couldn’t
focus again.

Was I
dead?

The dark
returned but I don’t know for how long.

When the
light returned it was the dimmer more pleasant light with Sway beside me. I
liked this light. There was no ringing or screaming, just dim light and my
Sway. I wanted to stay in that place.

She was
holding my hand, I think. It appeared that way through the fog.

Responses
came back to me in pieces.

The demand
and the action to move were slow but working. I wanted to move my hand, show my
wife I was there with her in this darkness.

She
startled and squeezed. “Jameson?”

Oh god
, her voice. It was agony to hear the pain in
it. I could stand the physical pain. I didn’t want her to be feeling this. No.
I would rather die than have to see the hurt in her eyes.

I couldn’t
move my hand so I tried my voice again.
“S
...
w
...
a
...
y?”

The sound
of my voice was strange and hurt. It was an excruciating pain that I felt in my
head all the way to my toes. The fire in my throat burned as the light got
brighter again and then dimmed when I told myself I wouldn’t let it control me
any longer.

“Jameson,”
she was sobbing now. “Please
...
baby, come
back to me
...
please
...
”

She was
begging and I was
trying
.

I wanted
to come back. I didn’t want to feel this pain any longer.

“
...
hon
...
”
I wanted to comfort her but the light returned again, the searing fire
enveloped me. Stabbing
...
tearing
...
dragging from my eyes around the back of my
head settling in my ears. I gave back into the pain. I couldn’t take it.

Ringing, loud ringing.
The images returned to haunt me, shaking my soul to the very core. I
felt alone. I felt nothing. I felt pain.

Time
passed again. I think. I kept hoping if I held out long enough, something,
anything would relieve me of the pain. Nothing did.

The images
appeared. This time there were people I didn’t know surrounding me and then
loud
romp
of a sprint car when you shut of the gas and it runs rich as
the fuel runs out.

Romp
romp
romp
.

I saw
flashes and mirages of my career. Trophies handed to me, time spent at the
track, my entire life. Sway was by my side again, holding me, weeping over me.
Her tears burned when they would hit my face like acid again.

I thought
that maybe I had died at that point. Would this be what is was like?

Soon the images
faded and the sounds dimmed. I could focus once again on my wife, my soul
standing beside me.

“S
...
sway
...
?”

I felt her
touch my arm, the sensation was pleasant and I wanted that feeling rather than
the painful ache in my chest and throat. My vision was bleary, blurred lines
never really becoming clear.

“Oh god
Jameson, thank god.” She collapsed beside me, clinging against my side. I
moaned, it hurt for her to touch me but I wanted the touch. Gritting against
the pain, I let her.

“H-h-h-
oney
?”
I wanted to ask if she was okay but I
couldn’t get that many words together at once.

One was
all I could manage before the light would return followed by the dark.

Eventually
I kept my eyes open.

The room
was dim again and Sway was beside me.

This time
I was able to turn my head but was immediately knocked with a nauseated pulsing
throughout my stomach followed by pain in my chest again.

I breathed
through it, bearing down determined to focus on my wife.

She
smiled. I wanted to return the gesture but I couldn’t. With the pain, focusing
on her took everything I had.

“
Clo
...
ser
?”
I asked hoping she understand I needed her
next to me. She seemed to hesitate at my request and looked around the room.
“Pl
...
e-e-e-
ase
?”

Words were
easier this time. Though it was painful, being away from her was even more
painful.

She
climbed in beside me, gently lying down, though it wasn’t enough.

I wanted
her closer but the pain radiating throughout me kept me from pulling her toward
me. I settled on being able to feel the warmth of her. I was still so cold.

I counted
her breaths to keep from letting the pain overtake me completely.

18.
          
Yellow Flag – Axel

Yellow Flag
– This flag is displayed to signify a caution during the race.
Usually resulting from a crash, spin, or debris on the track.
Cars are to slow down and not to pass while the hazard is cleared from the
track.

SPEEDNEWS Charlotte NC
–

Legendary
World of Outlaws driver, Jimi Riley, killed in Knoxville crash. Son, Jameson
Riley, air lifted and listed in critical condition.

Every news
report had a shocking title. Every news reporter wanted the story. They hovered
and watched our every movement. They were at the hospital. They were in the
parking lot. They were at the airport. Back at the sprint car shop, they were
there too.

We had one
option now. Keep going. It was the only way to honor their wishes.

Tommy,
Willie and me flew back to the sprint car shop in Mooresville. We had damage
control to do. Aunt Alley came with us and her and Melissa, my dad’s business
manager fielded the media and answered the questions with as much vagueness as
they could get away with.

Back at
the shop, the crew guys had gathered along with most of my dad’s Cup team at
JAR Racing.

The fact
of the matter was that none of us wanted to admit that what happened in
Knoxville was anything more than an accident. It’s hard when an accident
happens because placing blame is easier than accepting the fact that it was an
accident.

Now,
looking at the two cars as they sat mangled in the middle of the shop undergoing
investigation, something wasn’t adding up. Any way you look at it, that roll
cage on my dad’s car wouldn’t have held up in that crash regardless.

But the
way it crumbled was an eerie sight.

Tommy
leaned inside the car, his hands took a firm hold on what was left of the roll
cage and tugged. Looking over his shoulder, his brow rose. “This shouldn’t be
loose.”

We all
knew what that meant. After a closer look, we saw the partial welds were there
should have been full welds. That’s why the cage collapsed the way it did.

Looking at
that car, the mangled mess of destruction, my blood ran cold as I thought of
what he had done and whose lives he had put in danger.

Van and
Clint stepped inside the shop, their shoes squeaked across the concrete shop
from the rain. Van stopped near me and looked at Tommy.

“Did they
finish the inspection?” Van asked. I knew enough about Van to know he was
asking that specific question for a reason, his eyes scanned the two cars.

I couldn’t
look at either car any longer without wanting to vomit.
My
gut turned when I thought of my dad and holding his head as he fought for his
life.
Squeezing my eyes shut, tears fell again. I didn’t want to break
down. I wanted to be strong like my dad, a man I’ve never seen cry before. But
I couldn’t. I couldn’t be strong when my hero was fighting for his life.

Clint
pushed against my shoulder and then wrapped his arm around me. “Hang in there
kid. We’ll get through this.”

I needed
to hear that right then. I did.

Running my
hands over my face, I cleared the disorientation. “What did you guys find?” I
asked Van.

All of us
expected something more happened to those cars. Immediately following the
accident, the cars were covered and brought back to the shop where Tommy and
Willie came back to inspect them with the help of two fabrication guys on my
dad’s Cup team. Van and Clint did some investigations into the guys working on
the cars prior to the race.
Grady.