Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (23 page)

Did I cross the line?

Sure, I wanted something physical, look at her! She’s beautiful but I wasn’t willing to give up anything. There’s a reason why I kept her at bay. It wasn’t that I thought I was happy alone; it was because what if it all fell apart, then what?

I shook my head infinitesimally at the thought.

I rolled over and watched her sleeping only she wasn’t sleeping, she was staring at me. I knew something was wrong with her just by the sighs that broke through over the humming of the air conditioner. I was on the verge of asking her what was wrong when she sighed again, our eyes meeting. Even in the dark, it was easy to see the glowing of her eyes.

I smiled hoping it would ease whatever was frustrating her but it didn’t and she turned away facing the wall.

It annoyed me that she didn’t return my smile to the point where I didn’t sleep at all that night and was left with my own annoying thoughts.

I was not taking any chances with her. I needed her and for now, I would get what I could. Even if it was drunk kisses and groping here and there, was that enough?

I had no solutions to this; no easy answers, and nothing was simple because nothing is ever simple. Just when you think something, life throws you a curve ball and you’re stuck looking for that next perfect pitch to hit your home run.

So was it enough?

Not really, but it had to be. Anything more wasn’t an option.

I wanted one thing and one thing only: That USAC Triple Crown title.

11.
      
Chassis - Jameson

Chassis – The steel structure or frame of the car.

By September, with two months to go in the season, I was driving anything I could but still focused on the Triple Crown title.

USAC ran on both dirt and asphalt tracks and the schedules were usually split evenly with thirteen races on each in the midget and sprint divisions. Some teams would only run the pavement tracks where other teams only ran the dirt.

Then there were teams running both and only managed to be competitive on one, never both.

We ran them all with the help of Bucky Miers and Bowman Oil.

Between fighting the changing weather conditions throughout the season, we dialed in set-ups for each surface that worked well for us.

With the way the set-ups changed so much, it’s not unusual for a team to be better on one or the other but not both.

Because of that, we stood-out as did Justin, Ryder and Tyler. They were all winning but I was holding my own with the beasts from the east and feeling good about it.

The thing you don’t realize when you’re running all these races, fighting to make it to each town and a different track each night of the week, was how draining it was.

It’s different from the stock car tours because NASCAR usually raced on Saturday nights or Sunday afternoon.

The USAC divisions and The World of Outlaws raced multiple times throughout the week and at different tracks each night.

I went a step further and raced anything and everything I could. It wasn’t uncommon for me to get into a midget, sprint and late model all in one night. It was all about seat time to me. Wherever there was a seat, I was in it, learning.

That’s not to say there wasn’t a transition period between each series though.

Midgets are lighter than sprints and Silver crown cars are heavier than sprints. Then you have a modified or a late model which
are an entirely different beast
weighing in at about 2400 pounds and handle completely differently from any open wheel car.

When constantly changing divisions, there were nights when I never got the hang of it and then there were nights I seemed unstoppable in anything I got into.

Most of the time I was racing our own cars my dad had but other times I was racing for guys like Bucky and Bowman Oil or Ron Walker. When I raced dad’s cars, we worked on them and if changes needed to be made, we made them. If something broke, we fixed it.

One night while racing at Sunset Speedway on the West Coast, a third mile red clay track in Banks, Oregon, we blew the engine in our outlaw late model we were running and needed an engine. We didn’t have any spares that night because that was our spare in the car. I blew the original one up in Chico the night before.

Thinking our night was down for, I sulked for a good hour before Sway came walking into the pits holding a set of keys, dangling them in my face.

“What’s that?” I mumbled cracking open another beer and leaned back in the lawn chair I’d set up beside my truck.

Her smile widened as though I was her favorite flavor of ice cream. “Keys
...
what does it look like?”

I cleared my throat. “Whose are they?”

“Does it matter
...
he offered up the engine in his mustang for you.” Sway stared at me.

I stared back wondering how the fuck she got him to offer up the engine in his mustang.

When I didn’t move, she slapped the beer out of my hand while kicking my shin.

“Why the fuck are you still sitting there? Get up.”

Spencer and Tommy were already pulling the engine out of my car and preparing for the transfer.

At Sunset Speedway they liked to water the track prior to the main and then pack it down again to provide more grip for the cars. By doing that, it created better racing with a tacky track.

So there we were riding around the track packing it down for them, really just messing around, when I noticed a lot of the drivers slowing in turn four and revving their engines. Took me a good ten laps of them doing this before I figured out what the fuck they were looking at.

There was Sway, Emma and Alley sitting in the pit bleachers. The guys were staring at them. I chuckled to myself as this happened more than I could count.

When we got back to the pits and began lining up for the main a couple of the local guys were standing outside their cars when I walked up and caught a part of their conversation.

“Did you see the one in the black tank top with the jeans shorts on
...
I think she was the one with the reddish brown hair.” The driver of the number eight car, Mark Bayne, asked the driver of the six
car
, who I thought was Greg Ackers but I couldn’t be sure. I had never seen him race before.

Greg said, “Yeah I did see her
...
I saw her earlier. She’s with Riley I think. His arm was around her at least.”

That’s right
. I thought to myself.

“Nah, I think that’s his friend.” Mark said.

“Fuck that,” another asshole said walking up to them. “I’m gonna take her home tonight.”

I sure as shit wasn’t going to allow that to happen. I watched to see what car he got into and then decided to make sure he had a tough race.

Turns out, I didn’t have to; he wasn’t that great of a driver and turned himself around.

I never did have the balls to ask what Sway did to get that guy to offer up his engine out of his brand new mustang.

After the race (that I won), we sat around drinking beer with the Mustang guy and by that time I was three sheets to the wind and could give a flying fuck about how the engine came about with the trophy girl sitting in my lap.

“We should change out the engines. We’ll be here all night if we don’t get started soon.” Tommy said removing the beer from my hands but left the trophy girl there. And for the record, I couldn’t tell you her name. All I can remember was she had brown hair.

“We
ain’t
changin
’ shit.” I told him with a lazy grin.
“Give ‘
em
the car.”

And we did. The Mustang guy, Patrick, got to keep his car
and
my 800 horsepower outlaw late model, all for letting me run that night. I even went as far as to hand him the trophy afterward and the trophy girl once I was done with her.

I hated to admit it but I was at a stage in my life where I had a sex drive. I was eighteen, with wants, desires and just downright needs.

That need was being intensified by my best friend, who I couldn’t have.

All this resulted in me taking this trophy girl to the men’s bathroom when Sway disappeared with Emma.

Still not knowing her name, I never even asked if she wanted it. I just assumed that’s what she wanted
...
it was what they all wanted.

So there we were in the bathroom, locked in a stall.

Her legs wrapped around my waist, her kisses just as frantic as mine. The problem was that I felt nothing.

When I kissed Sway, I felt everything. Each kiss I felt with a burning desire for more.

This wasn’t like that but it was providing a distraction.

I hesitated not knowing if this trophy girl wanted this or not but I figured when I unzipped my racing suit down to my waist and pushed her panties aside that she would have stopped me if it wasn’t what she wanted.

She never did stop me and Jesus Christ, she was loud.

I think you could hear her moans outside. I was thankful Spencer had stuffed condoms in my racing suit. 

This only being my second time, I only lasted maybe three minutes. I don’t think I knew what the fuck I was doing but judging by her screams, she seemed to enjoy it.

I set her down when I finished. Pulling my racing suit back up, I tossed the condom in the toilet.

She smiled and kissed me again. “Thanks Jameson. That was amazing.”

I untangled myself from her and smiled.

“Thanks,” running my hand down my jaw I smiled at her. “See
ya
around.”

Looking back on those times I’m ashamed at the way I treated them but it is what it is. I wasn’t going to provide them with anything and I think they knew that. No one climbs on a man’s lap in the pits and asks for a ride without knowing it’s a onetime thing. At least this was my reasoning behind it.

When I got back to my trailer, Tommy was loading the rest of the tools by himself.

“Where is everyone?” I was surprised to see Spencer wasn’t helping.

Tommy’s head shot up when he heard my voice.

“Oh
...
well, Sway left with Emma. Said something about being tired. They caught a ride back to the hotel with some guy and then Spencer and Alley are over there somewhere.” He gestured to a field on the other side of the track before throwing my helmet inside the truck.

I wondered who Sway left with first and then felt bad because for my own needs I left Tommy to clean up by
himself
.

“Here, let me get that.” I told him carrying the chairs toward the bed of my truck. “Did you see who Sway left with?”

“No, didn’t ask.” Tommy let out a grunt as he pushed the toolbox on the trailer. “It was another driver from the looks of what he was wearing. It might have been Justin, I think, or maybe it was Ryder
...
hell, I don’t know.”

“You okay?” he seemed irritated.

“I’m just tired.”

I knew the feeling.

I was still amazed at the shit all of us did just to race. Yeah I was the one driving the car, feeling the adrenaline rush but we all had the drive to go racing and would do whatever it took to make it to the next track.

Take Tommy for example. He didn’t have to be doing this but he traveled with us helping in any way he could for what, a hamburger here and beer there? He never asked for anything. He just wanted to be there. But all that took a toll on us by the time October rolled around. We were all tired. We worked well together but we definitely had our moments.

I had two of the best guys around working on my car each week. Alley did my schedule and talked to track owners and sponsors because I couldn’t without saying something stupid. Emma could sell crack to a nun so she handled the promotional side of the sponsorship and any media events and then there was Sway
...
she was there to keep me sane.

Later that night, I voiced my gratitude to Sway.

“Thanks.” I told Sway as we slept alongside Nehalem Highway that night.

She left with Justin, which made me feel better. I nearly had a heart attack thinking she’d left with one of the douche bags that had been eyeing her.

“No problem,” she mumbled curling up with her head in my lap.

We slept this way a lot. All our money either went to food or racing parts. We didn’t have money to stay in hotels every night so we made do with sleeping in my truck most nights.

Recently we had purchased a few tents and sleeping bags, which helped so we weren’t all sleeping in the truck. Tonight Sway, Tommy and I were in the truck, Emma was in the back of the truck and Alley and Spencer were sleeping in the tent.