by Stahl, Shey
Dad set fast time and was locked into the main with Justin, Ryder, Cody and Tyler. By the time the B-Main rolled around, there were four positions open. Axel wanted one of those positions.
The stands were packed with fifteen thousand fans all eagerly awaiting to see what this sixteen-year old kid from Mooresville had to offer the greatest midget racers in the world.
The race got off to a rough start when Shane Jennings flipped on the second lap bringing out the red flag for ten minutes while they cleaned up the mess. That’s when the real fun began.
On the front row, Axel was lined up against an Australian driver, Dylan Cottle.
Cottle had won events like the Hut Hundred, Turkey Night and the Cooper Classic last year. He was tough competition but I knew Axel had the talent and patience to outrun him.
Off the track Axel was like me, impatient as hell. On the track, he showed fortitude in situations like this.
“He’s gonna choke.” Some kid behind us said. Spencer and Casten turned around to look back at the kid, glaring. “What?” the kid asked. “He is.”
Casten took Spencer’s fries loaded with ketchup and tossed them back at the kid, ketchup spraying him in the face. “Looks like you’re choking now.”
That’s my boy.
Turns out, Axel didn’t choke as he stayed right with Dylan all twenty laps and locked in a spot in the A-Main tomorrow night.
I called Sway to let her know and she told me Arie got a tattoo. I was not impressed by this at all. My little angel was fourteen, she didn’t need a tattoo. Apparently, it was small and on the inside of her ankle but still, this was not good news to me. It just meant she was growing up and that depressed me.
Back at the hotel that night, it took a good hour to get my hormone driven sixteen-year old son away from his girlfriend. They must have spent a good twenty minutes in the parking lot making out.
This time Justin was not impressed.
“This is not good.” Justin sighed closing the curtains so he couldn’t see them any longer. His hotel room was right next door so we decided to open up the mini-bar. “Your son better not break her heart.”
“I have no control over that.”
His eyebrow arched as he chucked an airplane bottle of rum. “Regardless...put yourself in my shoes...think of that as Arie out there.”
I leaned out the door of the hotel room. “Axel, get your ass in here!”
Justin started laughing tensely throwing back another bottle. “My point exactly,”
“You beat me...I didn’t make it out here until I was nineteen.”
“How’d you do?” Axel asked as we walked into the Tulsa Expo Center around seven on Saturday morning.
I pointed to the plaque on the wall. “You tell me.” My name appeared on the wall seven times, the first being in 1999 when I won the event, my first time there.
Axel was calm and withdrawn that morning. Much like me, he retreated when he needed to focus spending much of his morning inside the hauler away from everyone. Lily made her way in there for a few minutes but eventually she too knew he needed to be by himself.
About an hour before driver introductions, my dad and I made our way inside the hauler to check on Axel. He was sitting at the table, his head resting on his arms hiding his face.
“You ever coming out of here boy?” Dad asked him pushing him over so he could sit next to him. “I need some healthy competition out there.”
“I’m hardly competition for you grandpa.” Axel answered his face still out of sight from us.
Dad nodded toward him and then the door before rubbing Axel’s back once. “See you on the track kid.”
Axel didn’t respond, just kept his head down. We sat there in silence before he finally looked up at me, “I’m...scared.” his voice was soft.
Instantly I saw the little boy I saw before his first Dirt Nationals, looking to me for advice and more than anything, reassurance. I knew then everything my dad tried to warm me about when I was Axel’s age. Talent can only take you so far, he was right. Confidence, determination, and a clear level head are what win races and championships. To do that, you can’t be second-guessing yourself. Something I never did of course but Axel, he worried a lot about what others thought and turned to them for comfort.
“There’s not much I can tell you that will comfort you buddy. I know you can do it.”
His eyes met mine, his expression wary. “With Grandpa out there?”
“Every race I’ve ever won, I’ve looked at my competition. To be the best racer you can be you want to beat the best. Personally, if I won a race where grandpa or Justin and Tyler were in it...I would feel like I really won.”
Axel seemed to understand but still held some nervousness.
“You got the talent buddy. I’ve seen you do it before, just keep that in here.” I tapped the side of his head.
We didn’t have much time but as we made our way outside so he could get to driver introductions he hugged me. Really hugged me. Both arms wrapped around me tightly.
Kissing the top of his head, I returned the hug. “Go get em’ buddy.”
When the race started, Axel lined up behind Dylan Cottle and Cody Bowman in the fifth row beside Shane Jennings, a fellow USAC midget racer he’d raced with since they were nine.
After a four-lap yellow in the beginning for a few tangled cars on the start, Axel began moving up the field from his tenth starting position. He hugged the inside edge of the track protecting his position, at times driving up on the berm for the first 15 laps.
With 18 laps to go, he passed Cody for fourth. With 14 to go Travis Quinn flipped bringing out the caution. When the race restarted, Hayden went airborne just before the start finish line and was in turn hit by Shane Jennings, who also flipped.
After the yellow, the race was on with 12 laps to go. Axel was running fourth with Ryder, Justin and dad in front of him. He shot down low with 9 to go and got past Ryder for third.
He bobbled a little on the backstretch allowing Ryder to catch him again only to pass him on the front stretch.
“I think he can pull this off!” Tommy said nodding.
I couldn’t say anything. I was too busy biting my nails. Yeah, that’s right. Twelve time NASCAR Cup Champion biting his nails over his son racing in the Chili Bowl.
Justin held his ground for two laps before Axel swept past him on the line. He was right on dad after that. Every move he made, dad blocked him just like he should. It was going to take more than just talent to get past old Jimi, Axel finally understood that when he pulled back about a car length and followed every move he made, waiting for his opening. With one lap to go on a quarter mile track, everyone, including me and Tommy thought Jimi had the win.
I looked down for just a brief second as the cars came out of turn two; the fifteen thousand fans went into an uproar, as did Spencer and Tommy beside me. Looking up, I saw Axel shoot up the track into the cushion, bounce off it and the inside rail only to slingshot forward into Jimi, their nurf bars banging. They came out of turn four side-by-side and Axel simply drove away as if it was no effort.
My son learned the art of patience.
He had the car to beat his grandpa all along. But he knew if he made his move too soon, he’d spend the next few laps holding him off and eating up his tires potentially allowing him to get back by him. This way, Jimi was the one that ate up his tires holding Axel off.
I nearly cried.
All those times my dad told me how proud he was of me and how seeing your child living their dreams meant far more than winning yourself, that made sense to me now.
Tommy and Spencer hugged me, Van and Aiden hugged each other. Casten was screaming with Lane, Cole, Noah and Charlie as we watched our own bring home the victory.
My dad stopped in the middle of the infield, just like he did when I won this event back in 99 and ran over to Axel.
Axel was the youngest driver in the history of the Chili Bowl Midget Nationals to win. Three generations of
drivers had finally been placed on the wall.
The party in Axel’s pit was similar to the one that took place when I won back then. Axel had his first beer. Casten told everyone his brother won while Lane and Logan took advantage of all the girls swarming around.
There was a smile plastered upon everyone’s faces that night, including mine and my dad’s.
“He was strong out there.” Dad said drinking a beer beside me as we watched Lily congratulate Axel with a kiss that made me a little uncomfortable.
“He had patience.” I agreed slinging my arm around him.
Dad smiled, “Something you still don’t understand at times.”
“I resent that.”
“You would...now go party with your son. I’m exhausted.”
I knew I had patience. He was full of shit. I sat back out of the spotlight that night. This was Axel’s time, not mine. I declined to sign anything for the fans only to push them toward Axel. “He’s the talent.” I would tell them. No one seemed to be overly offended by it. I just wanted them to understand what this meant for him. It meant everything.
I knew this because when I won, it meant everything. All the hard work was rewarded in a way that only a racer understood; victory.
The next morning was the first real conversation I was able to have with Axel without someone around.
“How does it feel?” I asked him over breakfast before we headed home. Sway was already planning a party with Emma for when we got back to celebrate his win. Now just might be my only time to talk to him alone for a few days.
“I’m not really sure...” he smiled wide. “It hasn’t really sunk in yet.”
Pushing the front page of the Tulsa World toward him, I smiled. “This might help.”
Spread across the front page was a picture of Axel standing on the roll cage, his fist in the air with my dad beside him. The title read: The kid dominates the legend.
He smiled while reading it and then pushed it aside looking up at me. “Thanks dad.”
“For what?”
His eyes stayed focused with mine as if he was trying to make me see before shrugging.
“For everything,”
25. Poppet - Jameson
Poppet – Valve mechanism that continually opens and closes in response to variation in pressure.
Not long after the season began that year, my sponsor, Simplex, was promoting a driver challenge at Eldora with a few Cup, Outlaw and truck series drivers.
Simplex had been promoting the event for months and we’d finally strung up twenty three of us to race in the event the weekend after the All-Star race during the bi-week before the Coca-Cola 600.
After doing press on Charlotte Motor Speedway, Casten and I were on our way to Eldora for the 2-day event with Spencer, Bobby and Tate. Axel, and most of my sprint car team were already there waiting for us with our cars. Now we just had to get there.
About twenty minutes outside of Eldora, my phone started ringing.
Most of the calls were from Alley. When I didn’t answer, she then called Tate and then Bobby.
Casten, who was sitting next to me in the front seat, turned down the stereo and looked back at Tate who shrugged. “What’s up?”
“I’m not sure. Here,” I handed him my cell phone and tried to keep the truck on the road. “Check the messages for me.”
He did and immediately turned ridged. His face lost all color and his eyes widening further, the alarm shining back at me.
“Dad, you should pull over.” He spoke softly handing me his cell phone.
I looked at the screen to see that Sway was calling.
“Honey, what’s up? I thought you were on a plane to Elma?”
“I was...I uh, we landed and then I saw on the news...” my wife’s hysterical response broke through. “Oh god Jameson, I thought you were on that plane!”
“What plane?”
“The one heading to Eldora,”
“Well no, Casten and I decided to drive with Tate, Spencer and Bobby. We are meeting the team there. What’s going on?”
Sway was silent for a moment as I watched Casten dig out his iPad to look at the news. The guys observed over his shoulder.
Sway fumbled through a string of words that took me a moment to decipher and then it hit me what she said...plane crash.
“Honey, please slow down, what are you talking about?”
My mind raced to comprehend. Adrenaline jolted through me sending a sharp pain through my bones.
Pausing to control herself, her voiced evened out. “Jameson...your team plane crashed outside Lancaster Ohio on its way to Eldora.”
My stomach dropped. I had just watched half the team load onto that plane in Charlotte.
Gentry...Ethan...Jeb...Wes...Cal...Andy...Trace...oh god.
Half my team and Tate’s team was on that plane and I was supposed to be along with Spencer, Casten, Tate and Bobby but we drove because we got caught up in press after the race.
My wife’s voice drew me from my thoughts.
“Jimi just called and said Eldora cancelled the races this weekend. He asked that you guys just come home.”
I couldn’t form a reply. Sitting there staring off at the Highway, I couldn’t reply.
My fingers clamped over the wheel, knuckles paling, and I dropped the phone. Casten quickly scrambled beside me to retrieve it.
I couldn’t focus much less drive so Spencer took over.
I called Alley, who was already doing damage control to see what she knew. Sway stayed in Elma for the time being until I told her where I was going. I knew one thing. I needed to get to Charlotte as that would be where most teams would be gathering.
“Jameson,” Alley answered right away. “I need you guys to head back to NC and stay in Charlotte tonight. There will be a press conference held in the morning and they will announce the plans from there.”
“What plans?” I motioned for Spencer to pull over so we could turn around and head to Charlotte.
“You do realize who was on that plane, don’t you?”
“Well, mostly my team and Tate’s but Andy too.”
Alley was silent.
“Alley?”
“Jameson, at least three of the truck series drivers were on that plane along with Andy, Colin, and two Nationwide series drivers.”
“Oh.”
It was my plane and I knew most of the guys boarding it when it left but I had no idea all those people were on it. Wes frequently gave guys rides when they needed it and he knew I would never object to it. But the fact they were on a plane I owned, and it crashed, felt as though it was my fault.
Our community, my racing family, had lost members of their family today and though I knew deep down it wasn’t my fault, it didn’t stop from taking a piece of me.
Just as a reciprocating engine is made up of systems that keeps it running so is the racing community. There’s one that keeps the pistons moving, one that keeps the belts moving, one that keeps oil flowing and one that creates spark. They are all connected. Take one out of the equation and guess what, that engine that kept you going is no longer there and everything falls apart.
Take drivers from the series and you feel it.
That checkered flag you saw in the distance becomes a yellow flag. Until they fail, or one is taken from the equation, you don’t realize how much you depend on those pistons, cylinders, belts, and oil.
Poppet – Sway
Death is such a surreal thing to me. It lies and waits under the surface waiting to consume. It’s noticeable but hovering and ready to take victim at any moment.
I didn’t waste time in Elma after I heard about the accident. Arie and I flew back to Mooresville that night and helped with the devastation. I knew I couldn’t offer much but I’d help in any way I could. Those drivers, those crew members and pilots all had family and I could be there for them.
Tate’s teammate, Andy Crockett, one of the drivers on the plane, was married and had kids the same age as Arie and
Casten. My heart ached for his wife Erica and I wondered how in the world she was managing right now. I couldn’t comprehend the feeling I had when I thought that Jameson was on that plane and the relief, though incredibly reassuring, was immediately forgotten when I realized that just because Jameson, my world, wasn’t on that plane didn’t mean that there wasn’t a handful of others on it who had family.
When I got to the shop where Alley told me Jameson was, I heard the sounds of screaming and destruction coming from inside his shop. I could hear things being smashed and destroyed over his pain.
Opening the door, it pushed open but with resistance from the parts that had been hurled against it.
He stood, in the middle of the shop, bent forward with his hands resting on the wing of a sprint car.
He turned slightly, his body remained in line with the car, and just his head moved at the sound of the door. His brow furrowed, lines forming in the outer corners, his expression boarding painful, his eyes dark to match his lashes.
When he noticed it was me, he turned to meet me walking toward him. He was scared and he was angry. He also had every right to feel both.
“Honey, you really shouldn’t be in here.” His voice was firm but breakable as he stared down into my eyes, his face an unreadable contrast to my own. He scratched the back of his neck slowly, his head hung in defeat. Regret and sadness were easy. Moving forward wasn’t. I knew that just as Jameson did. But I’d be here for him.
Just the same as I’d heard those very words back in California all those years back, I ignored them because he was a man, my husband, needing me again.
When I looked at him, I could see the same fire I’ve always seen but it was trying to go out with the winds created.
I felt him lower his face to mine, his breath hitting my lips.
Jameson’s lips trailed across my jaw stopping in their path to kiss my lips and forehead, his nose delicately nudging against mine.
