The Legend

by Shey Stahl

  “We wouldn’t miss this.” Justin took a bite of his pancakes. Chewing slowly, he smiled. “I bet Spencer that he’d tell someone to fuck off before the weekend was out. I need to collect my money.”

  “You should have bet him last week. He told Brody to fuck off after only being there five minutes.”

  Tommy and I laughed remembering all the stories of him in the hospital from Casten and Arie. Dad wasn’t exactly this nicest to the hospital staff that saved his life.

  I learned over the years through stories and watching him, my dad proved his mettle with the best of them. He had a commitment and a determination with a sheer belief that he could be the best and would be.

  He was.

  There was no question about that.

  What would have taken someone a year to accomplish and make a full recovery, he did in six months. That right there was more valor than your average person.

  It wasn’t easy on him, he bordered on the edge every day but still, he did it.

  When I arrived at the track with Lily and the guys, I made my way through the mobs of fans and media to his motor coach to find him and Kyle outside of it laughing.

  Without a doubt, Kyle missed my dad, as did Aiden and Spencer. Easton was cool but he wasn’t my dad and he didn’t have the same drive in him.

  For example if my dad was riding on cords toward the end of the race, he’d drive that car until the tires fell off if he thought he could win.

  Easton, well he’d pit and then try to get a top ten. He was consistent yes, but he wasn’t my dad.

  We got into talking about the last few sprint car races I ran in and my return to Knoxville coming up next week.

  “Are you scared?” Dad asked me after everyone else walked away and we found ourselves alone inside.

  “Yes and no.” I said honestly shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not scared of being at Knoxville again. I’m scared that I will never be what you guys were to this sport.” I had yet to admit this to anyone yet.

  To my surprise dad laughed bringing a bottle of water to his lips. “You are.” He assured me with a smile. “Don’t try to live up to my clout or grandpa’s.” his eyes met mine and I was certain he wasn’t joking. “Trying to live up to someone else’s shoes only complicates the dream you want. Make it about you and no one else.” He continued to stare at me for a moment before smiling. “You’re a good kid, Axel. You’re going to make a good dad to that little guy. But you see only one angle to this. That’s not at all what it’s about.”

  Anyone could have said that to me but because a man that I looked up to my entire life said it just months after the man he looked up to, his entire life, said it. The words had meaning and probably more meaning that I could ever describe.

  “Thank you for...everything you did for your mom and me...” Dad looked away as emotion took his words away. “I never thanked you and I meant to. I know that what you saw and what you’re dealing with now is difficult.”

  I couldn’t help it any longer and I started to get emotional too and walked over to hug him. He immediately stood and wrapped his arms around me.

  Until now, we hadn’t talked about that night in Knoxville and we never would in detail. That wasn’t us. But sharing what we did, a hug between a father and son was exactly what we did do.

  Uniformity – Jameson

  Axel had just left the motor coach when my mom walked in. She seemed in good spirits, as she always was these days. She tried hard. For the sake of everyone around her, she tried very hard not to feel the pain that part of her was gone. She felt it. Oh god did she feel it. I knew enough about my mom to know late at night, in an empty house that was once walled with a legend was now quiet and filled with his memories. I found her once in the closet, asleep, in a pile of his t-shirt wearing one of his helmets. I never told her that I had stopped by and found her but when she woke up on my chest, she knew and we cried together.

  It didn’t matter whether you maintained a smile. Their memory is there as it should be.

  After taking a bottle of water from the fridge and a bag of chips from Casten who followed my mom around most days, she said eating a chip. “I’m ready to talk to the media.”

  I choked on my water, as did Sway, who was sitting beside me in the motor coach. We were all sitting around with Arie and Casten laughing about Axel and Lily’s latest visit to the doctor where they found out they were having a little boy.

  “What?” Sway finally asked since I was trying to catch my breath.

  “Well,” my mom looked at Casten who put his arm around her. “I think it’s time they hear from me.”

  Both the media and NASCAR had asked to interview her since my dad’s passing but she wasn’t ready. Why? Because she hadn’t dealt with the death herself.

  What changed?

  After the memorial in Elma, she finally dealt with it and cried for nearly three days straight. And then she went to Tri-State Speedway with Axel and the boys. Being around the racing community again, she dealt with his death in her own way. The same way he would have. Being around what made him who he was. And that in turn made her who she was, a racers wife.

  You see it was never racing that he was known for. It was racing that was him.

  To understand that reply you would have to understand the mentality of a racer. And it’s not something I can explain.

  “If you’re sure, it can be arranged.” I told my mom who was looking to me for approval. Aside from my brief press conference that ended short last weekend when they pressed for details, my family and I had yet to speak to the media and I wasn’t going to. For now, I kept quiet but if my mom was speaking, it was only right that I did too.

  “Do you think that can be arranged prior to the race?” Mom looked from me to Alley.

  “I can talk to NASCAR and see.” Alley said weary of my reaction. I wasn’t keen on my family talking to the media for the simple fact I didn’t want them judged. Any time you talk to the media your words are transformed into what they want. For this reason, my wife and my kids never did interviews aside from Axel. And he only talked about his career with racing, never family life.

  It’s something I learned very early on that first year racing. Don’t talk to the media about personal affairs.

  But this was different. Jimi was an owner of a successful NASCAR team and Busch team for over twenty years. The NASCAR community and fans, wanted consolation and they wanted to show us their support.

  When I was in the hospital I got thousands of cards and flowers and letters, all praying for a safe recovery. They cared, and in turn, we should say something publicly to let them know we cared.

  I looked over at Alley who was waiting for my response. “Let them know that prior to the race we will both publicly speak.”

  Sway gasped. “Jameson?”

  I looked over at her. “I should speak to them. They want to hear from me as well as my mom.”

  She nodded. “If you’re sure,”

  “I am.”

  The morning of the race, I tried to talk myself and my mom out of what we were about to do but I couldn’t. Instead I offered her an out.

  “You don’t have to do this.” I told her. I wanted her to know there was no obligation for her to do this.

  “Yes, I do.” Her misty eyes focused on mine. “For them...for us...I have to.”

  For months she’d been quiet, now she was going to speak to thousands of fans about something very personal to her, to us.

  We walked in silence to the stage in front of the large crowd at Dover International Raceway.

  It wasn’t until then that I thought about what I would say to them.

  I wondered how many of them had lost their fathers recently, or mothers, or husbands, or wives, or worse, a child. Maybe some were still dealing with the pain like it was yesterday for some, maybe they cried less and focused on what their death taught them and how their memory could live on.

  Approaching the stage, I kissed my wife fi
rst, then my mom, and walked to the podium. Looking into the audience, my fears about what I would say seemed silly now because I knew what to say. I would say the truth.

  I spoke with a sorrow that I felt deep in my bones. Not just for my dad but for everyone that had ever lost a loved one. I spoke with a sorrow for the little bright eyed boy who captured my heart with his chocolate eyes and will to survive though his body couldn’t. I spoke with a sorrow for a man who taught me what coming home really meant and understood my love for his daughter before I ever did. A sorrow for those lost on my plane and a sorrow for a true friend who died doing something he loved.

  “I think that most of you want me to say something heartfelt and meaningful. Something that will make you feel better when searching for solace. You want something that will make a loss so great maybe not hurt as much, but I can’t. Words can’t capture the heartache and they’re not meant to. They are there to offer a mere comfort that someone understands. It can’t heal you but it can let you know you’re not alone. Your tears and support for our family have touched us deeply and we thank you for that.” My hand found my chest over my heart. “We feel it here. We feel that just like you, we’re not alone in this and are forever grateful for your support. Thank you. All that I can say is that we are here, living the only life our family knows. Racing.” I motioned behind me to the track. “This is how we keep our memories alive.”

  The crowd in attendance cheered and clapped as I finished the speech but my eyes remained on the track behind me. It was a place that one year ago I watched my son dance around like a pimp throwing one dollar bills into the crowd. It was a same place where my dad chuckled with emotion when he watched his son’s and their bond of raising the window net together. It was a race track. A place that was home for us. Confined between concrete and asphalt, it had the power to heal wounds you never thought would heal. It’s hard when you think about the past and looked to the present. It feels like you’re moving on without them but you’re not. You’re living life with their memory.

  The crowd was still clapping as I stood on the side of the stage. My eyes caught my mom who was holding Arie and Lexi close to her side as they cried.

  I looked to her one last time. Arie and Lexi moved to the side and reached for Sway and Alley, who were also crying.

  “Are you sure?” I asked leaning into my mom to whisper in her ear.

  “Yes,” she whispered before kissing my cheek and then Spencer and Emma. “For us,” she whispered.

  Casten, who stood on the other side of Sway, smiled and gave me a wink. I chuckled shaking my head. He always knew when I needed a smile.

  My mom was never a woman to get up in front of an audience, she enjoyed the shadows of all this. But being the strong woman I always knew her to be, she knew his fans wanted to hear from her. Since the accident, she has yet to speak publicly about him and this being my first race of the NASCAR season; they wanted to hear from her and me.

  Jimi had not only shaped the sprint car racing community to be what it is today but he left his mark in NASCAR. Starting out as a one man team he built an empire and behind that empire was the woman that drove him, my mother.

  Wearing a sun hat, dark sunglasses and the dress dad bought her on their anniversary many years back, she stepped toward the podium in front of a few hundred thousand people. I could tell she was nervous, just as I was. She was speaking of the man she knew better than any of us did and I was about to announce my retirement.

  Sway, stood strong beside me as she always did, clutched my arm securely as mom began to speak.

  My mom smiled at us and then nodded once bowing her head. “For the past few months everyone has asked me how I’m holding up, or how our family is holding up.” She paused for a moment before wiping away her tears, the entire crowd silenced. “I can’t tell you that because we don’t know how we do it, just that we do. We’re a racing family. It’s all we’ve ever known and will ever know. We can’t tell you how because it’s in our blood. We know the dangers are out there but it doesn’t change anything. Jimi Anthony Riley was a son, a father, a grandfather and a husband and one of the greatest sprint car racers of all time.

  “He made history in sprint cars and he died in one but looking back on it, though I am angry that I lost him, he died doing something he loved. Some may say that it’s dangerous and why let him do something like that but how could I ever ask the man I loved to quit doing what made him happy?” the crowd applauded her before she continued.

  “I loved him before he was the legend everyone knew him as and I will love him just the same now that he’s gone. That doesn’t change anything for me because I was racers wife. I can tell you every race he ever won, every lap he ever led because while he was in the spotlight, I was the one in the shadows that kept him together. Just as I’ve said, I knew the dangers just as well he did, but as a racers wife, I would never ask him to stop for one reason, he did it because he loved it. I knew every time he climbed inside that car, I might be leaving the track alone but I would never ask him to stop. I may have stood in his shadows but after the thrill from the victory was washed away, I was there for him and that’s all that matters. I gave him all the love I had and in turn, he gave me happiness. He gave me three wonderful kids and unconditional love. So he may have been a legend in sprint car racing to you but he was the greatest man I ever knew, he was my legend. His memory will forever be with me, and our family.”

  I’m sure some may have expected her to say more but what she did, was perfect. Just like the uniformity in a tire, everybody will deal with death in their own way and in their own time. Sometimes it doesn’t happen right away. It can happen a week later, a month later, or a year later. Or maybe it doesn’t happen for ten years. Either way, uniformity can be appreciated.

  Before driver introductions were scheduled, we had one more press conference scheduled with the media. My mom went with the girls back to the motor coach away from the media and I walked back to the paddock alone.

  Walking through the paddock that day, life was going on much as it had for the past twenty years I had been in the sport—humming with race day excitement. Crews were scrambling to make sure everything was in order, drivers getting their game faces on. A country band was playing in the infield; the music pulsed through the venue.

  It reminded me of all the times I would walk up and down this same stretch over the years knowing on any given night here, I could win.

  Now I wasn’t so sure.

  Tate was swapping stories with his son Jacob. Bobby was spending time with his wife and daughter. Brody was in the hospitality tent with Simplex kissing ass I assumed. When talk began to swirl that I may be hanging it up, he was so far up Simplex’s ass, that if they sneezed, he was coming out their nose.

  At my hauler, Spencer was going over race day check lists while Sway cooked lunch for everyone.

  Everything was normal with the exception of one thing: I was about to announce my retirement.

  I decided after nineteen professional seasons in NASCAR; I was hanging up my helmet.

  The thing is, the weight of the world can crush you. Constantly judging, never letting up. The media, the sacrifices, all of it, at some point you realize there’s not a goddamn thing you can do to change it. Just go with it. I went with it for years. My entire life so far I dealt with it and then some. I had a choice to make now. Was this really for me any longer?

  I knew after Jimi died, I couldn’t give it everything I had any longer. I knew enough about myself to know that if I didn’t give it my all, I wasn’t doing it. I couldn’t go out there with half-myself. It was safe for one and two; I was tired. I had lived this lifestyle for as long as I could remember and I needed time for myself and for my family.

  Just as my mom said, racing is all our family has ever known as it always will be with Axel racing now. It just wasn’t my time any longer.

  Telling everyone who worked for me, and my family, was going to be hard because I was changing their lives.
The lifestyle we had been accustomed to for years would be drastically different.

  Sway and I had discussed my retirement late at nights but I had yet to make my final decision. Sometime during my mom’s speech that morning, I knew it was time. I never wanted to feel that pain of seeing my wife give that very same speech.

  I think Sway sensed this so when I walked up to her prior to the press conference I scheduled right before the drivers meeting, she smiled. “You’re going to, aren’t you?”

  I gave her my only shot at a smile I could rally. “It’s time honey.”

  We both knew it was time.

  Kyle, Alley, Sway and Spencer followed me to the media center after that. The kids stayed with my mom and kept her out of the media for good reason.

  I was nervous during the press conference looking to the sponsors who had supported me throughout the years, other drivers who helped shape the career I now had, friends and my family who were there for me these last few months.

  When I started to speak, I was shaking, sweating and damn near crying. “I’d like to start by thanking each one of you who were there for me, prayed for my safe recovery and wished us well dealing with our loss. I was honestly astounded at the amount of card, letters, and flowers me and my family received.”

  Taking a deep breath, I continued. I was nervous, need I say that again?

  “It meant a lot to us to know we had your support.” My hand dropped from my hat to the microphone again. “It wasn’t easy but we came back from it. During that time, I realized a lot about myself and my family and what they need. What we need.”

  I looked at Sway for encouragement before speaking and she smiled that breathtaking smile she had. In that instant, our whole lives flashed in front of me and reminded me of the bond we had and why she was such a vital part of this decision. She reminded of why this was what I had to do.

  I saw her standing there in those jean shorts and that black tank top the night I met her, her innocence so beautiful. I saw flashes of our childhood, our summers together, the night I asked her to stay and she did. I saw her vowing her commitment to me. The look on her face when she held each of our children for the first time, the day she left me and the look of forgiveness on her face when I begged her to take me back. I saw her standing over me in the hospital, tears streaming down her face and the utter heartbreak when she told me my dad was gone. For over thirty years, this woman owned me; of course, I would look to her for answers.