Trading Paint

by Shey Stahl

  Looking at the anatomy of everything, you don’t realize how it’s not just the driver; everyone has a place and is vital to winning these races. If everything lines up and you do happen to win, it’s not only a relief to the driver but is the same for the gasman who has performed his job and dropped the gas in the right amount of time and the same for the guy bolting on the lug nuts tight enough. They feel the win too. They performed their jobs and aided in the win. I hoped that they got just as much out of a victory as I did because really, without them, it wouldn’t be possible.

  When testing began I met Darrin Torres again, the asshole that wrecked me a couple years ago in a USAC Silver crown. Now I’d seen Darrin at the tracks this last year. It’s hard not to when you’re both at the same track each weekend. Outside of the occasional glare, we didn’t speak and I had no desire to befriend him anyway.

  I was surprised when he approached me after testing one afternoon.

  It was our last day before speed week started and I had a lot on my mind to begin with so I didn’t need to deal with another confrontation with him.

  “So you’re the badass USAC driver everyone talks about...you don’t look so badass now,” was his kind way of greeting me.

  “I’ve had my moments.” I responded signing a few autographs as I walked toward the paddock.

  “Guys like you have it easy. Your father funds everything for you.”

  Guys like me? He had no idea how much time I spent racing as a kid. How ever since I was old enough to walk, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Constantly training myself, focusing on what I thought was important. The long hours, the time spent traveling, how I never had a childhood, the things I gave up...Sway...he had no fucking clue what it was like for me.

  Luck...sure I had that on my side at times but I worked hard for everything I have.

  “Yeah, I have luck but I’ve worked for everything I have.” I told him unemotionally walking away.

  “Yeah...right,” He muttered and walked away himself.

  You know that feeling you get when you know something is wrong, yeah well anytime I was around Darrin, I felt that unnerving perturbed feeling.

  After testing, we had about two weeks back at the shop where we adjusted the car we needed in preparation for Speedweek. You would think all I would have to do is drive the car but no, being a NASCAR driver is so much more in-depth than that. There are appearances to make, meet and greets, fan clubs obligations, autograph sessions, commercials, pictures, team meetings...I could go on and on with this one.

  What I saying here is that most see the glamorous side. They see the money and publicity of it all but it’s draining both mentally and physically on everyone involved. Most all these drivers out there are in it to race and now, they were puppets to their sponsors whether they wanted to be or not once they were outside of the car.

  Have you ever watched how when I driver gets out of the car? He immediately puts on his sponsors’ hat and then when the camera swings to him, he takes a drink of whatever drink of choice is sponsoring him. That’s advertisement and is exactly what your sponsor is seeking when they agree to provide you with the funds. We promote them and in turn, they give us money to do what we love. Fair trade? Maybe.

  I hated doing anything that wasn’t racing but when I was in the car, I forgot about all that and raced. It was as though life outside of that cockpit didn’t exist, and that’s exactly what I loved most about racing. So was it a fair trade...yes, it was to me.

  I’d probably stand on the corner in chicken suit waving a sign around while shaking my ass if I got to race each week. That’s how badly I wanted this.

  I had tested at Daytona, and I ran well there—I was comfortable with the fast speeds and drafting. I definitely was no master at the air, but I was comfortable at least.

  But now, I was out there with more than just Bobby and me; try forty-two other cars pulling on and off the track.

  Aiden managed to keep me calm by adding simple things like, “Remember to blend,” when other drivers would merge onto the track. Seems silly that he’d have to tell me that but it helps. It helps because when you’re on the track you’re so focused on what’s happening that you don’t necessarily look to the line to see the other drivers until it’s too late.

  The other obstacle was getting other drivers to draft with you and drafting with them. Drafting is almost like a fine art or a formal ball. It’s not easy when you’re a rookie driver getting other drivers to dance with you but thankfully Bobby was there and other drivers like Tate Harris, another rookie Paul Leighty and Andy Crockett were all willing to work with me. Others like Darrin and his teammate Chris Snider weren’t easy to work with. I didn’t have a problem with Chris but Darrin, couldn’t stand the asshole.

  I spent most of the practice sessions just working with the draft and other drivers, trying to get a feel for how the race would be. I raced here in the Busch series but cup cars held about 400 more horsepower so as you could see, they went faster.

  I’d take about fifty laps and then come in, give my feedback to Kyle and Mason and then I was off again. Being a new team, we didn’t have a lot of data to form. We just kind of winged it and hoped for some sort of break. I also had to provide feedback for them. I learned a lot in the Busch series and knew when the car was pushing and tight but I still didn’t know everything and that was hard on everyone. I would get frustrated because I couldn’t drive the car like I wanted and the team was frustrated with me because I couldn’t tell them what the car was doing.

  If it weren’t for the help of guys like Tate and Bobby who came from dirt track racing, I wouldn’t know what I was talking about in these cars. But they were there for me and helped me tell Kyle and Harry what I needed from the car.

  I made it through practice on Thursday and then came the Budweiser Shootout on Saturday night. It was rare for a rookie driver to be in the shootout but I was selected as the wild card, so here I was preparing.

  I never got nervous prior to a race but I did have some butterflies that night so I did what I always did when I was nervous. I called Sway before heading out to the driver introductions. I only had about an hour, I knew I needed to eat, but Sway was more important.

  She answered on the first ring, as she always did. “Hey honey.” I smiled.

  She sighed contently. I could hear the faint sounds of the television in the background and loud voices, one sounded like Tommy.

  “I was hoping you’d call before the race.”

  “Did you watch my interview this morning?” I groaned. I hated doing interviews generally because I never knew what to say. If I spoke my mind, they wouldn’t be happy.

  “I did...a little eloquent but really, that’s you.”

  “How have you been? How did your class go?”

  “Good, I got an A so I guess it went well. Just three more months to graduation!”

  “I think I’m more excited for you to graduate than you are.” I told her with a chuckle.

  Alley, with Lane on her hip, made her way inside the motor coach I’d holed myself up in. With traveling so often these days, I purchased a Featherlite Motor coach. Most of the drivers had them and I definitely saw the advantages. You didn’t have to find a hotel room and you could sleep longer on race days.

  Alley pushed a plate of tacos at me so I began eating while Sway talked about her classes for a moment. After ruffling Lane’s mop of wavy honey blonde hair, Alley went back outside with him.

  “What are you going to do after you graduate?”

  “Well I’m sure Charlie has everything lined up for me...he wants me to be the General Manager.”

  “I heard that...” I paused taking a drink of my water. “Is that what you want to do?”

  “Yes and no.” she admitted. “I miss you...I miss everyone. I had lunch with your mom the other day and it just reminded me how much fun I had with everyone.”

  “I hope you mean me...I believe I’m the one you like the most.”

  She gi
ggled. “Yes, I’d say I’m partial to you.”

  “You probably can’t come out for the race, huh?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I need to put some finishing touches on my Marketing Management assignment.”

  “I understand.” I said before I gave myself away.

  This was a significant step in my racing career but I couldn’t expect her to be there for everything, I wanted her to be but I couldn’t expect it. She wasn’t my girlfriend and I had to stop acting as though she was.

  “I’ll try,” she offered. “But I can’t promise anything.”

  “Well when you graduate...we need to get together at some point.”

  “We could run away together.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Yeah but there would be a lot of jealous girls if you ran away with me,” Sway teased with a giggle. I’d recently did a magazine interview where all they talked about was how girls wanted to run away with me. Clearly, I’d just provided ammo for Sway.

  “Shut up.” I groaned pushing my plate away. I wasn’t surprised I just eaten six tacos. I glanced at my phone and realized I needed to get to the pre-race activities. “I need to get to driver introductions but I just needed to hear your voice for a minute.”

  “Just remember, you’ll do fine.”

  “I know.” I rubbed my belly. I definitely ate too much.

  “I...” Sway paused and let out a shaky breath. “I will see you soon okay?”

  “Yeah, somehow...maybe I can make it out there for graduation or something.”

  “I know you’re busy Jameson but please don’t forget why tonight...you’re racing in the Budweiser Shootout, that means something. This is what you worked for all those years.”

  Honestly though, it hadn’t hit me how real this all was. I’m sure it would when I got inside the car but as of yet, it hadn’t. I think I was too full to feel anything else.

  When I walked out to the grid for introductions, the nerves hit. Knowing I would be fine once inside the car, I wanted to rush all the pre-race activities and just get on with it. I didn’t like butterflies.

  Having seen the fan fair I was developing throughout Speedweek I was prepared for a few cheers but I wasn’t expecting to hear the crowd roar to life when I stepped on stage after Tate.

  He turned around clapping himself and did this stupid bow that made me chuckle.

  I waived to the crowd as they cheered louder and then I punched Tate’s arm when I got closer.

  “You have more fans than me.” he gestured to the crowd.

  I saw my mom and Emma jumping up and down amongst them.

  Races like this, guys put it all on the line and I had to rise to the occasion. I was racing with the best as I should be but I also sensed they thought the kid shouldn’t be racing with them. With all the remarks I heard that night from the other drivers like Torres and Snider, I did the only thing I knew to do. I put my head down and raced. It didn’t matter if this wasn’t a points race. I had to prove that I was worthy. No one thought a sprint car driver could come out and drive these stock cars competitively but I was hell bent on proving them wrong.

  21. Chicane – Sway

  Chicane – A quick succession of sharp, slow turns, usually intended to reduce straightaway speeds.

  “He doesn’t know, does he?” I bit the last of my fingernails off. I was sure this was a bad idea; it had to be.

  Tommy laughed his loud cackling laugh that never sounded normal on him but I blamed the orange hair. You probably wouldn’t sound normal either if you had hair that bright.

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “He thinks I’m staying in school?” I looked down at my fingers, picking at the chipped nail polish that I hadn’t chewed off.

  “You’re such a fucking weirdo. How many times do I need to explain this college girl?” he smacked my forehead and jerked my chin up. “He. Doesn’t. Know!”

  “All right,” I huffed and pushed myself from the couch we were sitting on in Starbucks at the SeaTac airport. “He doesn’t...you know, have a girlfriend you’re not telling me about, does he?”

  I wanted to punch myself.

  Tommy chuckled and picked up our bags. He was flying out to Daytona with me and then he was off to Eldora for the start of the Outlaw season.

  “He doesn’t, that I know of...but when has he ever had a girlfriend?” he looked at me like I was stupid.

  I felt stupid for even asking.

  “Good point...but you never know.”

  “He spends all his free time on the phone with you.” He insinuated.

  “So?”

  “What I mean is how would he have time for a girlfriend? He’s either racing or talking to you. Obviously I’m no judge of character here because I can’t keep a girlfriend more than a few months, but I’m almost certain no woman would tolerate that.”

  He had a good point there. Jameson and I talked every day no matter what time of the night it was. It was almost as though we had an unspoken rule that we had to talk.

  The entire flight I was nervous and downright jittery. I hadn’t seen him since last April and I wasn’t sure how to act around him. I knew once I saw him, everything would be back to normal but I was still nervous anticipating what he would think. Did he want me there? He said he did but then again maybe he was just trying to make me feel better.

  So now, here I was surprising him in Daytona. It was Tommy who convinced me to surprise him. I planned on going to Daytona but surprising him seemed like a better option or a dumb one, not sure yet.

  As I said, we hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year and if I was honest with you, my feeling for him hadn’t diminished. If anything, it was stronger from the separation. My TV in my dorm in Bellingham was kept on the SPEED channel or ESPN just in case I was able to catch a glimpse of him in an interview or just the mention of his name.

  Our plane was delayed due to a thunderstorm rolling through Atlanta during take-off so when we finally touched down in Daytona, the race had already began.

  The Budweiser shootout was not a race you qualified for but in Jameson’s case, he was the wild card who made it by setting the fastest lap time. The shootout was an annual Winston Cup series invitation-only event the weekend before the Daytona 500 held on Saturday night. It generally served as the kick-off for the NASCAR portion of Speedweek. The field consisted of drivers from previous race wins who clenched automatic berths, former pole sitters who also clenched automatic berths and a wild card. Jameson.

  The event consisted of an opening 25-lap segment, followed by a 50-lap race to the finish after a ten-minute intermission. Similar to the All-Star race held at Charlotte, the race carries no championship points for the winner just a large purse.

  The field was made up of twenty-eight cars as opposed to the usual forty-three starters in a typical cup race, with the starting line-up determined by a random draw.

  To me, the racing itself to me was similar to what you’d see at the local bullring tracks.

  With no points on the line, drivers usually went all out and created some of the most exciting racing.

  By the time Tommy and I made it to the track, got our hot passes and into the pits to find Alley, the second 50-lap segment was underway. I was so eager to get a glimpse of Jameson’s car on the track I hardly heard anything Alley was telling us. I hadn’t seen him race stock cars in person yet. I’d seen him on TV but not in person.

  I was literally in awe at how huge the venue was. You can’t grasp how large it is until you see it in person. Under the lights, you could hear and feel the loud resonant rumble of the cars as they roared down the straightaways, vibrating right through you. The smells; oh the smells. Rich sharp biting aromas of racing fuel pooled with rubber from the heated tires on the asphalt. Once we stepped out of the car, I inhaled a deep breath, remembering everything I missed about racing and Jameson, the two fused together. Distinguishing between it all, burnt rubber and racing fuel surrounded my senses, I thought of Jameson and alway
s would.

  “Calm down,” Alley grumbled as I bounced up and down once we found her.

  Pit lane was busy, as to be expected. I knew enough about being at the dirt tracks to know that the pits or in this case pit lane, was a place of business and when the guys are working on cars, that’s their job and they take it seriously. To be competitive in this sport, they have to otherwise, they wouldn’t be here.

  Tommy shot a sideways glance at me while looking toward the pit box. I was showing an alarming amount of enthusiasm for this.

  Kyle was up on the box, though I hadn’t met him yet, Jameson talked about him often so I felt as though I already knew who he was.

  “He’s running fourth right now.” Alley announced staring at her Blackberry. “He placed second in the first segment.” She tucked her phone away and waved goodbye.

  Being the Public Relations representative for the team, she was busy, always busy.

  I don’t think you could wipe the grin from my face. This was so exciting. I couldn’t see much, being as short as I was so Kyle motioned for me to come on the pit box with him. You couldn’t see much better from there either as the infield was never a good spot to watch a race but it was the most exciting. You get to hear all the commotion between the crewmembers. I believe that being in the infield at the races is the place to be as it gives you the full experience including hearing the strategy calls made by the crew chief and car chief.

  Kyle smiled and pulled his headset away from his ear.

  “I’m Kyle Wade, Jameson’s crew chief and this is Mason.” I shook hands with both of them while Kyle pulled the headset back. “Hey bud,” he began in the microphone attached the headset. “Sw—”

  I smacked the back of his head so hard his headset fell off his head. “Don’t tell him, it’s a surprise!”

  I don’t think Kyle knew what to do so he scrambled to adjust his headset.