by Shey Stahl
“I broke a torsion bar too,” he kicked it. “Actually make that two...” Justin got on his hands and knees and scrapped a few large chunks of mud from the front right wheel. “And an axle,”
I laughed.
“My rear end is in turn four...well, kind of. Most of it is in turn four, my shock mount is in turn one. My rear axle is...” I glanced over my shoulder toward the track. “in turn two.”
Hell together we broke every piece on the cars. It was carnage out there.
Tyler came rolling by on the back of my dad’s 4-wheeler holding a shock mount in one hand and his helmet in the other. He held it up when he walked past, “This was the only salvageable part on the car.”
I really didn’t want to see this parts bill tomorrow. With these cars leaving Sunday morning for Cottage Grove, we use the back-up cars brought with each team but it didn’t matter, I still had to pay to have these three fixed.
That was racing. You could easily dump a hundred thousand in a motor alone just to have it blow up on you in hot laps.
Speaking of engines, they seemed to be our biggest problem this year. With grandpa Casten passing away last year, the future of CST Engines, was unknown. CST Engines was what almost every team on the outlaw tour used for engines along with most of the national sprint tours.
When grandpa died, his partner Rick Denton had no clue what to do and neither did we. Grandpa built the engines while Rick merely acted as the sales associate. Old Casten had no business conversing with the public.
Uncle Randy and my dad ended up taking over ownership of the business but had to hire Harry, my engine specialist on the cup team to build the engines until they found someone. Harry tried, he really did but grandpa knew sprint cars. They were his specialty. In turn, he could build us an engine that would usually last the entire season.
After a few months, Dad and Randy ended up having to hire another engine specialist, Kerry Andrews, and let Harry just concentrate on the cup cars. I think it was more along the lines that Harry actually told him he’d quit if they didn’t.
Eventually things got better and the engines were close to what grandpa was providing but it took nearly a year of trial an error before we found a design that worked best for us. As you can see, this put a lot of stress upon every team.
It’s always something in racing, no matter what form. If you’re not fighting with the engine, the shock package needed attention.
But hey, that’s racing.
On Saturday night, I found myself in Richmond for the last race before the chase.
“You have about four more laps until we stop.” Kyle told me around lap one eighty of the Chevy Rock & Roll 400 race.
I loved Richmond, but not tonight.
It seemed like my luck for breaking cars wasn’t going any better than it had Friday night at Skagit.
“We have to get this packer out of the right front.” I told him knowing he’d make the adjustments.
Instead of relying solely on the spring rubbers to adjust the suspension and handling of the car, we add shock packers, which allow the shock to absorb a fair amount. Instead of a shock compressing, let’s say seventy-five percent of its potential; we would put in a packer to decrease the shock travels. This allowed it to only half-way. Shock packers, combined with spring rubbers could make the car react differently and give us more room to experiment with set-ups. We either use one or the other, or together, depending on how the car was handling and the track we were at.
With Richmond, you start in the daylight and finish under the lights. Those races are always tricky because of how temperature sensitive it becomes. One minute you’re loose and about to kiss the wall and then next you’re so tight the car won’t turn.
“What’s your water temp?”
“210—215,”
“We’ll put a piece of tape on it this next stop. Three laps.”
“Pit road is open.” Aiden told us when it was time to pit. “Four thousand second gear. The six will pit in front of you, you’ll need to come around him to get into your pit.”
We made our green flag stop along with most of the field, which took us from our sixth place spot to fourth. It wasn’t good enough—I needed to win tonight.
Currently Paul, Colin and I were right on the bubble to make the chase. For the first time in my five-year cup career, I may not make the chase. I’ll spare you my thoughts on the chase format; I was not a fan of it. I’m sorry but the other sports can keep their playoff format. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it because if I was running strong all season and running in the top five with a comfortable lead and did shitty those last few races, I still had a chance. In the chase that wasn’t always the case.
“Where am I at in points?”
The format had been modified from the previous years and now included the top twelve in points. Even though I hated this whole “chase” shit, this new rule was in my favor this weekend.
“You’re eleventh if the race ended right now. Paul is struggling mid pack right now, something about a vibration.”
This helped my chances tremendously.
After another fifty laps, nothing improved. The car still felt like it was lifting when I entered the corner, not something I enjoyed.
“It’s not helping. What did you change, anything?”
“What’s it feel like now?” Kyle asked.
“Forty-two at your door...clear.” Aiden guided me through a pack of lapped cars.
“The same. It feels like it’s dragging and my right front is way too high.”
“On entry, middle or exit?”
“Entry and exit,”
“Your last lap time was a 32.30. Bobby is running a 50 in front of you.”
Another twenty laps went by and the car got worse, if that was possible at this point. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.” I complained.
“Just hang in there bud, we’ll put some air in the right front.”
“That’s not the problem. The right rear actually feels like it’s coming off the ground. We have to get the front end down more.”
Kyle was quiet for a few moments, probably contemplating what the hell that meant and what would fix it. The hardest part of his job, aside from my frequent mood swings, was trying to decipher my explanations of the way my car was handling.
“Let’s go with a 32nd round out of the right front and a 16th out of the left. Do you think we should change the splitter?”
“I wouldn’t just yet.”
Before we had the chance to make the changes, Colin tried to make a pass on Bobby for the lead and pegged the outside wall hard sending debris flying everywhere bringing out the caution.
“Cautions out—stay high,”
The twenty-four of Andy Crocket checked up and sent the rest of the field fishtailing to avoid hitting him and the debris slung out over the backstretch. This would have worked in my favor having Colin out of the mix. Only problem was that when Andy checked up, the seventeen of Nathan Weise was not paying attention and clipped the back of my car sending me into Andy’s bumper.
“Damage to the front end,” Aiden announced.
Accessing the steaming situation, it was apparent the radiator was shot along with my hopes of the chase this year. This was not good. I was never satisfied with anything other than a win and neither were my sponsors.
“Son of a bitch!” I yelled flashing a hand gesture at Nathan. He flashed the same gesture combined with a few words that I couldn’t hear. Whatever they were, it pissed me off even more.
“It blew the radiator out.” I told the crew. “Where’s the garage?”
Pulling the car past the pit wall I realized that I had no idea where to turn.
“You can get there from where you’re at.” Aiden told me from his position on top of the tower in turn one.
“Tell me where to go. I can’t see shit and there are no signs pointing toward the garage.”
“Down the hill. Turn right after the gate.”
�
�Was that so hard?”
“Listen!” Aiden snapped. “I’m up here with god knows what kind of bugs crawling on me. I’m sweating like a fucking pig and you want directions to the garage. Don’t be an—”
I had no choice but to laugh when Aiden started coughing from the “god knows what kind of bugs” that he apparently swallowed.
My crew did what they did best and got me back on the track but the damage to the points was already done. I missed the chase by twelve points, yes, twelve fucking points.
It was an unbelievably dejected feeling. Since I started racing, I had never finished outside of the top ten in points for any series I ran in, ever.
After the race, I made my way toward the motor coaches to change and get my bag before heading home to Mooresville. Colin and Nathan were walking the same direction. Colin Shuman and me tolerated each other. I wouldn’t, by any means, say we were friends but it was easier than fighting with him. An occasions, we would have a beer. Hell he even came camping with us once. But like I said, we were not close like I was with Bobby and Tate.
So there I was, walking behind them when Nathan, a rookie driver this year and the same guy who cost me that chase, popped off with, “Did you see Riley out there? He was driving like an asshole.”
“Yeah I saw,” Colin mumbled. “That’s what he does best.”
My anger for the night soared.
“You know,” I said darkly. They both spun on their heels to face me. We were in between the motor coaches now out of sight of everyone. “If you two want to question my reasoning on the track...ask me. Don’t smart off behind my back.”
“It’s was nothing Riley, just relax.” Colin snorted and leaned against the side of my motor coach.
Ignoring Nathan’s wide eyes, I stepped closer to Colin. “I race you the same as I race any other guy out there. You don’t like it, tell me to my face.”
Colin smiled. “I don’t like the way you race.”
I laughed one hard laugh. “And I don’t like the way you race. You don’t think out there.”
Colin knew this was a battle he wasn’t going to win. We didn’t agree on the track, never had, and probably never would. But we both knew that’s as far as it went. Off the track, I could tolerate him. At times he reminded me of Darrin but the difference was that Darrin was psychotic. Colin was just a hotheaded kid.
Neither one of them said any more, just gaped at me in silence.
As you can imagine, my mood when I arrived home that night was not good. Colin and Nathan had pissed me off. I missed the chase and I knew Simplex wouldn’t be happy and on top of that, I missed my family.
Sway had stayed home with the kids because Casten was sick with a cold.
Around two in the morning when I walked in the house, I was greeted with Sway and all three of the kids sleeping in the living room in makeshift fort of blankets, chairs and pillows from all over the house.
My mood improved significantly as I sat down on the floor next to Arie and watched them sleep. My little girl when sleeping was nearly identical to Sway at times.
Axel had stirred slightly when I set my bag down and eventually opened his eyes, rubbing them once he realized I was sitting there. Placing my index finger to my lips for him to be quiet, he grabbed his blanket and came to sit on my lap next to the couch I had leaned against.
“I missed you daddy.” He whispered snuggling into my arms.
“Mmm...I missed you too little buddy.”
“Sorry you didn’t win.”
“It’s all right. You can’t win them all.” Axel had seen me win a lot but I wanted him to understand you couldn’t win them all, not with the competition these days.
I spent the rest of the night out there in the fort they had made and woke up to eight month old Casten drooling on my face and giggling. The kid never stopped laughing.
Rolling over, I began tickling his chubby little rolls. He belly laughed squirming for me to stop. Arie got in on the tickle-fest as did Axel.
Soon we woke up Sway.
“You’re home.” She said blinking as though I wasn’t real.
“Yes, I am.” I winked as our little flailing spaz children bounced around the room.
Sway crawled over to me from her place inside the fort, her crawling distracting me.
“Don’t do that.” I groaned adverting my eyes.
“Do what?”
“Crawl. I miss you and crawling is not helping.”
“Oh—sorry,” She wasn’t sorry. She knew damn well what she was doing.
The rest of the morning was spent making blueberry waffles and playing with the kids in the fort. Arie’s birthday was Tuesday with the party planned for that night. Today, we planned to do whatever she wanted.
“What would you like to do today sweetie?” I asked her as she climbed down from my lap at the breakfast island to steal her Barbie from Casten who was using it as a chew toy.
Axel laughed at him. “He’s like a dog.”
I laughed as Sway picked him up. “Come here you little puppy.”
Casten loved Sway, thought she was the greatest thing ever. He was still breastfeeding at eight-months old and Sway did not like this by the way. She was never a fan of breastfeeding to begin with but we both knew it was better for them so she did it anyway.
“We can do anything you want today.” Sway told Arie.
Arie always looked to Axel for advice and now was no different.
After what appeared to be an intense conversation with Arie, they turned back to us.
“Can we go to the zoo?” Axel asked.
“I need to discuss this with your dad.” Sway said teasingly as she pulled me aside. “We can go to the zoo, if they want.” She whispered. “Just make sure they don’t talk me into anything. The last thing we need to do is come home with a pet cougar or something.”
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny,”
“I thought it was.”
Crush Panels – Sway
“Arie honey, will you please tell your brother that if he succeeds in catching that fish, I’m taking the fish home and leaving him here.”
“Okay,” she said before running over to say something to Axel. I saw him turn toward me and smile sheepishly.
Jameson came walking up right about then after staring at the tank of sharks for the last ten minutes, paying no mind to the fact that his soon to be five-year old son was trying to catch one. “This is retarded. I’ve always hated the zoo.”
I replied with, “Why, because you belong in one?”
His only answer was to arch his eyebrow at me as his phone rang for the hundredth time this morning. The entire hour and half drive to Asheboro was spent with him on the phone talking with Marcus and his dad about their plans for the rest of the season. I felt bad for him and for the first time in his career he would finish outside the top ten in points. For a man like Jameson, that was a hard pill to swallow.
“Let’s go get me a pet.” Axel said with bright eyes pushing Casten in his stroller.
I ruffled his hair and smiled. “Nice try kid, but no.”
I had to let him down easy but I hated to tell him that I was not buying a pet. I was lucky that I was able to keep three kids alive as long as I had. There was no way I could take care of a pet too. I needed to stand my ground on this one.
Most of the day Arie wanted to watch the lions and cougars. Jameson did not, for obvious reasons, and took the boys to see more manly animal who he said were the apes. How they were more manly was beyond me but I had a feeling it was only because the apes hadn’t tried to eat him yet.
We were walking toward them when Arie looked up at me. “Mama?” she asked.
“Yes...” I knelt down to her level.
“Daddy mad?”
Arie was very perceptive to Jameson’s mood swings and sensed his attitude this morning. “No sweetheart. Daddy is just a little stressed out from the race last night.”
She seemed to consider this for a moment before asking. “He n
eed ice cream!”
“You know...” I picked her up. “I think that is exactly what daddy needs.”
I hated to think our kids ever thought their dad’s temperamental personality had anything to do with them but it wasn’t something I could change. Jameson needed to. There were times when his temper got the best of him but he always guarded it around the kids. That’s not to say he didn’t freak out at times but usually he reserved himself in their presence.
While the kids ate their ice cream, Jameson was once again on his cell phone with Jimi. Axel watched him carefully, the concern present in his features. He worried about Jameson all the time and constantly tried to make him proud.
Slightly irritated that this day was supposed to be for Arie and Jameson had spent the majority of the day on the phone, I sent him a text knowing he’d read it.
Look at your kids right now. Get off the goddamn phone.
As I expected, when his phone beeped at him—he looked over at them, staring at him.
Jameson hung his head dejectedly. He knew. “I gotta go dad. I’ll call you later tonight.” He hung up quickly turning toward Axel and Arie. “So what’s next on the agenda today?”
Once again, they talked amongst themselves before Arie nodded and Axel spoke. “Water park—definitely the water park,”
Jameson looked toward me slowly. “Oh great honey...the water park,” he repeated sarcastically with an upbeat twist he knew the kids wouldn’t pick up on. Jameson didn’t like water parks for a number of reasons. The biggest one, people.
Today wasn’t bad at the zoo but usually anytime we went anywhere, people followed us. Jameson Riley was a household name around these parts. Anytime someone mentioned NASCAR, they associated that with Jameson Riley. All this resulted in Van tagging along everywhere. He kept his distance though, never letting on we had security around.
“Who thought water parks were a good idea?” Jameson asked as Casten took a nap on his chest while Axel and Arie wadded around the sandbar.
“Disney.”
“That’s Disney Land, not water parks.”
