Authors: Shey Stahl
The emotion,
the fear, the devastation crept up, the lump in my throat rose again.
Everyone’s reaction, even if you were not in Knoxville the day of the accident,
was withdrawn. We didn’t want to talk about it in fear the emotions would drown
us. Escaping it all together wasn’t happening. We lost a legend. We lost a
great man and one was still hanging on. It was then, sitting at the table in
the hauler, marks on the wall from where my dad had lost his temper so many
times, that Kyle offered me an invaluable insight I never considered.
“You can
miss him, and you can wish he was here, both of them, but that’s just being
selfish. You can want him back because you miss him but there are a lot of
people feeling that very same thought. We can’t focus on the life that’s gone.
We have to focus on what’s in front of us. What we have to be thankful for.”
He was
right. He was absolutely right. I left the track that afternoon and went back
to Mooresville to meet Tommy.
He was
there pacing the shop floor and muttering to himself.
Tommy ran
his hands through his mess of orange curls, tugging. “What time did Greg
say he’d be here for these two cars?” he motioned with a nod to the No. 9 of
Justin’s sprint car and No. 19 of Tyler’s. Cody and Rager’s cars were already
there.
“He said
he’d be here around noon.”
“Well it’s
three so we’re fucked.” Tommy snapped standing from his place on the shop
floor. “We should call Rusty
...
because if
these two cars are not in Barberville come Wednesday, Jameson will kill all of
us.”
“It’s kind
of hard to do that when he can’t move without grunting in pain.” Casten added
pushing the last of the pit equipment inside the 18-wheeler.
“He does
have a point.” I added with a chuckle. “But we really should call Greg and see
where the hell he’s at.”
We were
heading into the first week of the Outlaw tour at Volusia Speedway Park in
Barberville Florida for the DIRTcar Nationals. We needed those cars there.
Casten,
Tommy and me left on Wednesday night, a few days after dad woke up and it had
been non-stop work since we landed in Mooresville. It helped keep our mind off
everything but it didn’t wash away the pain we felt. We missed grandpa and it
was gut-wrenching to watch dad be in so much pain over his injuries and with
losing grandpa.
Not only
were we busy with the sprint cars but Kyle, Mason and Spencer had to deal with
the Cup team and CST Engines, which was closely related to both teams. They had
cars to test, engines to put on the dyno and sponsorship obligations for dad
that were now on hold until Easton could attend them.
We were
all overwhelmed but I think it helped us all deal with the loss. We weren’t
over it, no. I don’t know that we ever would be. But it kept us distracted.
Charlie
and Noah pulled their heads out of their asses and helped with the dyno testing
for not only the 410 engines that went in the sprint cars but also the 358
engines that went in the cup cars for Riley-Simplex Racing. We also ended up
hiring a few guys, only family recommended, to help out since most of us were
already spread so thin we barely had time to sleep.
Thank god
Lily understood. We weren’t even married a month yet and already we hadn’t seen
each other in a week.
Lily and
Ami refused to leave my mom and grandma alone at the hospital. I was thankful
for that.
So everyone
pulled together and kept not only the business and racing going but our support
system from falling apart.
Cole and
Lane showed up after we finished loading the trailers. “Hey,” Cole smiled.
“Rusty is on his way with Greg to get the trailers.”
“Thank god,”
Tommy huffed rising from the floor to toss a few shop rags in the garbage from
the oil spilled after changing the gears in Tyler’s car. “Where were they?”
“Hell if I
know.” Cole said handing my bag to me. “Something about traffic and
...
” he smiled. “I wasn’t really listening to
him.”
Lane
walked up to me. “How’s Uncle Jameson doing?”
It never
entered my mind that my dad would never race again because that wasn’t him.
“Mom
called a few hours ago and said they were getting ready to do another CT. He’s still
disoriented and mumbling a lot. I guess he had another seizure too.”
“It takes
time. He’ll be fine.”
“I know,
but it’s easy to think the worst after grandpa.”
Lane
grimaced when I said grandpa. Aside from me, he was the closest of the
grandkids with him and took it very hard.
“I don’t
have to be in River Ranch for round one until early March
...
I can help out.”
I was just
about to respond when Charlie pushed Cole. “Do it yourself then!”
Lane rolled
his eyes. “It’s like working with a bunch of children.”
The truth
was we were all children aside from Tommy and Willie. I just turned nineteen,
Casten was fifteen, Noah, and Charlie were eighteen. Lane was only twenty-two
and had his own career in the motocross racing. We had no clue what we were
doing.
We knew
this wasn’t going to be easy but we had to try. We couldn’t leave this all to
our parents to figure out when we were all more than capable of dealing with
it.
Surprisingly,
Tommy was the adult in the situation. “Listen assholes,” he separated the two
of them by yanking on the hoods of their sweatshirts. “Get your shit together.
Cole, you come with us. Charlie, stay out of trouble and get those engines on
the dyno before tomorrow. Kerry will be here in the morning. Do not let anyone
else in the shop.”
Tommy
rarely gave orders so when he did, they listened.
You
wouldn’t believe the work that goes into building a sprint car and a Cup car.
Thankfully, the NASCAR side of the business was taken care of. We had people
for everything as it was a business that Jimi took great pride in and Randy
quickly stepped in as well as Tate.
The sprint
car team with JAR Racing was a smaller scale and kept that way by my dad.
That’s where family came in. We were determined to keep it that way and to do
that, we needed everyone to work
together
.
I hated to
admit it because they were still assholes, but without Charlie and Noah taking
care of everything related to CST Engines. We wouldn’t have known what to do.
They argued, threw shit at each other and blew up three engines on the dyno
that week but they did manage to get all twelve sprint car engines ready to go
in two days and the testing of the ten Cup engines done as well. No one knows
how, but they did.
I guess
it’s true when my mom said that against all odds, life does go on. You move up
the track and search for a new groove that doesn’t have as much wheel hop.
Wheel Hop – Sway
Watching
your husband in pain, disoriented, and trying to understand what’s happening
around him was probably one of the worst experiences of my life. Sure I had
seen him in some horrendous wrecks, I’ve seen him beg for forgiveness even but
seeing him suffer in ways that no one could help him, was the worst.
He didn’t
understand much about the accident in the first few days and asked a lot of the
same questions but slowly, he understood and the magnitude of the situation hit
him.
I would
ask constantly, “Do you need anything.”
His gaze
would always be on the window, staring at the snow, and would respond with the
same inert, “No.”
There was
no emotion in him. No fight.
Nothing.
He was a man
that had lost his hero.
His legend.
But most of all,
he wanted to be left alone.
“I’ll come
back a little later.” I would tell him and give him the space he needed.
Just like
the man I’ve known since I was eleven, he reacted the same way I expected. He
blamed himself. He regretted preparing the car for him and thought it was
something he had done. It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident.
I had just
gotten off the phone with Arie who flew to Florida to help Axel and the sprint
car teams out and now I was heading back to Jameson’s room where Nancy was
inside talking to him.
I didn’t
go in. Instead, I sat outside the room out of view and listened.
“You can’t
blame yourself sweetie.” She told him. “It’s not natural, Jameson.”
Jameson
didn’t seem to respond, I peeked inside to see he was looking out that damn
window in his room again. When he didn’t want to talk to you, he looked out
that window. Everyone was tempted to board that goddamn thing up, especially
the doctors who he frequently told to “Fuck off.” At least we knew he’d be
fine, his vocabulary had returned.
“I forget
things now.” Nancy laughed. “I walk upstairs only to stand there wondering why
I even went up there.” She paused and smiled down at Jameson. A few doctors
walked past and gave me a funny look. I felt kind of stupid sitting on the
floor outside his room but really, I’d done worse in the past. After all, I
walked around for weeks with a magazine ad tucked in my bra.
“I can
handle getting old, it doesn’t bother me. This
...
”
she motioned around the room, “I will never get over.” Jameson tensed besides
her looking back out his window. I could see his breath catch as he tried
holding in the emotions for the sake of his mother. “But I will go on,” Nancy
added meeting her son’s eyes, “as should you.”
As
expected, he said nothing.
“You
forget your age, or where your car keys are. And if you’re Spencer you
sometimes forget what street you live on. But my point is you don’t just forget
a man like your father. I’m strong though and I have an entire family who loves
me and is willing to be there if I forget things like my car keys.” Nancy
paused again, her eyes glazed over but she didn’t cry. “I loved him for over
forty years, I will never forget but I will go on. You’re brave even though
you’re dying inside and I need you to be brave Jameson. I need you to realize
this isn’t your fault. I need my son. You remind me of him and I need that. I
can’t lose you too.”
His eyes
were still focused on that damn window but he surprised me when he looked up at
his mom. “I will…mom.”
It felt
wrong watching their moment together after that so I slipped away and wandered outside
for some fresh air. After walking around the hospital I was freezing my ass off
and being followed by press so I snuck back inside to find Nancy leaving
Jameson’s room.
She looked
good. Tired, but
good
.
“He’s
asking for you.” She whispered reaching out to hug me.
“Thanks
...
are you staying?”
“No, but I
will be back tonight with Spencer. I have to meet with Phillip about Jimi’s
will.”
“Is Alley
going with you?” I hated to think of Nancy going anywhere alone right now.
“Yeah, she’s
waiting for me in the lobby.” We hugged once more and then I turned around to
see Jameson looking at us. He smiled lightly as though it was forced.
I washed
my hands and then made my way beside his bed. Naturally, he motioned a slight
nod for me to get in beside him, so I did.
Nothing
was said, I didn’t want to pressure him. If he wanted to talk, he would. This
was hard for him. Inside he was there but it was hard to just jump back into
what you were before. I knew that.
You don’t
wake up from a coma and become yourself. The soap operas lie. It is days and
days of slowly waking up, mumbling and confused. By the time the two-week mark
rolled around, Jameson was responding more and more and was able to focus on
objects and actually respond coherently to you but there were still days where
he struggled stringing words together.
He asked
about racing frequently and who was in his car.
Every day
more of
Jameson
returned and not those cold distant glances.
He was
able to get up and walk around after four weeks, which was huge because with
most brain injuries as severe as he had, forgot the simple things like walking
and putting clothes on.
He could
do it all because he was determined. You could see the fire inside him, he
wanted to be better and he wanted to recover fully. He was slowly finding his
new line again. He was gaining grip and getting less wheel hop.
Wheel Hop – Jameson
Time, it
was all I had right now. It went by slow, dawdling even. When I think about
time passing, it never ceases to surprise me how it passes. An hour is an hour
and sixty minutes can be the longest sixty minutes of your life. When someone
would say to me now, “I’ll be back in an hour.” It seemed like they were gone
for days.
There’s
times when it feels like a freight train, barreling onward with nothing to stop
it. Yet other days are like the earth stood still, nothing moving, nothing
breathing and I felt like I was looking at a picture of my life. Those days I
felt like I was trapped. I felt like I was locked into some kind of continuous
loop with no way out and no hope for moving forward.