Authors: Shey Stahl
Soon Sway
came looking for me only to find me sitting out on the balcony drinking a beer.
I forgot how good they tasted.
“You shouldn’t
be drinking with your pain pills.” Sway said stepping out onto the balcony. She
smiled leaning against the railing.
I smiled
back at her. “I know
...
but it
takes the edge off.”
“Are you
doing all right?”
Was I?
No, the
pain of his death was real again and I still hadn’t really gotten over that
inside. I felt like it was my fault that he was racing that night. He shouldn’t
have been. When he came to me and asked that I get a car ready, I jumped at the
chance to race with my dad again.
“Talk to
me baby.” She pleaded kneeling down in front of me. Her small hands reached out
for mine. “I need to know that you’re going to be okay. It’s killing me seeing
you like this.”
My tearful
glassy eyes met hers. “I’ve tried to forget.” I choked. “I have. But I can’t.”
“And you
shouldn’t.” she looked at me, really looked at me. “But you need to realize
it’s not your fault.”
When the
few people I allowed to ask about the crash, they ask something along the lines
of, “Do you remember?”
For the most
part, the answer to that question is no. I don’t remember.
But late
at night, drenched in sweat, in the flash of darkness overtaken by a restless
night, I hear the accident and the blistering screech of metal on metal. I
smell methanol, the sound of a sharp growl of a sprint car running lean and
then the pop of it lifting. I hear yelling, by who I don’t know.
So yeah,
there were times I had to forcefully stop the memory. I couldn’t take it.
Mostly, it was that I didn’t want to remember. I took comfort in knowing that
my mind was blocking the memories for a reason. I did understand that it wasn’t
my fault.
“I know
it’s not my fault honey but it doesn’t make it any easier. I see the crash.
When I sleep, I see it. It’s just a constant reminder.”
“Like you
did with Darrin?”
“Yes
...
exactly. It’s the same thing.”
“You moved
on from Darrin
...
do you think you can move on from this?”
“I’m not
sure but I know I have to or I’ll never get inside a car again.”
Sway
didn’t say anything, just listened as she always did.
“I never
imagined it would feel this way.”
“Neither
did I.” she agreed climbing onto my lap, her tears wetting the side of my face.
It wasn’t
just me hurting here. Everyone was suffering and if anyone understood how I was
feeling, it was my wife, the woman that knew me better than anyone, the woman
that protected me and kept me safe.
We ended
up staying up in our room the rest of the night. It may have been rude but
everyone understood. This wasn’t easy for us.
That
night, in bed, Sway’s hands roamed over my body carefully. She whispered
against my stomach, kissing along the scar I had now that ran vertically up my
abdomen. “You’re thinking of retiring, aren’t you?”
My eyes
closed, I hadn’t admitted it to anyone yet as I was still undecided. This wasn’t
easy for me.
Her soft
touches moved from my stomach to my left arm. “This scar here
...
is from when you broke your arm in Skagit.”
her hand moved to my shoulder to the three-inch long scar across my shoulder,
her voice remained soft and low. “This one is from your shoulder surgery when
you were twenty-four.”
I laid
there watching her but said nothing.
“This one
here,” her fingertips touched a two-inch scar above my eyebrow. “Is from when
Aiden smacked you with a brake caliper six years ago for pushing him into the
lake,” she laughed lightly hovering over me on her hands and knees. “And this
one,” her lips touched to my scalp where you could easily feel the scar from
the brain surgery. “Is from when I nearly lost you
...
” she pulled back and looked down at me,
tears fell down her cheeks. Her dark hair fell from her shoulders and onto my
chest when her body pressed against mine carefully. My bones had healed but it
was still uncomfortable at times. I would take the pain though, anything to
feel closer to her.
“So like I
know your body—I know you.”
She didn’t
have to say anymore. I knew that she meant she knew I was thinking of
retirement.
Gently and
with extreme caution, I rolled us over so I was hovering over her. My left hand
reached out to touch her neck and then slide along her jaw. My thumb traced her
lower lip before I pressed my lips to hers.
“I know
you do, honey.”
Arm Restraints – Sway
After the
funeral and gathering at our house, we left for Elma for the memorial race. It
was nice being back in Elma and around the place we called home for so many
years but also, sad.
Standing
there, looking over a track that made so many racers lives comes true, took a
few, and created legends, I knew the change that was happening in my husband.
Jameson shook
his head wistfully, the twinkle I always knew present as we watched Axel and
his buddy Shane take a few warm up laps. Right then, I saw that eighteen year
old kid fighting his way to the Triple Crown with a love for racing and a
passion for a sport that knew him better than anyone ever could, including me.
You see, this was where he was comfortable. This was where Jameson was himself.
And now, after Knoxville, I wasn’t so sure that connection was there any
longer.
His head
tipped toward the sprint cars rumbling down the backstretch. “Those were the
days that made racing what it is. Not this manufactured shit that’s going on
now where they attempt to control outcomes, reality TV and overpowering media
attention.” His eyes glanced to a cameraman not far from us. “This is where is
began. It’s the reason I still race.” A frown settled over his features. “Or at
least why I still want to race,”
His hand
raked over the stubble of hair that grew back, his face adapting a sudden grave
edge showing our true age. “It was about the noise.” His voice faded out, a
pensive protected look returned but faltered as he mumbled a phrase I knew
well. “Where the clay meets the rubber,” He gave the track a nostalgic glance
before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans walking to the pits.
Hearing
him utter his father’s words or wisdom was difficult but I loved that saying.
For a moment, I could actually picture Jimi, clad in his famous black racing
suit, his blue eyes sparkling with aliveness where’d he say to us: “Where the
clay meets the rubber is where a love was formed for the Riley family.”
Now,
looking at Jameson, I’m not sure that love survived Knoxville. I also knew that
retirement was heavy on his mind though he wouldn’t say it.
Arm Restraints – Jameson
“I think
you should run the memorial lap.” I told Axel after the heat races they ran.
“But
you’re supposed to.” He said removing his helmet and pulling himself from his
car.
I nodded
my hands remained in my pockets. “I know but I think you should.”
Axel didn’t
question me again, he knew me well enough to know that it wasn’t up for
negotiation. I didn’t feel comfortable doing it.
Over four
hundred cars showed up for a two-night feature. The final night, Saturday, we
did the memorial where we spread the last portion of his ashes over the track
before the A-Main event.
Originally,
they wanted me to make the memorial lap but I opted out of it and had Axel do
it. I wasn’t sure when I would get back inside a sprint car. I knew eventually
I would, but right now, tonight, it seemed fitting to have Axel do it.
Instead, I
stood with our family in the infield and watched.
The double
zero sprint car my dad raced his entire career made a slow memorial lap prior
to the main with Axel holding the canister of his ashes out the side of his car
and then came to a rest in front of the flag stand.
Immediately
it reminded me of the first memorial we had for Charlie some twenty years ago
when I did this very same thing for him. Sway started crying beside me, I
reached for her knowing she was thinking the same thing. Losing your parents
never gets easier.
Axel
pulled the coupler out, the engine revved until the gas ran out and the car
died. The crowd was completely silent as Axel sat inside the car for a few
moments before loosening his belts and climbing from the car. Standing on the
rear tires, he climbed on the wing and waved to the crowd.
I honestly
don’t think there was a dry eye in the stands that night.
The
strangest part for me was not racing. I was just as comfortable holding my
mom’s hand while she finally cried. My dad passed away nearly three months to
the day and the night of his memorial was the night she
finally
cried
for him.
And I was
there to hold her.
Sometimes
you have to disengage from reality just do deal with the pain because the loss
is that great. Eventually though, you realize that your family, your safety net
and arm restraints are there for you, holding you together when you least
expected it.
23.
Jumping the Start – Sway
Jumping
the Start – This is when a driver anticipates the start (green flag) too early.
This will cause a complete restart. Continued violations will result in a
penalty.
I never
imagined that the day Jameson spent outside in the sprint car shop that he
would have the inclination that his car had been tampered with. But Jameson is
a lot smarter than most give him credit for.
The
morning all hell broke loose was the night we were set to have our JAR Racing
and Riley-Simplex Racing dinner. Alley had decided it was a good way to show
our respect for everyone who stood behind us throughout the recovery. Jameson
agreed.
Everything
had been arranged and even Nancy got into the event planning of it. Honestly,
it truly felt like our family was doing better. We were pulling together.
Things were coming along and Jameson was recovering. He was in his final week
of physical therapy and soon he would be taking his clearance exams with
NASCAR.
So that
morning, I stopped by the shop before heading to the banquet hall to help
prepare. Easton was there, which wasn’t unusual because he was working with
Jameson a lot and his sprint car team. Since the accident, he and Arie had been
spending a lot of time together too since Arie and Lexi had been helping Alley
so often.
Easton
smiled when he saw me, his eye swollen and his lips bleeding with Arie standing
next to him. The shop was a disaster. Tools, parts and boxes were scattered
everywhere with a bat lying in the middle of the floor. The door to Jameson’s
office was closed. The blinds have on the door, half not.
That’s
when I knew that he either knew about Grady, or something else happened.
Arie
shrugged and handed Easton an ice pack, he immediately placed it against his
swollen eye.
I was
almost afraid to go into the office but I did. He was in there, sitting in his
office chair staring at the wall. In deep concentration, Jameson bit the corner
of his bottom lip with his hands fumbling with a wrench. It was a strange
familiar sight.
“How did
you find out?”
“I’m not
stupid.” He said slowly speaking the truth of a weight too big to carry. “I saw
the car the day of his funeral.”
An
unnerving quiet spread over the office, his callous eyes met mine. My throat
hurt from constraining tears so often these days. “When did you find out?”
“Van told me
a few nights before Jimi’s funeral.” I explained. “I told him not to say
anything until afterward.”
He nodded
his face expressionless but he eyes tell his story. “I’m not upset with you.”
“We didn’t
mean to keep it from you.”
Again, he
nodded. “I know.”
Willie
came inside the office, well not actually. He stuck his head inside. “Hey man,
uh
...
” he seemed to dance around what he wanted to
say before Jameson interrupted.
“Get in
here Willie.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.
“I uh
...
we
...
meant
to tell you. I swear.”
“Don’t
bullshit me right now Willie. Who is he?”
“Are
you—?”
Jameson
cut him off. “If you know what’s good for you, you will tell me the fucking
truth right now.”
“He’s
Darrin’s son.”
Jameson’s
breath caught in his throat, his eyes immediately darkened and looked at me,
the guilt still heavy and oppressing in his tone. “Did you know about this?”