Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (17 page)

BOOK: Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge)
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“Um I hate to burst your bubble but this was your fucking idea. You’re the one that wanted to help Emma.”

“So we helped Emma but got Spencer arrested, nice work!” she huffed crossing her arms.

This was most certainly not going to go over well with my parents and I felt relieved when I pulled down the circle driveway to see dad’s truck was gone. I snuck out back pulling his car Aston Martin into the race shop so I could fix the dent Emma put in the door.

I felt pretty good walking into the house. Not only had I successfully boosted my first car and raced my sprint car around the city but Spencer had been arrested. This pleased me.

When I rounded the corner, Jimi yelled, his face turning red, “You kids are assholes! I can’t believe this shit. One kid wrecks my car, the other breaks into the impound lot after taking his fucking race car for a joy ride around town and the other
...
Christ,” he glanced around the room. “Where the fuck did Spencer go?”

“Jail,” I answered sheepishly securing a position against the wall a good distance away from him in case he decided to throw something at me.

“Jail?”
Mom asked looking over at me.
“Like in prison?”

“Well no, not like prison. Like in the county jail,” I clarified with a chuckle. “The sheriff picked him up.”

At that moment, if possible, dad had steam coming out his ears when I held my hands up. “It was a total misunderstanding.” I added.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Sway walked in, not knowing my parents were standing in the living room.

“That was a close one but I
don’t
think—” she sighed when she saw my parents. “
Shit
.”

I hid my head in my hands.

Not that my parents or Charlie ever got terribly upset about the shit we did around town but they weren’t happy about this one. It was classified as a breaking and entering
and
stealing a vehicle.

Seventeen and we already had a B & E and boosting on our records, awesome.

It’s not like that was our first run-in with the law and I doubted it would be our last. The next day, it was all over the paper that the Riley kids terrorized the town the night before graduation.

We got a kick out of it. Parents did not.

 

 

 

 

 

8.
    
Loading – Jameson

 

Loading – Loading refers to the weight at a given tire position on a car due to aerodynamics, vehicle weight and lateral G-forces in a turn.

      

Graduation day finally arrived.

My only thought was that I would be free. No more wondering when I could leave this shady Northwest town and pursue my dreams, this was it. I would be able to do what I’ve been working for all these years which
is
to run all three series in the USAC divisions.

I decided I was going to race Bucky’s car for him in the USAC Midget Series and then I would get seat time in both the USAC Silver Crown and Sprint Car divisions with the car dad gave me with the sponsorship help from Bowman Oil.

This wouldn’t pay for everything but it helped. Dad agreed to provide the cars but I had to pay for what sponsorship didn’t cover.

I had money saved up from my winnings over the years in the various races and of course, mom deposited money in my checking account, which I hated, but to make this dream come true, you needed money. Racing
ain’t
cheap.

My dad provided a few cars and a hauler for us to use but everything else I had to take care of.

Even with my dad’s help, it’s impossible to do this on your own so this left me searching for more sponsorship; sponsorship he could help me find.

Once we found sponsorship to help us then this goes back to exposure for the sponsor.

How much exposure could I provide them?

You have to sell the product for them. You need to show positive publicity and win. The more you win, the more exposure they get, in turn this promotes sales for them.

Here’s the thing though. When you’re seventeen, you don’t care about any of that. You just want to race. You don’t give a shit about the tremendous expectations they put on you—the glaring spotlight from the media—or the harsh criticism that stings each time you have a bad night at the track.

You’re there to race and that’s all that matters.

But that’s not all that matters when you find sponsorship. Suddenly it becomes a job. Something you did for fun becomes your means of income and something you’re expected to do and do well.

You’re a puppet for them.

My plan was to leave that weekend. We graduated on Wednesday night. I left right after graduation that night to make a race in Cottage Grove and then was back in town by Saturday night for our graduation party. Come Monday morning the following week, we were heading to the Midwest.

Cottage Grove ran on Friday so is was before the graduation party Spencer forced me to have since mom and dad were leaving right after the race that night to make it to Williams Grove for a race dad was scheduled for.

I stopped by the track to see Sway after I got into town Saturday. She didn’t come with me to Cottage Grove so I was anxious to see her. I didn’t ask anyone to come with me to Cottage Grove besides Spencer because really, I wanted to be alone. I needed time to think not that Spencer allowed that. Next time I knew not to invite him.

Once I got to Elma, I thought about hauling out my car and gaining some seat time but I decided against in and opted to just watch. It’d be good to have a little break before my schedule was so tight I could barely make it from city to city.

Approaching the fence at Grays Harbor Raceway and hooking my fingers through the chain links, I thought back on the first race I ever raced here.

I watched closely as my dad used the same techniques he’d taught me over the years to pass in a spinning drift of the corners and then bouncing his right rear off the outside cushion to get that added boost needed to slide past Shey Evans.

Dad always made it look so effortless.

“Will I ever be as good as you?” I asked myself silently. 

I heard gravel crunching behind me before Sway appeared and leaned against the fence beside me.

“You already are.” She said answering my silent question.

The corner of my mouth twitched into a smile knowing she knew exactly what I was thinking. Turning away from the track, I sat down with my back against the chain link fence. When the cars would roar out of turn two, the dirt sprayed past us throwing chunks of mud over our heads.

“You nervous?”
Sway asked after a moment of silence. She had a larger chunk of mud between her hands, rolling it through her fingertips.

“I wouldn’t say I’m nervous, just anxious I guess.”

For so long I knew exactly what I wanted, but it never crossed my mind that wanting something and needing something are two different things. Just because I wanted this didn’t mean I needed this. Did I want this lifestyle forever?

I thought I did
...
I knew I did. There was no question I wanted to race.

Sway smiled patting my knee. “You were meant to do this,” She told me smiling. It was like we always had some unspoken language with each other.

When the races got under way, I made my way into the grandstands, my hood pulled over my head—I knew if the locals recognized me, they would be hounding me. The metal bleachers were filled with local diehard fans, kids squirming around in their parents’ arms, teenagers strolling, and women with barely any clothes on.

I glanced around for Sway but couldn’t find her. I wanted to watch with her but I knew she was busy. Usually on the weekly races, she was kept busy with making sure all the drivers signed in and staffed the ticket booth at the pit entrance.

Two rows down, I could hear an older man talking with his buddy next to him, who I later recognized as Travis Shin. He paid in pennies each week to get into the weekly races.

“You hear Riley’s kid is leaving town?”

“Did you really expect a kid like that to race here forever?” the man chuckled. “His kid’s got more talent than all ya’ll out here put together.”

“You’re right man, he’ll go far.”

I shook my head, leaning back on my elbows, my feet kicked out on the metal bench in front of me. I’ll never understand why everyone had so much faith in me. I was just a seventeen-year old kid. Sure, I had talent, but what made them see greatness out of me?


How’s it feel
?” I heard Charlie’s rough low voice from behind. “I don’t think I’ve seen
ya
in the stands since
yous
just a little guy running around with skinned up knees.”

“Yeah
...
it’s a strange feeling.”

He took a seat beside me when the heats ended and throngs of people headed for the concessions.

“We’re gonna miss you around here.” Charlie said looking the direction of the pits.

I swallowed, nodding my head.

“It will always be my home track.” I offered.

Charlie nodded as well. “I know.”

We sat in the stands for the remainder of the heat races and features.

Before long, fans were leaving, cars and haulers were loading up, and eventually the lingering drivers left.  Even after the lights in the infield went black, we still never said a word, just stared into the blackness.

When I stood to leave, he pulled me into a tight hug, “Take
care
of yourself kid and remember, I’m trusting you with my daughter—take care of her.”

I wasn’t much of a hugger but I wrapped my arms around him.

“I will.”

I asked Charlie about a month ago if it would be all right if Sway came with Spencer and me. After a 2-week debate, he finally agreed.

I left after that and headed home to where I knew our house would be teeming with high school graduates. I was looking forward to letting loose one last time with everyone but I also couldn’t wait to just get the fuck out of here.

Pulling down our long circle driveway, I laughed. Spencer must have invited the entire fucking high school and then some. Walking inside, I realized I had no idea who half the people were. I knew Sway though and found her off in the corner dancing with Tommy to some rap song. They appeared to be having a good time so instead of interrupting them, I made my way into the kitchen to grab a beer.

Another thirty minutes later and three more beers
...
I was stumbling into the living room once again to find Sway and Tommy. Tommy excused himself to find his girlfriend while Sway threw her arms around my neck.

Sway and I had danced before but this time we were drunk and I was horny,
very
horny.

So when
Bust a Move
came playing through the speakers I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her against me.

“Dance with me.” My hands reached down and cupped her ass pulling her against me.

“You are so drunk,” she slurred against my shoulder wrapping her arms around my neck.

“I know,” was my only answer as we moved to the pulsing beat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Chelsea come through the door but being impaired by alcohol, I kept Sway in my arms.

Sway didn’t seem to notice and just bounced around in my arms dancing to the music.

Chelsea hadn’t seemed to notice me—how she couldn’t have noticed me was beyond me—it was my house. Maybe she thought I was still in Cottage Grove
...
either way, she didn’t notice me.

An hour later Sway was passed out on my bed so I planned on sleeping in the guest bedroom. I was far
to
horny to sleep next to her.

Stumbling down the hall, I entered the guest bedroom to see a couple going at it.
Adverting
my eyes, I mumbled “Sorry,” when I caught a glimpse of the girl.

Chelsea.

“Shit Jameson, you could knock!” Colby shouted covering her with a pillow. It was too late. I already saw it was her.

I laughed.

“Funny you should say that Colby, it’s my fucking house!” I barked slamming the door shut.

Not wanting to be bothered and knowing Sway was far too gone to bother me, I went back into my room and fell asleep on the floor. I was amazed I could sleep, I thought this would bother me but it wasn’t
anywhere
near the anger I felt when I found out Sway slept with Dylan. I didn’t understand why, but this just confirmed my theory that I felt nothing toward Chelsea. I wanted happiness for Sway whereas Chelsea, I didn’t care.

I always knew she was messing around with other guys but I never thought it would be someone I knew. I think that’s what bothered me the most. Yeah—I never showed much interest in Chelsea, but Colby knew we’d been seeing each other. I couldn’t even call Chelsea and me together though. It was more about the occasional encounter.

BOOK: Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge)
2.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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