Page 114 of Trading Paint
“Go sit in the hauler.”
I spent the remainder of the test session in detention as I called it.
Harry may have been a hard tough cranky old bastard but he was the perfect bastard for me to learn from. He came from dirt track racing so we understood each other. We spoke the same language when it came to how the car was handling or how the engine felt.
Once Kyle Wade, my crew chief, came on board, it was easier and the team dynamics were built from there. I liked Kyle and respected him. He was honest and you never wondered where you stood with him. If he didn’t like you, you knew it. Kind of like me.
Kyle also let me out of the reins a little more than Harry. We ran testing at Texas, Loudon and Phoenix wide open. They let me get as comfortable with the car as I wanted. I don’t know if they ever told Harry and I’m sure they didn’t.
As the new team formed that winter, my spotter, Aiden Gomez, came on-board. I liked Aiden from the moment I met him and the more we worked together, the more I realized he was just as insane as the rest of us and that worked out well for everyone.
We traveled around pretty much all of January testing and then it was off to Daytona for my first race.
I wanted Sway there badly but she was wrapped up in her classes with finals nearing and I was far too busy to sneak off to Bellingham to see her. I even went as far as having her text me a picture of her. It just depressed me even more.
So there I was testing stock cars, making sponsor appearances, press releases, commercials, meet and greets, oh, and occasionally I had time to sleep, but not much.
My dad was just as busy and for being the owner of this new team, you’d think we would get to see each other but nope, the only people I saw on a regular basis these days were Kyle and Alley, my publicist. Sounds ironic but these days, a NASCAR driver needs a publicist. She also acted as our team manager and told us where we needed to be and when. Having to boss around Spencer and Lane, she had the right amount of training for the job.
Come February, I was at my first Busch Grand National race in Daytona.
The first fifty laps were good, not much activity but I was cruising around toward the rear of the field just getting a feel for everything.
Aiden came on the radio a few laps later, “Cautions out, car slowing down low in turn four.”
“How’s it feel, bud?” Kyle asked.
“Um...I can’t...turn in as well into two and three but I can go high when I want in three and four.”
“All right so we can make air pressure adjustment and take a round out of the right rear. That could help.”
I nodded. Then I realized that he couldn’t see me and I needed to vocalize this, “Copy?” this was meant to be a statement but came out more of a question.
The only series I ran in prior to this that permitted the use of radios was the Silver Crown series but we only talked about cautions, not about setups or how my car was handling. NASCAR seemed to have its own language and I evidently did not know it.
For instance, loose in a sprint car was where you were comfortable. Loose in a stock car was not an experience you enjoy, particularly when you’re going two-hundred miles an hour next to a concrete wall.
So we agreed on what was going to take place during the caution, it was time for the pit stop.
Until now, I’d never had to make a real pit stop. Sure, I’d limped my car back to the pits with damaged midgets and sprints but to pull smoothly down pit road and squeeze into a pit stall surrounded by other cars, was nerve racking. Not to mention, this shit was time sensitive!
“So I’m supposed to fit in there with forty-two other cars speeding past me?” I asked. I’ll admit my voice was slightly alarmed.
“That’s the idea.” Kyle chuckled. He was eating this shit up.
I ended up spinning myself leaving pit road and the race didn’t go any better when I inadvertently caused a fifteen-car pileup.
I tried to make light of my mishaps by rattling off responses like, “Did you see that guy? He came out of nowhere.”
Kyle laughed. “Yeah, that black number nine is out of control.”
After my first disastrous race where I ended up spinning myself on pit road, we did practice runs at the shop where I’d roll in, the crew did their jobs, and I’d roll out. Sooner or later,muchlater, we had it down, or I should say I had it down because clearly I was the one with the issues.
Now I just had to figure out how to do this with actual cars instead of orange cones.
When I raced sprints and midgets, I didn’t have to worry about much other than finding my line. I adjusted everything with either throttle control or the wing. Now I had a pit crew to do this. Only problem was I needed to explain what I needed them to do and nodding and shaking my head at them wasn’t working well.
In sprint cars, if you told me the car was pushing, you’re driving it in too hard. In stock cars, that’s entirely different. It can mean a number of different things from tire pressure, wedge, camber...the list goes on-and-on.
