Page 131 of Trading Paint
The gasman has one of the most vital jobs during the pit stop. Each can holds eleven gallons of racing fuel, with the tank holding twenty-two gallons. Two cans are needed to be dropped into the tank to fill the fuel cell. To get the car filled before the jack man drops that car, the gasman needs to be on his game.
If we take two tires, he has less than six seconds to dump 11 gallons so the gasman has to get to the car in less than a second. So if on average it takes 6.5 seconds per can, that’s 12.5 – 13 seconds right there just dumping the cans. If the rest of the crew is ripping off 13.5 second stops all day, you can imagine how essential the gasman is.
Looking at the anatomy of everything, you don’t realize how it’s not just the driver; everyone has a place and is vital to winning these races. If everything lines up and you do happen to win, it’s not only a relief to the driver but is the same for the gasman who has performed his job and dropped the gas in the right amount of time and the same for the guy bolting on the lug nuts tight enough. They feel the win too. They performed their jobs and aided in the win. I hoped that they got just as much out of a victory as I did because really, without them, it wouldn’t be possible.
When testing began I met Darrin Torres again, the asshole that wrecked me a couple years ago in a USAC Silver crown. Now I’d seen Darrin at the tracks this last year. It’s hard not to when you’re both at the same track each weekend. Outside of the occasional glare, we didn’t speak and I had no desire to befriend him anyway.
I was surprised when he approached me after testing one afternoon.
It was our last day before speed week started and I had a lot on my mind to begin with so I didn’t need to deal with another confrontation with him.
“So you’re the badass USAC driver everyone talks about...you don’t look sobadassnow,” was hiskindway of greeting me.
“I’ve had my moments.” I responded signing a few autographs as I walked toward the paddock.
“Guys like you have it easy. Your father funds everything for you.”
Guys like me? He had no idea how much time I spent racing as a kid. How ever since I was old enough to walk, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Constantly trainingmyself, focusing on what I thought was important. The long hours, the time spent traveling, how I never had a childhood, the things I gave up...Sway...he had no fucking clue what it was like for me.
Luck...sure I had that on my side at times but I worked hard for everything I have.
“Yeah, I have luck but I’ve worked for everything I have.” I told him unemotionally walking away.
“Yeah...right,” He muttered and walked away himself.
You know that feeling you get when you know something is wrong, yeah well anytime I was around Darrin, I felt that unnerving perturbed feeling.
After testing, we had about two weeks back at the shop where we adjusted the car we needed in preparation for Speedweek. You would think all I would have to do is drive the car but no, being a NASCAR driver is so much more in-depth than that. There are appearances to make, meet and greets, fan clubs obligations, autograph sessions, commercials, pictures, team meetings...I could go on and on with this one.
What I saying here is that most see the glamorous side. They see the money and publicity of it all but it’s draining both mentally and physically on everyone involved. Most all these drivers out there are in it to race and now, they were puppets to their sponsors whether they wanted to be or not once they were outside of the car.
Have you ever watched how when I driver gets out of the car? He immediately puts on his sponsors’ hat and then when the camera swings to him, he takes a drink of whatever drink of choice is sponsoring him. That’s advertisement and is exactly what your sponsor is seeking when they agree to provide you with the funds. We promote them and in turn, they give us money to do what we love.Fair trade?Maybe.
I hated doing anything that wasn’t racing but when I was in the car, I forgot about all that and raced. It was as though life outside of that cockpit didn’t exist, and that’s exactly what I loved most about racing. So was it a fair trade...yes, it was to me.
I’d probably stand on the corner in chicken suit waving a sign around while shaking my ass if I got to race each week. That’s how badly I wanted this.
I had tested at Daytona, and I ran well there—I was comfortable with the fast speeds and drafting. I definitely was no master at the air, but I was comfortable at least.
But now, I was out there with more than just Bobby and me; try forty-two other cars pulling on and off the track.
Aiden managed to keep me calm by adding simple things like, “Remember to blend,” when other drivers would merge onto the track. Seems silly that he’d have to tell me that but it helps. It helps because when you’re on the track you’re so focused on what’s happening that you don’t necessarily look to the line to see the other drivers until it’s too late.
The other obstacle was getting other drivers to draft with you and drafting with them. Drafting is almost like a fine art or a formal ball. It’s not easy when you’re a rookie driver getting other drivers to dance with you but thankfully Bobby was there and other drivers like Tate Harris, another rookie Paul Leighty and Andy Crockett were all willing to work with me. Others like Darrin and his teammate Chris Snider weren’t easy to work with. I didn’t have a problem with Chris but Darrin, couldn’t stand the asshole.
I spent most of the practice sessions just working with the draft and other drivers, trying to get a feel for how the race would be. I raced here in the Busch series but cup cars held about 400 more horsepower so as you could see, they went faster.
I’d take about fifty laps and then come in, give my feedback to Kyle and Mason and then I was off again. Being a new team, we didn’t have a lot of data to form. We just kind of winged it and hoped for some sort of break. I also had to provide feedback for them. I learned a lot in the Busch series and knew when the car was pushing and tight but I still didn’t know everything and that was hard on everyone. I would get frustrated because I couldn’t drive the car like I wanted and the team was frustrated with me because I couldn’t tell them what the car was doing.
If it weren’t for the help of guys like Tate and Bobby who came from dirt track racing, I wouldn’t know what I was talking about in these cars. But they were there for me and helped me tell Kyle and Harry what I needed from the car.
I made it through practice on Thursday and then came the Budweiser Shootout on Saturday night. It was rare for a rookie driver to be in the shootout but I was selected as the wild card, so here I was preparing.
I never got nervous prior to a race but I did have some butterflies that night so I did what I always did when I was nervous. I called Sway before heading out to the driver introductions. I only had about an hour, I knew I needed to eat, but Sway was more important.
She answered on the first ring, as she always did. “Hey honey.” I smiled.
She sighed contently. I could hear the faint sounds of the television in the background and loud voices, one sounded like Tommy.
