Page 156 of Trading Paint
I don’t think so.
And it wasn’t just in the compound that I found these fans hounding me. The garage area was just as bad.
What irritated me to no end were the people who would get mad when I wouldn’t sign something for them when passing through the garage area.
In my defense, would you stop to sign something when you were at work?Probably not.
When I’m in the garage, walking to my hauler or working on my car, I’m working. My mind is focused on what I’m doing, not on the fans.
Getting an autograph out ofanyof these drivers in the garage area is slim and depended solely on their moods, just like at any job.We’re areworking, something they forget most of the time.
If I’m having a bad day and a fan wanted an autograph, they weren’t getting me to sign shit. If I’m having a good day, they may get a head nod but still, I’m working. I’m not there to be their Hollywood star.
To show you the extent these fans would go, one even broke into my motor coach.
After the race in Las Vegas, I entered my motor coach just wanting to relax but no, there was a girl inside my motor coach.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I snapped and slammed the door hoping to startle her.
The girl spun on her heel with excited blue eyes, my harsh tone did nothing.
“It’s really you!” she squealed and launched herself in my direction. She was insane and that’s putting it lightly. I ended up calling the police just to get her to leave and even then, she wouldn’t.
The police laughed at me, actually laughed that I couldn’t get this girl to leave me motor coach. I was terrified and if possible, even more disgusted at their lack of concern.
This happened to me more times than I could count but what was unacceptable to me and had me calling the police, was the fact that she felt the need to explore, with my underwear drawer.
“Oh Jameson, I’m like youbiggestfan!” she kept telling me while I yelled at the cops to get her to leave. I didn’t want her to be my biggest fan because frankly, this sounded odd and certainly couldn’t be good at the way she implied “biggest”.
When she finally left with a police escorted Spencer had his laughs, as did the rest of my team.Fucking assholes.
I was completely fine until some grinning son of a bitch of a police officer said, “Do you feel violated?”
He was mocking me but I rose above their childlike maturity to this serious criminal offence and refused to comment.
For one, I wasn’t about to give my asshole teammatesanyammunition and two, I was too tired to put any energy into this.
Instead, I turned on my heel and went back in my motor couch, locking the door. I had a feeling this would be happening a lot and was not excited about that.
I called Sway that night before we left to go back to Mooresville and then it was off to Atlanta, a track I absolutely loved.
I still hadn’t led her to believe I loved her. I wanted to tell her every time I spoke to her but I couldn’t.
Another thing that came with winning was rivalry with other drivers. You don’t notice it until you are suddenly competition for them. The rivalry with Darrin Torres seemed to escalate with each race. By Las Vegas, he’d spun me on pit road. Being new to the series, I didn’t want any enemies so I let it slide.
When Atlanta rolled around the following week and he did it again, I wasn’t as quick to let it slide. I was hot after that, partly because my car was smashed and the other was that I hit Bobby in the process. There was nothing I hated more than ruining an unsuspecting driver’s day.
After I tagged his bumper, he knew I was pissed, as did the media and NASCAR. I was tired of his shit of spinning me on pit road and those cheap shots he’d been taking at me lately.
When I pulled up beside him after the race, he had some hand gestures and I had a few words.
Everyone asked us why we hated each other so much but you have to remember our days go all the way back to when we raced in the USAC series. Either way you look at it, we arenotfriends andneverwould be.
Once I was standing in front of him after that race in Atlanta, I had no idea what I wanted to say, only that I was pissed and had a few more words to throw at him. Before we could act on our anger, the officials were once again separating us. But I wasn’t giving up on this one. Not again.
It just so happened that our motor coaches had parked right next to each other so that’s when the real fun began.
Again, he got right in my face. I hated confrontation, sounds unlikely I know but I only wanted to race. All this other shit, I could do without in a heartbeat.
