Page 169 of Trading Paint
“I uh...I’ve never been one to date. I am single...but Idon’thave time for dating. All I do is race. If I’m not here at the track—I’m at a local dirt track.”
“That’s what I hear. Tell us about your sprint car team you started this year.”
And just like that, I avoided the personal questions.
They didn’t need to know that I was madly in love with my best friend and that I compared my life to a sprint car set-up or that Charlie was dying. That wasmylife and to be fair, these fans didn’t want to hear that shit. They wanted hear about the fights. They wanted to hear I was a bachelor and that I slept around. That’s what they wanted. They wanted a story. The problem with that was,thatwasn’t me.
I would always be a dirt track racer from Washington—that much would never change. I would never settle for less than I knew was possible and would always love Sway. Even if we were never allowed to be together, she showed me who I was, who I wasn’t, and who I wanted to be.
The race in Talladega Alabama was for one, close to Aiden’s hometown, and two the largest track on the schedule. While I enjoyed Talladega, it didn’t like me.
Last season while racing the Busch race, I got caught up in the “Big One” and ended up being transported to the hospital with a few broken ribs, a sprained ankle and a minor concussion.
I wasn’t exactly excited to come back to the track. Sure, I wanted redemption but some even believe the track is cursed.
One morning prior to the 1974 cup race, drivers came out to find cut brake lines and sand in their gas tanks. Others believed it used to be an old Indian burial ground and claimed the track itself had been cursed. I tended to believe this as well considering my recent luck there. I wasn’t exactly excited.
Aiden was and he wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
I managed to qualify fourth but ended up clipping the wall in happy hour. Forced to go to a back-up car, I had no idea how it was going to handle. It was the same car we ran at Daytona so I hoped the set-up would be close enough to at least get a decent finish.
Turns out, it was. My only problem was all the traffic I had to get through. Bobby andmewere in a pack about mid-way through the race when he had an opening and didn’t take it. I nailed him in the bumper when he checked up, causing him to get squirrelly coming out of turn four and damage the front of my car.
When you’re driving two hundred miles an hour inches next to another car, it’s not the time to second guess your line. Bobby was for whatever reason.
Throughout the race, I tried to keep myself focused, controlling my breathing and watching ahead.
Betweenkeepingmyself mentally focused, controlling my breathing, watching ahead and watching the lines other drivers ran I was constantly busy.
It’s important to stay mentally focused at tracks like Daytona and Talladega because of how quickly everything can shift and more so, keeping yourself calm. Silly mistakes because you’re amped can leave you in a wall in just a blink of the eye.
I ended up with a twelfth place finish which was not too bad considering when I looped back down pit lane after the race, Kyle noticed my right side tires were both riding on cords.
Sway called as we were leaving the track on our way toward Aiden’s house. I spent more time watching the interactions between Aiden and Emma. Something was different with them.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Surveying the two of them, I snorted. “Yeah, I’m listening.”
“Really...what did I just say?”
“I...uh...um...something...”
“See—pay attention!”
“All right, I’m paying attention now.”
Sway went on to tell me about her class. She finished early and was now heading home to see Charlie. I felt my heart begin to pound and my palms were sweating thinking maybe he was going to tell her tonight. I knew Charlie well enough by now that he wouldn’t, but the notions were still there.
It took us about three hours but Aiden, Emma, Spencer, Alley, Lane andmeall made our way to Aiden’s home outside of Talladega. Aiden was from a small town calledPinckardAlabama, population 667.
Meeting Aiden’s dad explained a lot about Aiden. I understood why Aiden had an ulcer and wasn’t surprised to see his dad was just as analytical as he was, maybe even more so if that were possible. I was hardlygoodcompany the rest of the evening and felt somewhat remorseful when Aiden’s dad was telling me how to cook a raccoon in his thick southern accent and I paid more attention to my phone than him.
Emma caught me after dinner outside the bathroom and tore my phone out of my hand.
“Show some respect Jameson. His parents are old-fashioned country folks who don’t even own a cell phone and here you are...Adam praises your skills...checking your cell phone. It’srude.”
“I should ask you the same question.” I clipped reproachfully, my eyes watched hers carefully, “What’s with you and Aiden?”
