Page 170 of Trading Paint
She smacked my shoulder, pushing me against the wall.
“Don’t turn your shit on me,” and then walked back inside the kitchen to Aiden’s mom.
I just hung my head—I knew it was rude. Turning my phone on vibrate, I stuck it inside my jacket and never touched it again that night. Adam, Aiden’s dad, was hilarious.
We ended up sneaking out back to his garage to find he had a pair of riding lawn mowers he and Aiden used to race when they were younger. With a few adjustments, Spencer, Aiden and I were tearing up their lawn.
Despite my earlier behavior toward his family, I couldn’t remember the last time I had that much funwithoutSway.
I thought of her and every time I turned around I was thinking of something I couldn’t wait to tell her but I had fun. I learned a lot about Aiden that night. Even though he was crazy, I understood him a little more.
His dad, Adam Gomez, was a farmer who was born and raised in the small town. His mom, April, was probably the sweetest woman, besides my mother, that ever existed. I liked them all.
I always wondered how Aiden got involved in racing but I understood after seeing those lawnmowers. He also had a cousin who raced late models out at Montgomery Speedway, a half-mile asphalt track, so that’s where Aiden found his calling. He had a remarkable sense of direction but couldn’t decide where hewantedto go.
Much like me on the track, he understood racing and the dynamics, and was essentially worry free at the track.
We stayed the night there with the Gomez family and then went back to Mooresville the next morning. When we arrived home, it was racing life as usual. Team meetings, sponsorship commitments, testing...same thing it was each week.
You don’t think about it when you’re running yourself raged until something breaks. Mine was that my torsion bars had been twisting in the wrong direction for so long, fractures were occurring.
For four years now, I’d been denying that I was in love with Sway and now that I saw and felt it. I didn’t know what to do. I tried stagger changes, shocks, weight jacking...I tried it all, terrified to admit I couldn’t change this feeling. This wasn’t black or white, day or night, good or evil, there was no answer. What scared me more than loving herwas not knowingwhat to do with that love and how to tell her. And more importantly, what she would do withmylove.
26.Bear Bond – Jameson
Bear Bond – A very strong adhesive used to patch a damaged race car.
“Are you alive?” Ryder asked peering over the side.
It took me a minute figure out what went wrong and if I was alive. Eventually I caught my breath enough to answer him. My head rested against the dirt as I looked up at the sky. Trying to recall what went wrong when I blipped the throttle before the jump. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was when I thought thatme, the kid who raced cars, not dirt bikes, could kick his leg off the bike behind him like he was dismounting. Most Supercross stars have problems with this trick. Why I thought I could do it was clearly a prime example of my stubborn pluckiness. The plan was to land smoothly back on the ground but it didn’t shake down that way, nope, my leg got stuck.
“I think I am.” I huffed throwing my leg over the bike again. “I think we should make the jump bigger.” Ryder’s eyes widened with each word. “That way, you can just jumpthispart.” I gestured toward the gaping hole in the ground.
The screaming of a two-stroke engine charged from behind and we both turned to see Tyler and Justin side-by-side heading for the jump I just demolished with my non-existentNac-Nacskills. TheNac-Nacwas a trick where you kicked your leg over to one side in mid-air and then returning your foot to the foot pegs before landing.
It wasn’t easy and I demonstrated.
Tyler saw me standing next to my bike while Justin, he did not. So while Tyler slowed his speed and trailed off, Justin pinned it.
Take a couple sprint car guys and throw them on dirt bikes.Never a good thing.
Justin misjudged the jump and did the unintentionalNac-NacI had just done only he stayed on the bike and even as it slid down the twenty-foot embankment he stayed on it.
Ryder and I stood at the top of the hill watching Justin try and pull his bike back up. Did we offer to help?
No, hell no.We made fun of him.
I had just purchased this property a few weeks back and construction of a quarter-mile dirt track and riding trails took place almost immediately. I don’t think it was necessarily the addition of the track or the dirt bikes that was dangerous but more the way we rode them. I was never the type of guy to do anything half-assed, nor were my friends.
While we all may have had obligations we should have been doing that day instead we made time to be twenty-two year old kids that day.
As I’ve said before, when we’re stressed, we did what any normal person would do, we did what relaxed us.
That was dirt bikes today.
When the world wasn’t scrutinizing our every move, the engines cooled, the unforgiving sun faded and we were left with a spark of time to be ourselves.
We spent a greater part of the morning tearing those trails up and then the rest of the evening nursing our wounds throwing back a few beers. It was great to see all of them again. I hadn’t realized how much I missed hanging out with my USAC buddies.
