Page 172 of Trading Paint
Justin had thiswayof turning a conversation quicker that a sprint car flips, always had. You’d be talking about one thing and then he’d get a thought, next thing you knew, you were talking about the weather. In this case, the conversation turned against me.
“What’s with you and Sway these days?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw her in Skagit last year. She seemed different. Andyou, you’re not the same when she’s gone either.”
“How was she different?”
Justin thought for a second before tipping his head to the side. “When she’s with you, she’s carefree and happy. The night I saw her, she didn’t appear happy, not sad.Just different.”
I nodded but didn’t sayanything,the fire cracked catching my attention.
“You’re different too.”
I shrugged indifferently. I wasn’t in the mood to “Dr. Phil” my feelings. I had enough problems trying to decipher my feelings and I didn’t need more thoughts.
“All I’m saying is, if you love her, tell her.”
Once again, I nodded in agreement but said nothing.
When Tyler came back with the beer about, we forgot all about feelings and broken fingers.
In the morning, it was race life as usual. Justin and Tyler headed to Ohio and I flew to Virginia.
The next race on the schedule was Martinsville. Located near Ridgeway Virginia, it isa half-mile paved asphalt straightaways with concrete corners. It’s one of the oddest shaped tracks resembling a paperclip with almost with twelve degree turns. Racing the track can be tricky because you have to slow down so much in the flat narrow turns and then accelerate.
I raced here in the Busch series last year so I had a feel for it but it wasn’t exactly my best race.
Never good at navigating pit lane, Martinsville was even trickier with the way the pits wrapped around both straightaways. It made pitting interesting and wasn’t really my favorite track because of that.
All that aside, I managed to snag a third place finish when Kyle made the right call on fuel mileage and stayed out when everyone else pitted.
The following week was Fontana and the temptation to stop and see Sway was there but time wasn’t. I had to fly out directly after the race for Richmond and she was taking finals with graduation approaching fast.
Once again, my car had a mind of its own in Fontana. I was just along for the ride.
Safety at these tracks has improved light-years as to what it was even five years ago.
With just seventy laps to go, I was leading. When I went into turn one, everything was fine. By the time I was in turn two; everything was not fine. I had cut a tire and was heading straight for the concrete wall.
I’ll never forget the first time I hit a SAFER (Steel and Foam Energy Reduction) barrier as opposed to a concrete wall I had been used to hitting. I’d like to kiss the gifted motherfucker who designed those pillow soft walls. When you looked up and saw your car heading for those concrete walls, you thought, “Well shit, I hope we brought enough Bear Bond and hammers.”
Now when you hit a SAFER barrier you think, “I hope I make it back around before the pace car.”
And usually you did.
Those walls don’t stop the damage from being done but they do lessen the amount.
So there I waslimpingmy car back to pit lane so the guys could salvage what was left of it and try to at least stay on the lead lap and finish. Like I’ve said, everysinglepoint counts when you’re in it for the championship.
The first priority during a pit stop like this was to get four new tires on the car. Then they work on the metal, you’d be amazed how much damage not only that wall can do but a flat tire. From my view inside the car, it looked like a biker brawl with hammers, bats, and crowbars beating all over my car.
I must have pitted every ten laps after that for tires, Bear Bond, sheet metal patches, checking the toe, more Bear Bond, oh and more Bear Bond. I also want to point out that when using Bear Bond, which is essentially extremely strong tape, do not get it stuck to you.
Shane Peterson, my catch can man, found this out the hard way when he got it stuck on his leg as he tried to adhere a piece of it to my bumper. I nearly took his leg with me when I took off after that pit stop.
As much as I hated this part of racing and the pitting every few laps, it was part of the game. Every driver wads one up at one time or another. I tend to think it was the car more than me. That goddamn car had a mind of its own and by the end of therace,I struggled just to finish thirty-first and eight laps down. I wanted to set the car on fire after that.
