Page 204 of Trading Paint
Certainly not positive...and when the media catches wind of the fines...not positive at all.
After a few minutes of silence from everyone, I asked, “Appeal?”
“It was a kneejerk reaction by Gordon.” Alley offered. “I think we have a chance with the appeal board on this one.”
The NASCAR penalty system is black and white. It just is. They allow you to appeal their decisions and be heard in front of board members of the commission but sometimes this doesn’t work in your favor and the fines are increased. If you still aren’t happy, you can appeal to the national commissioner for a final appeal but his word is the last say.
My point is,these penalties don’t make cheating impossible, just stricter if you get caught. It’s just like speeding. The ticket isn’t going to stop you from, let’s say, getting to work twenty minutes faster because you do eighty instead of sixty, but the ticket for reckless driving might make you think twice.
That’s what NASCAR was trying to do, I get that. What I didn’t was the severity for something we didn’t do.
I didn’t break the rules and neither would our team like that. We had no reason to.
“We’re appealing the fine.” Jimi said and walked out of the hauler.
Alley let out a whoosh of breath before turning toward me. “Is Sway flying into Charlotte Douglas?”
“Yeah, she should be landing soon.” Though I was still excited as hell to see her, my thoughts were focused on this turn of events with the fuel.
“Marcus is waiting for you. Just...be careful what you say.”
“Are you sure I should be talking to anyone right now?”
“No, I’m almost positive you shouldn’t be talking to anyone, especiallySimplex. But you’re the driver—they want to hear from you.” Moving past her she reached out to grab my shoulder, wadding a fist full of my t-shirt in her hand. “Do not, under any circumstances speak to the media about this...I mean it Jameson, decline to comment.”
“Yes Ma’am.” Waggling my eyebrows, I asked trying to remain modestly coy. “When will you be back?”
“Oh for Christ sakes—controlyourself!”
Lane pointed his tiny finger at my nose, touching the tip of it. “Comtroolyouself,”
“I’m not so sure I know whatcomtroolingis?”
“That not what I said.”
“Yes it was.”
“Was not,” He argued, his brow scrunched as he glared.
Ruffling his hair, I threw him over my shoulder. “You’re definitely a Riley.”
Two hours, a meeting with Simplex, and around a hundred autographs later, I was standing next to my car in the garage before they pulled it out to line-up along the grid.
“Did we get it filled up again?” I asked Mason and Trace who were going over their pre-race checklist on the car. Everyone had checklists. The Car Chief, Mason had one. The Team Manager, Trace had one. And the crew, directed by Mason and Kyle, had one. If you’re wondering how the Car chief, Crew Chief, and Team Manager had different roles, they all hadverydifferent roles.
The Team Manager is in essence, the owner’s right-hand man. He will oversee the day-to-day administrative duties that keep the team running. Originally, we had Alley doing this but as you can guess her double duty of being my publicist as well, she had a hard time balancing the two. Now we had Trace doing this, which worked out well because Trace had previously worked for Leddy Racing the past six years and he had the experience our team needed.
The Crew Chief, Kyle, who worked closely with the Team Manager, oversaw all the hands-on activities related to building and adjusting the car that will race on the track. As you can imagine, the Crew Chief needed to not only know a lot about racing and the set-ups of these cars but he also had to work well with the driver’s personality.
Now the Car Chief, he had the worst job in my mind because he not only took orders from the Crew Chief but also the Team Manager, and me when I felt the need to tell him a thing or two I thought he needed to know. I can be an asshole, but that’s nothing new. Mason was good people though, and took it all with thick skin. He handed down the orders during the race that the Crew Chief decided. So if I said, “I’m tight coming out of four.” Kyle would then say, “How about we make a wedge adjustment?” I then say, “10-4.” or something similar. Kyle will then send those orders to Mason who directs the crewmembers on what to do.
Some may think that’s a lot of passing of orders.
Yes it is, but if Kyle had to concentrate on not only deciphering my cryptic assumption of what my car was doing and worry about the crew doing their job as well, plus try to anticipate what could go wrong on the track and calculate fuel mileage, that’s a lot to ask of one person on race day.Hence the need for all these guys.
Gentry gestured toward the official standing next to the car. “He watched us add the drums this time and hasn’t moved since.”
Mason’s voice was harsh and low when he spoke. “Where was he when the additive was placed in there?”
