Page 170 of The Champion
“Did you tell his spotter I didn’t mean to hit him backthere?” I asked Aiden. We frequently used our spotters to communicate withother drivers.
“Yeah...apparentlyhe didn’t get the message.”
That was evident by the hand signals he provided me.
“How many laps is this thing anyway? I feel like I’vebeen out here forever?” We crossed under the bridge heading back into turn one,Paul on my inside.
“There’s room on the outside if you need it.” Aiden addedwhen we approached the outer loop.
Kyle chuckled. “Two thirty six.”
“Oh geez. Did they increase it?”
“No.”
“Well it feels longer.”
Another thirty laps and bumping and banging with Paul, myair went out in my helmet. While temperatures rose, so did my car’s internaltemperature. It was well over one hundred and thirty degrees in my car at thatmoment. So add the temperature outside to my temper Paul already set free. Iwas not in the best mood.
“I hate to say this but my air just went out.” Igrumbled. “It’s like a fucking oven in here.”
“Are you serious?”
“Do you honestly think I’d joke about that?” I laugheddespite myself. “There’s no fucking way I can finish the race like this.”
We made a pit stop after that when they gave me a hosethat ventilated air coming in from outside the car. “What do I do with this?” Iasked looking at the hose during the last pace lap.
“Hook it up to your helmet. We couldn’t get it in therewith the net and still get you out in time.”
After some negotiating and yelling at my helmet and lackof space in the car, it worked but did nothing for my mood.
As the race continued, Paul and I were running second andthird with just a few laps to go when he once again, got into my bumper on arestart. After fishtailing briefly, I got it under control and managed tofinish second to Bobby with Paul behind me in third.
Wanting to show Paul just how pleased I was, I nudged himon pit road after the race. In my mind, I got my point across. Done deal.
Well NASCAR had their own theory on that one. They didn’twant other drivers getting into the habit of running into each other on pitroad. It was dangerous. We could hit either a crew member or an official doingthat sort of thing just by accident. I knew that and I wasn’t trying to hurtanyone. I mean, honestly, I was going maybe 15mph. It’s not like I hit himgoing full throttle and body slammed him. I had more respect than that. Lasttime I looked, I wasn’t Darrin Torres. I was just simply expressing a littleconcern for his lack of concern on the track.
Like I said, NASCAR didn’t see it like that and sent bothof us to the hauler to hash it out.
Paul and I left the hauler not speaking and it took weeksto talk about what happened in Watkins Glen. He tried to talk to me when Castenand I were leaving the media center after the Bristol race but I wasn’t havingit.
“Listen Jameson,” this was not the way to start aconversation with me. “I just don’t see why you’re upset. You race everyonethat way.Youcan’t expect to run me off the track and me not getupset.”
“I don’t raceyouthat way, that’s the point.” Myeyes met his briefly. “I didn’t hit you on purpose.” I kept walking shocked hecouldn’t understand my response. Casten followed paying close attention to whatPaul was saying. Casten may be the happiest kid on the face of the planet butif you mess with his family, he threw down.
“Jameson, just don’t take it so personal, it’s justracing. And if I remember correctly, you got the last hit on me.” He saidcondescendingly.
“I’m leaving,” I was thoroughly annoyed at this point,and walked inside the hauler.
“That’s right, walk away.” He glared holding my eyes fora moment before stepping back away from me.
“Fuck you, Paul.” I added before slamming the door shut.
Most guys, I thought Paul was one of them, knew what toexpect out on the track. We usually never meant anything by the bumping andbanging each week and the drivers that did, usually didn’t have many friendsout there. Sure we never forgot but we didn’t go looking for trouble each week,that’s why I couldn’t understand why Paul kept it up throughout the race, heknew I never intended to hit him in Watkins Glen but he retaliated anyway.
I think most don’t realize; fans and media included, thatthese cars bump and bang for position. You cannot put them inches from eachother, push speeds of two hundred miles per hour and not expect them to bumpand bang. And in the same sense, not every time is it going to be intentionalor someone’s fault. I thought Paul knew that and evidently, he didn’t.
I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t the one seeing it clearlybut it either way, I wasn’t in the mood that night for any of it.
