Page 127 of The Legend
We endedup staying up in our room the rest of the night. It may have been rude buteveryone understood. This wasn’t easy for us.
Thatnight, in bed, Sway’s hands roamed over my body carefully. She whisperedagainst my stomach, kissing along the scar I had now that ran vertically up myabdomen. “You’re thinking of retiring, aren’t you?”
My eyesclosed, I hadn’t admitted it to anyone yet as I was still undecided. This wasn’teasy for me.
Her softtouches moved from my stomach to my left arm. “This scar here...is from when you broke your arm in Skagit.”her hand moved to my shoulder to the three-inch long scar across my shoulder,her voice remained soft and low. “This one is from your shoulder surgery whenyou were twenty-four.”
I laidthere watching her but said nothing.
“This onehere,” her fingertips touched a two-inch scar above my eyebrow. “Is from whenAiden smacked you with a brake caliper six years ago for pushing him into thelake,” she laughed lightly hovering over me on her hands and knees. “And thisone,” her lips touched to my scalp where you could easily feel the scar fromthe brain surgery. “Is from when I nearly lost you...” she pulled back and looked down at me,tears fell down her cheeks. Her dark hair fell from her shoulders and onto mychest when her body pressed against mine carefully. My bones had healed but itwas still uncomfortable at times. I would take the pain though, anything tofeel closer to her.
“So like Iknow your body—I know you.”
She didn’thave to say anymore. I knew that she meant she knew I was thinking ofretirement.
Gently andwith extreme caution, I rolled us over so I was hovering over her. My left handreached out to touch her neck and then slide along her jaw. My thumb traced herlower lip before I pressed my lips to hers.
“I knowyou do, honey.”
Arm Restraints – Sway
After thefuneral and gathering at our house, we left for Elma for the memorial race. Itwas nice being back in Elma and around the place we called home for so manyyears but also, sad.
Standingthere, looking over a track that made so many racers lives comes true, took afew, and created legends, I knew the change that was happening in my husband.
Jameson shookhis head wistfully, the twinkle I always knew present as we watched Axel andhis buddy Shane take a few warm up laps. Right then, I saw that eighteen yearold kid fighting his way to the Triple Crown with a love for racing and apassion for a sport that knew him better than anyone ever could, including me.You see, this was where he was comfortable. This was where Jameson was himself.And now, after Knoxville, I wasn’t so sure that connection was there anylonger.
His headtipped toward the sprint cars rumbling down the backstretch. “Those were thedays that made racing what it is. Not this manufactured shit that’s going onnow where they attempt to control outcomes, reality TV and overpowering mediaattention.” His eyes glanced to a cameraman not far from us. “This is where isbegan. It’s the reason I still race.” A frown settled over his features. “Or atleast why I still want to race,”
His handraked over the stubble of hair that grew back, his face adapting a sudden graveedge showing our true age. “It was about the noise.” His voice faded out, apensive protected look returned but faltered as he mumbled a phrase I knewwell. “Where the clay meets the rubber,” He gave the track a nostalgic glancebefore shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans walking to the pits.
Hearinghim utter his father’s words or wisdom was difficult but I loved that saying.For a moment, I could actually picture Jimi, clad in his famous black racingsuit, his blue eyes sparkling with aliveness where’d he say to us: “Where theclay meets the rubber is where a love was formed for the Riley family.”
Now,looking at Jameson, I’m not sure that love survived Knoxville. I also knew thatretirement was heavy on his mind though he wouldn’t say it.
Arm Restraints – Jameson
“I thinkyou should run the memorial lap.” I told Axel after the heat races they ran.
“Butyou’re supposed to.” He said removing his helmet and pulling himself from hiscar.
I noddedmy hands remained in my pockets. “I know but I think you should.”
Axel didn’tquestion me again, he knew me well enough to know that it wasn’t up fornegotiation. I didn’t feel comfortable doing it.
Over fourhundred cars showed up for a two-night feature. The final night, Saturday, wedid the memorial where we spread the last portion of his ashes over the trackbefore the A-Main event.
Originally,they wanted me to make the memorial lap but I opted out of it and had Axel doit. I wasn’t sure when I would get back inside a sprint car. I knew eventuallyI would, but right now, tonight, it seemed fitting to have Axel do it.
Instead, Istood with our family in the infield and watched.
The doublezero sprint car my dad raced his entire career made a slow memorial lap priorto the main with Axel holding the canister of his ashes out the side of his carand then came to a rest in front of the flag stand.
Immediatelyit reminded me of the first memorial we had for Charlie some twenty years agowhen I did this very same thing for him. Sway started crying beside me, Ireached for her knowing she was thinking the same thing. Losing your parentsnever gets easier.
Axelpulled the coupler out, the engine revved until the gas ran out and the cardied. The crowd was completely silent as Axel sat inside the car for a fewmoments before loosening his belts and climbing from the car. Standing on therear tires, he climbed on the wing and waved to the crowd.
I honestlydon’t think there was a dry eye in the stands that night.
