Page 15 of The Legend
It wasn’teasy for us to get over that and we still felt the pain now as we tried toreplace the members of our teams.
Was Iafraid of flying now?
Yes andno. It was a horrible feeling to have and even worse to imagine how many of myfriends were lost that day.
Recently Ihad purchased a Falcon 200. Actually, I didn’t purchase it. I was making somehefty payments each month to the bank, but with my lifestyle, I couldn’t flycommercially.
Still,life went on and given my career choice, I was forced to continue flying aroundthe world despite my fears.
This meantI had to find a new pilot as well. That was not my favorite experience so Ienlisted Van, my bodyguard and he found a navy pilot he used to work with whenhe was a SEAL.
RogerAgar, our new pilot enjoyed scaring the shit out of me and once decided he was goingto do a barrel roll with me. I kindly told him if he did that, again I wouldjump from the plane, no lie.
Most of mytime spent in Daytona Florida was with the media, sponsor obligations and then therewas a few meet and greets I had to get done. Alley had my schedule packed andallowed for little breathing room outside of the evenings. Me, Paul Leighty andBobby Cole, my teammates this year, all went to dinner the night before theBudweiser shootout. It was always nice to get back with the boys and talk aboutwhat we all did over the winter. Tate Harris, another driver in the series whowas set to retire this year showed up halfway through our meal so we got tochat with him. He brought with him a kid that was racing in his driverdevelopment program, Easton Levi.
Easton, aseventeen-year old kid, from Wheeling Ohio, that was an open wheel racer whodecided to get into stock cars. Tate, having given me my start into NASCAR, wasalways willing to help a hungry kid. If I was being honest with you, I thinkthat was part of the reason for hiring Grady around the shop.
After agood conversation with Easton about Ryder, who he knew pretty well, we seemedto get along good. I liked him as he seemed level headed and getting into stockcars for the right reasons. He wanted to be the best. I always looked at itthis way. If you were racing for the money, you’re in it for the wrong reasons.Easton didn’t seem to be in it for that.
Tatecaught me outside the restaurant before we headed back to track. “Is Swaycoming out tonight? Eva was asking about her.”
Eva wasTate’s wife for the last fifteen years and a good friend of Sways’.
Checkingmy phone to see if she had sent me a message, I looked over my shoulder at thegroup of women gathering. “She will be here in the morning, I think. She had tofly to Elma yesterday.” I gave him an eye roll. “Never again will I build a newhouse, a new shop and redesign a track in the same year.”
Tatechuckled and gave the women behind us a nod as to say, “Come over.”
They didand we spent the next fifteen minutes handing out autographs.
These daysour sport had become as popular as any other professional sport in the UnitedStates. What was once considered your average good ole boy sport with roughedup drivers was now a multimillion-dollar corporation with professional athletesall working for the same goal, growing our sport.
“I loveyou guys so much!” One woman with wide eyes and a forget-my-own-name-smilegushed pushing a poster in my face, “I’ve watched your son race since he was alittle boy and you too.”
I smiledat her and her cheeks flushed deeper.
“Thank youma’am,” I gave the woman a wink, “it’s always nice to have a dedicated fan.”
Tatechuckled when I said ma’am and even mouthed it back to me.
Elbowinghis side, I signed a few more autographs and then headed back to my truck withBobby.
I relaxedback at my motor coach knowing my alone time wouldn’t last once my family andcrew arrived.
Sometimeafter eight that night, Kyle showed up and shuffled through a stack of moviesto talk race day strategy.
Carryinghis notebook inside, he looked over notes. Kyle kept a notebook just as mostcrew chiefs did. Though most now had laptops and tablets they kept theinformation on, Kyle kept his in a black notebook, always had.
In thatbook he kept meticulous notes detailing each track we visited. He knewcautions, fuel mileage, tire set-up as well as tire wear. He worked closelywith our engine specialist Harry, as well as, our tire specialist, Tony. Aswith most crew chiefs in the garage area, obsessed over it.
Each weekKyle goes through all scenarios. He asks himself, what should we do when thecar does this? Or with twenty laps to go at Bristol, should we pit when thecaution comes out?
Handling,adjustments, fuel mileage, he went over all aspects, obsessed over and tookrisks to get us the jump we needed. Did he have a hard job?
Yes. Outof anyone on a race team from the guys pushing the jack to the one behind thewheel, in my eyes, the guy on the box had the hardest job out of all of us.
As we satthere running ideas past each other, I watched him scrutinize the smallestdetails. He seemed different this year. Maybe it was that years of a highlystressful job had taken its toll on him.
SometimesI thought Kyle fixated on that book a little too much but we all knew why. Hegot us to victory lane more times than not. In turn, he was highly soughtafter.
