Page 156 of The Legend
I wastense and on edge when I got inside the car. I had to blink the perspirationout of my eyes just to see the gauges that I couldn’t see even if I needed to.I kept moving in the car, feeling uncomfortable and sore. My body was burningfrom the exertion and sweating from the heat of the afternoon.
“Comeback in.” Kyle said twenty laps into the Coca-Cola 600. “We’redraggin’ a bumper bar through three and four.”
Just likepractice, it was hard to feel the car.
If youcounted the duels, the Budweiser Shootout and the All-Star race, I had beengone for fifteen races. That’s not easy on a driver, or the crew who had beendealing with one personality all year and now had a completely different one todeal with now.
I kneweventually we’d get it but it was frustrating for many when we weren’tcommunicating like we had in the past.
When itwas time, getting back into the racing groove wasn’t hard. Having lived thislifestyle for the last forty some years, it was like coming home.
After theheadaches, blurred vision, sensitivity to lights, nausea, confusion,irritability and intensive physical therapy on my shoulder and core that I hadendured over the last four months...racing waseasy compared to that.
When thedoctors told me, “You’ll be out for the season.” I laughed at them.
No injurywould keep me away that long. But it did knock me out of contention for anotherchampionship and six months of the season.
Distractedby the rush of everything, I also knew there was a part of me, deep down, thatwasn’t sure this was what I wanted anymore. The morning of the race I watchedthe walls, the ceiling, the carpet, the tools, all looking for an answer Ididn’t have but one. I wanted to retire.
Part ofme, and I wasn’t sure how much, knew that I would feel this way eventually. Isaw the change in my dad the last few years he raced. It happens. You see itmore often in the kids that start racing at a very young age. At some point intheir life, they wonder if they would have interest in anything else. I knew myinterest was in racing but for me, things had changed.
You stilllive for the sport but there comes a time when it’s not all that matters anylonger.
Though Isaw the fear in her eyes and touch, Sway would never ask me to retire becauseshe knew damn well if she did, I would. We experienced that back in 2003 when Inearly walked away from everything because of Darrin.
But mywife knew me better than anyone. She knew this wasn’t an easy decision for me.Look how many years it took me to discover my feelings for her. I should haveknown the decision to retire wouldn’t be any easier on me. But I think it’sbeen coming for a while.
My dadused to say to me pointing to his chest. “Son, if you don’t feel it here, youdon’t feel it there.”
Memoriescan be a bitch sometimes. Every time I thought it couldn’t hurt anymore, it didand it reminded me that his memory was still very real. I wouldn’t have it anyother way. I didn’t want to forget.
Apron – Sway
The racehad fallen into a comfortable grove with the occasional shuffle. Teams pit windowshad come up and the talk became strategy.
If youwere on the outside when pit lane came up, it could easily end in disaster.Jameson sometimes had a habit of running high which meant he ran into the problemof getting across traffic down on the apron to pit lane.
Myfingernails disappeared quickly as did the pretzel in my hand, the nervousenergy was pliable all around us and it seemed it was radiating from me inwaves.
The racestarted up again after pit stops, building with intensity that all night raceshad. Brody got a nose under Jameson and took seventh from him. Jameson brushedthe wall but kept control and managed to get back seventh when Brody rubbedagainst Paul and drew the caution.
Every raceis different. Different patterns, different rhythms but they all have their ownfeel. This one in particular had its own feel. The cameras remained inJameson’s car through the weekend and every chance they got the reportingbroadcasting station was analyzing every shift in the car Jameson made andevery outburst he had too. This seemed to be every twenty laps when somethingwouldn’t go his way.
“Good jumpout of two. Nice move bud.”
“I’mstarving. Please tell me this race is almost over?” Jameson asked surprisingus. It was the first hint of laughter we heard all race rang through the radio.
Nancy, whowas beside me on the pit box, clutched my hand as a smiled graced her. If feltgood seeing her smile. She was just as nervous as I was but that laughter fromher son seemed to calm her slightly.
“Fifty togo bud,” Kyle said. “It’s not easy coming back and NASCAR’s longest night isyour first race back.”
“Fuckyeah, fifty to go. I can deal with that.” He was quiet for a minute and thenasked. “Do you think they would deliver pizza?”
“I don’tsee why not.” Kyle teased smiling at me when I nodded to him. “Sway said she’dorder it for you.”
“That’s mygirl.” Jameson laughed.
I didorder pizza and when my husband pulled onto the grid with a fourth place finishfor his first race back, I set a pizza and myself, on the hood of his car.
