Page 65 of The Legend
“I neversaid that.”
“I know...it’s just that I heard you with Jameson theother night.”
I knewwhat he was referring too. My exact statement to my dad was.“I’m frustratedwith everyone. No one will leave me alone.”I wasn’t even referring toracing when I said that. Lane was sensitive though and only wanted to help.
“Thatwasn’t about you Lane.That was about thewedding.” I looked over at him thinking of why I was so stressed out. It hadnothing to do with the wedding. All of it was about racing. “I just don’t knowif I can do it. I wanted to win the championship this season but that’s nothappening. I feel like I let grandpa down. I feel like I let the sponsorsdown.”
I knew itwas far-fetched to win the championship as a rookie but it wasn’t impossible.My dad did it. I felt bad that Lane mistook that as me not wanting his help.For this reason, we always got along.
“You can.Everyone knows that.” Lane smiled that same smile uncle Spencer had, brightwith dimples. The kind that made you feel like everything would be okay.“You’ve got both their talents combined. There would be some that would kill tohave an ounce of the talent that you possess in a race car and you act asthough it’s not there. You don’t believe in yourself, Axel.”
“That’snot it. I know I have talent but fuck, look at who my dad is or grandpa.” Ithrew my arms up in the air. “How can I possibly live up to those two?”
“Don’tfeel like you need to live up to them. That’s not what it’s about.” Lane smiledand looked contemplative for a minute. “It’s like tires. Some of us have hardercompounds and don’t provide grip. Then there are the softer compounds thatprovide moregripbut wear quicker. We’re alldifferent.”
Lane wasright. That’s not what it was about.
Ishouldn’t feel like I need to live up to them but I did. If you understood whothey were in the racing community, you would understand my constant comparison.To everyone else, I was nearly fated to be this legendary racer.
But couldI be?
Thisseason sure wasn’t proving to be it. I was running ninth in the standings andonly pulled through with thirteen feature wins so far.
Lastseason, my grandpa won forty-five of the eighty-two feature races. Stacking upagainst my thirteen, that’s not exactly a confidence builder right there.
“I wasreally young when your dad made history and pulled off the championship in hisfirst season but no one will ever forget that Axel. They won’t because hecontinues to make history every time he pulls onto a track. That’s Jamesonthough, that’s not you.”
I nodded andtook a seat on a stack of tires beside him. He handed me a beer. Though Iwasn’t twenty-one, I grew up at a dirt track and beer came with that.
Laneadjusted his hat and sat next to me. Raising his beer to his lips, he pausedand then looked over at me. “You have it. You just have to believe in it likehe does. I’m not sure that there has ever been a time in his life when hedidn’t believe in himself.”
Trying tobelieve in myself has always been my problem. I felt that without that constantencouragement from my dad, I couldn’t do it.
Lane and Ifinished up the control arms and gears on my sprint car. Then went through thechecklist making sure the bolt on parts of the car and engine were secured andnothing else needed to be replaced. We then went through all the fluids andtire pressures for Charlotte. We kept logs from each race so that we knew whatworked at each track. The problem was what worked one night in April didn’twork in November for the simple fact that the moisture was now gone from the track.You basically needed to start over and figure out what would work now. Youcouldn’t do that until you were there.
Grandpahelped us but what worked as a set-up for him, didn’t work for me with thedifferent driving styles and weight difference.
When wewere ready to leave, we loaded the car into the hauler for Craig to pick up inthe morning and then locked up. In the morning, we drove to Charlotte for thefinal week of racing.
I knew onething, regardless of the fact that we all had different tire variations; I wasready for a break.
Compound – Sway
After theWorld Finals in Charlotte, I was determined to get to Jameson. I needed mydirty heathen badly.
Betweenall the fan clubs, Jameson’s sponsor obligations and three kids that frequentlyneeded Mama Wizard, Mama Wizard didn’t have much time to herself when Homesteadrolled around that year.
In fact, Ihadn’t been able to see Jameson in close to two-weeks and I knew it was timewhen I caught myself getting emotional when heSkypedme last night.
My flightwas delayed in Homestead and I had yet to fly to or from Homestead without adelay. That wasn’t going to stop me. I was getting my dirty heathen nakedbefore that damn race.
When Ifinally made it through traffic, to the hotel, and through the mob of fansoutside, I barely got through the door before his mouth was on mine and he waspushing me toward the bed.
We hadclothes strung all over the room and ended up with me on the bottom when wefinally settled on the bed.
You knowthose times when you’re together and everything is frantic and hurried, neitherof you speak. Grunting and groaning, pushing and pulling, and teasing. Yeah,that was this.
Just as Iwas pushing his jeans past his hips, someone knocked on the door.
