Page 178 of Trading Paint

Whatever he felt, I couldn’t change the feelings I had. So unfamiliar, they felt like someone else’s thoughts, surging tides engulfing me in the memory of him.

27.Running Light – Jameson

Running Light – This refers to a car that is running light on fuel. Most teams qualify with a light load to achieve the maximum speed from their cars.

In between the Richmond race and the Winston Open, I had a bi-week. I thought maybe I’d be able to fly out to see Sway before her graduation and make up for not being there, but no, my conscious took over.

The night after the Pontiac Excitement 400 in Richmond, I was heading to Charlotte for an interview followed by various appearances at a few dealerships and then an appearance for Simplex.

After Tuesday, the rest of the week and the weekendwasopening up nicely. Feeling jaunty that I might have some time for myself, I checked my Blackberry. Shaking my head, I wasn’t surprised to see around forty emails, fifteen text messages and a dozen voicemails. Most of them I knew Alley would take care of so I just skimmed through a few emails from her letting me know my schedule for the next week. Thursday through Sunday looked open.

Scrolling through the text messages, I noticed a couple from Sway asking me why Tommy didn’t have stuff to do. Without unspoken words, he kept track of her. Not that I thought she needed to be checked up on, I just wanted to ensure she was safe. Tommy did that when he could.

So there I was, getting ready to call Wes when I listened to my voicemails. A few were from my mom, wanting to know if I could attend a charity event for the Children’s Hospital in Nashville next week. The one that caught my attention was from Justin.

“Hey Jameson...it’sJustin. I wanted to let you know that Ron Walker was killed last night at Williams Grove. I don’t know how it happened but they cancelled the Outlaw race for next weekend to run a memorial race there. You might think about coming.”

Well shit, there goes my free weekend.

The next voicemail was from dad.

“Call me when you get this. I mean itJameson,you better call me when you get up. This is important.”

And then one from Emma.

“Hey asshole.Call me. Like right now. Where are you anyway? You better call or I will just keep calling.”

Time for myself?

Yeah, that ended when I decided to race for a living.

I called dad first knowing damn well if I didn’t he’d take it out of my paycheck somehow. “Hey,” I said nonchalantly when he picked up. Throwing a few shirts in a bag, I walked into my bathroom to pack a few toiletries knowing that either way I looked at it I wouldn’t be home this weekend.

“It’snoon, why the fuck were you still sleeping?”

Holding the phone with my ear and shoulder, I snorted. “I didn’t get home until four.” I replied on the defense. “That’s why.”

“Oh, well Ron Walker was killed last night at Williams Grove.” His voice was rough and drawn out like he hadn’t slept.

I knew he and Tyler were racing there the other night so I assumed they both saw the accident, if it was an accident.

“What happened?”

“There were a few late models on the track and Ron was out there taking photos when one lost control. Both cars hit the tractor tire he was sitting on.”

As much as it sucked, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It’s dangerous being out there in the infield when a car is on the track.

“USAC and the Outlaws cancelled Friday and Saturday night races for a memorial race at Williams Grove. Can you make it? Alley said you were free this weekend.”

Do I make the responsible decision here and show respect for a long time friend of my dad’s, and a track promoter that had a hand in my career?

Ron Walker was not only a well-respected USAC team owner of around ten cars that ran in the different divisions but he acted as a track promoter for not only the USAC divisions but the World of Outlaws and various sprint tours. So do I show my respect for himordo I blow it off and go see Sway?

“I uh...can I think about it for a few minutes?”

“Do whatever you want, Jameson.” He clipped and hung up.

Way to make me feel like an asshole, dad.

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