Page 3 of Trading Paint

Later that night, I found myself at the track.

“All right kid, get in.” I slid easily into the narrow cockpit. His head bent down near mine. “Remember—don’t drive too deep into the corners. It’ll flipya’ in a heartbeat. Find your lift point and feather the throttle accelerating through the turn. You’ll have more control that way since the track is tacky.”

Once I was on the track during qualifying and hot laps, I realized how different sprints were from midgets. With being heavier, the wheelspin and changes throughout the race, I was amazed at the differences.

Having spent every afternoon on our quarter-mile track practicing, I knew I was ready and I showed them.

I appeared confident on the outside but on the inside I was one scared shitless kid as my dad explained the rules to me after the drivers meeting.

“Pay attention Jameson. This is different from racing midgets.” He told me after time trials were finished.

I only nodded. I was overwhelmed but I wasn’t letting on.

I didn’t want to hear the words I told you so, which by the smirk on his hard face, he was ready to say at the first sign of weakness.

Here we stood in the pits getting ready for the heat races. Pulling my racing suit over my shoulders, I looked up at him.

“All right,” he began. “The top eighteen qualifiers will be split into heat one and heat two. You made fast time so you’re in heat two. The top two in heat one, will move to the rear of heat two.” He nudged my shoulder. “You following me, kid?”

Again, I only nodded. Dad had made it clear early on when I began racing that in order to race, I needed to understand everything; not just how to race. At times, it was overwhelming for a kid.

I had to know set-ups—the handling, engines,andhow to drive the car. He wouldn’t let me slide with climbing in the car and driving. I had to know what to do if I broke it and how to fix it myself.

“The top eight cars from heat two will run the feature.” He told me as I fastened my arm straps. I then pulled my helmet on and engaged the coupler.

It was show time.

When it came time for the feature event, the nervousness hit me like a ton of bricks.

Remaining moderately calm throughout the heat races, I presumed the rest of the night would be the same but when twenty other cars pulled onto the track with me, I briefly contemplated backing out. That being said, there’s also nothing like merging onto the track with the rumbling parade of twenty sprint cars and my anxiety instantly vanished.

I did the only thing I knew when I got on the track with the other cars; I raced. There was a calm that washed over me and I blocked out everything like I always did inside the car and raced. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to run the top with the fast guys but when it came time to make a pass, I had no choice but to run the top.

With my heart pounding rapidly, I pulled a “Jimi move” as I called it and slid past three or four cars in each turn using the high side where the grip was.

Much to my surprise and probably everyone else at the track, I won. If you’re surprised that an eleven-year-old kid could beat men who’d been racing for years and had ten and twenty years on me, imagine my amazement.

After the feature race and the trophies had been awarded, my dad caught up with me.

“Nice job kid,”

Hearing words of commendation from a World of Outlaw Champion was something any kid would want to hear despite him being my father.

“Thanks dad.” I replied with a huge grin once we were back inside his car hauler loading. “Does this mean I can continue racing?”

“Yeah...but school comes first.” I started to walk away when he reached for the back of my suit. “When you’re not in school, you’re helping out in the shop,understood?”

“Sure, whatever,” I tried to play it cool.

“Go help Spencer load the cars. I’m going to go see Charlie.” He said heading off to meet Charlie who was standing outside the hauler.

I always thought Spencer would show some interest and want to race, but outside of messing around on the track at home, he never wanted to race competitively. He’d rather work on the cars than race them, which was fine by me and good luck getting the football out of his hands.

Spencer and I spent more time checking out Charlie’s daughter than loading cars, which was no surprise these days. I may only be eleven, but girls weredefinitelysomething I was responsive to. I was beginning to understand why Spencer liked the opposite sex so much.

Being eleven, almost twelve, I was launching into the teenage hormones and with that came strange...urges or feelings, I guess you could say.

Girls, well they spurred these urges or feelings which in turn resulted in some fairly embarrassing reactions to my body, much like right now.

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