Page 90 of Trading Paint

My season started out shitty, got shittier and then ended shitty. It was by far the worst season I’d ever run but I took comfort in knowing all the frontrunners struggled too. I ended up third in the Silver crown division, we struggled constantly with the asphalt tracks and when half the races are on asphalt—it did nothing for our points.

I did better in the midgets and ended up second in points but the sprint cars I placed fifth. I was not pleased with that at all. I was pissed actually.

I still raced in everything I could and won quite a bit but it wasn’t enough. It seemed that besides the asphalt tracks we struggled on the dry-slick as well. By winter, we did some serious re-structuring and even switched manufacturers of a few parts.

Something wasn’t right and I didn’t feel that my driving ability had dropped off because I could still compete at the same level in the Outlaw sprints, late models and the occasional modified.

Top five finishes in all three divisions wasn’t bad but I was a perfectionist and hated losing.

Justin and Tyler felt the same way so on the way back from Turkey Night, that I once again lost, this time to Justin, we vented.

“I can’t believe this fucking season!” I griped. “I’ve never raced this horribly.”

“I feel your pain man,” Tyler said. “I think I destroyed ten cars this season and a few concrete walls.”

“Yeah well,” Justin began tossing his bag in the overhead compartment on the plane we were boarding. “I got more fines than both you put together.”

“Tsktsktsk, Justin.” I taunted. “You should have learned pushing a USAC official.”

“Yeah, like you?” he countered sitting down next to me.

He may have beaten me in fines but that was only because I harassed them in ways I didn’t get caught. It seemed that I spent more time defending my actions on the track than I did racing but when you’re having luck like our team was and sponsors began breathing down your neck, you tend to get a little fired up at times. Those who didn’t understand that clearly didn’t understand the pressures put upon us.

“You are so full of shit Riley.” Justin pushed my shoulder. “My foot slipped off the throttle, I swear!” he mimicked in a deep voice he tried to push off as mine.

My voice was hardly deep, crackly at times but not deep.

“I don’t sound like that and I still maintain my foot slipped.”

“Can I get you boys anything to drink?” a flight attendant asked us politely.

“Beers...keep ‘emcoming honey.” Justin teased with her.

We all order non-alcoholic drinks because she checked our damn ID’s.

I leaned back and relaxed, needing the alone time. These seasons ran from February to November and left modest amounts of down time.

By the time November rolled around, you were exhausted both mentally and physically. I checked my phone once more, hoping to see a text or voicemail from Sway and she didn’t disappoint.

There’s always next year buddy. I have a beer waiting for you.

I smiled and sent a text before the plane departed.

Thanks. See you soon.

I couldn’t wait to see Sway. The last time I saw her was toward the end of October and I missed her.

She was finishing finals for her freshman year at Western. I wasn’t sure I could take another three years like this one. If her not being with me had an impact on the way my racing would be affected without her then I was fucked. I knew she couldn’t continue to travel and go to school and something had to give this season, for both of us.

Redlining – Sway

When I got home that night from seeing Jameson and the rest of the Riley family, Charlie was waiting up.

By the grim expression on his face, I knew what was coming.

“You need to get your head out of your ass Sway, if you’re going to do this, finish it. If not, follow him around but I guarantee you he won’t see you for who you are.” His voice continued to rise with each word. “I didn’t raise a pit lizard!”

I didn’t know what to say to that, what could I say?

---