Page 43 of Trading Paint

“You don’t want to be on my bad side...I’m your best friend so I know all the ways to get you back, and I know all the things you aredeathlyafraid of.”

“You wouldn’t...” she knew damn well I was aware she was afraid of clowns and could wreck-havoc on her with them if I wanted to.

“Watch me.” I smacked her ass once more, this time my hand lingered a little longer than necessary.

As teenagers, we want to see ourselves as some kind of renegade, or rule breaker, a badass really. That’s exactly how we want to see ourselves—it’scool right?

It’s bullshit. We’re just as vulnerable as everyone else, probably more so with the addition of the teenage hormones that control our bodies and ruled our decisions.

Either way, we want to take risks and prove to everyone that we are those renegade rule breakers we think we are. With any risk, there can be reward but then there can also be fallout. Then what? All I knew was I wasn’t willing to take the risk when it came to Sway. Losing her friendship wasn’t an option.

As a teenager, I took risks every day. It was part of being that teenage badass we all wanted to be but some risks you just don’t take out of fear of the unknown.

The funny thing with risks was that even if you’re not willing to take them, they’re still tempting, like the last cookie on the plate. After a while, your self-control gets the best of you and you reach out for the cookie.

7.High Heat – Jameson

High Heat – Above normal tire temperature that’s usually around 260 degrees.

Toward the end of my senior year, my life had turned crazy and it was only May. I was racing at different tracks around the Northwest every weekend and when I wasn’t racing, I was working in the race shop or doing homework to graduate in a month. I couldn’tfuckingwait. I also couldn’t wait to get away from Chelsea. Since we had sex, she pretty much stalked me.

I had no time for anything; barely enough time to sleep and if it wasn’t for caffeine, I’d be asleep right now as I tried to focus on my mid-term final.

Sway kicked my leg under the wooden table we sat at during our political economics class. As I thought to myself why I would ever need to know anything about political economics to better myself, she whispered, “Wake up,”

I shook my head, trying to focus but the late nights getting my car ready for the next weekend were taking a toll on me and my attention span.

Once school finals were over, it was time for the World of Outlaws race in Chico and then Cottage Grove followed by Elma and Skagit. It was a busy week for my family and a chance at seeing my dad for more than a few days at a time. He was usually on the road beginning in March and ending in late November so we welcomed the chance at finally seeing each other when he was home.

Since I was competing on the Northern Sprint Tour this year, I had to make all four races and place. I ended up driving down to Chico to meet up with Dad and his teammate now, Bucky Miers.

Bucky was a good wholesome guy. He’d do anything to help you out if it was in his power so I wasn’t surprised when Spencer and I pulled into town and Bucky was standing there with my dad and an older gentleman dressed in a black suit.

Spencer and I got out and approached them. Bucky smiled at me and gestured toward the man.

“Jameson, this is Walter Gains. He’s the president of Bowman Oil. He’d like to talk to you about sponsoring your car next year and running the USAC Silver Crown series full-time.”

I’m sure my eyes widened. Dad and I had frequently talked about my plans for next year once I graduated and I’d made it clear to him I’d be racing. I still didn’t have a plan in place but I knew just as he had done, the real challenge was in the Midwest and East Coast. Those are where the big boys are.

I reached for his hand. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Gains.”

“Son, call me Walter and let’s talk.”

Walter and I talked for a good hour about my plans for next year. I told him I’d planned on heading to the Midwest to try my luck out there with the open wheel guys and in turn he offered up sponsorship on a silver crown car as well as a sprint and midgets if I chose to run them.

In racing, sponsorship is necessary. Without it, there’s no way for you to do this. We need sponsors to help foot the bill. In turn, we plaster the sides of our cars with their names, promoting their products. Why? It’s simple, exposure. Race fans see the products that we use and want the same thing.

Unsure how to adjust to this information, I called Sway from a payphone outside of Chico while my dad and Spencer ate dinner.

“What’s up?” Sway asked.

“I got sponsorship for next year.” I blurted out.

“No shit?” she asked her voice excited.

“Yep,”

“That’s awesome Jameson. I’m so happy for you.”

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