The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (36 page)

Hell together we broke every piece on the cars. It was
carnage out there.

Tyler came rolling by on the back of my dad’s 4-wheeler
holding a shock mount in one hand and his helmet in the other. He held it up
when he walked past, “This was the only salvageable part on the car.”

I really didn’t want to see this parts bill tomorrow.
With these cars leaving Sunday morning for Cottage Grove, we use the back-up
cars brought with each team but it didn’t matter, I still had to pay to have
these three fixed.

That was racing. You could easily dump a hundred thousand
in a motor alone just to have it blow up on you in hot laps.

Speaking of engines, they seemed to be our biggest
problem this year. With grandpa Casten passing away last year, the future of
CST Engines, was unknown. CST Engines was what almost every team on the outlaw
tour used for engines along with most of the national sprint tours.

When grandpa died, his partner Rick Denton had no clue
what to do and neither did we. Grandpa built the engines while Rick merely
acted as the sales associate. Old Casten had no business conversing with the
public.

Uncle Randy and my dad ended up taking over ownership of
the business but had to hire Harry, my engine specialist on the cup team to
build the engines until they found someone. Harry tried, he really did but
grandpa knew sprint cars. They were his specialty. In turn, he could build us
an engine that would usually last the entire season.

After a few months, Dad and Randy ended up having to hire
another engine specialist, Kerry Andrews, and let Harry just concentrate on the
cup cars. I think it was more along the lines that Harry actually told him he’d
quit if they didn’t.

Eventually things got better and the engines were close
to what grandpa was providing but it took nearly a year of trial an error
before we found a design that worked best for us. As you can see, this put a
lot of stress upon every team.

It’s always something in racing, no matter what form. If
you’re not fighting with the engine, the shock package needed attention.

But hey, that’s racing.

On Saturday night, I found myself in Richmond for the
last race before the chase.

“You have about four more laps until we stop.” Kyle told
me around lap one eighty of the Chevy Rock & Roll 400 race.

I loved Richmond, but not tonight.

It seemed like my luck for breaking cars wasn’t going any
better than it had Friday night at Skagit.

“We have to get this packer out of the right front.” I
told him knowing he’d make the adjustments.

Instead of relying solely on the spring rubbers to adjust
the suspension and handling of the car, we add shock packers, which allow the
shock to absorb a fair amount. Instead of a shock compressing, let’s say
seventy-five percent of its potential; we would put in a packer to decrease the
shock travels. This allowed it to only half-way. Shock packers, combined with
spring rubbers could make the car react differently and give us more room to
experiment with set-ups. We either use one or the other, or together, depending
on how the car was handling and the track we were at.

With Richmond, you start in the daylight and finish under
the lights. Those races are always tricky because of how temperature sensitive
it becomes. One minute you’re loose and about to kiss the wall and then next
you’re so tight the car won’t turn.

“What’s your water temp?”

“210—215,”

“We’ll put a piece of tape on it this next stop. Three
laps.”

“Pit road is open.” Aiden told us when it was time to
pit. “Four thousand second gear. The six will pit in front of you, you’ll need
to come around him to get into your pit.”

We made our green flag stop along with most of the field,
which took us from our sixth place spot to fourth. It wasn’t good enough—I
needed to win tonight.

Currently Paul, Colin and I were right on the bubble to
make the chase. For the first time in my five-year cup career, I may not make
the chase. I’ll spare you my thoughts on the chase format; I was
not
a
fan of it. I’m sorry but the other sports can keep their playoff format. I
didn’t like it. I didn’t like it because if I was running strong all season and
running in the top five with a comfortable lead and did shitty those last few
races, I still had a chance. In the chase that wasn’t always the case.

“Where am I at in points?”

The format had been modified from the previous years and
now included the top twelve in points. Even though I hated this whole “chase”
shit, this new rule was in my favor this weekend.

“You’re eleventh if the race ended right now. Paul is
struggling mid pack right now, something about a vibration.”

This helped my chances tremendously.

After another fifty laps, nothing improved. The car still
felt like it was lifting when I entered the corner, not something I enjoyed.

“It’s not helping. What did you change, anything?”

“What’s it feel like now?” Kyle asked.

“Forty-two at your door
...
clear.”
Aiden guided me through a pack of lapped cars.

“The same. It feels like it’s dragging and my right front
is way too high.”

“On entry, middle or exit?”

“Entry and exit,”

“Your last lap time was a 32.30. Bobby is running a 50 in
front of you.”

Another twenty laps went by and the car got worse, if that
was possible at this point. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.” I
complained.

“Just hang in there bud, we’ll put some air in the right
front.”

“That’s not the problem. The right rear actually feels
like it’s coming off the ground. We have to get the front end down more.”

Kyle was quiet for a few moments, probably contemplating
what the hell that meant and what would fix it. The hardest part of his job,
aside from my frequent mood swings, was trying to decipher my explanations of
the way my car was handling.

“Let’s go with a 32
^nd
round out of the right
front and a 16
^th
out of the left. Do you think we should change the
splitter?”

“I wouldn’t just yet.”

Before we had the chance to make the changes, Colin tried
to make a pass on Bobby for the lead and pegged the outside wall hard sending
debris flying everywhere bringing out the caution.

“Cautions out—stay high,”

The twenty-four of Andy Crocket checked up and sent the
rest of the field fishtailing to avoid hitting him and the debris slung out over
the backstretch. This would have worked in my favor having Colin out of the
mix. Only problem was that when Andy checked up, the seventeen of Nathan Weise
was not paying attention and clipped the back of my car sending me into Andy’s
bumper.

“Damage to the front end,” Aiden announced.

Accessing the
steaming
situation, it was apparent
the radiator was shot along with my hopes of the chase this year. This was not
good. I was never satisfied with anything other than a win and neither were my
sponsors.

“Son of a bitch!” I yelled flashing a hand gesture at
Nathan. He flashed the same gesture combined with a few words that I couldn’t
hear. Whatever they were, it pissed me off even more.

“It blew the radiator out.” I told the crew. “Where’s the
garage?”

Pulling the car past the pit wall I realized that I had
no idea where to turn.

“You can get there from where you’re at.” Aiden told me
from his position on top of the tower in turn one.

“Tell me where to go. I can’t see shit and there are no
signs pointing toward the garage.”

“Down the hill. Turn right after the gate.”

“Was that so hard?”

“Listen!” Aiden snapped. “I’m up here with god knows what
kind of bugs crawling on me. I’m sweating like a fucking pig and you want
directions to the garage. Don’t be an—”

I had no choice but to laugh when Aiden started coughing
from the “god knows what kind of bugs” that he apparently swallowed.

My crew did what they did best and got me back on the
track but the damage to the points was already done. I missed the chase by
twelve points, yes, twelve fucking points.

It was an unbelievably dejected feeling. Since I started
racing, I had never finished outside of the top ten in points for any series I
ran in, ever.

After the race, I made my way toward the motor coaches to
change and get my bag before heading home to Mooresville. Colin and Nathan were
walking the same direction. Colin Shuman and me tolerated each other. I
wouldn’t, by any means, say we were friends but it was easier than fighting
with him. An occasions, we would have a beer. Hell he even came camping with us
once. But like I said, we were not close like I was with Bobby and Tate.

So there I was, walking behind them when Nathan, a rookie
driver this year and the same guy who cost me that chase, popped off with, “Did
you see Riley out there? He was driving like an asshole.”

“Yeah I saw,” Colin mumbled. “That’s what he does best.”

My anger for the night soared.

“You know,” I said darkly. They both spun on their heels
to face me. We were in between the motor coaches now out of sight of everyone.
“If you two want to question my reasoning on the track
...
ask me. Don’t smart off behind my back.”

“It’s was nothing Riley, just relax.” Colin snorted and
leaned against the side of my motor coach.

Ignoring Nathan’s wide eyes, I stepped closer to Colin.
“I race you the same as I race any other guy out there. You don’t like it, tell
me to my face.”

Colin smiled. “I don’t like the way you race.”

I laughed one hard laugh. “And I don’t like the way you
race. You don’t think out there.”

Colin knew this was a battle he wasn’t going to win. We
didn’t agree on the track, never had, and probably never would. But we both
knew that’s as far as it went. Off the track, I could tolerate him. At times he
reminded me of Darrin but the difference was that Darrin was psychotic. Colin
was just a hotheaded kid.

Neither one of them said any more, just gaped at me in
silence.

As you can imagine, my mood when I arrived home that
night was not good. Colin and Nathan had pissed me off. I missed the chase and
I knew Simplex wouldn’t be happy and on top of that, I missed my family.

Sway had stayed home with the kids because Casten was
sick with a cold.

Around two in the morning when I walked in the house, I
was greeted with Sway and all three of the kids sleeping in the living room in
makeshift fort of blankets, chairs and pillows from all over the house.

My mood improved significantly as I sat down on the floor
next to Arie and watched them sleep. My little girl when sleeping was nearly
identical to Sway at times.

Axel had stirred slightly when I set my bag down and
eventually opened his eyes, rubbing them once he realized I was sitting there.
Placing my index finger to my lips for him to be quiet, he grabbed his blanket
and came to sit on my lap next to the couch I had leaned against.

“I missed you daddy.” He whispered snuggling into my
arms.

“Mmm
...
I missed
you too little buddy.”

“Sorry you didn’t win.”

“It’s all right. You can’t win them all.” Axel had seen
me win a lot but I wanted him to understand you couldn’t win them all, not with
the competition these days.

I spent the rest of the night out there in the fort they
had made and woke up to eight month old Casten drooling on my face and
giggling. The kid never stopped laughing.

Rolling over, I began tickling his chubby little rolls.
He belly laughed squirming for me to stop. Arie got in on the tickle-fest as
did Axel.

Soon we woke up Sway.

“You’re home.” She said blinking as though I wasn’t real.

“Yes, I am.” I winked as our little flailing spaz children
bounced around the room.

Sway crawled over to me from her place inside the fort,
her crawling distracting me.

“Don’t do that.” I groaned adverting my eyes.

“Do what?”

“Crawl. I miss you and
crawling
is not helping.”

“Oh—sorry,” She wasn’t sorry. She knew damn well what she
was doing.

The rest of the morning was spent making blueberry
waffles and playing with the kids in the fort. Arie’s birthday was Tuesday with
the party planned for that night. Today, we planned to do whatever she wanted.

“What would you like to do today sweetie?” I asked her as
she climbed down from my lap at the breakfast island to steal her Barbie from
Casten who was using it as a chew toy.

Axel laughed at him. “He’s like a dog.”

I laughed as Sway picked him up. “Come here you little
puppy.”

Casten loved Sway, thought she was the greatest thing
ever. He was still breastfeeding at eight-months old and Sway did not like this
by the way. She was never a fan of breastfeeding to begin with but we both knew
it was better for them so she did it anyway.

“We can do anything you want today.” Sway told Arie.

Arie always looked to Axel for advice and now was no
different.

After what appeared to be an intense conversation with
Arie, they turned back to us.

“Can we go to the zoo?” Axel asked.

“I need to discuss this with your dad.” Sway said
teasingly as she pulled me aside. “We can go to the zoo, if they want.” She
whispered. “Just make sure they don’t talk me into anything. The last thing we
need to do is come home with a pet cougar or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “Very funny,”

“I thought it was.”

Crush Panels – Sway

“Arie honey, will you please tell your brother that if he
succeeds in catching that fish, I’m taking the fish home and leaving him here.”

“Okay,” she said before running over to say something to
Axel. I saw him turn toward me and smile sheepishly.