The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (60 page)

When he finally closed the distance, pressing gentle
kisses to my lips, a sigh of contentment and relief fell from me.

My hands soon found their place in his shirt, immediately
fisting it in my hands.

“I love you.” I told him over and over again. My words
felt pathetic, they meant something but nothing of comfort or even an answer
for him.

I told him this because that’s what he needed to
remember. He needed to remember that I was here for him despite his pain and
anguish.

Tears were streaming down my face with an unstoppable
force along with choking, bone rattling sobs.

“I love you too. You can be sure of that.” He assured me
with steady palms cradling my face.

That’s when we both dropped to our knees and he was
offering me anything he could to provide for me. Comfort me in any way he
could. But it wasn’t me he needed to comfort. I was crying to him. For his
suffering that he wouldn’t show.

He tried to detach himself from it but not feeling
anything was the last thing he needed right now.

“It’s going to be okay.” I whispered to him finding a
place against the rear tire of the sprint car

“Sway,” his voice cracked, eyes glistened with remorseful
tears. “My team, members of my racing family were
...
”
his eyes shut trying to stop the few tears that slipped by. “So you see,” he
continued, refusing to look at me. “Nothing is as easy, or as simple, as it
should be.”

He lifted me up, setting me on his lap to wrap his arms
around me.

“It will be okay Jameson.” It was the only answer I had
for him.

“You say that now, but, I can’t say the same.” The
sadness swirled with the green and almost took my breath away.

He’d just lost friends of his and I couldn’t blame him
for feeling this way.

“Your friends, your team, they would want you to be the
champion you’ve always been. They would want you to be strong.”

Jameson didn’t answer right away, just stared, and fear
prickled my skin, his silence only scared me.

“I don’t know,” he finally replied slowly, his voice
echoed throughout the room.

Later that night, Alley showed up and we went over the
press conference that was set for ten the next morning where Jameson, Jimi,
Tate and Bobby were requested to speak.

With something so tragic, they wanted answers.

“I don’t know what to say to them.” Jameson said sitting
inside the small conference room we had at the sprint car shop. Thankfully
Jameson hadn’t touched this room in his earlier rage.

Alley sighed reaching for his hand across the table. “I
know it will be hard Jameson but I think out of anyone right now, you will know
what to say.”

Alley was absolutely right. She knew that when pressured
for words, Jameson knew what to say, he always did. He could respond regardless
of the circumstances. He might not always say what others wanted him to say but
he spoke the truth and he spoke from his heart.

Poppet - Jameson

It was times like this when the truth behind what you
know and what you feel give way and you’re left with what you need. What you
need to say. What you need to feel. And more importantly what you need to
believe.

There’s also a point when you say I’ve had enough. Enough
pain, enough sadness and enough loss.

The morning brought with it grief and regret for what
happened, but also answers as to what might have gone wrong.

My private jet that was carrying twelve passengers and
two pilots crashed outside Eldora in Lancaster Ohio. Other than that
information right there, I didn’t pay much attention to the news report because
I knew each and every person on that was on that plane. More importantly, I
knew each one personally. I’m not going to say I didn’t feel regret because I
did. I felt more regret than I should have.

It was times like this that you look at yourself, your
life, your family and wonder why.

Why them, why us, why you, why not him?

You look at everyone and anything for an answer that will
never come.

I’m not sure whether I believed in God or whether I
didn’t. But at times like this, I wondered who made the decisions for us. Who
took lives and left others to face the unknown and life without them. I
wondered why.

Everyone on that plane had a family. They had loved ones;
wives, kids, aunts, uncles and they had someone who hung on their every word
and maybe even someone who hated them. My point was that they had someone
grieving their death and asking that very same question I had.

Why?

My wife—my wonderful understanding and supportive
wife—stood beside me, watching the crowd gather. Each one of them was asking
themselves what I couldn’t answer.

Why?

Racers like me are used to deciding their own fate on a
track. That’s not to say outside factors don’t play a role, but usually, your
destiny, which is dependent on the outcome of a race, is held in your hands.

As a racer, your home is the track. It’s where your love
for racing is formed and where you cultivate it into something great. It’s
where nothing else matters but the dedication, passion, confidence, and
ambition. These were the only traits that I believed set a racer apart from
others. Until today.

Patrick Maddens, CEO of NASCAR, took the podium first and
explained the details surrounding the crash. Through it all, Sway held my hand.

“The King Air jet of NASCAR Cup driver Jameson Riley,
took off from Charlotte North Carolina at 9 am, eastern time, carrying fourteen
passengers. Among those were several NASCAR drivers including Sprint Cup
drivers Andy Crockett and Colin Shuman, Nationwide drivers Kevin Millan and
Jack Burwell, and Camping World Truck drivers Stacy Ewing, Terry Williams, and
Carl Baker. Other members on the plane were Gentry Wade, crew member for
Jameson Riley. Ethan Norton, back-up spotter and driver of the number nine
transporter for Riley Racing. Jeb Erickson, spotter for Bobby Cole. Cal Porter,
team member and driver of Jameson Riley’s personal motor coach, and pilots Wes
Turner for Riley Racing and driver of the No. 9 Simplex Ford Jameson Riley and
David Cates, pilot for the Leddy Motorsports.

“The plane was in route to Eldora Speedway where Simplex
Shocks and Springs was holding a drivers challenge among NASCAR Sprint Cup,
Outlaw, and racers in the Nationwide and Camping World Truck series. The plane
piloted by Wes Turner and David Cates, was reported missing at 9:36 am. After
an extensive search by a ground team, the wreckage of the plane was found. It
was reported that no one on board survived.” Patrick looked into the crowd of
reporters and closed his eyes for a brief moment. “NASCAR asks that you keep
those affected in your thoughts and prayers and respectfully requests that
privacy be considered throughout this difficult time.”

That’s when Patrick looked to me and every eye shifted from
him, to me.

Racers are not born racers.

Sure, you may have some innate ability within you that
drove you down this career path, but it’s not a gift. It’s a natural
inclination for speed, competition and tact—for pushing yourself beyond your
comfort zone, taking risks, and striving to be the best.

Over time you nurture these to become a champion in the
sport that has consumed your entire life. Success and respect in the industry
isn’t just handed to you.

I was a champion. The racing community was looking to me
for answers. They wanted me to help them through this tragic time.

But could I?

Lisa approached me and the tears in her eyes reflected
what the racing community was feeling.

“Jameson, can you speak to the media?”

This was something that countless hours on the track and
in the garage never prepared me for. Consequently, I realized that titles,
trophies and driving abilities, were not, in fact, what set a champion apart
from other racers. The true test was now.

You see, every now and then, a racer comes along and his
talent isn’t defined by the trophies or by his ability. What sets him apart is
what defines him in the blaring spotlight.

It was ordinary men doing extraordinary things.

Still, the questions remained.

Could I?

I thought back to what my wife said to me this morning
about speaking the truth and realized I should just speak the truth.

My dad stood next to me, his head tipped to the
microphone. “It’s all you Jay.”

I smiled when he used the nickname my grandpa used to
call me and then I thought about the words of wisdom old Casten used to provide
every now and then. In a time like this, he would probably tell me, “It’s not
the fiery disposition of the driver that can rattle even the toughest. It’s
what he does with that fire that defines even the dullest.”

With grandpa, and my dad, you have to look between the
gaps in their statements and decipher what you could and now I could understand
what he meant.

“I was hoping that I would never hear this. I feel like half
my family was on that plane and in reality, they were. I’ve known Wes my entire
life, and those boys on my team, well, they were like my brothers. It’s a very
sad day for me.”

I wasn’t lying when I said that. This was and always
would be a very sad day for me.

The media, as they always did, wanted every side they
could get and if there was a story to be written well they were there to find
it.

“Jameson, do you think this could have been pilot error?”

I wanted to scream at them and tell that not to push the
blame on something they didn’t know but I went for the subtle but harsh
approach.

“The National Transportation Safety Board is
investigating the accident. None of us were there. Don’t place the blame for
something you don’t know.”

And with that, I walked away for the podium. Was that a
championship speech? Probably not but I spoke the truth. Something they knew
very little about.

Tate and Bobby stood to the side not wanting any
interaction with the press. Tate had lost his teammate, pilot and cousin in
that crash. Little words were spoken between us or between anyone.

Kyle had lost his younger brother, Gentry, and wasn’t
here to be at the press conference. I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t blame
anyone who was with their families today and not here.

For the first time ever in the history of NASCAR aside
from September 11, 2001, they cancelled all three divisions that weekend in
NASCAR as well as other NASCAR sanctioned tracks around the world to pay
respect to those who were lost.

In my mind, that was a championship call by NASCAR. Every
single one of those people who were lost that day deserved to be remembered
with dignity and in a way that was respectful. They didn’t need to be asking
who did what wrong.

As for my team, I lost Wes, my pilot, two members of my
crew and fellow drivers.

That doesn’t just go away. You remember in ways you never
thought you would. When I looked at a spark plug, I thought of Ethan and him
buying lawnmower spark plugs. Every time I made a pit stop, I thought of
Gentry. I saw a plane and immediately thought of Wes. Looked at the number four
and saw Andy’s face. It was hard. So many lives were lost that it felt wrong to
be here.

Was I afraid to fly after that?

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that every time I boarded a
plane I didn’t think of it.

Wes had been flying around the world for over thirty
years. To me, this was just an accident. There was no sugar coating it or
blaming, it was an accident.

2
6.
        
Panhard Bar – Jameson

Panhard Bar – A
lateral bar that keeps the rear tires centered within the body. It connects the
car on one side and the rear axle on the other. This can also be called the
track bar.

Over the years, I’d like to think I’d grown just as much
as this sport. It was time to mend with Paul. It wasn’t fair being teammates
now to have that sort of hostility. With everything that had happened in our
sport over the last few months in our sport with the plane crash, I couldn’t
have a racing relationship like this with Paul.

Turns out, my dad took my recommendations despite my
arguments with Paul over the years and hired him as the third driver for
Riley-Simplex Racing. Bobby transferred to another team this year while Paul
Leighty took his position.

“I don’t say this very often so believe me when I say it
...
I’m sorry.” I said to Paul one night after
the All-Star race in June of our 2020 season.

Paul laughed walking with me to our cars. On races like
this, we just drove to Charlotte since it was such a short drive back to
Mooresville.

“I wish I recorded that.”

“Fuck you,” I laughed. “you’re never getting another one.
Ask Kyle. I think I’ve said it to him one time.”

Paul nodded but remained smiling.

“I’ve never met someone like you before Jameson.” He said
conversationally.

“I assume that’s a good thing?”

He snorted. “It can be when I’m on your good side. I will
say this
...
” he paused closing the trunk
of his car after tossing his bag in it. Leaning against the bumper he looked
past me toward the track. “You’re one of the only drivers I know in
any
division that knows exactly when to turn on the aggression and when to turn it
off.”

I thought about his statement for a minute, decided it
was actually true and smiled. “It didn’t come without practice.” I said with a
stoic seriousness that even Paul remained focused on.

Every driver who was in the series around 2003 remembers
the problems with Darrin and me. They also remember I nearly walked away that
season because of him.