We got in the car and left. It was the first and last time I ever saw Natalie's parents. She swore she'd never go back. I was proud of how she handled herself. She stood up to them as best she could. She held her ground against her insanely oppressive family. This was going to be a good Christmas season. Me, Natalie, and the crew.
- 3 -
The Three Shades of Experience
When 1998 started, I wasn't quite sure where we would be. We had a lot of things to work out with the racing team. Natalie was more understanding than I expected her to be. I felt bad about it, I was ignoring her more than I should have. I knew I needed to find a better balance or she would be long gone. Still, it was looking like this year was going to be all about the racing.
After a successful beginning to the stock car season, we were headed for Texas in April. Expectations were high for the weekend despite how much negative the media had to say about our chances. We hadn't done well at mile and a half tracks at all. Most people thought this weekend would be no different.
It didn't start well. We rolled the car onto pit road for the opening practice session. I turned it on, dropped it into gear, and the transmission stripped out immediately. We lost the entire session making repairs. We were able to get out for the second practice, and what was bad turned far worse. While we were fastest in the practice, the transmission locked up coming off of turn two, which sent me very hard into the wall. I hit squarely with the back end, the rear wheels were launched off of the pavement, about four feet in the air at apex. When the car slammed on the pavement, my seat dislodged from the frame of the car and I bounced off the floor board. I've never felt such a severe shock up my spine.
I hit so hard that I needed help getting from the car. I was tossed in the back of an ambulance and taken to the local hospital for evaluation. It felt like everything was okay, but my back was almost completely seized up. They kept me in the hospital overnight for observation, which didn't sit well with me because I wanted to get back to the car. It wasn't my first injury and certainly it wouldn't be my last.
The next day I was back at the track, but there was one noticeable difference. Natalie was gone. I entered the trailer and there was a note. I honestly hadn't even noticed that she wasn't there when I was discharged from the hospital. It was just me and Ayrton. The note... It wasn't good.
Natalie had left me. She had seen me get injured before, it was part of the job. Did she seriously get scared off that easily? My heart was wrenched in my gut thinking of how I might have just lost the love of my life. Natalie was the first young lady to ever catch my eye. I didn't lose my virginity at the age of 22 without a good reason, after all.
I had no time to think about Natalie, I had to qualify. I got my fire suit on and headed for the grid. I jumped in the car without any idea of what I had to run with. I had to forget about Natalie. I climbed in earlier than I normally would. None of my guys said a word to me. I put my helmet on, closed my eyes. I felt the car roll up several times, and finally my silence was broken by Ayrton.
“Glad to see you in one piece. You can push this sucker as hard as you want, she will stick. Trust me,” Ayrton said, as if I ever didn't trust him. I went out for my run and, as expected, it stuck. I grabbed pole easily.
I pulled the car back to the garage after a small celebration for grabbing P1. I parked it, got out, and headed for the hauler. There, I saw Ayrton already at the grill prepping for a great night. But Natalie... She was still gone.
“Hey man,” I said.
“Hell of a run, Blacker,” Ayrton responded.
“Excuse me?”
“Hell of a run, Blacker.”
“Who the hell is Blacker?” I was thoroughly confused at this point.
“You, dumb ass. Dale is the Man in Black. You don't want to cramp his style. Look at your signature above the window. I've dubbed you – Blacker.” Interesting. Ayrton accompanied the sentiment with his normal flamboyant smile.
“Did you know Natalie left?” I said, not caring to inform him that I was changing the subject.
“You finally found out,” he said. He already knew about it.
“I don't know what I'm going to do, dude.”
“Okay, I'm gonna put this to you straight. Did you just put that helmet on and completely forget about Natalie?”
“Of course, but that's what I always do.”
“Then she's not the girl for you.”
“Bull shit. What the hell makes you think that?”
Ayrton closed the grill and set his fork down. He turned to me with more conviction than he normally would. “Let me tell you what's going to happen. One of these days, you're going to meet a girl. You'll meet the right girl. And I promise you, if you lose her, or she leaves you... You'll know she was the right girl for you because you can't forget about her in that race car. I'm not saying you won't perform exactly the same out there, but you'll be thinking about her the whole time. Knowing you, I expect you to race even better if you've got a girl on your mind. One of these days, you're gonna let one of them in. God help the competition when that happens.”
One of these days, I was gonna let one of them in? I thought I did let Natalie in. I shared my secrets with her. I talked to her about my life. At the same time, most of the year I had focused entirely on my career. Was that what this was about? Did she want more attention? I tried to track down Natalie for months... She was completely gone. When we got back to the Beach House, all of her stuff was gone. She had disappeared.
Two weeks later, we were in Talladega for a weekend that would shape the rest of my life. We arrived as we did every week. Ayrton and I always drove to the track in one of our cars. This weekend, it was my 300ZX.
Our sponsor had a fan appreciation thing set up for some of the team members on April 22nd. I was obligated to show up, wear my uniform, and sign autographs. I was not a fan of this side of the business. I was in it for the cars and the racing, not the girls and the fame. The racing, not the lifestyle, as I always said.
Obligations being what they were, I showed up. I signed hundreds of things, but one young lady approached me and something about her really struck me.
“Would you please sign this for me?” she said while extending a die-cast model of my Grand National car from 1997.
“I've never seen one of these before,” I told her. I couldn't help but look this girl up and down. Beautiful long, silky brown hair. Brown eyes I so wish I could look at for hours. And damn, the hips on that girl... Woooo dawgies!
“A friend of mine works with a die-cast company. She had it made for me,” the girl responded.
“Wow, a custom die-cast of my car. That is pretty humbling,” I told her. “Who am I making this out to?” I asked as I took out my silver marker. Having an all-black car made the paint scheme look sexy... But black Sharpie plus black paint = Poor autograph. I wanted to make sure this girl could read my signature. I was thinking – Maybe I should sneak my number on here somewhere...
“Nobody,” she said with some apprehension. Interesting, she wouldn't give me her name. Did she want to? Maybe she noticed I was checking her out and wasn't impressed... But she seemed nervous. I was having trouble tripping over my own meat just talking to her.
Oh well.
“There ya go. Enjoy the race,” I told her. She thanked me and quickly departed. I noticed she took a quick look at Ayrton, and sure enough there it was. She wasn't interested in me, she wanted Ayrton. Classic duck move. Go to my signature line to get a better look at Ayrton without seeming as desperate as other women. Ayrton had really made a name for himself. Even though I was the driver... The women wanted Ayrton. And he wanted them. And he... Had... Them. Most of them.
The next couple of weeks went by quickly, but not without struggle. The brunette I had seen in Talladega made me almost instantly forget Natalie, which made Ayrton right about her. I hated when Ayrton was right. But it started to make sense. When we were in Charlotte for the Memorial Day race, a caution flag came out during
the race and as usual, Ayrton and I had a conversation over the radio.
“Hey man. What ya thinking about?” I knew what Ayrton was trying to get at. He needed info on the car to relay changes to Ben and hopefully make it faster. But that wasn't what I was thinking about.
“Honestly? I'm thinking about the girl from Talladega,” I responded. The radio was silent for about 20 seconds, not a good sign at all. “Yeah, I know that's probably not what you want me to be thinking about.”
“Nah, actually I love it. I told you, man, you're gonna meet a girl someday that you can't forget about in that race car,” Ayrton responded.
“I need to know who she is. I gotta find her.”
“Good thing we're gonna be back in Tally this October then, eh?” Ayrton responded, and that was the end of the conversation. Not what you'd expect to hear between a driver and his lead mechanic during a vital race.
The rest of the summer went very well. Ayrton's words during that race got my mind set on the October Talladega race. I worked hard to pass the four months of time until that race. Before I knew it, there we were in Talladega. We weren't there for more than six hours when a surprise came my way.
If the rose under the windshield of my car didn't throw me off, the note sure did. Here I was, my third trip to Alabama, a state I had no connection to other than cheering for the Crimson Tide and two Dega races a year, and apparently I had a secret admirer.
“I heard you don't know much about the South. Come on over, I'll gladly show you what it's like.” Sounded kinda like a murderous welcoming outside of the scented paper and kiss left as a signature. Ayrton studied the lips, he swore it was nobody he'd ever kissed before. Apparently he knew every contour of every set of lips he'd smooched. Nice.
The letter was referencing a statement I made after the spring race. I didn't know anything about the area or the state. Perhaps this was my chance to learn. I got in my 300ZX and headed for the house. I had to look it up on a map, the place was in the middle of BFE. Reece City, Alabama, just outside of Gadsden. I found the place – A gated mansion, no other homes like it anywhere in the area. Actually, I think they call it a plantation, but I'm not sure. I guess that's why I was heading there, so I could learn about the South.
I pulled up to the gate. A kind-looking older African American man approached me from a small booth that was part of the stone edges of the main gate.
“May I help you, sir?” he asked.
“Yes sir, I found a note on my car telling me to come here.”
“May I see the rose?” Interesting question, I showed it to him. “Very well, you enjoy your stay.”
“Thanks so much, sir.” The gate opened before me and I drove through it.
The landscaping was out of this world. It was like a fantasy, a fairy tale or something. Beautifully manicured trees on each side of the straight road, an enormous and intricately detailed white house with a big front staircase straight ahead of me. The grass was so perfectly cut, I'd swear you could play a good round of golf on it. I thought I just might do that before I left.
I saw a girl sitting on the staircase – It was the brunette from the spring race. She was wearing a nice white dress, not like a wedding dress, more like a casual white dress. She smiled at me as I drove up.
“Hey there,” she said as I emerged from my car.
“How are you?” I asked her. We spoke for a couple minutes on the front porch, and she finally told me her name. Mary-Margaret McCann... My oh my, a lovely name for the most gorgeous brunette I'd ever laid eyes on. It was never a secret that I preferred blondes over brunettes, but this girl took the cake. I couldn't tell you of any other brunette that could stack up to this girl.
We entered the estate. If this was what southern living was like... Holy shit have I been missing out. Decadence, I tell ya. Everything was impressive, from the staircase to the random cutouts in the upstairs hallways that allowed people on the second floor to overlook the first floor to the vaulted ceilings where you'd swear it's not possible. I'd never seen a house so intricately designed.
Mary led me to the rear of the house, where a huge balcony overlooked what appeared to be an old plantation. These days, it was just a huge orchard. I followed her up to the railing at the edge of the balcony. To either side of us, about twenty feet away, a curved staircase led down to a commons area below us. To give you a sense of the enormity of this balcony, you could probably fit about 250 people on it... Comfortably. Were there even 250 people in this town?
“You met Hermann at the front gate. He never used to work for our family. Now he's my butler. I consider him the closest thing I've ever had to a father,” she said, her mood suddenly changing.
“He seems like a great guy,” I responded.
“He is. He hated me as a kid. He hated my entire family. His grandfather was a plantation head who was killed by the owner. That owner was my great grandfather. My family was just the average southern plantation owners, plenty of slaves to go around and no respect for any of them.
“Hermann was fired by my father when I was very young, maybe four. My father was never around. One day he just snapped over nothing. Hermann left, and I watched him as he stamped out the door. He was so upset, and I didn't blame him. I fought with my father over it, and my mom did too. My father ended up saying a lot of things I'll never forget, and he left that night. He never came back, I haven't seen him since.”
At this point, it was very obvious she really needed to get this story out. I wasn't interested in responding. This was my time to listen and keep my mouth shut. Something I wasn't always very good at.
“I ran away the next day and found Hermann at a bus stop. He seemed very upset to see me. I asked him to come back, and he told me there were things I couldn't understand. I told him what I did understand was that I wanted him back. I eventually got him to take me home and I talked my mother into hiring him on. My mother had a long conversation with him. I tried to listen through the door, but I couldn't hear anything. I still don't know what was said, but he stayed around after that. He's been family ever since. It's so hard for me to think about what kind of things used to go on around here. I guess I just want to do anything I can to make it better.”
“You seem to have a heart of gold, Mary. I think what you've done for Hermann is pretty special. But I also think what he's done for you is pretty great too.”
“He's the kindest person I've ever met. If I can grow to be half as kind as he is, I'll be lucky.” At this point Mary turned to look at me. Her beautiful brown eyes were radiant. And that face, oh that sweet young face she had was so perfectly wrapped in her luscious brown hair.
But as I leaned in for a kiss, her breath seemed almost cold. She fainted into my arms suddenly, which was surely better than any alternatives. It really freaked me out though, it was the last thing I expected to happen.
“Hermann! Help! We need help!” I yelled.
Hermann hustled out to the balcony. “Come on, bring her in!”
I picked up Mary and carried her in. She was out cold, her color was completely flushed. I carried her to the living room and laid her down on the couch. Herman hustled in with a cold rag and handed it to me.
“Place this on her forehead, sir,” he instructed.
“What the hell is going on with her?” I asked.
“Miss McCann has an irregular heartbeat. A defect. Sometimes when she's nervous, she can pass out very easily.”
“She was nervous?”
Hermann looked at me with a proud smile. “Oh yes sir. She was very nervous to have you coming over. She's been planning this evening since she met you earlier this year. I've never once seen her react to a gentleman the way she reacted to you.”
It was an incredible feeling. Hearing that made me very happy that I took the risk to come see her. I'd never gotten a proposition like that before, not even with my profile as a race car driver.
One thought that crossed my mind... Natalie was gorgeous, no doubt, but I wanted her. She
didn't necessarily want me until she got to know me. Mary-Margaret, she wanted me. She chased me. She planned... For me. She wanted a perfect night with me. I'd never had anyone want anything like that with me, let alone quite possibly the most gorgeous young lady I'd ever met.
“Sir, I would recommend you lay her head in your lap as you wait for her to awake,” Hermann told me. Interesting concept. Maybe if I was out getting some ass as a teenager instead of making one of myself, I would have thought up that brilliant idea on my own.
“Why? Will that help her wake up?” I asked.
“Potentially. Two reasons, really. She may not wake up for a while, but more importantly, she once told me she always wanted to wake up in the arms of a striking young man,” he said with a smile on his face. Nice hint.
“Oh I see what you're doing there. Hermann, I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”
“I feel the same, sir. Just call me if you need anything.”
Carefully, I raised Mary-Margaret and laid her head in my lap. She was so beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. We had been there for quite a while. I was starting to wonder if it had ever taken her this long to wake up when her eyes slowly fluttered open. She glanced at me and immediately tried to sit up.
“Oh my God! Please tell me this isn't real!” she exclaimed.
“Calm, young lady. You're not dreaming anymore,” I told her.
“I can't believe I passed out. I had this entire evening planned. It was going to be perfect,” she said as she wiped her brow. She was bordering on a five alarm freak out.
“The evening isn't quite over, and thus far I couldn't have asked for anything more. Being here with you, getting to hold you – I couldn't imagine anything more perfect. Except maybe you could have told me you had a heart defect.”
She shrugged her shoulders in embarrassment. “I'm sorry.”
The Legend: The Love of Ryan Sumpter Page 3