The Legend

by Shey Stahl

  Not quite

  NASCAR, as the sanctioning body of our sport, has, and always will, hold the right to punish at their discretion.

  That morning after the drivers meeting, we were told for one, we’d start from the back, Jimi was being fined $50,000 and our team in particular was fined $25,000. Then they added that Kyle would be suspended for two races.

  We filed an appeal right away.

  Would we win the appeal?

  More than likely the answer was no, but we had to file one to keep Kyle on the box for Daytona.

  Kyle, Mason and I huddled around the car as Jimi wheeled himself up the grid. “These fines are getting as steep as Kyle’s hair line,” he spouted off with a carefully composed expression.

  Mason and I chuckled. Kyle did not. He was suppressing his irritation the best he could but not well enough. He sighed and looked over the car. “We fucked up.” He frowned, “I can’t offer much more than this.”

  Kyle’s eyes drifted from mine to the tram working diligently to fix the car as he focused on the difficult position this put all of us in. The muscles in his jaw pulsed as his free hand scrubbed at his face, his frustration flamed.

  I couldn’t have Kyle taking the blame for it all so when the media question me, my answer was simple and I spoke the truth as I always did.

  “This is on me just as much is it’s on our team. I’m not going to give you any excuses and I take full responsibility for what happened.” I searched their faces to see if they believed me but all I got was blank stares.

  “So you cheated?” The reporter asked with a cocky edge. “Maybe that explains the seventeen championships you’ve won. Cheating?”

  Just like that the lightness of the conversation vanished and I knew I was being backed into a corner with no way out. Even still, I hadn’t lost that spark of defiance that made me who I was. No way were they going backdoor me on this one.

  Kyle looked up at me surprised and maybe even a little skeptical at what my response would be. If I had said that Kyle was trying to gain us some speed by shaving down the fenders a fraction of an inch than yes, we would have been in some hot water but you have to understand that every team cuts corners like that. It’s all about whom crosses over into the gray line too much.

  Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the pit box. You could see the tension of the day embedded in his shoulders. He glanced at me once more before I spoke and I caught on to the loophole. His eyes gave him away every time but maybe it was that we’d been working together for so long. We had the fact that they didn’t put the claw on the car before. Had they done that, they would have known the car wasn’t cleared prior to race day. Though this meant nothing today, it would for our appeal and Kyle knew that.

  “Every team out there pushes the boundaries,” I said looking from Kyle to the media. Each reporter in front of me listened closely all hanging their recorders in my face, “it doesn’t matter what sport you’re in, people push until they can’t push anymore. You can look at any sport out there right now whether it’s racing, football, baseball, even hockey; they all push to gain the edge. That’s all it is.”

  I’m not going to sit here and say that cheating is okay because it’s not but when you are allowed such a small window to make adjustments you find yourself searching for anything you can. Hell I used to race with guys who would replace their roll cage with exhaust tubing to make the car lighter during the race, Was it safe?

  No, fuck no. If they would have wrecked it could have easily killed them. Nevertheless, they got their cars lighter for the main events and sometimes pulled off a much-needed win. It’s that line again. What would you do to be the best in a sport that is highly competitive? Some sacrificed safety for the win.

  Back at the hauler for the team meeting, I stretched my legs out trying to get the blood flowing again. The hauler came alive as the team made their way inside for the meeting.

  “All right boys,” Kyle’s voice rose above commanding attention within the group. “We’ve got a lot to discuss here so let’s get to it.”

  Kyle went over the fines and the important points that were discussed at the drivers meeting earlier. Usually, this aspect of the race the over the wall guys needed to know, things Aiden might need to be aware of as the spotter or maybe even things I lost interest in. It happens. The purpose of the meeting was not only to go over race day and talk about pit windows, pit stops and various strategies but also to get us motivated for five hundred miles. It’s not easy to get ready for these races and tends to leave most of us on edge at times. Just like any sports team, this was almost like a pep rally for us a time for us to come together.

  When I got back to the motor coach to grab some lunch, I felt relieved when Sway got there with Arie and Casten. Though Casten only came for the girls, Arie could care less about being here; it was nice to have my family with me.

  After Sway had made me some lunch, I grabbed my bag to get ready when I noticed my brothers latest prank.

  When he stepped inside looking for food, I gave him a piece of my mind. “You are damn near forty-five. Why do you keep doing this shit?”

  He shrugged taking a bite of his sandwich. Sway smiled behind him knowing where this was going when she saw the glitter sparkling in the air. “Because...” Spencer took another bite contemplating his response, “...it pisses you off.”

  Weekly that shit head dumped glitter in my helmet because I hated anything on my skin. Did you ever try to get glitter off your skin after you’ve been sweating?

  It’s useless and takes weeks. For this reason, Spencer bombed my helmet at least once a year. Apparently, he was starting early this year. Tossing my usual helmet aside, I reached for my spare when I noticed he did the same thing to that one too.

  His pranks for Daytona didn’t end there. He also decided to have the locks in my motor coach replaced so that when I was trying to escape a few pit lizards I couldn’t get inside.

  I would be having some words with him for sure. This wasn’t the first time he had replaced the locks either but the first with this motor coach. Last year after Spencer set the microwave on fire, I decided to get a new one. Since I started racing in the cup series, this was my fourth motor coach. All of them had to be replaced due to something Spencer had done to it.

  Spencer left and I decided I was going to relieve my frustrations by some align boring with my wife. She caught on quickly when my hands crept up her shirt and unfastened her bra. Walking backward down the short hallway in the motor coach, she smiled but said nothing and one finger beckoned me.

  I was sure she had no idea the pent up frustration I had. Pushing her against the door, my mouth found the skin I had been missing. Fisting her hair in my hands, her neck arched giving way to pleasure. She loved that shit.

  “I missed you.” My hips pressed forward into hers searching for any type of friction I could find. My head fell forward at the sensation the surged through me.

  “I was only gone a week,” she breathed against my neck and then closed her lips to press a kiss against my skin.

  “I still missed you, a lot.”

  “Then show me champ.”

  Trapping her against the door, I pulled back to look at her cradling her face between my hands. “I plan to.”

  Sway reached inside my jeans, her breath blew past my ear, “Oh god,” her hand curled around my camshaft, my hips bucked forward on their own “...you really did miss me.”

  She withdrew her hand and pushed against my shoulders. “Fuck honey,” I growled, eyes darkening and I reached for her again, “don’t tease me.”

  “I’m not teasing.” She smiled that smile that let me know what she had planned wasn’t teasing at all. Dropping to her knees before me, her hands worked my jeans past my hips. “I’m just getting started.”

  Fuck yeah.

  Nothing was better than some micro polishing from my wife.

  Watching in the mirror to the side was enough to send me over the edge quickly
. Sway had a way with micro polishing. This is what we, as in my wife and I, called a blowjob. If you think about it, micro polishing is a process that involves polishing the cam to improve mileage, durability and performance. Knowing the process, it’s hard not to associate it with a blowjob but...oh fuck, who cares?

  Sway’s motions took on a new determination and I lost that train of thought. Who cares how it compares. It just does. My mind gave way and desires became my only thoughts.

  Eventually the tension of the day subsided and the sensations rose to the surface. Sway knew my reactions when I was close and wrapped her hands around my thighs to take me into her mouth farther. I lost it completely.

  She looked up at me with flushed cheeks and cherry red lips. “Now, win for me.”

  Reaching for her arms, I pulled her up my body and slumped against the counter. “How am I going to win...” my arms circled around her bringing her flush against me, pants still around my ankles, “when you just did that? I’m exhausted.”

  “You’ve won more races than any other driver in the history of this sport and you’re forty-one, I’m sure you’ll get it together.”

  Sway drew herself away as I reached for my jeans. We parted ways not long after that but I did promise to repay the favor tonight to which she assured me she would be holding me to it.

  “I’m glad you made it,” I said kissing her forehead before exiting the motor coach dressed in my racing suit.

  She smiled taking a long gaze down my body.

  “Arie was arrested last night. Just sprung the little shit before we came here.”

  I stopped mid-step looking back at her over my shoulder, “Seriously?”

  Sway nodded.

  Nowadays with Axel racing on his own and gone most of the time, Arie usually wanted nothing to do with us on the weekends. Casten was always with Sway but sometimes he took off to the track with Axel. That didn’t happen often, as Sway didn’t like him hanging out with Tommy and Willie.

  Daytona was never a race Casten missed, too many girls.

  As throngs of those said girls passed by, I noticed Casten sitting outside the motor coach as Sway and I talked about Arie.

  He looked up at us. “Thank god you’re done. I’m starving.”

  Casten pushed his way inside to retrieve a sandwich and then came back out to sit in the chairs outside watching the girls. Casten had a way with girls that most fourteen year old boys didn’t have. They loved him to the point of obsession.

  “Remember that boy who said he didn’t want a girlfriend?” Sway asked wrapping her arms around my waist and tucking herself under my shoulder.

  Casten kicked his legs out slouching in the chair. “I don’t recall saying anything of that nature.”

  “You did.” I sat next to him. He rolled his eyes uninterested. “Why was Arie arrested?”

  “Ask her,” he shrugged keeping a close eye on a group of young blonde’s wearing bikinis.

  After finishing his sandwich, he stood, “Good luck today.”

  “Stay out of the pits Casten!” Sway yelled after him.

  “Too late,” he called back sprinting the other direction so she couldn’t catch him.

  “I don’t know why I bring those little shits with me,” she said taking a seat on my lap.

  Arie and Lexi approached us, as I was getting ready to head to the grid. Spencer had pulled up in the golf cart and looked at his daughter about the same as I was looking at mine. Denial they were old enough to be wearing what they were wearing. I wasn’t impressed and threw a Simplex Shock and Springs sweatshirt at her. “Put that on.”

  Arie rolled her eyes and hung the shirt over her bare shoulders but didn’t put it on.

  Tate and Bobby walked up jumping on the back of the golf cart wanting to hitch a ride when I noticed Easton trailing close behind. He offered my daughter a shy smile. I knew they knew each other from Axel and Easton racing USAC together.

  “Let’s go.” Spencer ignored the girls and nodded to the track.

  I stopped beside Arie and leaned against her shoulder. “We will be discussing your arrest tonight.”

  Again, more eye rolling.

  “Jameson,” a reporter to my left shoved a microphone in my face. “This year you’ve already been fined $50,000 for the altercations made to your car and forced to start from the rear of the field today. What are you thought on making it to the front and do you think you’ll get caught in the big one?”

  Trying to keep my composure for the media and their invasion into our privacy, I answered politely, “It’s unfortunate that we’re startin’ from the back but that’s the way it is. I think if we keep out of trouble, pay attention and make good stops, we have a shot just like anyone else. With Daytona you can be leading and then next thing you know you’re last. Same goes for last place. You just never know.”

  I must have answered with that same speech twenty times standing on the grid before I finally heard the call for us to report to our cars.

  Brody Williams, a rookie this year walked past me, and my forty-third starting position, to his pole position. I didn’t appreciate his brash walk past me.

  Spencer noticed and looked over his shoulder before nudging mine. “He looks like he’s ten years old.”

  I grunted but said nothing. I gave Sway a kiss, she wished me luck, my team and I shook hands and patted backs. We all prayed for a day of good luck and a safe five hundred miles when the outcome at a track like Daytona was far from our control.

  Inside the car, I got comfortable, pulled on belts and did the best I could to calm my pre-race nerves. Most of which were usually calmed but one picture that reminded me why I was here, my family. The picture was one taken when the kids were younger and my absolute favorite as it reminded me of the way we were. It wasn’t your ordinary posed family picture. Instead, it was Sway and me standing together on the beach, both looking at each other. My right arm was hung out to the side holding a two-year old Casten up in the air by his ankle as he laughed. Sway stood with one hand resting on my cheek with the other one grabbing a six-year old Axel by his hooded sweatshirt. There, standing with her hands on her hips, was our little headstrong Arie wearing a ballet outfit, a JAR Racing sweatshirt and a pair of combat boots. It was my family and a family that got me through this. Those that knew me understood this lifestyle wasn’t something I enjoyed but I enjoyed racing. I enjoyed being the best and with that came this lifestyle.

  Connecting my helmet to the radio, I checked reception. “You copy Kyle?”

  “10-4,”

  All was quiet as the field rolled from the grid and onto the track for our four pace laps.

  “Let’s have a good day guys.” I said over the radio. “Awesome pit stops and clean driving.”

  “Clean driving?” Kyle laughed. “Who’s drivin’ the car?”

  “Whatever.” I mumbled tightening my belts.

  “Two to go at the line,” Aiden announced, “I don’t have a good view in three so if you question it, don’t make a move there.”

  “10-4,”

  Once the green flag was waved, it was crazy. Every other lap we were being thrown the caution. Cars were overheating and blowing engines. Tires were shredding. I’d never seen it that bad before but when you’re trying to control our speeds as we do, we get bunched together. If you bunch cars together, they overheat and engines blow. What did they expect?

  “Clear high, there you go. Nice move.” Aiden said when I got past Brody Williams for fifth twenty laps into the race.

  “Fuck man,” I looked up to see him still there, “he gets such a good jump off the other cars.”

  Brody didn’t let me off easy and came right back with Nathan Wise and Bobby behind him. Since they changed the rules and we couldn’t communicate with other drivers I couldn’t tell Bobby what I really thought of him paring up with Brody here. He was supposed to be drafting with me.

  For three hundred miles it was an endless display of yellow flags and swapping positions.


  “It’s like a circus out here.” I laughed when the caution came out again just after we restarted with ten laps to go.

  Aiden laughed, “Lots of green, yellow and now red.”

  “I’m heading home if they add blue.” I joked. “Why is the red out now?”

  “Tate and Steve are getting into it.”

  “Tate?”

  “Yeah, Tate Harris,”

  “Why is the crowd going crazy?” I noticed the shift in the stands and the sudden draw to the start finish line.

  “I told you,” Kyle sounded annoyed. “Tate and Steve got into it.”

  “What do you mean they got into it?”

  “They got out of their cars and were pushing each other.”

  “Oh, well are they still doing that?”

  “Why are you so concerned with it?” he snapped. “Usually you don’t give a shit.”

  I sighed. “I’m bored and missing everything. If they’re fighting and shit I wanna see it.”

  “Stay in your car. The last thing we need is another fine.”

  I did stay in the car but eventually after ten minutes of being red flagged, I voiced my concern for my boredom again. “You would think with all this high tech blinky shit in these cars they’d let us have a TV.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Kyle laughed, his joking mood returning. “NASCAR would definitely allow that.”

  We ended up restarting some five minutes later only to have the last lap end in disaster.

  Running tenth, I thought for sure I would be ahead of the mess when Brody and Nathan got sideways coming out of three it took us all out of being in the lead. For laps, you knew it was coming when the cars were literally floating around all jerking for position.

  Cars were scattering everywhere and all I could do was let go of the wheel and hope for the best. Most drivers let go of the wheel. When we knew the chance of correcting it was slim, to avoid breaking our hands if the wheel jerked back the other direction with a hit to the front wheels. It’s happened before.

  When we start wrecking like that on a superspeedway, there’s nothing you can do. We are all bunched up so tightly that one loose car could take out a pack of twenty easily and it did.