Page 159 of Happy Hour

It took a long time but eventually the tow truck came, towed away the skunk Subaru and took us back home.

Jameson and I sat on the tailgate of the red dragon, letting the car ventilate and avoiding the Lucifer twins.

“We aredefinitelynot buying that one.” He pointed towards the car. There were scratches all over it, the hood was dented and it smelled. “That car is awful if not for the smell but the luck last night.”

“No doubt,” I agreed. I loved the way he said we, it made me feel like we were arealcouple. Not that we weren’t arealcouple now but sometimes, I just liked that little bit of reassurance that he was referring to us as we.

After all, we were going steady and I was his Joanie.

16.Restrictor Plate–Sway

Restrictor Plate – This is a thin metal plate with four holes that restrict airflow from the carburetor into the engine. It’s used to reduce horsepower and keep speeds down at larger tracks. The restrictor plates are currently used at Daytona International Speedway and Talladega Superspeedway.

Jameson and I were heading into a busy month of Racing. Sitting there on the tailgate of the smooshed red dragon, we discussed the next few weeks and how often we’d get to see each other.

He was scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon for Juliet. Then after the race Saturday night, he had to fly to New Richmond for the World of Outlaw race, then to Lima Ohio for an appearance, and then he had to be back here next Thursday for the start of the Northern Sprint Tour.

It would be a busy two weeks, that’s for sure.

“Let’s go to dinner.” Jameson said abruptly, jumping down from the tailgate. “I’m hungry.”

That sounded like a good time. Aiden and Emma were already heading home to Mooresville, which meant we would be alone, even better.

“Where do you want to go?” We didn’t have much to choose from here in Elma Washington. We had the Rusty Tractor and that was about it.

“Ranch House,” Jameson answered nodding his head. There was one thing Jameson loved almost as much as racing, barbeque. “I haven’t been there in years.”

“Nice choice.”

It didn’t take long to get there, maybe fifteen minutes and with Jameson in tow, we got a seat right away. It paid to have a superstar for a boyfriend—you never had to wait in line for anything. Even though I held a certain amount of reserve for this ability of being served right away because of your social status, I’ll admit, it had its perks.

“What are you going to order?” I asked sitting across from him at a table in the corner.

The Ranch House was a small barbeque restaurant on the side of Highway 8 in Olympia. They had the best barbeque around, no lie. And I wouldkillover their potato salad any day.

“I think I’m getting the beef ribs.” Jameson replied with a big smile, rubbing his belly in anticipation. “Definitely the beef ribs.”

“You’re showing an awful lot of excitement for food.”

“I just spent the night in the woods with no food.” He gave me a folly glare. “I’m hungry. And did I mention that bear ate my damn Twinkies?”

“Yes, you may have mentioned that afewtimes already.”

Jameson giving almost every person in the restaurant his autograph and talking racing with all the men occupied most of the time waiting for our food.

In my mind, it was hardly a date. I’ve grown to realize that this would be our life though. It would always be this way for us and I understood that as I grew up around this type of public adoration with other racers and saw it first had with Jimi.

I felt bad for Jameson at times though, it can’t be easy. He knew when he chose this as his profession, this came with the job. At least he could still go out in public—most celebrities couldn’t even do that these days.

One particular man had been standing there talking to him for fifteen minutes while Jameson’s food was getting cold.

He gave him his time to talk and then very politely said, “It was nice meeting you sir, but I’m actually on a date here with this beautiful woman.” Jameson stood to shake his hand. “I should show her the attention she deserves.” He said with a wink towards me.

“Oh—sorry,” The man apologized with sincerity. “It was nice meeting you, Jameson. Good luck this weekend at Chicagoland.” He turned towards me. “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening ma’am.”

I waived my hand around. “It’s no problem.” I told him with a mouth full of potato salad, hardly attractive.

Jameson laughed. “You’re adorable.” He said softly and began eating his ribs.

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