Page 38 of Happy Hour

“Couldn’t tell you,” He signed one more poster and then shoved them inside a white plastic Simplex bag. Still not looking at me, he shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “I never got her name.”

I’ve known Jameson for over eleven years; I could tell he was irate by the way he slammed the door of the mini-van when he got out. Why he was so upset over this was beyond me.

I’m sure it had something to do with Mike being a race car driver. I should have lied and said he was a construction worker or something but Jameson and I don’t lie to each other. We never have.

I felt badly for this poor Kim woman who was stuck doing the interview with Jameson. She started on the wrong foot by flirting with him.

What did Jameson do?

He said and I quote, “That’s unprofessional,” in a sharp demeaning tone and then follow it up with, “Besides, you’re not my type,”

And to think she still has to perform an interview after that.

Jameson could be a real jerk when he wanted to be and his demeanor could turn on a dime. Having experienced this first hand on many occasions, I sort of felt the need to apologize to everyone he encountered and tell them it was my fault, don’t take it personally but I didn’t. I just simply sat back and watched the hot possessive angry side of Jameson emerge for nothing more than pure entertainment value.

Waiting for the interview to began, I observed his behavior much like I did last night. These interviews, the press and media, weren’t part of the lifestyle he wanted.

His passion and immeasurable talent for racing created a life for him that he never asked for. A life and a following bigger than he could imagine, maybe ever wanted to imagine.

“Jameson,” Kim began crossing her leg over the other in the large director’s chair she was sitting in. “Can you tell us how you got started in racing? You’re only twenty-two, when did you start racing?”

I can just imagine how many times he has told this story over the years.

Jameson shifted in his chair and sighed before he began to tell his story, a story I knew firsthand as I was a huge part of it.

“Well let’s see, I started racing quarter midgets just before I turned five. My dad was racing in the World of Outlaw series so I learned a lot by watching him and the other drivers.”

“I heard you raced sprint cars too.” Kim smiled. “When did you start racing those?”

“I was eleven. My dad moved me up to sprint cars but not fulltime because you had to be sixteen at most tracks. So I continued racing midgets and sprints when I could. When I turned sixteen, I began racing on the Northern Sprint Tour and the USAC Silver Crown Series as well as the USAC Midget’s.

“The day I graduated my older brother, Spencer, his girlfriend at the time, Alley, my younger sister Emma, and my...” Jameson’s eyes met mine. “Best friend, Sway, traveled East with me. I raced in the USAC Divisions and The World of Outlaw series collecting trophies and winners checks just big enough to make it to the next track. I raced anything I could whether it was my car or for Bucky Miers and Monty Evans, both long-time friends of my dad.” Jameson leaned back further in the chair. “I drove; Spencer worked on the car along with a few of our buddies that would help out. Emma, Alley, and Sway helped in any way they could. That summer we ended up capturing the USAC Triple Crown title which is a national title in all three of the USAC divisions.”

“And those are?”

Jameson chuckled. “Well USAC runs three national divisions of midgets, sprints and silver crown cars, all open-wheel. If you win the championship in all three divisions, you get the Triple Crown. To date Bobby Cole, my teammate, and me, are the only drivers who’ve ever won it.”

“Wow,” she seemed shocked. “That’s impressive.”

Jameson just nodded taking the compliment about as well as he took her flirting.

“So the Triple Crown paved the way?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He gave a contemplative nod. “From there, I was able to land some sponsors that smoothed the way to bigger races with better payouts. In January of 2001, I met Tate Harris at the Chili Bowl Midget Nationals in Tulsa through my dad and Bucky. He introduced me to a representative with Simplex Shocks and Springs just about the time my dad was thinking of starting a NASCAR team and from there the rest is history.”

“Is your family still a big part of the operation?”

“Yeah, my dad is the team owner. My mom and sister run my fan club. My brother is on my pit crew.” Jameson’s eyes shifted back over to mine. “It means a lot to me to have my family nearby. It reminds me of what’s real.”

“I hear you just started your own sprint car team this year too? How’s that going?”

“I did. Right now, I have two cars racing in the World of Outlaws. I have my buddies Tyler Sprague and Justin West in the cars. They used to race USAC with me growing up. They’re doing an amazing job.” Jameson leaned forward and took another drink of water.

“Do you still race sprint cars when you can?”

He laughed. “Itrybut Simplex doesn’t like it all that much. It’s a liability issue on my part if I was to get injured while doing it but...dirt track racing is where I came from. It’s a part of me and I refuse to let that go.”

“Once you go dirt you never go back sort of thing?” she teased.

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