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“Yeah,” I laughed toowatching our shadows dance on the wall as he moved to hover over me, his bodycovering mine. “I did.”

“Say it.”

“Yes Jameson Riley, Iwill marry you.”

The candles, the words,the moment, it all balanced what we were, what we’d become perfectly.

Myhappy right now.

Now only if only therewas a way to get a sprint car rumbling in the background.

10.DrySlick – Sway

Dry Slick – This is aterm given to a dirt track when all the moisture is gone and the track hasdried out creating a condition where the cars are loose. In turn drivers willdescribe the sensation as driving on ice.

“I want to be a pitlizard.”

“No, dad, you’ve gotthat term confused.” My attention drifted back to the track as we watchedqualifying for the truck race on Thursday afternoon.

“I don’t? I want to bea groupie and have fun.”

“That’s not a pitlizard. That’s, well, it’s complicated.”

“Well uncomplicated itfor me,” he said as he poured whiskey from a flask into his plastic cup ofcoffee. I had a feeling grandpa Casten was behind the flask. “What is a pitlizard?”

I explained thedifference. He understood or at least he pretended to with lots of nodding.

But then he repliedwith, “Well I’m not that easy and I won’t follow one of those kids around. ButI will follow thoseRedBullgirls.” He tookoff in the other direction with who I thought I’d never see here at a NASCARtrack, grandpa Casten.

Right about the time Iwas going to sneak back to the driver’s compound and make a sandwich, Spencerrolled up in the golf cart. “Have you seen Jameson?”

I pointed toward thetrack and kept walking. Though the golf carts were nice with how spread outthese tracks were, my fat ass needed some exercise.

“Oh well shit, let’s gosquirt.” He motioned with a nod for me to get in with him by patting the seat.

“Where are we going?”

“Food,” Spencer’seyebrow arched, his blue eyes amused. “Don’t tell me you’re not hungry?”

I couldn’t lie. I wasstarving.

We planned on justgrabbing some track food but when Jameson was done qualifying, Charlie andgrandpa Casten had gotten kicked out of the garage area for wearing sandals sowe were all starving. So we left and decided to get dinner in downtown Atlanta.

“Triple header thisweekend, Jay?”

Jameson paused by theExpedition when we saw his grandpa smiling at him. “Is grandpa coming?”

“Yeah,why?”I pushed him forward by kicking his ass with my knee. “Let’s go, I’m hungry!”

“I’m not going if he’sgoing,” was his immediate response.

“Hey jerk, I’m standinghere.” Casten kicked his shin.

“Is it too late to askhim not to come?”

“Yep,” Casten clappedhis hands together with a smile that I recognized as trouble. “You’re stuckwith me kid.”

“Great,” was Jameson’sfinal, but annoyed,answer.