I Swear To You

Chapter 11

"Are you nervous?" I asked after the National Anthem had concluded.

"No, I'm really not," he replied. "I think it's just built up anticipation... are you?"

"A little. But I'm a NASCAR wife I'm kinda supposed to be."

He smiled at me, like really smiled. And I did too. It felt like our broken pieces were finally starting to fall into place again.

I took a deep breath, "Be safe," I told him, "have fun... and good luck."

He hugged me. Tighter than previous races. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," I replied. He released his embrace, and he could sense my uneasy feeling.

"These cars are really safe," he said, "I'm gonna be just fine."

"I know," I said.

We kissed and I walked back toward pit wall as he climbed in his Napa Camaro. I smiled and gave him two thumbs up, and said a small prayer as I watched him slide on his helmet.

I climbed into the pit box and Cindy joined me shortly thereafter. She squeezed my hand to reassure me Chase would be ok, and I did the same.

As the pace laps wound down, I had to consciously tell myself to breathe. He was back where he belonged, and I was over the moon happy for him. But what kind of wife would I be if I wasn't worried?

I knew he was safe. If he wasn't then he wouldn't have survived the previous crash. These cars have to get hit at the most precise angle to go airborne like Chase did at Daytona, and honestly, he could get hit another 150 times and it would never happen like that again.

If he was confident in getting back, and if he felt safe, then I should feel those things too. I trust my husband knows what's good for him, myself and our future.

I came out of my deep thoughts once the green flag dropped and I watched the number 9 sail into turn 1.

The race had been typical Michigan. Fast, different lines coming into play depending on tire wear. Chase finished 3rd in stage one and picked up some very important stage points.

He hadn't fallen out of the top ten all day, which is really great for him and that team, but they race harder up there towards the front. I thought maybe he'd ease into that 3,4 wide, inches from another car racing for a little while. But maybe that was my anxiety taking over the hopeful section of my brain. Chase doesn't back down. Never has, never will.

He sounded happy on the radio. Anyone listening could hear he was ready to be back. He was happy with the speed of his car, the handling, the pit stops. The 9 team worked their asses off, and they gave him an incredible car.

Stage two was underway; Chase from the 4th position after an extra second of fuel cost him a spot. The field flew into the curves of Michigan International Speedway at high speeds of 215mph and 3,4 sometimes even 5 cars wide. As a NASCAR fan I was living. As a NASCAR wife, I was dying.

We were to about lap 35 in the second stage and this is the point where the tires start to fall off, so everyone was hyperaware of the possibility of a blown tire from any car on track.

I had moved to the top of the hauler by that point. I kept my eyes glued to the blue Camaro of Chase's around every turn and down every straightaway. As predicted, tires started to fall off one by one. Drivers started scraping the wall and barely crawling to their pit boxes with a flat.

With 21 to go in the second stage, the 18, who was the only car in front of Chase, lost a tire in the entrance of turn 1. I lost sight of Chase's car in a cloud a smoke. I closed my eyes as the heard the crunching metal of a big wreck. The smell of fuel and burning rubber wafted throughout the track. Images of Daytona flashed back into my head, but somehow I wasn't able to open my eyes to make sure it wasn't happening again. I listened intently to the 9 team's radio communications.

"You alright bud?" Alan said when he scanned in.

Static came over Chase's end of the radio.

Until the signal finally cleared. "Yeah," he finally replied, and I could exhale. "I don't think we have much damage if any, have Eddie take a took."

"Looks clean," Eddie reported. "Get some tires on it and we're good to go."

Chase's talent and determination got him through yet again. In that moment I knew, he's got this.

*********

We were coming up to a restart with 4 to go. Chase was the leader and chose the inside lead to start.

This was crazy, right? His first race back after a traumatic head injury and he's gonna win the thing? People are going to think they're cheating for sure. Or NASCAR "rigged it."

The white flag waved and Chase still had the lead by about three tenths of a second with Brad Keselowski on his tail. The two sailed into turn four side-by-side, Keselowski grabbing the win and by .008 seconds.

"Dammit, guys," Chase after the checkers.

I knew Chase was upset, in himself more than anything. I wanted to take home a trophy too, but a finish like this proves he hasn't lost his touch.

"You did so good," I told him as I hugged him tight. "And before you go on talking about everything you should have done differently, I just want to tell you how proud I am. You're still a championship threat," I began to tear up, "you're back."

"Thank you," he wrapped his arms around me again. "But I got into four too high, so that's what I should've done differently."

"I know 2nd place sucks, but isn't this one good?"

He shook his head, "no."

Spoken like a true champion.