Chapter 12

Greg

Even though it’s weeks before Halloween and one of the big races of the season, there is no rest for the wicked. I am back out on my privately hired track out here in Chicago practicing with a couple of team members having what we call a friendly race between teammates getting ready for our next big race next weekend. I am not called Lord of the Dirt Track for no reason. I live and breathe for this, and I show it all in my commitment and dedication. We had been told by our riding coach to take it easy and not overpower the bike but to save that for race day. During practice, we have built-in mics and speakers so we can communicate between our riding coach and the other riders. There is me and three other guys Jameson, Randy, and Will we had just finished a walk round of the track and was heading towards our bikes on our stands. Once we got our bikes and helmets, we started to walk taking our bikes to the starting gate when Jameson starts a conversation I was not prepared to hear.

“Did you see the pictures that fucker Carmichael posted on his I***a with him and this smoking hot babe wearing his new gear?” Why the fuck would Jameson bring up my biggest competitor Garrett Carmichael for during a practice run. He knows that mentioning him will bring more fuel to my fire when I’m out on the track, even if it is still a practice run.

“I did see the pictures yeah he’s one sleazy fucker; he’s got to have something up his sleeve to mess with you Greg,” Will says as we get up to the gate, putting our helmets on, and straddling our bikes, and getting ourselves ready at the gate by digging our feet into the dirt for grip. A good grip at the start is a promising push from the gate. Well, that’s what my cousin used to say and still does from time to time.

“Look guys I don’t give a shit what Carmichael is trying to do to throw me off my game. I am riding the best I have in months right now and I am staying focused on that. He can kiss my ass. I save my taking for the track,” I tell them as I gear my bike up just as the ten-second board is raised.

“Yeah, because he wants to get back to the hotel to fuck Andrea,” Randy says making us all laugh. I will admit he isn’t wrong. Since my breakup with Jen Andrea has been the constant woman in my life who helps keep my bed warm at night. But that is all she is and will ever be a simple fuck. Nobody will fill the place in my heart that is solely for Jen and Jen alone.

“That’s enough chatter now ladies, the five-second board is up time to focus, make this a nice push off the line, and take it easy on the first turn,” Coach Nixon says through the speakers in our helmets. That is my cue to block out everything that is going on around me and focus on the track ahead of me.

The gate dropped and the adrenaline started to pump through my body and the thrill, and the excitement overcame me as I took off from the gate. Listening to what Coach Nixon said about taking it easy on the first turn I do just that and accelerate a little more when approaching the first jump. We listen to everything we are getting fed to us through the speakers and we’ve completed fifteen clean and tidy laps and was down to the last five. Wanting to make this a little more thrilling I say to the other guys “Let’s kick this up a notch and heat up the track on these last five laps. Loser buys the drinks tonight,” I say, and they all agree, and we heat it up just as I was hoping we would. Taking corners tighter, whomps with less acceleration, and the jumps with a little more, so we could fly over the finish line.

I am just ahead of the others with Jameson vastly approaching me from the rear. I am still focused on my end goal and crossing the finish line with a good time. Will’s voice comes through the speakers in my helmet, “Oh shit, I just remembered where I’ve seen that girl Carmichael is with in his I*******m posts.” Seriously? He brings this up now just as I’m about to finish the final lap. I accelerate to take the jump when I hear the last person I expected to hear. “It’s your Jen.”

“What?” I shout as I take the jump. As I am up in the air, I do something so stupid and not me. I close my eyes, and I see Jen’s beautiful smiling face looking back at me. Without thinking I whisper her name, and then my bike stalls as I am up in the air. I suddenly open my eyes realizing I’m in the shit and it’s then I hear another clunk, and I know instantly that’s my chain gone too. “Guys I’m fucked, I’m coming down hard and fast brace for impact,” I scream into the mic as I start to plummet to the ground.

I come down fast. I try my very best to make the impact as safe as possible, but I failed. My front end landed with a turned wheel I couldn’t get back straight, I came flying over the handlebars landing headfirst on the ground. My head hits the ground hard enough that I heard my helmet crack from the pressure of the fall. The back end of the bike flips forward and with the back wheel still spinning it hits my helmet, and the rest of the bike rolls over me. This is what death feels like. I’m getting crushed by a machine that I had fully trusted and weighs maybe two hundred and thirty pounds and that’s not including the extra weight from the mud and dirt from the track. I’ve probably got broken bones, and my head is hurting like a mother fucker. My head must be busted open as I can feel and taste my own blood trickling down my face. Every single inch of me hurts I am losing the battle to keep my eyes open. I can hear the commotion going on around me as I can feel my body shutting down. As my eyes feel heavy and slowly start to close, I once again see her beautiful smiling face saying the words I wish she still says to me today “I love you, Greg.” Just as my eyes are about to fully close her name is the last word from my lips, “Jen,” and everything around me goes black.