Chapter 7 Slade
Chapter seven
Slade
Birmingham, AL (East/West showdown)
We had a week off before the next race, and I spent the whole time fretting over what happened with Clay.
I was in my head too much about it and needed to stop obsessing over him.
I’d practiced in New Mexico the week before, instead of going all the way out to North Carolina so it was only Tweed and me.
I needed the time, not only for my career but my peace of mind as well.
Race day rolled around and it was odd being back after not seeing anyone else for so long.
I hoped I’d get to see Clay before the race, but got stuck going over a race strategy with Tweed.
This was a different type of race format.
The heat would be all of us East racers in one and the West in the other, then the Main would be everyone who made it.
Nate was in the West, so this would be the first time I raced against him on the main track— when we both made the Main. He was cool enough, but it was everyone for themselves now.
I came in third for the East heat race, and Clay came in first. He was really showing what he was made of, so I needed to do the same.
After he did the required interview, he met up with me.
The mechanics took the bikes for us, and we walked over to where we could watch the West Coast heat.
It was a doozie from the start with several racers going down before the first turn.
Nate got the holeshot, but he didn’t keep the lead long.
And then the worst possible thing happened.
Archer Bates jumped and landed on top of Nate.
It was a poor timing accident, nothing on purpose, simply bad luck, but Nate was hit in the head and shoulders and the bike landed on top of him. And he wasn’t getting up.
Yellow flags came out quickly, but it wasn’t enough. They red flagged the race, sending everyone back to the starting gate, except Nate and Archer who were both still down as Alpinestar medics arrived.
Clay popped my arm. “Come on. Let’s go back to the pit so we can get an update.”
I didn’t argue. Wrecks happened, and we all knew it. No matter how careful, professional, and safe you rode, you could still go down. Other racers could hit you, clip you, or you could mess one tiny thing up and go over the bars. It sucked. Nate was most likely out for the weekend, maybe longer.