Lesson Learned..Not Quite.

When I first moved to this town I had a lot of big ideas and plans with no road map or recipe to get me to where I planned to go. I began working for the first team that would give me a shot. That part was easy. They knew, I knew plenty about sprint cars and nothing about stock cars, so the expectations weren't very high. My plan was to work hard, even if I didn't know what I was doing. Lucky for me this sport is built on the rock of hard work.

My second year here in Charlotte was the hardest. For all intents and purposes I had learned quite a bit. The expectations kept getting higher and the pressure to keep up was becoming taxing. I somehow managed to be offered the position as "suspension specialist" with a front running, well-oiled Craftsman Truck Series team (now known as the NASCAR Camping World Truck Series). I proudly accepted the job and wheeled my toolbox into their suspension room. Soon after accepting this job, I realized I had a lot more to learn than I had realized. Ironically the man who offered me this job would be the one to challenge me and second guess my every move.

I remember him asking me to do things he knew I had no idea how to do. A sense of panic would hit me. "I don't know how to do that!?!" Somehow I'd squirm, make phone calls, stare at parts .. do whatever I had to in order to figure out how to accomplish, what seemed at the time to be, lofty requests. I had moved to this town with no stock car experience. Most times I kept my mouth shut in fear of someone finding out how little I actually knew. It wasn't until I

began working for (let's call him) "Henry" that myself and everyone realized how green to NASCAR I actually was. Throughout my career as a "suspension specialist" for Henry, I hated my job. I hated the sport. Most of all, I hated Henry. He had a way of shedding a god awful spot light on every weak area that I had as an individual and as a mechanic. He was a horrible beast in my mind. I hated his smell and the sound of his voice. The day I got another job offer I reveled at the idea of working for someone else. Greener pastures. Sunny skies. All these things were waiting for me out from under his wicked fortress of a race team. Oh happy day!

Dream on Alice. AGAIN, I soon realized that I, still, had a lot to learn. I spent the next year, in the way. The following year I spent, trying to get out of the way. Then after a few more years I realized that I was, no longer in the way. I was actually figuring all of this out. I had FINALLY put my glove on and become a player in the game.

Fast forward, to this past week in St. Louis. I am now a car chief in the Nationwide series. A position that took all seven years to truly be ready for. As I walked through the garage, looking at my feet, shuffling through the days procedures in my head. I looked up from under my hat to be standing face to face with Henry. For the first time in nearly 5 years. He smiled at me and made light conversation. "What are you doing now?" he asked. I proudly stated, like a child who had just won the spelling bee, "Car chief. I'm the car chief" I highly anticipated a critical response and in a last ditch effort to throw up an, in your face, checklist of what I had accomplished over the past five years I blurted out "I've learned a lot since I worked for you. You ignorant old bastard"..ok well I didn't say that last part, but I wanted to. As he walked away he said "I always knew you would." :gasp: What?!?! No You DIDN'T! Hmmm........Maybe he did.

I guess you could say that since I walked out of his race team I have been on a mission to prove my worth..in hopes that one day I could have my, in your face, moment with him and all the other Henrys I have faced along the way. But I guess that was his intentions all along. So once again, there I was in St. Louis with egg on my face learning another big life lesson. He taught me exactly what he wanted to.

The truth is, this sport in compiled of die hard, rough, egotistical men. I wasn't at all prepared for it. How I have survived and learned to cohabitate the garage area with these men is hard to explain. But what I do know is the "Henrys" of this sport, are the ones who have built me. When I began working for Henry I was too simple minded and sensitive to be a mechanic. I didn't deserve to be there. He wasn't going to allow me to jump ahead in line without earning my spot in the garage. Now I am grateful for that. Had he treated me like the "Harrys" I may have never made it past sweeping floors and cleaning parts. I guess it's easier to accomplish things when you have something to prove.

"Hell, there are no rules. We're trying to accomplish something here." -Thomas Edison

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

I've been a part of their world for nearly seven years. I am one of them now. Like a caged monkey at the local zoo, I've become a part of my surroundings. Other than my pony tail I blend in fairly well. They are called Harrys. The uber arrogant male species that lurks pit road and the garage area at NASCAR sanctioned events coast to coast.

I am often asked "How do you tolerate all of those men?" Truth is I don't know. Its really kind of easy now. There was a time when every fart, burp, catcall and crude joke used to cut through me. Now I curse like a sailor (a handy trait should I ever be confronted by an angry sailor). I laugh at the crudest of all jokes, in fact most of them come from me. I drink cases of beer. I even check out and rate the beautiful women we see (please note: I am not a lesbian).

The real question is "How hard is it to remember to turn off the BoysClub switch on Girls Night?" Actually this is the biggest challenge of it all. At one time flying beneath the men's radar and just doing my job was a daily task. Now I catch myself just trying to blend in amongst my own species, the females.

This past Sunday I assisted in hosting a birthday party for my best friend. Suddenly I realized how much time I have spent around the Harrys and not the Harriettas. I am good at looking the part, I put on a cute little outfit and flat ironed my hair. I looked like a girl, but I felt like a poser. I had forgotten how to hold a light conversation about life and love. I didn't do a good job at dividing my two lifestyles that day.

Perhaps I didn't spend enough time getting into girl mode before arriving at the party. Maybe I should have had Alicia Keys playing rather than Blink 182 while i was getting ready. I had accidentally left the house with my rough exterior still on. I was a bonefied wolf in sheep's clothing.At one point I found myself trying to explain the off-color joke I just told. A joke that I undoubtedly picked up from the Harrys. Let's just say it wasn't greeted with bursts of laughter.

Sometime around mid-summer the guidelines of male and female get a little hazy. Life on the road from February to November begins to take it's toll. My thoughts become very black and white. I lose my sensitivity filter and I say what I am thinking. Eventually the smelling salts kick in and I begin seeking forgiveness for my actions. I am blessed to have 12 outstanding girlfriends who understand me in the best way they possibly can. They shrug their shoulders, laugh and say "Oh that's just Ashley"

So for me "tolerating" one or the other isn't the most challenging part of what I do. Keeping them divided is.

Men are from Mars and Women are in fact from Venus. I am working daily to find the universal language between the two.