Shadows

Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin. Our driver for this week is a young, rookie driver from Michigan. Throughout the weekend he has slowly impressed us and gained our confidence. I am proud to say, even amongst all of the veterans he is one of the few drivers to not get off track during the "Test Day."

Shadowing by his side all weekend has been his Dad. Helping him buckle in. Giving him needed pep talks. Handing him water. A constant support system. He is completely content to stay in the background, as long as his son knows he is there. Most of the Harrys probably don't even notice him. I do. It's special to me because he reminds me of my own support system.When I was racing my Dad was right by my side. Every race. Every lap. Every win. Every failure. I credit him for my success in every aspect of my life.

There are so many stories about my Dad and I that I could share but there is one in particular that stands out. I was about 16 years old and I was racing in Pennsylvania at Big Diamond Raceway. It was one of my favorite tracks. It was a fast, 3/8 mile clay oval. I remember it had been a good night for us. We had been one of the top five cars all day. We were running in third place, with about 3 laps remaining when I got hit. A lap down car trying to make up time drove far deeper into the corner than his car could stand. He slid up two groves and slammed into me. Then together we went flipping. Due to the fact that I had, at this point, wrecked many, many other times and I was a daredevil by design I was rarely spooked by a flip or two.

I wrecked a lot in my sprint car days. Well everyone did. It's what sprint cars do. Any contact at all usually ends violently. I remeber waking up, still up side down. My brain was like pea soup. I attempted to gather my thoughts when sudden fear shot through me. I realized I couldn't feel

my arms or hands. I began to jumble through the possibilities of what had just happened. Neck Injury. No more racing. How will I make a living? Better yet, How will we tell Mom? As the safety crew began to extract me from this mangled mess, my mind was running rampid. I looked up to see my Dad. He was knelt down in front of the crinkled up race car. He was calm and collected. He didn't say anything or make any gestures he just stared at me. He was focused on my eyes. It calmed me. He became my security in the midst of the hurricane, that was my mind. And somehow, I knew everything was well on its way to being ok.

Obviously the loss of feeling for a minute was either shock or a pinched nerve because I regained all of my feeling within a few minutes. I never voiced that I was nervous but Dad knew. He didn't panic, over react or try to take control of the situation. He was everything that I needed at that time. He was my shadow. Right there to show his support. We were in a huge mess, but we were there together.

This weekend our driver never got hurt. He had a very unfortunate race and his Dad was right where he was supposed to be, by his sons side. Equipt with water and pep talks.

As young adults we rarely appreciate or acknowledge that support system. I know I didn't. But I do now. And all too often in this flashy, highly publicized sport of auto racing there are Dad's who step in front and demand the attention and publicity that, they believe, their son/daughter deserves. I am fortunate enough to have had a Dad who stood back. He allowed me to be front and center. His only concern was to make sure that I knew he was there.

In lieu of fathers day, I'd like to thank my Dad. He is been my biggest fan, my sounding board, my hero and most importantly, my shadow.

Dear Undertaker..

I had so many different subjects that I had planned to write about for this week, until today. This weekend, we are in Middleofnowhere, Wisconsin. Yup the cheese state. I love love love cheese. Cheese doesn't love me, but that's neither here nor there.
The Harrys and I are smack dab in the middle of P2 (P2 is the second practice session of the day), it was a good p2 in case you were wondering. Anywho, I look up and there he is. In all his racefan glory. Today is his big day. Obviously. I mean this cat has been planning this day for a long, long time...I think.

Please allow me to paint the best mental picture that I possibly can :aheem: Dick Trickle throw back t-shirt, black Spandex bike shorts, and red, lace-up, wrestling boots. He was epic. A sight. a mystical creature of sorts. Nessy, the Loch Ness Monster...maybe. I would have insisted that I get my picture taken with him except, like I said, P2, lots going on, etc.
Ok, ok lets just call him, "The Undertaker" for obvious reasons. Well the single, most important piece of his ensemble was the checkered flag fanny pack. Sure, I have proudly worn a fanny pack before. I totally get it, they are cool, convenient and hands free. They were the bees knees back in the day, on the field trip to the Science Center. If I were to wear one nowadays I would fear my chances of a date would be somewhere between slim and none. Soooo..I think it's safe to say, I avoid them.The point is, as much as I belly laugh at "The Undertaker" the fact is, he's a race fan. He's the reason I get paid. Solely, single handidly, this guy makes my personal dream come true. He reaches into his checkered flag fanny pack (buys a ticket) and pays for me to wrench on these race cars because he's a fan. Wrestling boots and all, first and foremost he's a race fan.

The cast of ccharacters that is race fans is a sight to be seen. It is my "Comedy Channel" while on the road. Much like Raiders fans, they live for the shock factor that they cause with their "raceday" get-ups. Deep down I hope the boots and fanny pack are his "get-up" to assist with getting Carl's (Edwards) autograph but for all I know they may be standard. If it's standard, I am sorry, Undertaker. Please don't hit me in the head tomorrow with an aluminum chair when you see me. You're my hero. Or better yet, you are my sponsor. Living life the way you want, even if it is in a Dick Trickle t-shirt, cheering on racecars. Lose the fanny pack or lose the boots just please don't lose your love for NASCAR. You Sir, help my dreams come true, and for that I Thank You.