where's waldo?

allow me..to share with you..my very unexpected day in the atlanta airport. i arrived in atl direct from clt already disappointed in my travel lady for a)a layover and b)a 3 hour layover. who is my travel lady anyway? oh that's right..me.

7:35am: "i love landing. it's my favorite." is the words i woke up to when we landed in atlanta. was i sitting next to "buddy" the elf? apparently, yes. ok, time for some coffee and breakfast. :here is where the day spun out of control: as i sat at chilis and choked down their version of egg whites my day was getting longer and longer and i didn't even realize it.

10:45am time to head to the plane. i am told that at some point..an elderly man (in my minds eye: hard of hearing, plagued with cataracts equipt with a walking cane and an :awooooga: horn) accidentally mistook my oakley, roller bag for one of his (probably american tourist) bags. which would mean he took two bags with him after only arriving with one (logic is silly..i know). once i realized the bag was missing i hustled off on a mission to find waldo..my bag.




12:05pm found waldo! at the usairways customer service center. once the usair lady finised telling me how irresponsible i was for leaving my bag unattended (focusing too much on breakfast i suppose) i set off to re-book my missed flight to phoenix. 9:00pm the airtran mr.man told me. i was very disappointed, angry and happy all at the same time. my day had been an emotional roller coaster and it was only lunch time.

1:00pm i passed the time by people watching and taking random photos like this one. it's amazing how after 12 plus hours of being in an airport you really kinda stop giving a shit about what people think. i will say that the airport becomes very  creepy and lonely.. kinda like the tom hanks movie "terminal." but i wasn't alone..justin beiber was there too. 



now..if there are no more blogs from me this evening you can assume i made it onto this flight and none of the wheels fell off.

"Waking up in Vegas"

:booong: The sound of stiff bodies begin to shuffle. The buzz of lost text messages and voice mails finally arriving to their recipients. The :click clack: of worthless seat belts being released. And finally, the plane door opens and the smell of dry desert air fills your nose. That's when you begin to hear it, :bing bing bing: the bells, the whistles, Welcome to Vegas, try your best to NOT die, but if you do, tell Elvis "Hello" for us.

For most, a trip to Vegas means leaving all of your morals, ambitions and budget plans behind and living for just a short time in the Fantasy Land of the here and now, because What Happens In Vegas, Stays In Vegas. Right..? Well, I was in Vegas for business. Eight whole days of business. :uggghhh:  It's the week of the SEMA show (a trade show based around automotive performance products, and in my case...brakes). Lucky for me, I had an entire pile of work, numerous meetings and a good book to armor myself from the bright tempting lights of Sin City.

First on my to do list was to install 3 of our upgrade kits on 3 Suburbans. That was easy enough considering my recent love affair with my job as a mechanic. Frankly, it felt awesome to have my hands dirty again. I must tell you, our strategy for selling these brake kits was quite the undertaking, here's a quick run down:

- Install Upgrade Brake Kits on 3 Suburbans
- Plot Out A Test Drive Route for Potential Buyers
- Ride Along On Test Drives
- Sell Brake Kits

Sounds simple right? In case you aren't paying attention, here is my version of what all of this means:

- "Borrow" 3 Suburbans
- Remove Stock Brake Kits, Install Our Mack Daddy Brake Kits
- Plot Out A Test Drive Route On Public Roads, In Downtown Vegas
- Allow Vegas Vacationers (those same What Happens In Vegas people that were taking down shots of straight Vodka on the plane, cause its VEGAS) to test drive the stopping power of the kits, while you ride along,
- And, oh yeah, try your very best to not shit your pants.

Once the kits were installed, it was time to ditch my wrenches and crew shirt, let my hair down, put on the heels and sell some brake kits. Every salesman saw the dynamic that the ride and drive program was giving the company. Nonetheless we had all considered the possible lawsuits that were surely lurking in the background, or in this case, city streets. We rolled the dice and the program went better than I anticipated. All things considered we returned with very little body damage, only a few tickets and no one died. A success if you ask me!

Now, it wasn't all business in Vegas. Outside of the trade show, the bright lights of the city strip drew us in like bugs to a porch light. Industry parties, open bar tabs, foreign super cars, brass poles, flashing lights, security run-ins, etc. What Happens In Vegas..

"Shut up and put your money where your mouth is,

That's what you get for waking up in Vegas." -Katy Perry

Dear Co-Worker

Dear Co-Worker,
  Thats a real dick move. Don't you respect the fact that I ran this morning. :humph:

"Zoom-Out"

Gateway International Raceway, just down the street from the beautiful city of St. Louis. My new job as a sales and technical rep. has given my the opportunity to travel the circuit, hone my skills as a brake specialist and most importantly zoom-out from the race car and just look around.

My weekend in St. Louis was great. It was fantastic to be back in the garage with all of the Harrys. But this weekend was different for me. I got to "zoom-out" and look around at what we all get to do for a living. I spent a lot of time just taking it all in. Most of my time was spent on pit road, monitoring brake temperatures. I caught myself in a daze. I stood and watched the cars scream off turn four. I have been doing this for eight years now and it all seemed new to me. Its exciting. Its breath-taking. I am in love with the sport again.

When final practice concluded I picked my things up and headed back to the garage. As I walked past the infield fence there was a little girl with her Dad, she was probably 10 years old. She looked at me and gave me a shy wave. Emotions rushed through my chest. I waved back and gave her a smile. I hope that she was thinking the same thinking that I was thinking15 years ago, "Girls do this? Can I do this? Dad, Can I do this?" For all I know, she probably thought I was Danica Patrick (just 2 feet taller, and 30lbs heavier)



Dover, 2009



The time I spent away from my career as a mechanic may have been the best learning experience of my life. I had grown spoiled. My transition into the world of NASCAR was not a hard fought battle. Everything kind of just came to me. Fast forward eight years later and I was a bitching, angry, nothings fair, no one knows what they are doing, mechanic. I didn't even realize it at the time. I was writing a blog about the sport that I said I loved and then bitching about it.

I believe as mechanics we get tunnel vision. The long stretch of race weekends run together and the romanticism of the sport we once loved, begins to wear thin. Sadly, we begin to just go through the motions: tech, practice, qualify, load-up, go home. Everything seems to zoom in. The love for the sport fades fast, frustrations run high and then it's "on to the next one."

For the past two months I have been on the outside looking in, begging for an opportunity to get back on the other side of the fence. I remember now why I love it. And I also know why I began to hate it. It is safe to say that my career and I took a break from one another. During that break I realized that I love this life, I love the stress, I love my career. I just need to take more time to "Zoom-Out"

Starbucks Snob

Everything about this new job is different. Including where I buy my coffee. I like my coffee "black". No sugar No cream No BS. And as far as plain coffee goes, I believe Starbuck's is horrid.

Sure they have the Mochas and Frapps all figured out but when it comes to the simple basics..They have missed it. However, I am a McCafe Girl! Well.. I was. Until my McCafe cup seemed to render the same "uncool" affects as my neon pink headgear from Junior Highscool.

Starbucks is simply a fashion accessory. You can't go waltzin into the office in your JCrew and Jimmy Choos with a McCafe cup. :der: So to keep up with all of the pencil skirts at work I have begun sporting the ubersheek Starbucks Cup. I have slowly gotten used to the bitter aftertaste of the coffee tycoon. However, they do make wonderful breakfast!

The AP Organization endorces the Starbuck's egg white, feta cheese and spinach wrap. It is a slice of heaven during my 6am, hour-long, trek into work. Starbucks has won me over with their splendid breakfast wrap. The coffee is "meh" the wrap is "nomnomnom". Try it out!

My New Gear!

Lacking Super Powers

It's a little past midnight on a cold, October night. The setting felt and looked like something out of a horror flick. The misting rain began picking up tempo. Thick, milky fog was beginning to set in. I starred at the reflection of the blue flashing lights on the hood of my car. Off. On. Off. On. Click. Click. Click. Click. My leg was shaking with angst. Sitting. Waiting. I am horrible at waiting. I slam the throttle to the floor boards, dump the clutch, the car leaps out of the grass and slides sideways as the tires try to grip the wet asphalt of the back country road. I hear the sirens and the loud squeal of friction. Quickly, I reached 70mph and with both feet I stomped on the brake pedal the car fish tailed and slid sideways again. The brake dust and smoke from the rubber drift past the front of the Crown Victoria police car. :exhale: Everything grew silent again. "Cut" was the word that buzzed through my ear piece. He walks up and leans into my window, "That was perfect. Got it in the first-take. Good job driver." I stuff back my anxiousness and give him the typical "know-it-all" smirk. (That smirk is a trademark of mine. Typically, it gets me into more trouble than good.) Deep down I was relieved. That was five years ago this week. It was my first day on the job as a stunt driver. As I look back at it now I remember it being so fun, intense and performance driven. But sadly, at the time, I wasn't enjoying it. I was frustrated. Ever since I first moved to Charlotte I have had a plan, become a crew chief. That plan seems to get sidelined all too often. I have had some really cool things come across my plate, such as stunt driving, but I never allowed myself to enjoy them. It always felt like I was cheating on my dream. I was having fun but I was wasting valuable time.

And as it turns out, females who actually enjoy wrecking vehicles are hard to find in Hollywood. (Let’s just say I had plenty of practice when I was racing, I am rather numb to the drama of it all at this point) Any who, I was given a pretty neat opportunity to move to California and pursue my career as a stunt woman but I turned it down. In end it wasn’t what I wanted. I landed a few gigs, got my SAG card and never went back. I regret never taking the moment in and enjoying it.

I find myself here again. I have accepted a really interesting job at a brake company where I have the opportunity to design, engineer, maintain and sell high performance braking systems to the race teams. I get to travel to the race track and do technical support which fills my weekends with travel again rather than yard work. Conveniently, working on brakes is my favorite thing to do as a mechanic. And now I am being given the opportunity to learn and truly be a brake specialist. And just like five years ago, in the back of my mind, I am frustrated. I have no idea how this detour is going to help me pursue my dream. I am still hoping that being a crew chief is somewhere on the blueprint for AP. I wasn't gifted with the ability to see the future. Outside of the super power of being invisible, the ability to know the future would be my second choice. I have awesome memories of my days as a stunt driver and somehow, some way I ended up as a car chief four years later. I wish I could have told myself, “Enjoy this. Stop worrying. It will all work out.”

How I will get back on my breadcrumbs path to success I have no idea but this time I am going to enjoy the here and now and make the most of my opportunities.

A Dose Of Life

Dose of life. it's a term I use to explain short comings, realizations and lessons learned. I mostly use this term when curse words are frowned upon. ex: blogging and lunch with my Nana. It's also the time that I put my pity-party hat and kazoo away and stand back and look at the situation for what it really is....Life.

On Sunday evening I sat somber at the beautifully decorated dinner table and starred at the ham and scalloped potatoes my Nana had just prepared with a sudden loss of an appetite. I was still digesting what just happened. I made a valiant attempt to pay attention to the conversation that was taking place at the family dinner. Unfortunitly, the thoughts in my head were much louder and seemed much more important than the conversation that was taking place at the table. I excused myself from the gathering and climbed into my truck to head home. My emotions were like a pinball machine: Silent, beat-up, jealous, relieved, excited and happy. I arrived at home, laid my head down on the concrete patio, and stared at the sky. Watson sat down beside me. We sat. We listened. We tried to grasp reality. Did I make a mistake? Four years and I was only two weeks too short. Never a win. Seven f'n years! Never a win! What do you think Watson?

My last blog was about my new adventure. My new life. Starting fresh. Leaving RAB Racing. Well on Sunday, prior to my family dinner, RAB Racing :deep breath: well they won. They won in Montreal. Not a half ass race either, not the "all the good guys stayed home" race, they won the NASCAR Nationwide Series race at Montreal.

Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, as the Canadians call it, is a beautiful road course on an island of its own in Canada. It's one of my favorite tracks and none other than Boris Said, the best driver I've ever worked with, was behind the wheel. Boris flew through the gears, corner after corner, gas, brake, gas, brake, left-turn, right-turn, gas, brake. He made every move perfectly, the stars aligned, no one wrecked him and they won the race.

I began that Sunday with invisible pom-poms in the air for Boris Said and every 09 crew-member, the Harrys, my Harrys. As I watched, what seemed to be the longest race ever, my heart began to sink a little more each lap. The thought of the young, struggling team gathering up a win was beyond exciting. It was David vs Goliath. And the Harry's took down the Giant.

In my four years with them, they taught me mostly everything I know about life and race cars. We seemed to face more days of anguish, disgust and frustration then days of jubilation. In fact every year we would have a Christmas party to celebrate the hurdles we leaped over to survive our season. I would make a tribute video for them every year to reflect back on it all. This was when we had finally gotten over the disappointment enough to sit back and belly laugh at all of the madness that had taken place that summer. Last winter the tribute video began with the words "There were times we felt we were in hell, but we were there together."

I saw everyone of those Harrys through their first day of work at RAB Racing. They are all like brothers to me and watching them in victory lane on Sunday was bitter sweet. The bitterness came from the magical box that we call a television, that separated me from them. I saw all of their faces. Sheer joy and tears of happiness. I absolutely hated not being there with them. I was profoundly jealous. I hated the fact that I wasn't able to join in on their victory lane "hat dance" and the bragging rights that come along with such a prestigious win. Suddenly I felt like the prodigal son who left home.

However, I do not regret my departure from the team. Wish I had waited a few weeks, Hell Yeah! But, I am ready for a new chapter to begin. It was the correct move for me and my career. What absolutely frustrates me is I wasn't there to hug their necks in their moment of victory. Cry with them and exhale the frustrations that four years can pile on a weathered ship.

So yes. A dose of life. Ode to a dose of life. What the AP Organization learned on Sunday was...to never take any moment of this fore granted. Don't ever spend too much time in the "woe is me" mindset on the flight home from a race track. Fact is, one day...not maybe but one day your "glory day" that this sport promises you will arrive and every trial you endured to get there will make the effort worth while. I am not sure a win would matter all that much if it wasn't such a struggle to receive.

I will lay my head down tonight completely envious of the celebration that happened without me. But I will do it with the utmost pride that I worked beside every mechanic and fabricator who stood in victory lane on Sunday. Those guys are my heroes. They saw the perfect storm build up in front of them, they rode out the waves and found themselves covered in champagne and confetti.

Congratulations to the RAB Racing Crew Members, The Harry's.