The 56th Mile of Life

Hello Wondering Reader,

Let us take a detour to a road like no other, a racetrack. In April, something truly spectacular is going to take place. A man/ women will pack a racecar onto a trailer and head to a track to make history and a name for themselves. They will put their helmet on, climb into a racecar, and put their hands on a steering wheel. They will reach down, hit the ignition switch, and start their engine. All you can hear is the pounding of pistons. The adrenaline kicks in. The first fumes from the exhaust will reach them and they will think one thing “It is time to go racing.”

Here in my small-town legends are built off this and remembered. I am not talking about Nascar, I am talking about small town racing. The kind of racing that leads them into the Nascar series. This will show a driver if they can manage the pressure of highspeed and deep turns. A lot of people think small track racing is simple, but it is not, it is definitely an art. Drivers spend weeks, months, and years just trying to get their cars exactly how they want them. They build their engines to a tea making them an incredible piece of machinery.

Ever since I was a toddler I have been around racing. The racing community is like a second family to me. So, to honor them and my late father I am writing this blog. I want them to get the recognition they deserve. Racing is still dangerous even to this day. Every time you get into a car you put your life at risk, but the feeling is unlike anything you can imagine. It is almost indescribable. Some of the drivers have only dreamed about getting in a car. My dad was one of them. I watched my dad race for years and my brother after. Every Saturday morning my dad would get up at 7am, head down to the shop, work the car over, and get it onto a trailer. I would always go down to the shop and watch my dad check everything. The passion he had in his heart for racing was beautiful. You could tell he loved it more than the air he breathed. He would pull a bucket out, flip it over, and have me sit on it as he worked. I would sit there and ask questions and my dad would just laugh and try to make them simple because I was so young.

I would always try to help him, and my brother pack the trailer, just because I wanted to be part of my dad’s passion. I always watched my dad roll out of the driveway and head to the stadium. Me and my aunt would get there around 5 or 6pm and watch him practice. I was always scared my dad would get hurt but I knew his friends and fellow racers had his back. It became a long tradition before each race to greet my dad before practice started, I would meet him at the pits fence line, and he would always give me a kiss on the cheek and tell me it was going to be all right. Seeing him in his blue and white driver’s suite was like looking up to my biggest hero. He always looked brave, never scared, and ready for the fight. Some of the other drivers would even come up and greet us and I would get hugs from them too. My dad had made an entire community out of racing bringing men together for a heck of a fun time. He would check the car over again and again, because he had built something with his own hands that he took so much pride in. For my dad it was never about winning, it was just about doing something he loved. I watched my dad win multiple championships, rookie of the year, and many races.

One time I looked at my dad and I asked him “Why do you do it?” he took a minute gave me that grin he always had and said “I love it, I like the feel of it, and I know I’m meant to be doing it, I like building a car and seeing what it can do, and then making it better than the last time.” In my life I wanted to find something to that level. I remember when I was in college I asked him “ How do you know it is something you love?” and he replied “It will feel like nothing before, you will work hard and give everything you got to it, it will make you a better person, and test you.”

My dad won a race the night I had my junior prom. I had gotten ready to take pictures with my family and went to prom. But while I was there my thoughts were on my dad. For some reason I knew I had to be there. So, like a racecar drivers’ daughter I convinced my friends to pile into my beat-up Pontiac and skip out on prom, literally left my date behind. We piled in and I drove that Pontiac like it was a racecar to get to my dad. We got there, took our heels off, paid the money to get in and sprinted to the wall to look over. My dad driving the 56 was on the track and the race had not even started yet. That night my dad started in 10^th. He had a lot of ground work to cover.

I watched my dad drive a car like he stole it. I watched him zone in on what he wanted and go for it. It got down to lap 3 or 4 and I knew he was going to make his move. My dad had caught up to the leader and passed around him on the outside, it was the most incredible and nerve-racking experience of my life. Me and my girlfriends were screaming and running to the finish line in our prom dresses. I climbed down the steps, went through the gate, and greeted my dad on the track as he was handed the victory flag. He seen me and started to tear up, I watched him give his speech, he was so emotional that night. He had won his race, and his daughter was there to share in the moment. My dad was getting ready to take the car back to the  pits, but stopped, took off his racing shoes, handed them to me and told me to hop into the car. That night I rode the track back to the pits in my prom dress inside of a racecar that my dad built with his very own hands. Driving barefoot almost, lol.

Racing is not just racing; it is hard work and dedication. Each of us in life has our own race to win. So, make sure it is a race worth racing. Follow your dreams. Having a dream is not crazy, going for the impossible is not crazy. Every legend had to start somewhere. What is crazy is not going after what you want because your scared. A lot of drivers believe in just racing your opponent, but you are also racing yourself. You have to believe in your self and go full throttle to get there. For anything you really want you have to put in the fight and drive. Life is about learning from your mistakes; it is about taking chances. Do not get to a point in your life where you wished you could have gone after something that you loved, just do it. I am going to give you a secret, the thing that makes you a legend, is the blood, sweat, and tears. Above all it is also the high you get when you do something you never thought you could.

With much love,

-56 Mile

This post is dedicated to Bowman Gray Stadium, the drivers who have passed, the drivers still going for it, all of my dad’s friends, and most importantly my Dad.