It’s officially the eve of the greatest day of the year. We’ve
collectively waited 363 days for this to be upon us. Although, over
the course of recent years, the month of May for me has been marred
with some pretty tough times. Yet; no matter the circumstances, on
that fateful sunday just before Memorial Day, my trials and
tribulations will cease to exist for at least eight hours. Of course I
am talking about Indy 500 raceday. I have even found closure to
things in my life inside the stands of a race track. Albeit, not just
any race track. Back in 2006 we lost Grandpa just a few days before
the race and I was really grieving. I will never forget making the
trip to the track that sunday and watching the closest and most
exciting race ever. Sam Hornish Jr. made a last lap(s) comeback for
the ages. As the race was ending I could feel my grandfather’s arm
around my shoulders. May of 2007 was supposed to be an awesome month, as we had planned for Paul Wasicka and his girlfriend Amber to come see the race for the first time. They came and loved every moment, even though it was rain delayed and they had to move their flight back to see the finish. I could see the awe in Paul's eyes while he watched each lap intensely. Although, that month was yet again hit with terrible
news. We found out that my wife (at the time) Aimee’s mom was terribly ill with
cancer. I was beginning to think at that point that May basically
sucked, up until the race anyway. In May 2008 I was lucky enough to
sign my divorce paperwork and lose my job in the same week. Devastated
inside yet again, I turned to the solid traditions of the brickyard for
solace. It is now May 23, 2009 and so far the month has been much
better than before. Maybe it can stay this way because it’s a lot more
enjoyable to be entering that place without some type of heartache.
I’m just thankful to have it be such a big part of my life. 100 years
and still standing! Let’s not forget it was once tattered and torn
during WWII, but today it is the bar by which all things motorsports
are judged. To those people who have never seen a race live, they may
never understand where I’m coming from. But for those that know the
feeling of the goosebumps when they call to start engines. You know,
the ones who can relate to the smell of ethanol burning off those
incredible powerplants. The same people who have heard the screams of
those motors and watched those drivers barrel off into the corners at
such unbelievable speeds. It is with tremendous anxiety and pride that
I welcome another Indy 500. Here’s to all who share an attachment in
some facet to that hallowed ground!