| Truly A Family Sport | |
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I am by far the worst writer but feel this story is worth sharing with others anyway.
My story begins at a New Hampshire race held during September of 1999. Quick research would
show that Nemechek, won the race. Now, while we all have learned in other sports we've attended
that winning is everything and losing, well most losers will say, "its just a game."
This was my first NASCAR race I had ever been to in my life and I am 46 years old now. To say
I enjoyed myself, to say I had a good time, or even ask if I liked what I saw, would be like saying
the Grand Canyon is just a ditch out West.
These cars were coming right at us on turn three of the track and I had my earplugs firmly in place.
In the meantime, my younger brother Richard was sitting next to me. He's a race fan; however,
that covers just about anything that can move with or without wheels. He told me when it was
all over and we had to pack it in and leave the track that he had a good time. I still suspect he
went just to appease me as we had never really interacted much growing up. I lost about
fourteen years of seeing him grow to the big little guy he is today (he's the smallest of my brothers).
Richard, was the wild one growing up from my memories. In fact, I never knew where he was or
what he was doing most of my time growing up.
Back to the NASCAR part of this story.
I got to watch it once with my friend and his mother one Sunday and was hooked big time.
Now, my house looks like a NASCAR museum, my truck has my favorite drivers numbers all over it,
and my wife keeps checking to make sure she isn't sleeping with the Earnhardts, as she
pulls the covers back.
Yeah, I even got a ticket for the Winston Cup race in Loudon, N.H.,asked Richard to go with me,
and he did.
Our day at the track was so phenomenal, we even beat the masses back to my sisters house
while others were in traffic for a couple of hours minimum (my sister lives not far from the
Loudon, N.H. track). Man, I was so keyed up from the race and glad I went I saved the two
ticket stubs (Richard gave me his). A piece of rubber the size of your pinky nail is stuck to
one of them and they hang in the NASCAR museum I call home.
What a memory to have! My friends tell me I'm crazy as it isn't even one of the better
racetracks. They just don't get it. My little brother Richard (he's about 40 now) was with me,
and good friends to boot! It didn't matter that Dale Earnhardt, or his son didn't win. It didn't
matter to me that some of my other favorites didn't win. heck, that Jeff Gordon guy didn't even
win! My friends might be right, I am losing it. I don't care who wins as long as no one gets hurt.
Well, my brother Richard is living day-to-day. Each day draws him closer to the end of anyone's
race with Cancer. I will continue to look for things him and I can do together and the rest of
the family can get in line behind me. They had him more than me while I played Army for 14
years.
Richard, when the race is over, I don't care what the track announcer says about the
race, nor whom he thinks won it... In my mind, and forever, you took home the photo finish
with me.
I apologize for the way this story may seem (sad to some), but to anyone that hasn't experienced
the thrill of being at a race track...well, you haven't, "been there, done that", as they say! If
Jim Croce can sing about time in a bottle and all he would do... well, let's just say, keep your
eyes on turn number three at any race track. Specifically, the front row seats on turn number three
and if you see a tall guy and short guy with bleach blond hair... well, you can figure the rest out
from there.
Author: Paul Gassett
E-Mail: pgassett@dcmde.dcma.mil
