My beautiful bride thought that after 6 full nights of racing and about 210 completed racing laps, that now was a good time to give some initial thoughts about being a race car driver.
Let's get the philosophical out of the way first. I have learned alot about myself, how I relate to people, how I share my faith, the ease and the difficulty of reflecting Christ and Him crucified in the midst of competition, and the needs of a true "getaway" on a regular basis. I truly hadn't realized how much I was lacking that regular "getaway." I have and continue to learn patience each week. Quick decision making is a crucial skill, especially when things happen on the track in the blink of an eye. That skill is being built, along with the numerous things that have to have your attention at any given moment on the track.
Not only had I hoped to be able to fulfill a personal dream, but to be able to share my love of racing with my wife and children and with those in my community. While Sarah was not terribly eager for this endeavor, she has become more than supportive from a distance. She actually is beginning to ENJOY going to the track. (Although I'm sure if you ask her, she would probably deny it.) (: My children are ecstatic when dad walks out from the pits to the stands to spend some time with them between races. Their excitement brings great joy to me. I am very thankful to the track that when we are down getting our awards and trophies that they allow my children to come celebrate with me. And getting that celebratory peck from my wife isn't so bad either.
I have already made some dear friends at the track that I hope remain that way for years to come. I've been given the opportunity to share the Gospel with them both at the track and away.
I've come a long way in knowing and understanding how my car handles and what I am able to do and not do as a driver. I have built comfortable and lasting relationships with everyone who has put a wrench to this car. We are truly a team, and I couldn't do it without them. That's why when something goes wrong, it must be OUR fault. When we have victories, they are OUR victories. We are responsible to and for each other. And I am grateful to all of my sponsors who have provided generously to make this dream a reality.
Just like in all sports there are discouraging moments and disappointments, but those pale in comparison to the great joy and happiness that surrounds going to the track Friday after Friday. We are competitive amidst many great competitors. We work together so that the fans will have a good show. I write this with all sincerity, it is an honor to race with each and every one of the Bumblebee drivers and a great privilege to be in the pits with every driver and crew member.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Weekend Days
A great weekend done and another one is seemingly right around the corner. It's strange now how I think the kick off to a good weekend is dependent on how the race goes on Friday night! What is happening to me!?
This past race we were down several fans due to out of town obligations, but picked up an extra friend from our Wilcox days, so all was not for loss. The Rev couldn't keep up with the modified cars out of Cheyenne, but did well for our yellow bumblebees, collecting yet another quick-time plaque for our bedroom dresser. Joy to the world, I might add.
Earlier on Friday, we got up and headed to Chadron for Lars' Summer Respite Day. Can't believe it was a year ago already that we attended the first one! This year, Easter Seals of Nebraska came in and set up a huge bounce house, which Eden loved and Lars looked at all day. His fear of being unstable overcame him until about an hour before the end of the day when his para finally coaxed him onto it and went all over it with him, encouraging him all the way. I was so happy to see that! The kids also had cheese pizza for lunch and did lots of arts and crafts and odd projects throughout the day.
Meanwhile, Allen and I drove out to Chadron State Park (after hitting a productive garage sale on the way). We loaded Elia into the backpack and set out on a hiking trail, walking high on the buttes, then down through the tall grass. Other than a few important phone calls to The Rev, it was a very nice hike. The weather was great and I wish we had reason to go up there more often. Took a lunch date at Donald's, complete with a chocolate shake too thick to suck through the straw, and ended up back at the center early enough to watch the kids finish their day.
Saturday, I took pictures for a friend's niece's Quincenera, the Mexican festival of a girl's 15th year of life. This was a first for me, and also a learning experience in the way of culture and language! I had a great time and Allen went with with me to the reception, where the Latin music was in the form of a live band and was twice as loud as the race track. As long as you weren't looking for a conversation with the person next to you, you were all set. The girl and her friends learned certain dances for the ceremonial waltz and performed them without a hitch. Other than the 4' high cake leaning dangerously to the right, the whole evening was a success. And I got 552 photos to prove it.
Now it's back to a week of being Wife and Mom, housekeeper, gardener, possible EMT, and bulletin folder for The Rev, as he has a funeral this week and neither a formal secretary nor a computer. One quit and the other one crashed!
But here's to a sunny week ahead that will end with another Friday night at the Race Track!~
This past race we were down several fans due to out of town obligations, but picked up an extra friend from our Wilcox days, so all was not for loss. The Rev couldn't keep up with the modified cars out of Cheyenne, but did well for our yellow bumblebees, collecting yet another quick-time plaque for our bedroom dresser. Joy to the world, I might add.
Earlier on Friday, we got up and headed to Chadron for Lars' Summer Respite Day. Can't believe it was a year ago already that we attended the first one! This year, Easter Seals of Nebraska came in and set up a huge bounce house, which Eden loved and Lars looked at all day. His fear of being unstable overcame him until about an hour before the end of the day when his para finally coaxed him onto it and went all over it with him, encouraging him all the way. I was so happy to see that! The kids also had cheese pizza for lunch and did lots of arts and crafts and odd projects throughout the day.
Meanwhile, Allen and I drove out to Chadron State Park (after hitting a productive garage sale on the way). We loaded Elia into the backpack and set out on a hiking trail, walking high on the buttes, then down through the tall grass. Other than a few important phone calls to The Rev, it was a very nice hike. The weather was great and I wish we had reason to go up there more often. Took a lunch date at Donald's, complete with a chocolate shake too thick to suck through the straw, and ended up back at the center early enough to watch the kids finish their day.
Saturday, I took pictures for a friend's niece's Quincenera, the Mexican festival of a girl's 15th year of life. This was a first for me, and also a learning experience in the way of culture and language! I had a great time and Allen went with with me to the reception, where the Latin music was in the form of a live band and was twice as loud as the race track. As long as you weren't looking for a conversation with the person next to you, you were all set. The girl and her friends learned certain dances for the ceremonial waltz and performed them without a hitch. Other than the 4' high cake leaning dangerously to the right, the whole evening was a success. And I got 552 photos to prove it.
Now it's back to a week of being Wife and Mom, housekeeper, gardener, possible EMT, and bulletin folder for The Rev, as he has a funeral this week and neither a formal secretary nor a computer. One quit and the other one crashed!
But here's to a sunny week ahead that will end with another Friday night at the Race Track!~
Thursday, June 09, 2011
New Shoes
Who on earth doesn't love new shoes? New anything, really?
I get excited over a new spatula in my Christmas stocking, a new wall hanging or piece of decor, or a new type of cleaning powder to make my sink sparkle. New music...ahh...love it! New flowers...New towels! I live for new towels, all fluffy and soft. I like new T-shirts, new underwear and I covet new socks. New food (especially in the form of newly made ice cream), a new toothbrush, or a new bottle of margarita mix in a new blender.
I adore new babies, and smile at newly weds as they walk through that first year of wedded life.
New is Good. New is fun. New is moving on, moving forward, moving ahead.
Don't get me wrong, old is Okay, too...in it's right place.
My grandma is old and I love her. In fact, I hope only to have a fraction of her sprite and wisdom at the age of nearly 88. I hope to be ALIVE at her age.
Old sheets, well washed & worn nearly thin are most definitely a keeper. Old books are pretty neat, too. Old furniture, soft from age & oiled to a shine are a work of art. An old communion chalice makes you think of all the old lips that have graced it.
But old shoes? No way.
Unless you're Lars. And in that case new shoes are scary, uncomfortable, ill fitted, hard on the sole (and on the soul) and an all-around fight to the bitter end.
But this morning, the little brown soft soled Stride Rite tennis shoes that are falling apart on the edges with the foam falling out, and haven't Velcro-ed in weeks found a new home in the old trash can and the little boy was forced to find something new in the way of outer foot wear.
Thanks be to God that Stride Rite had a similar old brown pair of Velcro strap tennis shoes in his new size. And let praises ring that after some effort and convincing from his big sister (the older and wiser one), he accepted them after a short struggle and wore them to therapy this afternoon.
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord this shoe size keep...at least for a little while. Amen.
I get excited over a new spatula in my Christmas stocking, a new wall hanging or piece of decor, or a new type of cleaning powder to make my sink sparkle. New music...ahh...love it! New flowers...New towels! I live for new towels, all fluffy and soft. I like new T-shirts, new underwear and I covet new socks. New food (especially in the form of newly made ice cream), a new toothbrush, or a new bottle of margarita mix in a new blender.
I adore new babies, and smile at newly weds as they walk through that first year of wedded life.
New is Good. New is fun. New is moving on, moving forward, moving ahead.
Don't get me wrong, old is Okay, too...in it's right place.
My grandma is old and I love her. In fact, I hope only to have a fraction of her sprite and wisdom at the age of nearly 88. I hope to be ALIVE at her age.
Old sheets, well washed & worn nearly thin are most definitely a keeper. Old books are pretty neat, too. Old furniture, soft from age & oiled to a shine are a work of art. An old communion chalice makes you think of all the old lips that have graced it.
But old shoes? No way.
Unless you're Lars. And in that case new shoes are scary, uncomfortable, ill fitted, hard on the sole (and on the soul) and an all-around fight to the bitter end.
But this morning, the little brown soft soled Stride Rite tennis shoes that are falling apart on the edges with the foam falling out, and haven't Velcro-ed in weeks found a new home in the old trash can and the little boy was forced to find something new in the way of outer foot wear.
Thanks be to God that Stride Rite had a similar old brown pair of Velcro strap tennis shoes in his new size. And let praises ring that after some effort and convincing from his big sister (the older and wiser one), he accepted them after a short struggle and wore them to therapy this afternoon.
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord this shoe size keep...at least for a little while. Amen.
Monday, June 06, 2011
Friends and Rocks
We've lived in Bridgeport now for 4 years, 4 months, and 14 days. And before yesterday we had yet to climb Courthouse and Jail Rock six miles south of town.
Anybody who knows me and my love for rock climbing must think this is criminal. But we've had 2 more children in that four year time frame, and that tends to change the way you define 'good times'.
At any rate, an old camp friend, Jenny, brought her new husband, Jamie, up to Bridgeport to visit for the weekend. I realize our town isn't much of a tourist trap, but boy, can we fake it really well! The two of them took photos of every thing from Main Street to the Moon. Both British transplants to Colorado, we had fun picking apart their language. Jenny thinks she's speaking very American since living here over a year now, and I laughed that she thought that! Once a Londoner, always a Londoner!
On Friday night, they caught the tail end of the race in Gering, in which The REV took home the "quick time" award in the first event, then raced his heart out in the next match, smacking the wall sideways at about 50 mph, right in front of his wife. He has the bruises to prove it, if anybody want to see them. His wife went for a short walk after that. A late night getting home and kids into bed, we stood in the kitchen snacking and playing 'catch up' until 1230, when Allen got home, then heard his side of the story until after 1:00 in the morning.
Saturday morning was the 5K walk at 7:00 which we skipped and then the Camp Clarke parade, in which Jenny & Jamie were the guest riders in the passenger seat of the ambulance, throwing candy and playing with the sirens. Jamie also got to hold Dave's ceremonial rifle, his first time with a firearm in reach, and the Bridgeport residents got a chuckle out of his child-like excitement.
Jamie is an avid biker, and biked south and west to Redington, up the Gap road, and back to Bridgeport on Saturday afternoon while the rest of us had a huge picnic & napped willingly. Allen had pastoral duties in Gering and Scottsbluff and before he'd returned, we were loaded up and ready to ride out to the fairgrounds for the Truck and Tractor Pull, another celebration of Camp Clarke Days. Now, I don't know anything more about a Pull today than I did last week, except that you see who can pull the most weight the farthest distance. It was fun for the first couple hours, the weather was perfect, the crowd was huge and the announcer was a lot of fun. Then my children got tired, and it wasn't as much fun anymore.
Before the night was over, however, Allen came riding in on the hood of his race car with Andrew (his trusty pit crew) working the pedals, promoting the track and the racing on Friday nights. Allen had a blast and when Andrew got out, The REV jumped in and tore off around the arena, spinning up dust and sand and waving to the crowd. It was a lot of fun.
At Midnight, we were putting the kids in the bath, dreading Sunday morning.
Alas, every good few minutes of sleep must come to an end, and when it did, we were dragging ourselves up to church. After another late lunch and a few hours of resting, (while Jamie was biking 28 miles to Angora Hill and back), we decided on a whim to hike the rocks.
Dave & Kalli came along and Lars stuck to Dave like a magnet, not wanting to leave his side, unless it was to run ahead of get off the trail. I don't know if stupidity took over my brain or what, but my new hiking days come complete with a baby backpack on my back and I decided this would be great fun. Indeed it was, and we hiked straight up for over 2 hours. About half way there, it dawned on me that I was no longer 20-something, and that I was probably going to feel it the next day, but up we continued. Allen and Jenny (who both have better senses about heights) overcame a few fears of the day by going with the group. Then they'd had enough and stayed on level ground while Jamie, Kalli & I continued up, trying to find a way to the top. After several different directions and failed foot holds, we retreated roughly 6 foot from the highest point, calling it a night. The way I look at it is this; if we'd made it to the top this time, we'd have no reason to go back, right?
A late return to the house, and Jenny & Jamie packed up to hit the road. As they were loading up, the pager spoiled our good byes and I was off where duty called.
Now it's Monday. The laundry is piled high, the dishes, higher. The fridge is packed with left overs. Toys are everywhere covering the floor and deck and where there are not toys, there are drink boxes, cups, crumbs, newspapers, mail, more clothes, shoes, and bags of 'stuff' waiting to find their way home.
But here I sit.
Contemplating Old Friends and thanking God for New Friends, too.
Anybody who knows me and my love for rock climbing must think this is criminal. But we've had 2 more children in that four year time frame, and that tends to change the way you define 'good times'.
At any rate, an old camp friend, Jenny, brought her new husband, Jamie, up to Bridgeport to visit for the weekend. I realize our town isn't much of a tourist trap, but boy, can we fake it really well! The two of them took photos of every thing from Main Street to the Moon. Both British transplants to Colorado, we had fun picking apart their language. Jenny thinks she's speaking very American since living here over a year now, and I laughed that she thought that! Once a Londoner, always a Londoner!
On Friday night, they caught the tail end of the race in Gering, in which The REV took home the "quick time" award in the first event, then raced his heart out in the next match, smacking the wall sideways at about 50 mph, right in front of his wife. He has the bruises to prove it, if anybody want to see them. His wife went for a short walk after that. A late night getting home and kids into bed, we stood in the kitchen snacking and playing 'catch up' until 1230, when Allen got home, then heard his side of the story until after 1:00 in the morning.
Saturday morning was the 5K walk at 7:00 which we skipped and then the Camp Clarke parade, in which Jenny & Jamie were the guest riders in the passenger seat of the ambulance, throwing candy and playing with the sirens. Jamie also got to hold Dave's ceremonial rifle, his first time with a firearm in reach, and the Bridgeport residents got a chuckle out of his child-like excitement.
Jamie is an avid biker, and biked south and west to Redington, up the Gap road, and back to Bridgeport on Saturday afternoon while the rest of us had a huge picnic & napped willingly. Allen had pastoral duties in Gering and Scottsbluff and before he'd returned, we were loaded up and ready to ride out to the fairgrounds for the Truck and Tractor Pull, another celebration of Camp Clarke Days. Now, I don't know anything more about a Pull today than I did last week, except that you see who can pull the most weight the farthest distance. It was fun for the first couple hours, the weather was perfect, the crowd was huge and the announcer was a lot of fun. Then my children got tired, and it wasn't as much fun anymore.
Before the night was over, however, Allen came riding in on the hood of his race car with Andrew (his trusty pit crew) working the pedals, promoting the track and the racing on Friday nights. Allen had a blast and when Andrew got out, The REV jumped in and tore off around the arena, spinning up dust and sand and waving to the crowd. It was a lot of fun.
At Midnight, we were putting the kids in the bath, dreading Sunday morning.
Alas, every good few minutes of sleep must come to an end, and when it did, we were dragging ourselves up to church. After another late lunch and a few hours of resting, (while Jamie was biking 28 miles to Angora Hill and back), we decided on a whim to hike the rocks.
Dave & Kalli came along and Lars stuck to Dave like a magnet, not wanting to leave his side, unless it was to run ahead of get off the trail. I don't know if stupidity took over my brain or what, but my new hiking days come complete with a baby backpack on my back and I decided this would be great fun. Indeed it was, and we hiked straight up for over 2 hours. About half way there, it dawned on me that I was no longer 20-something, and that I was probably going to feel it the next day, but up we continued. Allen and Jenny (who both have better senses about heights) overcame a few fears of the day by going with the group. Then they'd had enough and stayed on level ground while Jamie, Kalli & I continued up, trying to find a way to the top. After several different directions and failed foot holds, we retreated roughly 6 foot from the highest point, calling it a night. The way I look at it is this; if we'd made it to the top this time, we'd have no reason to go back, right?
A late return to the house, and Jenny & Jamie packed up to hit the road. As they were loading up, the pager spoiled our good byes and I was off where duty called.
Now it's Monday. The laundry is piled high, the dishes, higher. The fridge is packed with left overs. Toys are everywhere covering the floor and deck and where there are not toys, there are drink boxes, cups, crumbs, newspapers, mail, more clothes, shoes, and bags of 'stuff' waiting to find their way home.
But here I sit.
Contemplating Old Friends and thanking God for New Friends, too.
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