I think I’ve mentioned before that my youngest son races cars. He started with Hobby Stocks, and has moved up in classes to Stock cars. He’s raced cars since he was 14. He’s 22. He’s a natural. This isn’t just a mom bragging, but it’s been observed and talked about by people who know these things. He doesn’t just race them, either – he builds them. He can take a motor apart and put it back together in less time than it takes normal human beings to get their oil changed. He’s that good.
I usually don’t go to his races. I’ve got too good of an imagination. I’ve told him, he could go flying off the track and be just fine and I’d be crying and moaning and saying “my baby!” and would embarrass the hell out of him. It’s better I’m not there. Hubby goes every time and calls me the minute he’s raced to let me know how he did and that the car is on the trailer and I can relax now. I’ve watched tapes of the races, and that’s okay – even when he rolled four times – because he was sitting three feet from me watching the same thing. It’s the fear of the unknown.
A couple of years ago I went to Supernationals. It’s a big deal around these parts. They get cars from all over the country – and even Australia! You have to be there at least two hours early to get a decent seat, and it goes for several days what with try-outs and all. I went to the final night. My son had already qualified and was going to start in the front of the pack. That ‘s usually a good place for him. Of course, his class didn’t race until almost the end of the evening. I’d been watching race after race for hours. It seemed every single race I watched had an accident or two. Everyone walked away – nobody got hurt. That doesn’t matter. It does, but not in my head. By the time my son raced I was fighting a migraine, trying not to vomit on the extra-large man in front of me and holding my daughter’s hands (they’d gone to support me).
Son came in third – after a doozy of a race. I was very proud. I was very sick. I haven’t gone to a race since.
Until last night.
Yeah, I went. It was fine. He didn’t wreck. No motor parts flew off. He won his heat race and came in fourth in the main. He’s leading in track points right now and has won several times at this track over the years. He has little kids and old men come up to him after the race and ask for autographs and advice. He jokes and trades tips with other drivers and crews. He has the admiration and respect of people twice or three-times his age and experience. I’m very proud of him.
He thanked me for going to the race. I thanked him for not wrecking. We hugged. I love this guy!
I’ll probably go again… in a year or so…