As I reflected on the events of this past week and what it means to have someone care about us, my thoughts turned to my father. I wondered how many of us have a passion for something because our father put it there. Greetings in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I remember the first time I went to a racetrack, it was in the mid 60’s and my dad brought me to Stafford Motor Speedway. I was your typical seven year old, I didn’t sit still, wanted everything the concession stand had to offer and watching the racing was secondary. However, I was hooked, I wanted to come back.
To this day, I get that feeling in my stomach; excitement like it was the first time. I attend Stafford’s Friday night races many times every season but that feeling is still there. I hope I never lose it. Thanks dad.
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