Every weekend, you can find me at tracks and car-meets in Southern California. You may not know me, and you likely do not notice me, but I am there. I am walking through rows of beautiful machines, admiring the design work that went into the lines and curves of the fenders, the wheels, and the wings. With visions of carbon fiber, titanium, and tire smoke swirling through my head, I step aside—I sink into the background—the sounds of engines, the smell of oil, and the movement of the crowds seem to pause.

As this world around me grinds to a halt, I see the canopies, banners, and trailers and I ask myself, “what I ‘m trying to do?

Just like that, the ratatatatata, the rumble, the scream, the speed, it snaps me back to the here and now.

Frankly, I don't know who I am or what I am doing, but I can tell you this, I am here. Surrounded by the people and machines that I love, trying to find a purpose, and to make sense of loss and destruction. I am trying to remind everyone of what we are here for; each other.

Whatever you want to be, whoever you want to be, no matter how disconnected or alone you may feel, we are all together in this drive.

We all feel the wind with the windows down, we are all

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