Prologue
My father was a NASCAR driver, so of course he wanted me and my brother to follow into his footsteps. But to be honest, the only thing I enjoyed about NASCAR races was watching them, nothing more. Not to say I didn’t want to be a racer driver growing up, because I was convinced that at a very young age. When I was about 5-years old, my father took me to that gas station every four weeks; How do I know it was every four weeks? I guess you could say math has always been my strong-suit. Anyway, every time we went to the gas station, I watched my dad take care of business. It didn’t seem like much at first, but my dad would always take his time doing it.
Right after he was finished, my dad would get back in the car, make sure the rear-view mirror was adjusted, look right at me as I sat in the backseat, and say the following sentence, “Now let’s see how fast this baby can go, shall we?”
I hesitated, “Um … okay.”
My dad then smiled. “Atta boy!” He turned the car on and stepped on the gas pedal. Right then and there, the car zoomed out. And from where I sat, it was like the beginning of a roller coaster.
