Bob and my Dad and a few other friends would ride up the highway with a nickel’s worth of gas between them, hoping their bikes would get them all the way to the beach. Of course it wasn’t enough, so in the dead of the night when no one was around they’d “borrow” a little bit of gas from the state vehicles left on the side of the highway for the next day’s work. They poured it in their tanks with precision, not wasting a drop and got back on their way with their goal of seeing the motorcycle races keeping them motivated.

One time they siphoned out diesel gas and that made for some nasty backfires and general balking from the bikes, putting a kink in their stealth ride through the night.

Most of the time they couldn’t afford a hotel, but on occasion they’d pool their funds and rent one room…usually resulting in getting evicted. I guess the hotel manager wasn’t too keen on the three or four motorcycles that were parked in the room with the young excited men. They’d time their ride so they’d be at the beach the night before the race, that way they could get on the beach before the men in charge starting charging to park. They’d park their bikes and sleep in the palmetto bushes… so come morning when the tickets were being taken, they were already on the inside…gee, I guess they didn’t need a ticket. These guys loved their racing and they weren’t going to miss it.

Somewhere in the middle of their adventures they couldn’t come up with a decent plan for the future, so they joined the Air Force…thought they’d try it for a couple of years.

My Dad worked his way through the ranks, married, had children and while serving his 20+ years in the military obtained his Masters Degree. He went on to work for a College as the head of their financial department and taught accounting classes on occasion.

He was a delegate at the graduations and watched as the young people crossed the stage, grabbing their diplomas, eager to start their life adventures as well. His life has indeed survived his wayward years of sneaking in to races…but dang I love to hear those stories.

After retirement, he and Bob began going to the races again. Of course the races are now run at the actual Daytona track, not on the beach, and the bikes are much sleeker and faster, but the sense of excitement is the same as it always was for these two guys. Put them together, give them a beer and sit them in the stands and they aren’t retired men, they’re young kids again, wishing like heck they could be out there racing. They’ve wandered through the infield, and on occasion they’ve had pit passes and made more memorable moments.

Their wives watched with pride as their “boys” went out to play. And the years passed.

Not too long ago, Bob was diagnosed with cancer, and he has been unable to come down for the races these past couple of years. The cancer has spread and all that love him know his time on earth is limited, but Bob still pushes on. He has his bad days and his good, much like anyone else does. He and my Dad talk on the phone at least a couple times a week, sometimes more. Dad tries to keep Bob’s spirits up … it’s always good to hear from your best buddy, no matter what the circumstances.

A long time ago, Bob’s son bought tickets for his Dad to go a NASCAR race…not just any race, but the race at “Dega”. This Sunday is his day. All of the family and friends are hoping the weather will cooperate and Bob’s illness will be kind enough to let him have this day with his son and the big beautiful cars.

Bob will be wheeled in to the perfect place to watch the race, and he’ll be so proud that his son is there with him. They’ll tell each other what they know of racing, Bob with his words of those wonderful memories and adventures, his son of the new modern stuff they’ve got in these garages. And somewhere in the midst of it all, Bob will feel a little twinge of emotion as he remembers the years he and Dad have sat at Daytona watching the motorcycles, and he’ll wish for a minute that Dad was sitting right there with him. And there’s no doubt that my Dad will feel that twinge all the way back here in Florida, as he’s watching the race and wishing he was right there with Bob.

I hope this race is the best of the year, the craziest, the loudest, the one that everyone walks away from nodding and agreeing that it was the best they’ve ever seen in all their years of coming to Dega. I hope it’s the best for Bob.

Enjoy the race our dear Bob, we will all be there with you…hoping you are adding another memory to the heart full that you already have…and the ones you’ve given to others.

NOTE: I'm a one man show, not supported by anyone. If you wish to donate to help offset expense, it would be appreciated:

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