Growing up in Columbia, SC, I remember several local shops and gas stations had race cars they worked on during the week and raced on Thursday, Friday or Saturday nights. I remember guys like Lil Bud Moore, Sam Sommers, Tiny Lund, Cale Yarborough , Joe Penland, and others making the climb from the local tracks to the big time. I remember hanging out at the small shop by Owens Field where the number 55 of Tiny Lund was built. I remember going over to Camden and hanging out at Bondy Long's shop where Ned Jarrett's cars were built. We were in the way, I'm sure, but we were always treated very well although we were merely teens at the time.

I remember when it was my dream, and the dream of so many of my peers I hung around with to be in the Winner's Circle at Darlington, or even to drive there. I remember we raced bicycles on tracks built all over the community all the time pretending those bikes were cars and we were doing the things on the tracks our heroes were doing on Sunday afternoons. Somewhere, not sure when or how, racing lost all that. It was big buck teams, haulers for the cars that cost more than an entire race team needed to run the season in the 60s and it seemed the little guy and the little teams were out. Even in the Nationwide now, the little teams seem to be at a huge disadvantage although Danny Efland and Timmy Hill, two young drivers in whom I have a big interest, did well at Darlington it just seems that unless you're a part of four or five of the huge teams, you go out and ride around until you blow, are wrecked, or decide you've made as much as you can make for that day and park it.

To see Trevor win Daytona was awesome. To see Reagen win Darlington was not only awesome but quite inspirational. He did it! Furniture Row Motorsports did it! Frankly, watching the crew celebrate as the checked flag fell was sort of odd because it seemed as if they really didn't understand what was involved in celebration. It was probably the truest form of celebration since Dale Earnhardt won his Daytona 500.

The days of the small garages, the open trailers, are gone forever. The dreams however, of people like the young Bayne and Smith live on. Something very special about that. Dreams do come true sometimes. Even those of an old man watching the race from a recliner in his den who had the hope and audacity to dream, in those last few laps, that the young guy who didn't even stop to get new tires could win. Then to see him slap the wall on that last lap and hold it with his foot in the carburator and held on. Then to see that car coming off number four with Carl Edwards not close enough to even challenge brought this old man out of his chair, on his feet, stifling a loud cheer because Ann was already asleep. It felt good. It still feels good today.

There are those who will talk long and loudly about Kyle and Kevin. So be it. I would rather talk about how Carl Edwards was so gracious in defeat and so complimentary of Smith. I admit I've had my problems with Duck Boy but he sure impressed me Saturday night. Also to see Brad Keselowski and Greg Biffle congratulating the winner in Victory Lane overcame the stupid shenanigans of the two at the end of pit road looking for valet parking.

I hope to see more of these little guys winning races. I want to see more of the true racers coming to the front and realizing a dream. To Dream The Impossible Dream was a great song from the "Man of Lamancha" but it does seem to fit well in the cotton and peanut fields of South Carolina on a Mother's Day weekend.