The hands of time can be abrupt, imbuing us with incredible gifts and while those gifts are there for the taking, they really just on loan. Like the Cowboy or girl who rides a horse or bull, our racing gladiators ride but fall off as well. And as well it should be, because the old days and the new ones share the bright and melancholy. It is a time for cheer and a time for reflection.

Past the ticket taker and concession stands, to the endless cycle of faces that making a racing program magical, we see life from all perspectives and if we pay attention we might find ourselves. I have a mission during my remaining years, relishing the idea that we can help people in the now, rather than enjoying the music in a silent march to nowhere.

The shuttered gates of a racetrack, with choking vines and cracking structures is a sad song. Cheers for your drivers and the continuous push to another place, it is time to hit the ground and stay, aggressively capturing the moment in our mind's eye. Our passing heros like Richie Evans, Corky Cookman, Charlie Jarzombek and many more, scout heaven for a new hero and they send them daily.

It does seem like any real family, with the whole family tree dating back to the moonshine days and races on the beaches of Florida. A day when mufflers were an afterthought and Richard Petty was a young, with maybe Brylcream stuck on the head, listening to the hot music of that day.

From the first love to the first lap and that first big finish. The culmination of teamwork and the idea of your favorite moment of your life. When getting to the track and maybe finding your wife of the future or the high school prom where life had more positives and we were invincible.

Right now we see a lot of drivers driving into the milieu of those remembered and welcoming the new breed with their beautiful wraps and snappy engine. Like fighter pilots in the latest jets and fittingly so, because the grace and slick lines spell s-p-e-e-d in many eras and while the cost of the program changes, the content always remains the same. Here, there or somewhere else.

"I only ride wild horses (fast cars) in my dreams". Just like the guy's nemesis and horse, he too ages. Fortunately for the race car, some bondo, a new engine and paint job is the restoration of a story. Very many of them! One day the ultimate gladiator and on down the road you cannot even get into the car. The thought of that makes you squirm. But tell that to the 81 year old driver who still is competitive of Buzzie Reutimann at 74, clinching 0ver 1,300 features and still riding on a rail.

When you see the grand marshals of racing, hall-of-famers who paved the tracks with memories so large that the aficionado of our great sport realizes who paid the price. From Wendell Scott, to the King and the Intimidator do not forget their controversies deeply embed the spirit of racing. An old young warrior holding his helmet in one hand, no Hans Device, old pipes from a greenhouse and the decals or painted on numbers to the immaculate stencils and wraps of this current generation and I must say, "You all done well with that". Racing is in good hands.

Unlike the big drawing professional sports most drivers relish a compliment. A wrench in one hand and an autograph book in another. Most will never have trading cards worth millions but for the fortunate and forward-thinking, relics of the days with the really greasy food, L-60s on Superbirds, Camaros and the might Mopars. 454 C.I.D. or a 327 C.I beast in a dent weathered chariot soon for the tall grass and neglect of a kind.

Thirty years from now, in 2045, someone will break out some pictures of 2016-2016. They will argue and argue about the best of all time and we will wink in our rocking chair or gush at the track with a stranger. They will look at us oddly until they turn 40 or 50 and at those ages they will reflect on how young they really are.

So be the next Reutimann and chalk up memories and maybe 2,000 wins. Give the kid an autograph and encourage the youngins who want to be tomorrows heroes, parading on the victory lap and remembering the days of yore.