After hitting an invisible wall – a few, missing an old turn and sliding into a mental ditch; maybe a solo roadtrip is what I need.

People say things like: ‘You’ll have to find your own fun’ (never the issue..learning to enjoy the same things again or not is), ‘Find another gear’ (or maybe another lane) and ‘Shift focus’ (discover something).

Losing friends is never easy and unfortunately several deaths have darkened the last decade. I find myself talking to them more all time, usually individually. Other times collectively as if they are all sitting in the stands, just over there. Now I can hear them chatting…Road-Trip…Road-Trip… This makes some sense as I went on road trips with most of them and talked about road trip adventures with all of them. 

As John McGann recently wrote for Hot Rod magazine (a favorite since childhood) “Starting Line: The Allure of the Open Road” around the Route 66 100th anniversary, “A road trip changes you. It offers a break from the routine; you see new places, people, scenery, and perspectives on life. They are therapeutic, rejuvenating, and reinvigorating. Take the opportunity this year to travel by car if you can.”

Wisdom in a rear view mirror. I need to plan another roadtrip. On a weathered highway where familiar turns towards different freeways for a destination, for a new event. New exposure through a travel scarred windshield. Hours of solitude and moving scenery eventually playing tricks on tired eyes – driving until it hurts, eventually yielding for a nap and merging back onto the road for more motorized mediation. Roadtrip.

In a life lived around a storied affair with motor vehicles a roadtrip could be another key paragraph – maybe even a chapter.

This phrase has seemingly been around longer than my time and yet until recently hasn’t applied; now it occupies my mind when I think of the last decade and the life of a close friend, a brother – if you believe family is chosen.

What to do with a request from a dying friend, fading memories and a growing collection of stories? 

In a world consumed with electric words magically generated by soulless robots, handwritten notes on stained paper appeal..even more. 

“Listen, smile, agree and then do whatever the fuck you were gonna do anyway,” is a quote attributed to Robert Downey Jr. but it feels like advice from my friend, my brother Steve Huff.

1+300=1,300 

If a picture is really worth a thousand words – then the writing prompt is some kind of mathematical magic trick. Or literary illusion. Photographic puzzle?

Who are these guys? Brothers? Steve often used that word. Friends? Bryan frequently talked about his friend, still does. Teammates? Coconspiritors? 

Where are they? What were they up to? So many questions. Can they be answered? Does it matter? It’s not simply black and white.

Focus on their faces, crows feet and mischievous smiles tells you these old boys likely watched Evel Knievel jump motorcycles over things on tv. They probably made hydroplanes of scrap wood from construction sites to drag behind their bikes. Lived through the heyday of legends like Don Garlits and Mario Andretti. Certainly fell in love with the American Muscle Cars that dominated streets in the seventies and eighties. Undoubtedly they enjoyed too many burnouts and inhaled more than their share of exhaust fumes. Good times…

Zoom out and notice the chain link fence – built to keep a few in and most out.

In years gone by it was believed by some groups of people that a photograph captured a bit of the subject’s spirit..hopefully this is true. If there is literary immortality created by stories about people; photographs must be included in the immortalization.

Steve Huff and the Steve Huff Motorsports team had his electric dragster campaigned as “Faster Than Cancer” at Pacific Raceways for the NHRA NorthWest Nationals to break his own record and show off a little for hometown friends and fans at the home track. This was during what Steve called, “His time of greatest hits.”

Two old friends. One racer. One photographer. Same home track.

This image found its way following Steve’s death.

Posed pictures are nice. Candid photos are real. Take and share both.

The boy could climb a tall tree and see (over all fences) down the drag strip, road course, kart and motocross tracks. And maybe even spot a pretty girl in the stands.

When the controlled chaos stops…silence takes over.

Peace in the wild.

“You just have to!” raced around sparkling blue eyes – his only physical feature unchanged by disease and treatments. This response to why a motorsports fan should make a trip to the salt flats of Bonneville made my same colored eyes water, still does.

“We have a lot of memories brother,” repeats in my ear most days. Especially today.

World speed records have his name on them. Racer in the books, builder for some and character to many.

Of all the places Steve Huff went fast…this one held a spiritual connection. Here I am.

As promised the experience is beyond words.

What makes a track a “Home Track?”
Is it the one you grew up near?
One you live by now?
Favorite place to go for racing?
Is it about memories or the place itself?
A place where people say things like, “You’re the only one I know here” or “This is the only place I see you.”

I suppose it’s different for everyone and even changes as people move around, or worse when a track goes away. For me it’s a blend. I grew up about a half hour away from Seattle International Raceways towards Mt. Rainier and now live about a half hour towards the Puget Sound from Pacific Raceways (different name – same place).
I grew up coming here with friends and never stopped. I’ve brought girlfriends, walked my dogs around the trees and stands and made new friends here. I’ve been coming here a lot more these last few years and every single time my seventeen year old self high-fives me near the [Welcome Race Fans] sign.

WelcomeRaceFans

https://youtu.be/hSXn-qSkRPo

Is it the one you grew up near?

One you live by now?

Favorite place to go for racing?

Is it about memories or the place itself?

A place where people say things like, “You’re the only one I know here” or “This is the only place I see you.”

I suppose it’s different for everyone and even changes as people move around, or worse when a track goes away. For me it’s a blend. I grew up about a half hour away from Seattle International Raceways towards Mt. Rainier and now live about a half hour towards the Puget Sound from Pacific Raceways (different name – same place).

I grew up coming here with friends and never stopped. I’ve brought girlfriends, walked my dogs around the trees and stands and made new friends here. I’ve been coming here a lot more these last few years and every single time my seventeen year old self high-fives me near the [Welcome Race Fans] sign.

youtube.com/watch