Hello from Rochelle, Illinois. I am currently stopped outside a hotel using their Wi-Fi. I have been thinking about the weekend on my drive and the difficulties I had. I wonder how many times my story has been repeated in other people's lives? To want to do something, to want to be a part of something, but to be unable to.
I told myself I would not ask for help. I was going to get that book to Jaime McMurray by myself. I was sure of this. As the story turned out I did ask for help, but asking for help is something that I don't do often. I must have looked silly standing by Jamie's pit for 30 minutes yesterday morning. I tried to look like I knew what I was doing by constantly checking my phone and looking at the clouds coming in, but in all reality I was socially paralyzed. I knew what I needed to do but lacked the skills to do it.
Again, I'm sure my story has been repeated many times and through all the hardship and my declaration yesterday of, "NEVER AGAIN" I am glad it happened because, perhaps, it will give you an insight into the struggle and pain that goes on.
I hope you what you take from this is that there are times I will want to say something but will need help. Asking for help though may just be as hard as what I am trying to do so sometimes don't expect me to ask. I am afraid of asking for various reasons and each time the reason may be different as to why I am afraid, but please know that I may want to say something, but words may elude me.
So, as I said, I am in Rochelle which is about four hours from home. The weather was ultra foggy this morning and I was sure I would have a run in with a deer or horse, but all went well. (I've hit a horse before, but never a deer.)
An interesting event occurred though and this is the real motivation behind this article. About an hour out of Shawano I started following this blue Chevy Cobalt. I don't know where they were going, but the passengers in the rear had Milwaukee Brewers caps on so perhaps they were headed to a Brewers game. Anyway, I followed them for almost two hours and the child in the rear kept looking back at me. This, in a way, was kind of odd, but having my sunglasses on I felt protected.
Mile after mile clicked by and eventually their exit was not my exit. As I passed the driver, one of the passengers in the rear rolled the window down and waived to me. This shook me. Sound silly maybe, but I instantly felt a connection with them.
Connections with people are rare, but it happened and happened suddenly. In my yet to be published 2nd book I talk about a similar situation, but this is a strange phenomenon as this isn't the first, or second time this has happened.
I now wonder who they were and where they were going?. How much did they talk about the black Nissan Maxima with a knockoff hood behind them? Will they ever remember me? I, for at least a second, was a part of their lives, but then, just like a off ramp, was out of their lives when the road parted.
The next 200 or so miles will be filled with thoughts as I return to my normal life and the sunglasses experiment. There will be no NASCAR drivers that I will be trying to get my book to nor events that require perfection. Yet, through it all, I bet I still will be thinking about that family in the blue Chevy Cobalt.