My dad still listens to the races every weekend, watches when he can. The names of the drivers are new -- Bobby Labonte and Jeff Gordon are my new distant cousins, out there on the track with uncles Darrell Waltrip, Dale Earnhardt and Bill Elliott.
I watch it from afar. The roar is too loud for my office-spoiled ears, and the smell too strong. But I remember, and all it takes is a look at those decal-laden cars to bring me back to asphalt dreams and grease-covered roots.
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