Red-flagged
My racing weekend got washed away. It's floating down the Trinity River on its slow way to the Gulf of Mexico. Exceedingly disappointing. I got teased; I got to see 116 laps of the Busch Series race on Saturday, nearly 40 of which were under yellow. The tow trucks that were driving around Texas Motor Speedway in an attempt to dry the track went faster than the cars did, most of the time. The main event on Sunday was washed out completely, postponed until Monday. Tough cookies for me; I had to work. Thank God I didn't buy the tickets; that would have been $200 headed down the Trinity, also.

Oh, well.

I did get to re-connect with a good friend from Missouri. He came down for the weekend to go to the races, and was very good company. Like all of my friends, we only see each other sporadically, but you'd never know. We can pick right up right where we left off with no difficulty whatsoever. He's taking a hiatus from the working world to get a degree in computer science, and playing Mr. Mom to his two kids. Good for him.

The weekend ended on an odd note. The uncle from whom I got the race tickets works in another part of the state. He's the oldest of my dad's many siblings, and I don't know him very well. In fact, he had given the race tickets to another one of his siblings, who forwarded them to me. This was why I found it odd to hear his voice when I was startled out of bed at 12:30 a.m. Monday by a ringing phone. I thought he wanted his race tickets back. Turned out he was stuck at the airport; his flight from Vegas had been canceled. All air travel going through our area was disrupted by the same storm system that had washed out the race. All the area hotels were full, as was the airport. He was calling to ask if he could crash on our couch; he wasn't going to be able to get another flight until Monday afternoon. Sure, I said. So he hopped a taxi for the 40-some-mile one-way trip from the airport to my house. That ride probably cost as much as a pretty nice hotel room would have.

Again, though I hadn't seen him for probably three years, it was like he was any other family member. I took him back to the airport on my way to work, and learned lots of interesting things. He's an interesting guy, and he gave me another glimpse into my incredibly diverse gene pool.

So it was by no means a totally lost weekend. They'll be racing next year. I'll try again then. In the meantime, I'm going to reflect a bit on the loyalty of family and friends, no matter how distant. I've crossed paths lately with a lot of people who have for years operated on the extreme outer periphery of my life. I'm sure it means something. I must figure out what.