Will my son ever know who Jackie Stewart is?
Maybe the more important question is, will he even care? I can only speculate and say that I really hope so. If I was asked the latter question a week ago, I would have said no. But names are funny things, they can remind you of other things, and then it’s like scraping the proverbial iceberg, you can barely see what is really there.
Last week-end I had an impulse. Somebody I do work for, races autos for a hobby. I invited myself to go watch, knowing Lance my son would be interested, I figured it would make a good enough excuse for my wife to let me go if I took him. He LOVES cars, Cars is his favorite movie. He is less than three and can rattle off the 20 or so individual characters that make up the cast of that movie. Then I decided to call my Dad. I thought he would be mildly interested, at the least he would feel guilted into coming just to spend time with his son and grandson. I only say this because nobody wants to hear the lyrics of Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle" and fell like they can totally relate. He obliged to take the time out of his very grueling schedule to make the 150 mile round trip. Notwithstanding we were going somewhere none of us had ever been to. The only thing we were going off of was a half completed website describing the venue of this racing facility out in Tooele Utah. But the three of us love cars and seeing them race. Don't we?
A little background… My Grandpa Bruford, was not the idealistic grandpa every kid thinks of. Instead, my Dad’s Dad "The Colonel" as family members call him today, was a retired career Marine, battle hardened on the island of Guadalcanal during WWII. A Veteran of three wars, he said very little and drank a lot. He was always kind to me, but sadly not to my four other siblings. Apparently per family converstions, he also wasn't so nice to any of my nine cousins either, with the exception of my cousin John, who was his first grandson, and I guess since I was lucky enough to be The Colnel’s first grandson from his only son, (making me the family namesake) I was in the club. The only graduations he ever went to were John's Law School commencement and my High School ceremony (that is another entry for another day), come to think of it, he didn't make it to my Dads college graduation. I digress....
I do remember though with great fondness riding around in red a hand built go-Kart that The Colonel built. Without looking at a picture I can recall the cart. It looked like half a barrel was used for the hood and it made room over the floorpan for the drivers and passengers legs. The seat was a wide green bench covered in military green vinyl the kind of stuff cheap poolside furniture was upholstered with. There was a cotton belt to go across the lap of both passenger and driver. A white steering wheel and on the side I think was a handbrake of somesort. If memory serves me there was a bell attached to a pull string to act as kind of a horn. Behind the seat was the spray painted lawn mower engine and drive train. The tires were maybe 9 or 10 inch pneumatics. On the hood of the cart I could find my name hand lettered in paint contrasting against the red background, my name, along with the other names of my cousins and siblings. It was our cart, the coolest gift I probably never thanked somebody for. I wasn’t old enough to drive but loved the ride. My dad and my cousins Chris and John could drive me around and I was thrilled every time. I vividly recall the anticipation of waiting in the driveway for my turn and going down the hills of that neighborhood in Bonita California. It’s vague but I seem to recall John claiming he was the great Jackie Stewart, famed Grand Prix Champion, as we descended on the hills at breakneck speed with a lawnmower engine behind us revving close to the redline. On those weekends, during those rides, my cousin John was my Jackie Stewart. Interestingly John and I both share the middle name Stewart, as does my Father and Grandfather, and now my son Lance. It’s a memory like that that I can share with him that makes me say “ Yes definetly my son will know who Jackie Stewart is. But I can only pray that I will be the kind of father that will inspire him to care about that memory too.
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Nice... I remember that go kart too. I also remember feeling ripped off because I probably rode in in once, maybe twice. One of those memories involved me getting out of the car, seeing a squirrel on the side of the road that I wanted to pet, and having "the Colonel" slap me on the back of the head for wanting to pet something so cute yet potentially rabid. "Damn" and "Hell" are two words that come to mind whenever I revisit Bonita California in my mind's eye... and now I'm spending the rest of my life trying to compensate for those missed go-kart rides.
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