At the end of a race season my dad writes a poem for us as a team, thanking those who are most important to us, and he does it in the meter of ” ‘Twas the night before Christmas.” This year is special to us as we retire from racing, and I’m feeling silly and nostalgic at the same time. This is a warning to all my real poet friends: I know you are artists, and I’m not, so I appreciate you.  Let the silliness commence!

’twas the night before the last race
And all through the RV
The Sloan family was tucked in
generations one two and three

The datsuns sat all frosty
And covering with dew
While some dreamt of candy
And others of passing in turn two.

While I in my sleeping bag
hoped for sleep in the cold
I reminisced of the years spent
At our Nelson Ledges home.

I thought of those wrecks
And searching the woods for a lost wheel
I was thankful for friends made here
Who were many and real

The times we’ve blown smoke,
blew a motor or gears,
the time I rolled over
there was cursing and tears.

When disaster would strike
it meant I had time to say
Thanks to our tow drivers
Willie and Jay.

Sandi, Debbie, Maurice, Doc,
and the years before showers.
And Les, Connie and Donna
Who raised me up in the tower.

The Hoppers, the Sloans,
The Harringtons too.
Walk the track, run the go-cart,
Play in the kiddie pool.

I thought of loving friends
and all those decked out in white
Flagging, splitting, smiling,
making sure seat belts are tight.

To the Crew: we’ll never forget
the hard work from you all,
we give meals as payment
To Bernie, Teddy and Paul

See the racing is only part,
a small fraction in fact
of the reason we love racing
at Nelson’s Road Track

The family, the friendships,
the lessons learned and the food,
That and passing dad
On the outside of turns 1 and 2.



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