Indy 500 Bonds Father, Daughter

Last Sunday I had the chance to attend one of the greatest racing spectacles in the world: the Indianapolis 500.

The funny thing was I was thinking of attending the race — I even wrote about it in a last week — and I’d heard it was often easy to get tickets. I thought about taking my dad. He went years ago with my brothers when they were just boys.

Before I had the chance to ask my father if he wanted to go, he told me he would be going with my brother.

I was 1) surprised and 2) completely bummed out.

I wasn’t invited. My brother had four tickets: one for my dad the others were for my brother's wife and a friend. I would be missing out on a bonding experience with my father.

At my age bonding with my dad may seem silly, but I never spent a lot of time with him growing up. I’ve reconciled the way things were when I was a kid and I’m not angry. The fact is I spent most of my time during my younger years with my mom.

As they say, everything happens for a reason. I never expected my mom would die before my father. I’m sure he never thought it would happen either.

When she died, he was left to ponder all the things that he hadn’t done over the years. I was left to wonder how I would go on without a mom—we were extremely close.

When she died, I was living in Colorado but a few years later I moved home to the Chicago area and stayed with my dad temporarily. During that time my dad and I were like roommates, and I grew to know him so much better. We became friends.

As a child I was babied. I was the only girl in the family and I was treated like I was fragile. I never camped or skied until I was an adult. I wasn’t really encouraged to do sports.

My mom worried about me—a lot. Maybe it was because I was the only girl and I had been very sick as a child. I don’t know.

Once I spent time with my father as an adult, however, I began to realize that for years I thought I was like my mom when in reality, I was really much more like my father.

We are both are very outgoing and stubborn. We don’t believe in changing who we are to please others and we tend to prefer our friends to our family. We are also very strong willed and determined.

So when I heard that I couldn’t go to Indy, I was disappointed but I let it go. There wasn't anything I could do to change that.

Then clouds parted and a miracle happened. My brother’s friend couldn’t attend. They needed someone for the ticket.

I didn’t care that I wasn’t the first to be asked and that I was a last resort for the ticket (well, maybe just a little bit). I was excited I would get to attend the Indy 500 as it celebrated its 100^th anniversary. And I would be there with my dad.

He will turn 84 later this summer. I try to enjoy as much time with him as possible, because one of these days he will be gone. I don’t believe in having regrets. Time spent with him now is more precious than all the riches on the face of the Earth.

So, when he repeatedly tells me about the time he took my brothers to the Indy 500 and how their tickets were way on the other side of the track from his, and, how he sat behind a man who “ate 500 miles of Kentucky Fried Chicken” I listen.

But, now, we have our moment. We were there for the 100^th anniversary, with so many more people than that time he went years ago. We watched as once racer (Simona de Silvestra in the nuclear clean-energy car) limped along, trying to make it and finally bowed out.

 We sat and watched the pit crews for Danica Patrick and the Andrettis. We were amazed at the speed and the sound. We worried about rain but enjoyed the sun. Our Indy experience was one with great weather and very few accidents. Together we saw one of the greatest racing spectacles on a milestone anniversary.

I don’t really care who won the race or that a first-timer lost it in the corner on his last lap. What matters to me is that I will cherish the time I spent with my dad, knowing one day those memories are all I will have.