IndyCar race comes to town every year. I remember it well. Decades ago, a friend and I tried to squeeze ourselves against a fence so we could see a sliver of what zoomed by. Then a couple ticketholders saw us and gave us their lanyards just as they were leaving. Score! We spent the last hours of that day high-fiving, eating popcorn, drinking soda as we sat in our gifted seats right across the pitstop! That’s when I really fell in love with motor sports racing. Over the years, I’ve attended whenever I can. It’s also the contributing reason why I drive a sports car today, but without the skill. Nevertheless, the roar of the engine and the squeal of rubber always brings me back to those fond childhood memories.

I’ve introduced my daughter to it since she was little. We don’t buy tickets for the stands as I initially thought she might be bothered by the noise and heat. So instead, she sat on my shoulders as I walked the park and parameter. I think she mostly likes it because I like it and she got to hang out with her old man. Last year, race day coincided with my birthday again. My daughter asked me what I’d wanted to do and I said I’d like to go for a few hours. She accompanied me but this time it was different. She’s obviously too old to sit on my shoulder. She brought headphones. Stared at her phone. Complained incessantly about how hot and noisy it was.

Under the heat, I snapped and asked her why she left her mom’s to come to me when she wasn’t enjoying it and after all the endless times of shuttling her to where she needs to go for all these years, she couldn’t think beyond herself and just be with me in the moment simply because I wanted to spend an hour at the track on my birthday. She was stunned with my directness and instantly felt apologetic. I, too, was stunned at the specificity of my outburst and its general effect of killing the mood. I was too upset to stay and I told her we were leaving; I started to walk assuming she would follow. We walked for ten quiet, yet deafening minutes. I could hear the tears streaming down her face as she fully realized how she’s ruined my day but I also didn’t feel compelled to soothe her to say it was fine. It wasn’t. I had no idea how the rest of the day would unfold given the disastrous start. I also didn’t know whether she wanted me to drive her back to her mom’s or not.

 

She was stunned with my directness and instantly felt apologetic. I, too, was stunned at the specificity of my outburst and its general effect of killing the mood. 

 

Then the roar of racecars broke our silence. She said, “Dad, let’s stay. I know you like to watch the cars. I won’t complain.”  I turned and looked at her and saw a different person in my daughter. In that second, I saw a ground up child with a level of maturity and empathy I had not witnessed before. I also realized at that moment, my daughter had grown up a little more again, and I missed it. She has her own interests, and they are clearly different from mine. She has different tolerance levels to heat and sound in 30C outdoors. She’s probably viewed differently too by the mostly male spectators. She wanted to be with me, especially to celebrate my birthday, but Indy Series is a different kind of sport. With a ballgame, there are 9 standard innings. She’s not familiar with the format of the Indy Series with qualifying runs and different cities. She was struggling to find her place with me not as a tag-along child, but as a burgeoning young lady trying to appreciate her dad’s interest. All of this flashed before my eyes and I felt the elation of her wanting to spend family time with me. But she’s a teenager now and I also see childhood’s end has come with a thunderous roar. I was sad again.

I replied to her, “Let’s see which race it is and we’ll stay for just a bit and then go grab a bite to eat.” We both ran back to the tracks. I think that day, we both learned something new about each other. And uncannily we always become closer after a rift. Then my daughter asked me where I’d like to go. I inquired, “Now or in the future?” Future. “Well, I’d like to go to earth’s orbit one day. Since the billionaires have made return trips, it’s just a matter of time before space tourism becomes a reality at reasonable prices.” Can I come? She asked. “Of course, in fact, when it happens, I’ll be retired, so you’ll have to pay!”

That day, I celebrated a birthday with my daughter, shared more special time and got a future ticket out of this world. It turned out to be a great birthday!