Today was a bit of a jumble for me.
I should be happy that the Packers won, but I'm not.
I should be happy that the Brewers went deep into the post season, but I'm not.
I'm terribly saddened by the death of Dan Wheldon, a racecar driver in the Indycar series. Why? To be honest, no idea really, other than my love of auto racing in any form, and the Wheldon seemed to be a truly good man by all accounts.
Today started out like any other Sunday with church this morning and football at noon. I had dozed off on the couch, dog on my chest, during the game, and awoke shortly after 3. I flipped the TV over to ABC to catch the Indycar race, only to see it had gone to caution. I noticed a large amount of debris on the track and waited for a replay.
Fifteen cars were collected in an accident coming through turn 2, with at least three going airborne. Wheldon's car took flight and made tremendous impact in the catch fence above the outer wall, crashing cockpit first.
I've been watching racing for over 25 years, and when they covered Wheldon's car with a tarp, I said to my wife "that's never a good sign."
Almost two hours later, Wheldon's death was announced publicly, and I was so overcome with emotion, I started to cry. My wife was startled by this, and seemed a bit stunned as she came over to console me.
I'm not sure why I was so overcome; I'm so much more of a Nascar fan, and only casually follow Indycar these days. The only explanation I can come up with is that racing is a community, no matter what series or car.
Dan Wheldon, you were taken from us too soon.
