racecar

Life by life, I search for you.


Nelson Cruz and Albert Pujols divide a Sports Illustrated cover this week. A group of three searched for PG ratings on the front and back side of see through shelves. Instead of taking seven Kwik cases, I dropped the few I couldn't get to on the stationary cart. A younger, as-driven Steve Jobs landed face first on Rolling Stone. But the lines drawn across Nelson Cruz's body from elbow to elbow poked me. Red gloves, shirt, helmet, Texas flag and I bet a bullseye targeting spinning red threads. Same shade color magazine title concealed some and split with a memorial name and date. Dan Wheldon 1978-2011. I'd seen the name recently. Where and which sport? Dan Wheldon.

Last IndyCar race of the season in Las Vegas. A two hour plus red flag after a crash crash crash crash crash crash crash crash crash crash crash crash crash crash crash. Some defying very laws by taking flight. But after 200 m.p.h. those very laws are amended. I didn't see it live and when I sat down somewhere short of the two hour red flag, it was not going to be shown again. Had to find it online.

In Wheldon's own car, largely still unidentifiable by color, decals or sponsor, until a long shot of the ugliest crash. For 15 cars involved and the worst of the catastrophe lasting four seconds, I marked the video from beginning to end. Each uglier than last when I look at a single car to see its condition.

Maybe the meeting was called in part because the race was the season finale. All points and earnings settled, want to call it? Except, it was probably asked for a tribute lap. "IndyCar is very sad to announce that Dan Wheldon has passed away from unsurvivable injuries." Five laps in silence. Five times around the corner of the crash. The pit crews end their televised day crying down a wall. My God. Then a tribute screen of him in his uniform.