My Dad knew Connie before he had a Michigan drivers license, when he was 15 years old, working Saturdays at his father's propane/bottled gas business in what was then Chesterfield Township.
Umpteen years later, just this past July in Denver, they shook hands and chatted for a little bit as they have over the many years each time we go to a race.
After consoling him about the death of his son, my Dad asked him, "When are you gonna stop doing this, and take some time to relax like the rest of us old farts?"
His answer was something like, It's still fun. I still enjoy it, I've got the people around me who I want around me.... so as long as I wake up in the morning and the good Lord let's me, I'll be out here, because this is what I enjoy.
All I could see was the giant netting they put at the top end. I thought about walking down there for a closer look... but it was too soon for me.
