The Hales Corners Speedway always had that one specific sound if the wind was right. Living about a mile away, I grew up listening to the rumbling engines from NVR and Pro Power roaring around that bullring at lightning pace. This was the track where Whitey Harris and Frank Smith battled relentlessly with Al Schill and Ted Dolhun, Sr. when I was a kid. It was one of those places where you just loved going. My father wrenched and raced there; as did my uncle as a car owner, and my grandfather was a pit official there. To be more than a spectator at that historic track would be something special.

          In the summer of 2001, I was living one of my dreams. I was wrenching on a dirt late model team, and our driver, Bret “The Jet” Sievert was the talk of the track. Seeing that black number 5 in Victory Lane was becoming more and more of a regular thing week after week. If it wasn’t Sievert taking the checkers, it was a close fight for it with rival Russ Sheffler. I kept telling my dad how much it meant to me to finally be part of the Hales Corners Speedway family, to be creating my own memories and racing stories to tell. It was the annual “Race to Vegas” night for the late models which meant that the winning driver, along with a chosen fan, would get an expenses-paid trip to Las Vegas. It was a race that every late model driver wanted to win. From us, to Team Sheffler, to Jimmy “Wildman” Watson and Ron Stroika, all the way down the pits to “Diamond” Jim Letizia and his son Turk “The Tornado”. As you can tell, there were a lot of great nicknames at Hales!

          I had really been wanting my dad to come down to the track. None of my family had been out to see me work the pits and to cheer the team to victory, but I really only wanted my dad to come out and see me and be proud. He never could because he had the obligations of being union president, plus my little sister at home, so it was hard for him to make it out to the track all the time, if ever.

          Well, after a heated battle for thirty laps, Bret “The Jet” was victorious. He was on his way to Las Vegas, and the fan that won the trip as well couldn’t have been more thrilled. Every time Bret won, I’d always look through the crowd really quick to see if anyone was there…my mom, my dad, anyone. No one was ever there. But on this night, I looked up into the stands only to see my father right next to the fence at the start/finish line all by himself. He was holding his hands above his head and clapping, and gave a few fist pumps when he saw me looking. That meant more to me than anything to have him there. I don’t know how long he’d been there, but I didn’t care.

          When you hear stories about local racetracks and how great they are, this is the kind of stuff those stories tell. The Hales Corners Speedway was ripped down after the 2003 season, and my father passed away on opening night of the track’s final year. Memories of both live on through stories shared, as I have done with you. The next time you see your own dad, give him a hug, or tell him how much he means to you. Fathers, do the same to your sons. The father-son relationship is a special bond, a bond I miss more and more each day of each year. But, as long as we share fond memories of those we miss the most dearly, they aren’t really gone, because we have part of them with us forever, and all we have to do is look into our hearts, and there they are.