Mom and racing

I’ve mentioned my late father’s influence on my love for racing in previous blogs. But my mom deserves some blame, I mean credit, for my interest in racing. And with  Mother’s Day coming up on Sunday I felt like writing about my mom.

Ever have that parent who in some ways you were so much alike that you butted heads? That’s my mom and I.  We are both anxious people, can get stressed easily and when folks like that are around each other, well, you butt heads and drive each other crazy at times. We knew how to push each other’s buttons and that led to some conflict. I love my mom, but we easily get on each other’s nerves. Some of you who have a relationship with a parent like that know exactly what I am talking about. You love each other but can test each other.

She had a challenge raising three boys (we are pictured with her above at Thanksgiving in 2024) and I’m sure each of us in our own way provided stress for her.  I was the most stubborn of the bunch, still am 😊. (I blame my dad and grandfather for that trait.) We were lucky to have a good mom with a good heart.

My mom is 73 now. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease several years ago, and lives in a memory care facility in Shakopee, about 5 minutes from my youngest brother and 30 minutes from my other brother.   Those with loved ones with any kind of dementia know what those afflicted struggle with. It’s brutally tough and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

If you are asking if my mom was a race fan, I would call her lukewarm at very best. She would come along from time to time when we were kids but mostly stayed home when we went racing. We’d go to Madison or Redwood on Sundays and eventually graduated to Viking Speedway in Alexandria, which was a 95-mile drive one way, for weekly racing on Saturday nights. She put up with a lot of Saturday nights home alone or with my younger brothers if they didn’t come along in those days, but she never complained. We didn’t hunt in our family, and we didn’t fish (although my grandfather took me hundreds of times for that); we went to races. Madison, Redwood Falls, Alexandria, Grove Creek…many miles.

I think she viewed it two ways – a father spending time with his son or sons, plus it was something we enjoyed doing. She never said “you go to the races too often.”

After we boys left home, she’s go with my dad to Vikng Speedway when they’d camp in the region up there. She liked racing if she knew who some of the drivers were, like LeRoy Schuelke or Clarence Washburn, for example.

When my parents promoted the Fiesta City Speedway in Montevideo in the 1990s, she ran the concession stand. That came naturally for her as she had successfully run a restaurant in Clarkfield for several years in the 1980s. She fried hundreds of pounds for hamburger yearly for sloppy joes, cooked hundreds of hot dogs and did all of the food ordering, and ran that well. She enjoyed working in the restaurant/food service realm.

I remember one story: It was the last time my dad raced and I was 11 years old. My dad was racing a late model and got spun right in front of the grandstand at Redwood Falls. I completely lost it, and man was she embarrassed! I heard about it later, trust me.

I think Moms involved in racing probably don’t get enough credit for their roles.

Some handle the T-shirt sales; some, as grandmas, watch the children while the driver races. I read one post years ago about a pit crew that stayed up all night fixing the car after a wreck on Friday – and the mother made breakfast for the whole crew at like 3 a.m. to fuel them up. I am sure the mothers of drivers get nervous watching their children race, but I also know many wouldn’t miss a night at their local track in support of their kids.

Moms should get their due when it comes to supporting their children (and grandchildren) in racing, and I must thank mine for helping grow my love for the sport, too.