The Great Race of Life

by Robbie Sondag (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find USA

The crowd enthusiastically cheered for the three of us standing in the back of a gleaming blue pickup truck, smiling and waving like beauty queens as we paraded through each twist and turn of the winding Sonoma racetrack on that gorgeous 2015 summer afternoon. Granted, the applause was directed more for the well-known race driver we were accompanying than it was for me or my wife, but that didn’t take away from the excitement of the moment - a surreal juncture in time where I found my head swirling with one simple question - “How in the world did we end up here?” A month earlier I sat quietly on my couch searching the web for an anniversary trip idea, when I stumbled across a contest advertisement offering an adventure to wine country in Northern California as the grand prize. I immediately formulated a plan, shot and edited a short video, and submitted it without giving it a second thought. Two weeks later I practically fell out of my chair when a travel agent called summoning us to pack our bags. We were heading for Sonoma! I was thrilled! Not only was I going to surprise my wife, but this trip wasn’t going to cost me a dime. Now that’s a vacation! My wife and I love to travel. And even though this was a simple, domestic jaunt, we were determined to experience life away from the Midwest. We didn’t have to wait long. Upon arriving in San Francisco we immediately sensed something big was brewing in the Bay Area. The weekend was playing host to three major events: the sponsoring race, an acclaimed pride festival, and a popular concert tour with followers known as “deadheads.” The concourse was bustling with some of the most diverse citizens on the planet. It was a people-watching extravaganza. Our drive across the iconic Golden Gate Bridge was majestic as we continued onward through a seemingly endless landscape of vineyards before arriving at our resort in Sonoma. Apparently wine tasting in this region is a daily ritual involving both a unique vocabulary and an air of sophistication. While I wasn’t able to master the new vernacular, it sure was fun trying. The place was so enchanting that we actually contemplated skipping the race. Truth be told, neither of us were really big fans to begin with, but we felt somewhat obligated to make an appearance. So the next morning we ventured out for the racetrack, unaware that we were about to become the guests of honor. From the moment we pulled out our tickets, it was as if someone parted the Red Sea. The crowd split and we were whisked into a gated area filled with drivers, vehicles, pit crews, and celebrities scurrying about. Fans on the outside were pressed against every inch of the fence, desperately trying to sneak a peek of the action. We continued our clueless bumbling about, crossing paths with guys named Kurt and Kevin and Jimmy and Jeff and Dale. Eventually we were ushered into a fancy semi trailer and introduced to a young superstar named Kyle. I told him that I thoroughly expected him to win the race, as if I were some sort of hospitalized kid requesting a home run from a baseball folk hero. As the day snowballed it became obvious that this wasn’t merely a sporting event. It was weekend entertainment lollapalooza consisting of rock bands, hot dog eating competitions, military flyovers, barbecue grills, and really fast cars. The combination of stimulating smells, sights, and sounds catapulted our senses into overload mode, and the race hadn’t even begun yet. Our unexpected welcome lap around the track, concluded with an escort to our seats in the owner’s box. And as we sat there quietly, mesmerized by the continuous line of cars whizzing past, I found myself pondering all the amazing things that had just transpired in our day. Meanwhile, there sat my wife, also pondering all amazing things that had transpired - in our marriage. Slowly turning my way, she smiled, sighed, and whispered in my ear, “How in the world did we end up here?”