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What seems forever in advance becomes rapid in hindsight.

Right now seemed like forever after Thanksgiving. Now, as I sit down to write, the Daytona 500 is so close that it just tapped me on the shoulder. Now the dominos are poised to fall, one after another until, yet again, the Thanksgiving turkey is in the oven and the speedways sit empty.

Thanksgiving? At the moment, it is forever away.

I’m not there, though, after writing about it from the Daytona International Speedway press box for 20 years in a row (1993-2012). I watch from the highly defined perspective of home. Once having been there lingers, though. Sometimes a cool breeze here reminds me of Daytona Beach so much that I imagine the racket of the seagulls screeching.

It reminds me a little of years ago, when I was fond of playing racing simulation games on my long-discarded desktop computer. At first, I’d think, Well, I’d be better if it was a real car because I could feel it. I could feel the rear swinging around, or the tires gaining traction. Then I’d keep playing, and it would seem like magic. I started to feel those very things, even while sitting in a desk chair facing a simulated track. The seat of my pants started simulating, too.

When those 40 cars roll in formation down to the flagstand, and the green flag waves, I will hear those engines simulate thunder, and at the end of the first lap, I will hear that metallic hum that rolls off the formation of cars when they are headed toward the start-finish line, before the sound becomes deafening.

Ruh-ruh-ruh … ruh … ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh …

Having the biggest race of the season at the least important strategic point conjures up a certain unconditional love.

In spite of the latest ways NASCAR has tricked up the sport, suddenly I set all concerns aside. Huh. See what happens. Maybe it’ll be okay. Give it a shot. What choice have I got? Stop watching? Come on. I’ve been watching since I was seven years old.

NASCAR will have many opportunities to tick me off in the coming months, and it will take advantage of some of them.

I cannot be pessimistic on the last Sunday in February. There’s too much to study. Too much to watch. NASCAR is still fascinating, even from a distance. It might be more so if I got out more.