Go ahead and decipher that headline for a minute. You’ll figure it out after I explain it all in the next few paragraphs, but I can firmly state in total truthfulness that I am NOT wearing a kilt (nobody needs to see that, or even imagine it), shoulder pads are such an 80s fashion item, but I am indeed, oh yes I really am, in St. Cloud, Minnesota finishing up this blog. Hence, its late arrival today.

We’d been planning it for nearly a year, but please accept that term loosely. Between the four of us, none are really prone to overanalyzing or stressing over details. We are, after all, four former roommates and teammates who gravitated toward each other in college because of our shared characteristics and our ability to make each other laugh. For Lance McCord, Bob “Radar” Ricker, James “Oscar” Noffke, and myself, it’s always a big deal to get together for our annual reunions, but we tend to go with the flow a lot.

Okay, first off I can state this without reservation: Sonoma was wonderful. Everything about it, really. From dinner with friends to three fantastic days at a jam-packed race track, to the Airbnb I reserved, and to all the wonderful “reconnections” I made with my racing family, it was all superb. It’s funny, in an oddball funny way, how I feel before I get there. I’ll admit there’s a bit of a worrisome “Will anybody even remember me?” thought floating in my head. And then I get there and everything is right with the world.

Greetings from 30,000 feet over southwestern Minnesota, blog faithful. I’m headed to Sonoma via Sacramento and will have to take a quick break in a minute when our meal shows up here in the front cabin. No, I don’t take it for granted to be seated up here and I do appreciate all the perks that come with it, but 40 years of almost nonstop travel does make you feel like you earned it, one flight at a time. Just a little.