Caleb wrote about this weekend already so I'll keep mine short.
Ten years ago we drove up to the Glen in this truck. It was nine hours. The smoker was in the bed because he insisted. The cooler was full of Genesee because that's what they had at the place we stopped in Pennsylvania. We slept in the cab Friday night because the campground was full and we hadn't booked anything because we were twenty-six and twenty-eight and didn't think to.
I was wearing my dad's old Hammers Racing shirt. He raced for Hammers in '88, briefly. I think I'd had the shirt since high school. I was wearing it because I always wore it.
Someone took this picture for us — I don't remember who. We were laughing because Caleb had just said something ridiculous. He doesn't remember what either. We've talked about it. It's gone.
But the picture's still here. And I look at it now and think, yeah, that was the version of us that went.
We're a different version this weekend. That's fine.