One of the inevitabilities facing us all as the years tumble by is a growing wistful melancholy come holiday time traditionally marked by family gatherings -- Thanksgiving, Christmas.  One starts noticing how faces at the dinner table are growing more lined, hair graying and thinning.  The number of those gathered grows smaller; some far away and unable to attend, some no longer here to attend.  The laughter grows more pronounced and tightly clung to as the jokes become more nostalgic in nature in an effort to somehow repeat what once was.  We say remember when.  We mean can we somehow relive back then.

It's at times such as this we could most use racing.  The sport's nature lends itself well to setting aside the emptiness brought on by empty places, for despite the season and the Chase and all that goes along with these each race is an event in and of itself.  Sure, we check the drivers point totals afterwards.  But that's not the main thing.  How did my driver do today?  Did you see that move?  Did you catch that pass?  What was that other so-and-so thinking out there?  These things lie at the heart of what begins with every green flag inexpertly waved by whoever is today's honorary starter and ends when the checkers fly and one celebrates while forty-two commiserate, their respective rooting sections right along with them.

It is at times like these we could most use racing.  The roar of engines in full voice; the even louder roar from the grandstands whenever their favorite son makes a move for or takes the lead.  The camaraderie with complete strangers, be it someone wearing the same driver colors as yourself or a fellow fan who like you knows embracing NASCAR immediately marks both of you as the rat bastards of sport fandom.  The ability to for a few hours set aside both the daily and the hammer blows in favor of drinking deep the rejuvenation brought on by obsessing over lap times and fuel windows and what adjustments should be made during the next pit stop.  These occurrences can't replace someone, and they can't make the pain go away.  However, what they can do is provide a moment of much needed respite from what gives cause for the faraway stare.  We can all use that, methinks.

Alas, NASCAR is currently taking its winter nap.  The hunger its fan base has for the sport is reflected in how intensely mere test sessions will be followed next month.  In the meanwhile, we roll back through memories of shared triumphs gone by and daydream of victories yet to come.  This remembrance and anticipation is all part of being a fan.  It is our joy, our celebration.  It's why we count down the days until next year's Daytona 500 with the fervor of a child in December counting down the days until Christmas.  NASCAR, despite all its peccadilloes, is our present to ourselves; a family gathering that no matter how the cast changes as the years tumble by never grows older or leaves.

It's good to have such a holiday.