I drove the Indy 500 track. My partner and I drove 2 of our Trans Ams down to a Pontiac show on the grounds of the Indy 500. Part of the festivities included a lap on the track. I drove a 400 4 speed 1979 gold special edition, and my partner drove a 400 4 speed 1970 Lucerne blue with a blue intetior. I had had a headache that afternoon and decided to forgo driving my own vehicle and join him as a passenger. Because of this change of plans we were slightly behind the line of Trans Ams and other assorted vintage Pontiacs. The guys at the track decided to have a little fun with us and told us to hurry up to join our buddies. We took off squealing our tires trying to get with the pack. We got up to about 80 MPH when we were pulled over by the track police...hahahaha we actually got pulled over for speeding on a race track. The cop laughed when we explained what the guys at the starting line said to us and let us go with the warning not to exceed 45 MPH. As we drove I looked up to the empty bleachers and realized what an opportunity I had to experience such an iconic American experience. and at a faster speed that not too many others have had. Going around the curves I felt like we were literally on our sides. Driving a vintage automobile is an exciting rush that I recommend to anyone that drives. Sitting behind the wheel with all that raw power is a feeling I cannot explain.

I was 4 years old and my parents were entertaining 4 young priests. As my mother made the gravy and my father carved the roast in the kitchen I was violently grabbed by the guests sitting on the couch in the livingroom and thrust on to the laps of the pedophiles. My underpants were pulled to the side leaving my naked bottom prey. They fought over me and I was yanked by them bounced on to their laps. I broke free and ran to my room as I fixed my panties I thought to myself that I was so happy that my father and grandfather did not have those hard sticks in their pants. I was sixty three years old when I remembered this happening. I had lost 2 sons in one year and had a lot of time to think about the tragedies of my life. My one remaining son asked me about the priest who was my mothers lover, so was still in my families life and I started remembering all the abuse he subjected me to over the years. My father traveled a lot so my mother had the pedophile priest in her bed and in our lives. I was gaslit and groomed by them. I always accepted this behavior and I was set up to accept bad behavior in my adult life. I think about that priest and his cohorts all the time and wonder how they could have been so perverted? How could my mom let me be molested? She always portrayed herself to be such a good upstanding Catholic.