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In 1996, I travelled with an Indiana wrestling team to Japan. In Maebashi, a few days were spent with a man whose parents died when the bombs were dropped at the end of WWII. He was a gracious host and a successful businessman. I enjoyed visiting his store and touring the city.

One afternoon we stopped at a shrine.  After saying prayers, he excused himself to play with two small boys. He talked with the youngsters as they tossed a ball back and forth.

When we left, he patted each one encouragingly on the shoulder. Taking time to visit was important for him. Good people do that. They find time for others - some with family, some with neighbors and friends, and some with strangers.

In a fast-paced life based on clocks and calendars, it is hard to squeeze in all the things we should. We catch ourselves on a never-ending course. We race and race and forget to make the pit stops to get our tires checked and our engines refueled. NASCAR might not be a successful venue for most of us if we can't regroup and focus on our purpose.

Admittedly, I do not know enough about that sport to use metaphors. I am fairly certain that a caution flag was frantically waved when I typed the last paragraph. Yet, I have met some remarkable people who have been involved in competitive racing.

Tony Stewart was in my English class when he was in the seventh grade. When I assigned a "What do you want to be when you grow up" paper, Tony was clear. He planned to race and followed through in legendary fashion.

Tony Stewart's father was a teacher at Columbus High School my senior year. Our 1971 yearbook even had his picture with an announcement of his son's birth. That year I wrote for the school paper and was assigned a story on Mr. Stewart because he worked at the Indy 500 in the summer. During the interview I asked about some burn marks on his arm. He asked if I understood the "Good Samaritan" law. I only knew the biblical passage about the Good Samaritan, a passerby who helped a stranger when assistance was needed.

He explained that it gave immunity from liability if an individual rendered emergency care for someone. Mr. Stewart went on to connect the statute to the scars. When he saw an accident, he pulled over and approached the vehicle. Smelling gas and recognizing the danger of fire did not stop him from aiding the driver. As they headed to safety, the car exploded.

Mr. Stewart told the story as if anyone else would have done the same thing. He spoke as if everyone stops, and as if everyone lends a helping hand, even if doing so puts them in harm’s way.

The other racing figure I met had also been a mechanic. He grew up an orphan in Australia, probably had his knuckles cracked by a nun or two, and eventually worked on the European race circuit. He married Lou Rhoades, the daughter of Azalia's Clyde and June Rhoades who rented Julie and me an apartment one winter.

Tony Attard must have been a skilled mechanic, but he felt a calling and left racing to pursue a different challenge. It is hard enough to find time for others. It can be more difficult to take time for yourself. There is always a reason for not changing jobs, for not taking a chance, and for not upsetting the balance of the world as you know it.

Sometimes the change may not be what is needed, but in his case I believe it worked out well. He left London and the racing and enrolled in Indiana University to become an atomic engineer. What an interesting man! He understood theories that I cannot spell and used tools to work on machines that Jules Verne dreamed of.

Taking time to share with and to help others is important. Taking time to pursue your dreams like both Tony Stewart and Tony Attard did is just as important. Good people do that too.

** Adapted from “The Race,” pages 99-101, in Daffodils and Dog-Ears, 2014