FINALLY HOME
9/13/2026BY J. LEWIS
After months of chasing racetracks around the country, racing finally brought us back to our own.
Car racing finally brought us home this summer.
After months of airports, trailers, hotel rooms, and tracks scattered across the country, we pulled into Portland International Raceway for the 65th running of the Rose Cup.
It felt different.
Friends wandered through the paddock. Family watched from the fences. People from the life I've built here over the last twenty years stopped by to see what this strange obsession of mine had become.
We still slept in the RV at the track.
There was something funny about camping a few miles from our own beds. But I loved it. For a few days, PIR became our little world.
Reno and I had never raced the Rose Cup before.
He spent the weekend doing what Reno does—quietly being fast. Third on Saturday. Second on Sunday. Then another second in the RC3 feature.
I loved watching him have that weekend.
I raced the Porsche.
A few wins. A lot of laps.
But the drive I remember most started eighth.
No hero moves.
Just patience.
One corner.
One lap.
One opportunity at a time.
By the checkered flag, we'd worked our way to third in RC2.
I've spent so much of this year chasing what's next.
The next track. The next tenth. The next race.
For one weekend, racing gave me something different.
A chance to look around.
My friends were there. My family was there. Reno was on the podium. The Porsche was dirty. The RV was parked in the paddock.
And for once, none of us had anywhere else we needed to be.