Tealâ„¢

Life is not measured by how many breaths you take, but by what takes your breath away...
I love my life, my family, and my friends… but there are two other things that take my breath away:

The first is being strapped into the seat of a race car. The smell of your Nomex firesuit, the sound of the engine resonating in your helmet, and the restraints pulling you so snug into the carbon fiber seat that you literally become one with the car. You feel every bump, every skip, and every wiggle she makes... and you know that if she loses it at speed, you can do nothing but hang on for the ride and brace for your hit. Running through the backstretch letting the car run free, nothing to worry about but hitting your marks. The last turn comes into view as you ease off the gas and drift towards the inside white line. You fight to find that perfect balance of rpm and speed to keep the rear tires planted but prevent pushing her up the track. As you enter the apex of the turn you ease back on the throttle and eye your next set of marks as you flirt just inches away from the wall. The turn opens up and you run the pedal to the floor, the engine screams as the rpms race straight for the red. Drifting towards the outside wall at a blistering speed, a tear finds its way from your eye straight back over the top of your ear. Still being pulled into your seat, the shifter finds its way into the last gear and your speed increases until you cross that checkered line, signaling you've beaten the track once again. Coasting to a stop you can already hear the track calling you for another challenge... not knowing who will win the next meeting is all the challenge I need to plan my next date with the race car. You challenge me when I say it’s better than sex… you’re crazy!

The second is known simply as Code-3. The dispatchers voice breaks the silence and the tone alludes to the importance of your call. You throw the switch as the red and blue strobe lights pierce the darkness and the siren screams. You drift into oncoming traffic as the sea of cars clear your path. Picking up your speed you clear intersections with caution. The wide eyed little boy on the corner points you out to his mother before quickly covering his ears for the blaring siren. Up ahead you see another set of strobe lights, a partner in your cause. As you arrive at your call, you handle it with swift fairness and congratulate your peers with a pat on the back for a job well done.

General Patton described this sense of teamwork and camaraderie like no one else could: “Freedom has a taste, and for those who have fought for it, the taste is so sweet the protected will never know…”

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