I stood.  Waiting.  I could hear them coming but couldn’t see them yet.

At first, they sounded like flies buzzing…buzzzz.  Only the pitch was higher-more like bezzzz.  The sound got louder…BEZZZZZ.  I looked left but couldn’t see a thing.  I knew they were coming.  I started to fidget, and my heart beat faster.  The sound, much louder now, caused me to lean forward.  I rested my hands on my thighs for balance and looked left again.  I saw specks in the distance.  My heart raced.  It pounded in my chest.  The blood was pumping through my body.  The sound was so loud it was impossible to hear anything else.  BEZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

My eyes were fixated on the colored specks coming towards me.  They were coming closer, much faster than I had imagined.

My ear drums were vibrating, the hairs on my body stood up at attention.  I breathed in – almost like a gasp.  Then held my breath.  My eyes glued.

The sound was deafening.  They were almost here.  I could see them!

BEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

It was hard to focus.  They were coming so fast.

BEZZZZZZZZEWWWWWWWWWWW!

ZEWWWWWW!

ZEWWWWW!

ZEWWWWWW!

I could feel the sound.  It was in my chest.  The force was so strong, it threw me back.  My head jerked to the right.  My eyes glued.  Adrenaline rushed through my body.  I was tingling from head to toe.

I had leaned forward again, and just like that, they were gone.  Just as quickly as they came.

What a rush!  A natural high.  I was hooked.  It was only about 20 seconds later, and I could hear the Indy cars coming again.  I looked left and waited for my rush.

We met Scott and Laura several years ago.  They have a vacation home that was across the street from ours.  We became instant friends.  They come to Florida every January, and in between we try to see each other at least one other time a year.

Scott and Laura live just outside of Indianapolis, Indiana.  Through the years, they told us so many stories of the Indy 500 Race.  They told us how they had been going to the race since they were children and as teenagers they went with friends.  I love their stories and sometimes make them repeat some of the funny ones.  They had so much fun at the race over the years.  It was something they grew up with.  A tradition.

It sounded like it could be fun, but it really wasn’t my thing.  I was from the eastern part of the US and grew up with different things, different traditions.  And it surely wasn’t sitting at a track, in bleachers, watching cars race around in circles for 3 hours.  I had a vivid picture of the track and race in my mind.  I really had no interest in it.

Then about a year ago, Scott and Laura asked Sean and me if we wanted to go.  It would be the 100^th running of the race, a once in a lifetime opportunity.  If ever there was a time to see the race, this was the year.  So we decided to go.

On Memorial Day weekend, we flew to Indy.  We went a few days early so we would have time to do a few other things.

Race day arrives, and at 6:00am on Sunday morning, we leave for the track.  The 13 mile drive from their home took a little over 4 hours.  About 3 ½ hours into the trip, I could see the stands at the track.  We got closer, and I actually started to get excited.  The track was huge – the stands so high in the air.  There were thousands and thousands of people flooding into the track.

As we drove into the tunnel and under the track to get to our infield parking spot, I realized just how wrong I had been.

We parked, got to our seats and watched the pre-race festivities.  Then, finally, the infamous words came over the loudspeakers.  “Ladies and gentleman, start your engines!”  The roar wasn’t like anything I had ever heard before.  It was incredible.  The cars warmed up – doing two laps around the track.  We could see the stretch of the track where they would start and finish.  As soon as the checkered flag dropped, the cars took off.  And I was mesmerized.

I always try to keep an open mind and not make judgements on things based on perception.  But boy did I judge this book by its cover!  All I saw in my head were cars going in circles for hours and hours.  I was so quick to make the judgement that I wouldn’t like the race.  I could have missed out on such a great life experience.  I am forever grateful to Scott and Laura for convincing me to go, reassuring me that I would have a great time.  They were absolutely right.

It reminds me of a time when I was selling Real Estate in Pennsylvania.  I was working with a couple, Leslie and John, who had made a quick judgement on a home that they thought they wouldn’t like.

I had their house listed for sale.  They had two school aged children, and they wanted to move to a larger home in the same school district.  Their home sold, and it was time to go shopping for a new one.

Leslie told me all her “must haves” and her “would likes” in a home.  But no matter what, the house had to be in the same school district.

I entered all of her criteria into the computer and came up with a nice list of homes to see.  They were all newer, less than 10 years old, and close to their current home.

The next afternoon, we went shopping.  We looked at 5 homes.  They had most of Leslie’s needs, but were much smaller than she had hoped for.

I readjusted the criteria and found 6 more homes to see.  As we looked at them, we realized they were larger, more the size she was hoping for, but not in very good condition.

I adjusted again and that weekend, we went to look at 8 more homes.  These homes were ok, but very bland looking.  There was nothing that exited Leslie – nothing that felt like home.

This went on for 2 weeks.  Finally, we had run out of homes to see that met her criteria.  I adjusted the search again, only this time I just put in her price range and the school district.  All of the homes we had already seen came up in the search, plus three additional ones.  I made the appointments, and the next day we set out to see them.

We looked at the first two, and they really needed a lot of work.  So much so that they would not be able to live in it while the work was being done.  We headed to the third home.  It was on the opposite side of the school district in a much older, mature neighborhood.  The homes had bigger yards and mature trees and lush landscaping.  We drove down the street and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the disapproval on Leslie’s face.  I pulled into the driveway, and before I had a chance to turn off the car, she said, “Don’t bother.  I’m not wasting time going in there.  I don’t like it.  Let’s just go back home.”

The home was older, built in the late 60’s.  (She wanted newer.)  It was a sprawling rancher built of stone and siding.  (She wanted a traditional 2 story colonial.)  The landscaping looked overgrown and unkempt.  Leslie had no interest in going inside to see what it was like.  She was judging this book by its cover.

We sat in the car and talked.  I reassured her that it would be ok to go inside.  We would not be wasting time.  I convinced her that since we were there, sitting in the driveway, we should at least peek inside.  If she hated it, we would spend no more than one minute looking.  Finally, she agreed.

We stepped onto a cobblestone walkway that lead us to the old wooden double front door.  The pathway was dirty and full of weeds, but I could see the potential.  Pull the weeds, power wash the stones, and it would be beautiful.

I unlocked the front doors and opened them both up.  I moved aside to let Leslie and John in.  And then I heard it, the gasp coming from Leslie.  She held her breath.  Her fingertips touched her cheeks, and she didn’t move.

We were standing in the living room.  It was a large rectangular room with old but beautiful hard wood floors.  Directly in front of us was an oversized floor to ceiling fireplace with a hand carved wooden mantle.  It was spectacular.  She finally spoke.  “I love it!  I want it!”

She looked left and then right.  “I don’t know which way to go next.”

We spent almost an hour looking at everything.  It was so full of character.  We looked at every last detail.  On our way out the door, Leslie paused in the living room.  She looked around and said, “This is home.”

Two months later, I went to visit Leslie and John in their new home.  As soon as Leslie opened the front door, she threw her arms around me and thanked me.  And thanked me.  And thanked me again.

She took me on a tour and showed me all the things they had already done in the 3 short weeks they had lived there.  She told me all her plans for the home.  She was so happy.

Since Leslie’s daughter and Darby were friends I had many opportunities to see their home.

So many times, Leslie would tell me how grateful she was that I had talked her into looking at this home.  All she saw in her head was an overgrown old home.  She had made a judgement.  She had predetermined that she would hate the inside, just as I had predetermined that I would hate the Indy 500 Race.

Had we not had friends or agents that urged us to look beyond our perceptions or to open up those big wooden front doors and look inside, we would have missed out on some of our lives’ greatest moments.

Don’t judge a book by its cover, open it up and peer inside – you never know what you could be missing.