DM:I had a panic attack.
GS:Really?
GS:What are you saying to each other?
TM:Not really saying anything. Just remembering.
DM:Trent got in the car with me. Sat in the driver’s seat and pulled me into his lap.
GS:Was there enough room for that?
TM: No. But we made it work.
DM:T drove partway around the track at a turtle’s pace with me sitting in his lap, sweating through my suit and shaking like a leaf.
TM:You put your hands over mine on the steering wheel and helped steer.
GS:Did it help?
DM: I’m sitting here, aren’t I?
GS:Trent, how hard was that day for you? And watching him race again?
TM:I didn’t think about me that day. I concentrated on him and doing everything I could to help him in that moment and then after to get back to his dream.
GS:You aren’t scared when he drives?
TM:I’m not scared of Drew driving because he’s the best driver I know.But, of course, I worry about him. We all worry about the people we love.
GS:Drew,how long would you say it took to be comfortable driving again?
DM:Six months. Sometimes I still have intrusive flashbacks.
GS:Really?
DM:Occasionally. My PTSD is well-managed, but every once in a while, something triggers it. But I’m not controlled by it anymore.
TM:It’s not a sign of weakness. Trauma changes the brain. He’s worked hard to get to where he is, and I’m proud of him.
GS to TM:I think maybe you’ve helped him a lot too.
DM:He’s the reason I’m here today.
TM to DM:You’re strong all on your own, baby.
DM to TM:But I’m stronger with you.
GS:Drew, who has the best French fries?
DM:Ooooooh, you had to go there.
