Kersten (right) and her sister (Photo provided by Kersten Marchese)
By Kersten Marchese
“Earnhardt?”
“Three.”
“Earnhardt Jr.?”
“Eight.”
“Waltrip?”
“Fifteen.”
I excitedly bounced up and down, as my dad beamed down at me with pride. This, I was good at. I could remember the race car drivers' numbers after only hearing them once.