To my friend Steve...

Dear Steve:

I write this letter to hoping that we have many years - decades - of friendship ahead of us. I know you're fighting the fight of your life, and that it's tough - not only on you but your wife Karen and your son Bryson. I can't imagine the fortitude it takes to deal with what your family is dealing with right now. And I can't imagine the fortitude that your lovely wife and incredible son have to be there by your side. You are all exhibiting a strength and dignity that should set an example for everyone in all walks of life when facing difficult circumstances.

I have a confession to make. One that I am very ashamed of but one that through the wonders of social media and introspection on my own weaknesses I am proud to say it's something I was so very wrong about.

I wasn't always a Steve Byrnes fan.

There were times I would sit and watch and listen to you work, and you had too much fun. I thought you laughed too much. You obviously didn't take yourself too seriously. And I didn't like it.

I mean, you were on national TV! How could you not take yourself seriously? This is NASCAR man! It's serious stuff. We need facts! We need analysis! What's with all the corny jokes and laughter in the booth?

But through this wonderful thing called Twitter, I realized why you goofed off and had fun when you were broadcasting races. It's because, as I said above, you didn't take yourself seriously. Because racing is supposed to be fun. And you were having fun!!

There was a time when I was on the outside looking in. And I was envious of those who were doing everything I wanted to do. I wanted to be talking. I wanted to be laughing. I wanted to be making others laugh. I wanted my voice to be heard. I mean, I had important things to say and no one to say them to! I was jealous, pure and simple. And jealousy is a very ugly thing.

But then Twitter came around. I'd see what you posted. I'd see how you interacted with people. And oh by the way, you interacted with a smart-ass cone from time to time too. Eventually I saw that it wasn't "buffoonery". It was you being you. And you taught me that none of us should take ourselves so seriously that we can't laugh at ourselves.

Racing is not rocket science. It's not brain surgery. It's supposed to be fun. It's supposed to take us away from the stresses of real life. It's a buncha good ol' boys driving around in circles at a high rate of speed. And it's supposed to be fun! I came to the realization that you're one of the people who have made it fun.

There are some people in NASCAR right now this very moment that, at least to me, don't look to be having a lot of fun. Sure, there is a lot of pressure involved. But when the pressure is off, people need to step back and smile. No, they need to step back and laugh! No one, I repeat NO ONE, should go through life not being able to laugh - even at themselves - and enjoy their surroundings. That's what you have taught me. I am ashamed that it took me a while to get to that point, but I am so happy that it was you that made me see it.

I love that we've had the chance to talk, not only via Twitter but the several times we've crossed paths this year. I could talk racing with you for whatever amount of time you'd give me, especially those old Busch Series drivers and cars from the glory days of the 1980s. Most of that history you brought to me when I was a much younger cone when I'd anxiously tune to TNN to watch "Inside Winston Cup Racing". Your voice is synonymous with NASCAR for millions of us, and we're all hoping it's back again when you kick cancer's ass.

I don't like speaking for others, but I think it's safe to say when I say I speak for the entire NASCAR community - it's drivers, teams, sponsors, officials and fans - when I tell you that we love you. We think about you every day, and we're here for you. Stay strong, and keep fighting. And please, let us know if there's anything we can do for you, Karen and Bryson.

You friend,

The Orange Cone