Looking back to 1995 a special person entered my twisted, demented life...His name was Josh.

Let me explain. I'm standing in the dry pits on St. Armand’s Circle on a hot Saturday morning during the Sarasota Offshore Gran Prix. The dry pits are where the race teams put their boats, rigs, girlfriends etc. on display for the fans to see the day before the race. The Muscle camp leads that show in terms of flash (or excess). As you approach it’s a good time to prepare your ears and eyes for a walk on the dark side. This particular day is no different. Motley Crue rips from the 4 tower EV speakers. Stripper cages in full force. The bars, which are open to the public, pour gallons of vodka into red cups (a staple at the Muscle camp) and the line at the T-shirt trailer wraps around the block. If you dare to pass the "enter at your own risk sign" you now have abandoned all sense of morality but MAN are you happy.

While standing at the autograph booth, I am called aside by an elderly woman with a cane. She is drenched in sweat and exhausted. I lean down so she can get close to my ear, that's her only shot of me hearing anything (not only because I'm basically deaf from a massive head injury in a boat wreck in New York but the Crue is on!). She introduces herself as Grace and wants to know if I would come say hi to her grandson Josh....She calls him my biggest fan. Off we go.

Enter Josh. He is a 12 year old boy in a wheel chair with severe Multiple Sclerosis. As I approach he begins to jump up and down in his chair. Grace explains to me how he saw me on TV racing and dubbed my boat "his boat" and me "his Dave". This day I meet my biggest fan. Our friendship was instant. The connection indescribable. We spent the day together until he and Grace were exhausted from heat, rock & roll, crowds and just plain Muscle madness. Josh, now adorned in a Muscle tank top and beret headed off being pushed by his beloved grandmother. I quickly took down a framed picture of the boat that we had on display and followed them to their car. I told him to hang it in his room and not to forget me. So the picture was hung and the friendship forged on, year after year, shirts, parades, parties, his high school graduation and many many great times. As his disease doesn't allow for long lives, I always feared the day of losing my buddy, my friend, my biggest fan.

The Sarasota Gran Prix came and went in 2008. I waited and watched for my friend at all the events. No Josh. He always met me at the ramp when I tested the boat. Always there to wish me good luck. To give me the hug I credited with keeping me safe. Sadly, I was again on my own. I guess this day had to come but I just wasn't ready...in reality why would I ever be and so it was the following year and the one after that. Man how I missed my little buddy, my friend...my biggest fan. I had become puff the magic dragon.

This year’s Muscle Madness party was going to be the biggest ever, and it was (14,000 people, 300 kegs of beer, 700 gallons of vodka and strippers as far as the eye could see on stage). After an interview with MTV I headed around back to guide in the first group of Budweiser 18 wheelers to the staging area. This is going to be ugly I thought. It was hot as hell. I wiped sweat from my forehead and as I looked up there he was. With the help of state-of-the-art leg braces, Josh, adorned in Muscle apparel walked towards me. My heart pounded with the sound of there's "My Dave". For the first time we hugged as men. Two friends that in many ways grew up together, that made each other’s lives fuller. What a feeling. Gone was the little boy in the wheelchair...Gone.. Josh is 28.

As darkness fell and the party raged I smiled knowing my buddy was right there at my side. My man, my friend ....my biggest fan. How much do we take for granted? Ask yourself this...Do you really live life? People tell me to slow down all the time. Why? There is so much to do. So much cool shit to see, I'm just getting my groove on. I look at Josh and think about the cards he was dealt but when he walked up to me, wow, look at the hand he played. So answer me this motherfuckers...does this life rock or what?

Ciao...
Diamond Dave.
muscleracing.com

Diamond Dave & Josh

Im back in the US and it's my children's birthdays. Both were born in January so I guess by nature April must be a loveable month for me...or arent they all!

The Weez turned 18 and I was by her side as she joined the dark side with her first tattoo. True to her nature it was a piece of art, far from a beginner's tat. It was drawn by her brother and stands in tribute to the great loss of Rhett (her cousin and my nephew) who we suddenly lost three years ago. For me, it has been a nightmare I chose to ignore that engulfed me in a cab on a rainy morning leaving Philly. For her, an impossible hurdle to overcome. Maybe this time piece she has adopted will help her heal. Maybe it will help us all. In reality, she drips in individuality and I adore her for that. At the very least her cousin will now travel the world with her ... isnt it the best we can really do?

Next stop is Savannah to spend the 30th with Dr. Nut Job (my son) for his 21st birthday. I'm joined by my closest friends who I spend life hammering acrosss waves in the worlds sexiest boats and nursing our wounds in strip joints with really cheap vodka ( note: BS..always Belevedere).Savannah is a town for people who love life. It is a series of cobblestone roads that lead to a river front oasis of taverns littered with live music and historians that offer their view of why the South is so grand. For me its just a remarkable place to unwind and absorb the greatness of American history...with cold sambuca and really crazy people. Should I stop to note that my daughter's name is Savannah, so is one of my adopted dogs and also the town where my son lives...why? Everything in life is connected ... right?

Tonight will be a bender that would scare even Ozzy. I'm good at it so why not let it unfold naturally. Tommorow my son and I will head off to a local Tat shop for a very personal moment. We will get matching tats I have designed with the date 1-30-2011 to remember this incredible day. I removed him from his mothers womb with my own hands 21 years ago and I am here to watch as the clock grants him his 21st year. I have it all. I know what really matters in life .... so few get it.

I look at my kids and can't imagine a life without them. People say it goes by so fast . I disagree. If you do it right and enjoy your time together it can feel like an eternity. For me it has been an amazing journey, full of amazing people and I have created two that now the world can share.

In a few weeks, my son moves to Hong Kong ... my daughter will join me in Paris and my friends ... well, they will just have to figure it out for themselves. In the end, take a shaker, fill it with ice, top with buca, shake until milky, strain into a snifter (no beans) and enjoy.....and repeat. If I could make any chenge in the world it would be that everyone just understood that "Buca" is a friend.

Peace xx
Diamond Dave

So it’s the holidays again. My son Clint and I are in my favorite city in Italy, Florence. Its 2:15 am. We pound down our bucas and head out to the duomo.

As I pass a beautiful local woman I say hello “ciao miccio”she smiles and replies “sei di qua?” no, Paris I reply with a lingering “ciao”….a city of tremendous people. When we arrive, spotlights light up the side walks. The streets are littered with chairs of people sipping wine. The moon is full...The scene…like no other. Clint is there to join a group of artists that are painting street murals. They are time pieces with heavy religious themes…like the ones painted on the ceilings of most historic churches scattered across this amazing country. Clint drops to his knees and begins to paint. It’s a series of baby angels circling a beaten woman being comforted by Christ. An off duty police officer pours me a glass of local wine. Delicious and crisp. He pats my back as if to confirm what I am thinking as I watch my son…what a gift….what an amazing man he has become.

It’s a beautiful morning a few days later. After a nice workout I sit at a café sipping my sambuca and espresso. Its 7:30 am. I’m thinking about my dog "Nubs" so far away. Man, I miss my little friend..A few hours later Clint and I are walking up the small cobblestone streets of La Sienna.

La Sienna is a remote village in Tuscany. I could spend the day describing this place and would not come close to creating a realistic visual. We are here for a festival where the different neighborhood men and boys compete in a series of games. We wander the streets with no direction. Cowboy hats, camo shorts, no shirts and flip flops. Five Finger Death Punch rocks quietly from my ipod player, it’s completely out of place but so damn good. I keep our cups full of wine from a bottle which sticks out of my back pack. We have quite the following of local children as we head to the center of town. The local people stare as we pass. We stop and engage in conversations. My Italian is good. We revel in the air of mystery that surrounds the two wandering visitors. We stop at every café like any good “Mick” would. “cosa prendi?” “un bicchiere di sambuca per piacere” it’s not chilled and milky but delicious. I have learned to adjust. “Grazzie mille” and we continue our stroll. We set up a base camp in the piazza ( square). It's grand, larger then most in Italy. Fountains of clear mountain water rage in the mid day sun. Music streams from the awnings of several cafes. (note:The Death Punch has been turned off). Locals converge on us handing out local flowers and smiles. As we watch the magnificent day unfold I begin to realize my time in Europe has really changed me. Or has it? I will always appreciate life in America but I am home here. Maybe sitting in a thousand year old piazza in the middle of Tuscany with my beautiful son sipping wine and nibbling on a local cheese would give anyone a sense of complete contentment. Maybe being around these classically handsome people who live just to enjoy the fruits this tremendous world has to offer is numbing me to what I left behind. Maybe the warm sun and flow of bucas is just making it another perfect day.

Whatever the answer is, Im thankful.

Peace…

Diamond Dave

 I have been in Paris for sometime. a city that defines individuality. I'm sure this is what New York City hoped to become without a trace of success. it's an hour from sunset and I am standing at the steps of a 500 year old church that sits on a hill 10 miles west of Paris. the final part of my journey was up cobblestone steps through a garden forgotten by its caretakers. the scene is beyond definition. everyday people gather here to watch the sunset as it fades into the abyss over the skyline of the city. in the distance the Eiffel Tower stands as a testament to the grandness of this view. below, the stairwell that leads to the church is now bleachers for the 200 or so souls who have gathered. a Jamaican band plays George Michael songs as their dreadlocks blow in the warm breeze. their traveling companions smile with approval. middle eastern boys sell mini Heinekens for 1 euro from back packs as they work the crowd. I buy 2. they are cold and perfect for the occasion. beautiful Spanish women relax on the steps, their green eyes glowing with anticipation. a mother paints the face of her young son as he smiles from his wheelchair. an old man strolls by offering me a "ciao" as if we have known each other for a lifetime. the smell of marijuana mixes with the aroma of blooming jasmine as to create a feeling of complete bliss. every European country is represented here. every race, gender and age yet complete harmony. I ask myself why is the world not like this everywhere? I begin to feel the reality of how bad we have let things get. in the distance a group of men and women put on a mime show reenacting the play Cats. an Italian seamstress approaches and gazes in awe at my tattooed arms. she reaches out and touches me and smiles as she wanders towards the fading sun. behind me stands a young priest. his gown worn from dragging across the stairs. he sips a beer and taps his foot to the music as if to free himself temporarily from his structured existence. the suns sets and the gloaming lingers for 15 minutes as my fellow revelers slowly disburse without a sound. I make contact with dozens of eyes, receiving back smiles and winks of approval. it is here that the world is once again perfect. it is here where I realized how much we have lost.

Diamond Dave