Yup… but in this case, there’s a first for everything…
Language alert………. Hey, it’s NASCAR…
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There was a time YEARS ago that I had no idea about NASCAR. I
didn’t care about it. It didn’t exist in
my world… like water polo, horse jumping, camel racing or basketball...
There was a nothing happening day where a race was on and my
friend mike was over. After hours of drooling in boredom looking for NOTHING on
tv, we settled on NASCAR. I didn’t understand it, didn’t know anything, and
didn’t care. But there was something to watch on tv. So to heck with it. Mike had seen a few races by then and he said
they were exciting and fun to see the wrecks. I thought “Hey! Why not?”
The cars went round and round in circles and every turn and
every straight they came real close to hitting the wall, each other, etc.
An hour went by…
Again, we didn’t understand it, but they were driving fast (200+
mph) in close proximity to each other. That alone was pure excitement in
anticipation for the hoped death on the track… but no. The drivers were under some kind of
influence because during that one particular race where all we wanted to see
was a wreck, fire, debris… something… anything.
another hour…
by now the drool is a sippable puddle in my shirt…
there wasn’t even a caution flag. Doing a bit of research I
can speculate it was 1997, and it was Talladega. The track at Talladega,
Alabama (like Daytona) is known for their epic speeds and wrecks. But not that
year. Per Wikipedia, 1997’s Talladega
was the fastest (average speed) race ever held, Mark Martin won, and it was the
first race in Talladega history run without one single caution. Even non-race
fans can think of Talladega and the synonymous “big one” (a known term for a
large field-wiper-outer wreck on the track)… but this day where I was
anticipating this beautiful fiery flipping 200mph death causing/defying wreck,
none came.
Needless to say, to me, racing sucked.
So years later, in maybe mid 2003-04 a race was on and my
buddies were in to it wholeheartedly. They were gearheads so I had no choice if
I wanted to hang out. (this one had a few cautions in it and the racing was
phenomenal, so my appreciation grew from there.)
My buddy John asked “Who is your driver…?”
--“Huh?”
“Who is your driver? If you don’t have one there is a guy in
an orange car that has a mouth on him. He’d be right up your alley!”
I didn’t realize I had to choose in the 40+ man field… I had
no idea what I was getting myself in to… but I like the color orange and I like
people who go against the mainstream. And so the natural progression was to
pick a guy named Tony Stewart. He was a fiery Hoosier to reporters, other
drivers, and an all-around asshole. After a few races he started in on his own
sponsors and even those sponsors who support NASCAR. Needless to say I became a
fan instantly. Not even of the racing, but of him.
And so, in 2004 I was a race fan. I watched religiously and
started to learn the rivalries, drivers’ personalities, numbers and sponsors.
And in racing you rarely say the drivers’ name. you use their number or their
sponsor to describe the car. “there goes the cingular 31… check out the 20 for
the win!!”… it’s like shorthand for rednecks.
As he didn’t do much in 2004, in 2005, he was a Winston cup
champion (maybe by then it was Nextel, but it doesn’t matter.). Tony Stewart,
this phenom on the track, and jerk off (the track) was a good pick apparently
because of his championship . . . it was amazing to me. yet it was a lot like
not knowing anything about chess and being a fan of Kasparov out of nowhere...
So naturally I was not just hooked, I wanted a repeat of the
last year… but that wasn’t to come for some time. A younger, nicer, better
spoken driver came through and for 5 years he dominated the points and
standings. Jimmie Johnson is now known as “Mr. Five Time” by the announcers
during races and he literally dominated the points in every year they won. It
seemed like a coup was going on with their race team, but between Jimmie and
Chad Knauss, his crew chief, they were infallible. And as much as I hate Jimmie
Johnson as a driver, (I was sick of him winning all the time) I admire his
accomplishment. It has never been done before (5x in a row) and probably will be
a record that stands the test of time.
Yet year before last (2011) Tony Stewart ended up in victory
lane 5 times out of 10 championship races in “the race for the chase” (the ‘world
series’ of racing) and he won it by 1 point over Carl Edwards. But more importantly
he closed the book on the 5 year story that was Jimmie Johnson. They literally
call Tony the ‘bookends’ to Jimmie Johnson’s record shattering achievement.
And so… again, a first for everything, it was determined
that I MUST go to a race at least before I die. I think it was 2009, and my Uncle
Gib is a fan of racing as well. so he met me at the Lewes, Delaware ferry port
and we stayed at my godfather’s trailer. It’s a beach house for them, and it’s
about 3 miles from Rehoboth beach. It’s also an easy 45 minutes from Dover… not
a bad drive at all. Well, better than 4 hours from home.
We woke up early on a cool end-of-May day and trucked our
way north. We found the parking area and hopped on a school bus that served as
a taxi for those who parked there. In the drive to the track the bus driver and
Gib struck up a conversation due to Gib being a Mets fan. The driver had a blue
and orange NY cap on, so he was as well. they drowned in their tears of
baseball fandom for the 10 minute drive… We thanked the driver for the lift,
and out we went.
That “monster” you see on TV for the race is immense. Dover
is known as “the monster mile” due to its length and the way it gobbles up cars
and the cement is known to ruin tires during the races. But outside the track,
just by the main gate, sits a concrete “monster” which seems to rise up out of
the ground, stories tall, holding a car.
And once in the main gate and after the awe of looking at
the monster, you could either go through the mall or go to your seat. The mall
is basically a souvenir section with every driver’s gear you could imagine
being sold from the side of their semi-trailers. I bought a few things from Dover
and Stewart, Gib bought a few things from a few drivers for him and his
friends, and just as we met back up and were about to head in, the flyover
occurred.
You know…
National anthem…
includes a must-have flyover by a plane or 2. Maybe when you’re in the
stands you could anticipate it better, but we were in the mall where you
couldn’t hear or see much of the track or the pre-race festivities. Well, I
have heard some loud things in my life, but this noise made me shit my pants… but
the shit was too scared to come out.
Screaming I asked “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT??????????????”
-
“What?” Screamed gib…
“what was that?”
-
“What?”
“exactly!”
-
“Oh, the flyover! 2 fighter jets.”
“what?”
This may have been the start of my tinnitus issues…
I haven’t left my house or apartment much in life, but to
me, nothing in this world is louder than a fighter jet, let alone 2 of them…
and Dover is along route 1… right around the corner from the Air Force
base. The fact that they flew over
wasn’t the issue. it was this sonic boom of whatever that flew by and I hadn’t
seen it. so I could prepare or even go “OHH, there they are…”… it was just a
loud indescribable ROAR that came and went without warning or anything.
I literally never saw the planes.
We made our way to our seats and we were 10 rows up from the
bottom of just out of turn four. If you watch it on TV, you’ll see a ramp from
the stands to the ground in that area. We were 10 rows up from the top of that
exact ramp. So we were right at the opening to the pits. And Kevin Harvick’s team
was directly in front of us. My Uncle Patchy would have loved these seats.
But the roar of the engines, the smell of racing fuel, motor
oil, exhaust, air ratchets and the constant ass massage from the cars was
astounding. I know it’s cliché, but if you‘ve never been, you have to go. an
unexpected bonus on this hot day was the vortex that is created by the cars
going 130+ miles an hour, so a steady breeze keeps the crowd cool on a hot
sunny day.
Earplugs were a must on this hot day for me, Gib went
without. Yet mine weren’t those little foam easy jobbers you can plug your ears
with. I thought I’d prep by using those noise cancelling over the head ones
you’d find at the Home Depot or worn by Navy guys helping the planes take off
on the aircraft carrier (think Top Gun)… I was clearly new at this looking
around. It was me and babies wearing these headsets. I felt like I was wearing
black on white tee shirt day. I would not be surprised if commentator Darryl
Waltrip (“BOOGITY BOOGITY BOOGITY” himself) saw me in the crowd and announced
to the nation “There’s a newbie”…
After a few hours, it was down to the last few laps. Stewart
was in the lead but hadn’t pitted during the last of the cautions, giving him
the lead. The dreaded Johnson was in second with fresh tires. With 2 to go
Johnson gained on him and on the last lap he overtook Stewart on the back
stretch and won the race.
Seems like a boo right?
Sort of.
Gib and I went to our first NASCAR race together and our
drivers were the ones to fight it out for the win. The excitement was
exhilarating. When he crossed the finish line I gave Gib a high-ten for the fabulous
finish and we worked our way to the bus for the ride back to the car. And
during that walk back it was determined that Stewart’s second place finish gave
him the overall points lead for the series to that point. So the Lowe’s 48 car won
the race, but Tony was in first place in the standings.
But enough about the cars… track… drivers… and the drive…
the race FANS are why you should go. those internet fads called “Walmartians”
look ‘normal’ compared to some of these folks. Boobs are great, but 70 yr old
nipples could use a shelter. The intense different type of tattoos, piercings,
and daisy dukes for 80 yr olds is why you go. I on the other hand was sitting
next to a woman who had a loose sleeveless shirt on and grand 28 year old mammaries…
for that reason I only really saw the last 2 laps, and what’s funny is the
following year we sat in about the same spot, and she was sitting in the row
below us. Yet with a better fitting shirt on the sides, she forgot a button or
2 in the front. I think I got a pic of the slip too.
So again, the race wasn’t much to see versus the people-watching…
and yet I realize at that point I was one of them and finally initiated in the club of race attending race fans…
and I felt welcomed to be there.
III
