You Might Be A Redneck...

I know that the stereotypical NASCAR fan is a beer-guzzling, good-ole-boy, Southern redneck who scratches, chews, and spits...and some of us are (yeah, Bud Light is my drink of choice and I'm from Southern California).  Judy drinks fine wine from crystal glasses, Joel enjoys scotch, some don't drink at all, and few of my friends spit.  However, once you're a fan of NASCAR...you're hooked!  Yesterday was the opening race of the season, and my local network of friends and family made the "good luck" calls before the green flag fell.  My driver, Clint Bowyer (we all have our favorites), was doing pretty darned well, and I hesitated to answer when the phone rang.  I could hardly hear the caller because of crowd noise behind him...it was Cousin Mark, who was at the race in Daytona, Florida, and wanted me to share the experience!  He kept yelling out, "Slow down, Clint!  Diane wants to say Hi!!"  I can imagine what the folks in the stand with him thought.  I was laughing so hard I couldn't talk.  Clay has called me during races in Texas and Fontana, CA; Cousin Christy has called from Phoenix, and it's so neat that these guys "take me along."  The funniest call of yesterday, though, was when Clay told me his brother had called him...from church!...whispering, "What lap is it?  Who's ahead?"  Now that's a fan! 

The race was red-flagged (stopped) twice while potholes in the track were repaired...potholes at Daytona?!  I had time to go out and sweep a winter's worth of leaves off the deck, so it wasn't a wasted day, but a race that normally lasts four hours stretched out to over six.  That gives an idea of the speed at which these guys drive...five hundred miles in less than four hours...don't try this at home! 

Say what you will about NASCAR fans...the tens of thousands in attendance at a race are on their feet when the American flag is presented, every man removes his hat and a hand is over every heart when the Star Spangled Banner is played, and every head is bowed for the invocation prayer.  If that's a redneck, then I'm proud to be one. 

Day of Rest

It's NASCAR season again!  Yesterday was the Shootout, and next Sunday opens at Daytona.  I've been following NASCAR only for the past five years, but have become an avid fan of the sport.  I'm the late bloomer in the family, and was introduced by my son Dave and Clay (the "good son"...a story for another day).  I grew up when drag racing and car clubs were just beginning in southern California, and used to go to Pomona and Riverside for sanctioned drags and dirt track racing.  Like the rest of the nation, I reserved Memorial Day for the Indy 500, but never really got into Formula One racing.  Chino had only two stop lights when I lived there.  Driving through town one evening, a high school kid pulled alongside at a stop in a hot car and gunned his engine, undoubtedly to get my daughter's attention.  What the heck...I accepted the challenge, gunned my engine in response, and beat him to the next stop!  I was a mother, driving a nine-passenger station wagon with four teenagers in the back, and I'll admit that if the "race" had gone farther, he'd have taken me.  My poor embarrassed daughter slunk down in her seat and explained that she had to go to school with that boy the next day.  I told her not to worry, he would never admit to having been beaten by a mother.  I now run NASCAR Central, keeping stat sheets on the family's favorite drivers, and dispense "mojo" to the kid who calls in first on race day, and there are strict rules governing who gets what!  All of this by way of saying I won't be making entries to the blog on Sundays...I'll be getting ready for the race!