Tolstoy goes to NASCAR
First, let me say that NASCAR is the largest convention of drunken, sunburned southerners in the nation. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) Yes, there are some cars there too, but they play second fiddle to the $7 cans of Bud.
This past weekend I took a trip to Dover, Delaware to see a NASCAR race. I’ve never been to a NASCAR race. I’ve never watched a NASCAR race on television. I don’t like NASCAR. But according to my roommates, that’s no reason not to go. In case it proved as boring as I supposed, I brought along Tolstoy’s War and Peace, through which I’ve slowly been plowing this past year. I believe it was the first and only time any literature was within 20 miles of the track.
Arriving with no tickets, we hoped to find a deal from season ticket-holders or fans trying to cut their losses. The first joker we approached tried to sell us his $90 tickets for $100. After understanding we wouldn’t bite, he replied, “I’m a doctor. Tell me your symptoms.” We tried “the walk-away,” and he immediately dropped to $50, but no lower. He was obviously staking out first-timer yahoos who’s opening line would be “I’m new in town” or “What’s your rock-bottom price?” Finally we got ahold of a few for around $20.
The race wasn’t too bad. There was a nice crash in lap 17, but the other 382 laps were all about the same. My driver (McMurray, whom I picked at random) finished in the top 10, saving me from losing the bet. (Loser bought everyone soft serve at McDonald’s.)
I can’t see ever going to another race, but it was worth it this once. The 10 hour trip back to Wilmore, Kentucky was largely uneventful. High points included running over a dead deer and free soft serve refills at McDonald’s. It was a good weekend.