For the Love of Left Turns



Hi, I'm FG.  I'm a Nascar fan. 

There...I said it.  It feels good to come clean and make it public.  The key is admitting it...right?  I've been a fan for years, but hid the fact due to ridicule and harassment.  Now I choose to make known the fact that I love the smell of tire smoke, alcohol infused fuel, the sound of 900 horsepower screaming at unbelievable RPM's, and the sight of men and women being hurtled down a track at over 200 MPH.  My adrenaline flows, my pulse quickens, and I'm like a little kid at Christmas when I see a live race at a track.  I was hooked the very first time I saw a race....the very first televised race when Cale Yarbrough and Donnie Allison spun each other out and into the infield grass, got out of their cars and starting wailing on each other with their fists.  You had me at, "You dirty son of a....."!!

You can only imagine the harassment I receive about racing.  My friend Jose stated the most common comment I receive when he stated it this way: "The only thing I know about Nascar is that no matter how much you drink, they still turn left."  Really??  Wow.  Shows how much you know, Jose...sometimes when they spin out, they have to turn right! Booya!  Actually, they do have some road courses during the course of the season, complete with both right and left turns, like a grand prix course.  They know how...sheesh!

There are those who say, "You only watch it for the wrecks."  No true fan of racing likes wrecks.  They know how expensive the cars are.  It'd make you feel good about your car payment.  They know the impact it has on the race and season points.  More importantly, they know that good men have lost their lives and careers due to crashes.  Even fans are impacted from time to time when debris flies into the stands.  No, it's definitely not because of the wrecks.

My friend Todd was at a casino in Kansas City the weekend the speedway there had it's opening weekend after it was first built.  He was playing roulette, and putting down relatively small bets on the rolls.  Nascar fans in town for the weekend were at the same casino as Todd, and he drew a crowd wearing jackets representing their favorite drivers.  He heard comments like, "Hey bubba, come look!  This ol' boy is throwing down $25 a roll!".  He texted me saying, "Mark....Nascar fans are white trash."  My gift of discernment isn't always sharp, but at that moment, I felt like maybe....perhaps....Todd wasn't exactly a fan.

Not long afterward, I had the opportunity to go to Talladega, Alabama to watch a race.  What an amazing venue!  I was nearly in heaven when I went.  The roots of stock car racing is down in that neck of the woods.  Southern moonshine runners raced the law to get away, and became a multi-billion dollar sport.  And now I was at the track that inspired the movie Talladega Nights, and Ricky Bobby's 'shake and bake'.  200,000 fans packed the stands.  I had amazing seats close to the spotters (the eyes for the drivers on the track since the driver has limited ability to see the cars around him except through the windshield), which is high atop the grandstands.  I was close to the start/finish line and had a great view of the pits, and the entirety of the 2.5 mile track (that's huge!). 

In front of us were two young couples in their late 20's or early 30's.  It was very warm on the day of the race.  They all wore shorts.  The girls had their crop tops and cut off shorts.  It was confirmed again to me that day that some should wear that kind of clothing....and some shouldn't.  Oh, no....it wasn't because they were too big....they were too small.  Bird legged, overly skinny things...it just didn't look good..at all.  I'll withhold what it looked like they had been smoking.

They all appeared to be enjoying themselves...if the amount of beer consumed is a gauge.  Overhearing (OK, maybe eavesdropping after a while) them talk about the fact that this was the first year they'd been on the front stretch (not the cheap seats) and the fact that they had consumed the record amount of beer...this year over $300 worth...and they were very proud of the fact.  As the cars began to race, one of the hubbies expressed his displeasure by standing up and flipped off Kevin Harvick every time he drove by (300 feet below at 200 miles per hour).  I'm sure Kevin was deeply hurt.

The thing that took me aback was when, at one point of the race, one of the girls took her top plate out (yes, her teeth), put Polygrip on it, and shoved it back in her mouth.  Yep...she did.  I was in shock!  I'm pretty sure it was at that moment I texted Todd and said, "Todd, you're right.  Nascar fans ARE white trash."  I know...there are lots of good reasons a girl in her late 20's doesn't have teeth.

OK, maybe the sport has some shady roots.  Maybe they do mostly turn left in ovals (not circles...learn your shapes, people!!).  Maybe going to a race is like a trip to Walmart after 12 midnight.  I still love it!

Thankfully, there are people like Jeff Gordon, Jimmy Johnson, Tony Stewart and others that speak English rather than broken Southern, that have helped bring a little bit of class to the sport that has otherwise been seen as much less than classy.  It's a family sport...you'll see people of all ages there.  Drivers have their families there on race weekends.  They still sing the Star Spangled Banner, say the Pledge of Allegiance, have an Air Force flyby, and yes, they even pray before every race.


The last experience I had was at Texas.  One of our vendors from work provided luxury suite tickets complete with pit passes.  I was beside myself!  The suite had all the food I could eat...all I wanted to drink...all day long!  This was my first experience in the pits...rubbing shoulders with drivers and crew, as all who make things happen for a race.  OK, so the guy who was carrying a Goodyear Eagle racing tire around the pits (I'm hanging my head) so he could get driver autographs on it.  OK, so many times it reminded me of a trip to Walmart.  It's still my favorite...and driving one of those bad boys is on my bucket list.  I WILL do it!

Yesterday we put another season to rest.  It was a good season...and now I go into racing depression until February 20 of next year when the engines fire up again at Daytona.  It's going to be another long, cold winter.  Until then, remember the infamous words of philosopher Ricky Bobby, "If you ain't first, you're last."  FG

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