
Anyhoo, despite that notion, I'd never been to any sort of automobile race until Saturday night, when Dw/M and I, along with our friends Craig and his lovely wife Taylor, and The Perfesser and his lovely wife Ann, trekked out to the Nashville Superspeedway for the Firestone Indy 200 IRL race.
More scoffing will probably come my way, first from the NASCAR purists who think the only real racing is done with fenders and trading paint, and from other neanderthals who think, "IRL? Isn't that the league where that chick drives?"
To which I'd reply to the first, "No," and to the second, "Yeah, and she finished fourth, so zip it."

We strolled into the Speedway proper (with our allowed six-pack coolers full of beverage...nice concession to the masses, there), took our seats on the 24th row about 30 yards behind the start/finish line, politely applauded through the driver intros, checked out the starting grid and awaited The Command.
Even though I'd never been to a race before, I knew enough to get hold of some great little earplugs (rated a 26 out of a 30 scale) and prompted Dw/M to insert hers as well, just before The Command. When the weasely Firestone kid from "The Bachelor" said, "Gentlemen...(dramatic pause) and lady...start your engines!" that's when it all changed.
As the pace laps rolled out, and they revved those rockets up for real to start the race, Dw/M turned to me and said, "OK, I get it now."
Me too.

Dixon said later he had a bet with someone that if he won, he'd smash the guitar in the ultimate fusion of rock star/race car driver diva fit, but when he finally did win (his first on an oval track in more than three years) he pussed out. I don't blame him, really...it's a nice guitar.

Afterwards, we retraced our steps back to our makeshift two-vehicle compound, recapped and relaxed as the bulk of the crowd filtered out. Craig had been to this race before, taking off on a whim last year by himself, and while Taylor had grown up around stock car races as a kid, for the rest of us, it was our first experience with the cathedral of speed. Don't know how much I'd like a full-blown NEXTEL Cup race (not too fond of crowds, and a quarter million folks in one place would definitely bend my brain), but the next time someone suggests heading out to our local Superspeedway, I'm all over it.
Especially if free tickets are involved...can't give up my Overdeveloped Sense of Entitlement (tm pending) after all.
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