I've always enjoyed NASCAR racing on TV. The speed, the driver personalities, and the ever present chance of vehicular mayhem have always been compelling reasons to suffer through endless TV commercials.
Pulling from my "bucket list" of things to experience before my "Final Lap" I decided the need to speed off and attend a NASCAR race.
First, expect to spend some money. Buying tickets near the start/finish line and not a mile up in the sky high section was an almost two hundred dollar investment for two. Next, plan on losing a good portion of your hearing. Seven rows up from the track without headphones or earplugs, Corbin (my grandson) and I became deaf after just a few laps. However, most surprising and interesting was the before, during, and post race hoopla. You see, I discovered this isn't just a car race. Rather, it's a celebration of beer, exotic tailgating foods, patriotism, merrymaking of every rating, beer, and uncensored capitalism.
Actually, I found the celebration aspect more intriguing then the cars whizzing around the track. Here were over one hundred thousand souls spending a lot of money, drinking oceans of beer and eating truckloads of food. Also, people were buying tons of souvenir shirts, hats, and trinkets. The array of vendors was impressive, diverse, and fun.
Corbin and I enjoyed a fried bologna sandwich, cotton candy, and mellow yellow drinks. We raced each other on the ultra cool NASCAR simulator. Here I lost every race and was most proficient at flipping and scraping along the wall of the simulated racetrack. At the Toyota Hospitality Center I could sit a few hours while Corbin threw beanbags at a hole in an inclined board. We jumped and hooted to catch t-shirts, hats and other articles of crapola. A big part of the entertainment was the people watching. We enjoyed watching a young lady with green hair and multiple rings pierced all over her face competing in a dance contest. Naturally, lots of tattoos and exposed skin from both sexes were on glorious display. Then there was the fat young guy with a rebel flag cape carrying a wooden duck ... yes, a wooden duck ! The spectacle of people, sounds, and unusual sights was wonderful.
At first I was put off by the endless array of sponsors. A big brown truck had to race around the oval to deliver the race starting flag. Every booth, car, celebrity person, and giveaway trinket was heavily laden with product endorsements and logos. The whole event was a giant commercial for one product/service or another.
After a while I began to realize that this was the beauty and strength of the race and our great nation. After all, America's first permanent settlement at Jamestown was a money making adventure ! Freedom of religion was a grand idea but our first national pursuit was to find the gold.
Some people say and have written that car racing appeals to a class of sports fans somewhere between normal folk and knuckle draggers. I strongly disagree. The NASCAR race in Richmond was about good hard working people playing hard and noisy, and spending lots of money. When old glory was displayed or a patriotic hymn sung the silence and respect from the masses was church like and genuine. As our evening ended I decided these NASCAR people were a giant reason for the greatness and strength of our prosperity and culture.
As Corbin and I suffered our hour long journey out of the parking lot we tried to find a radio volume we could hear. We couldn't. Finally, pulling onto Laburnum Avenue I told Corbin how I felt our NASCAR experience , in my opinion, reflected what was great about our nation and our fellow citizens.
Corbin never responded. He probably couldn't hear me or in his temporary deafness was probably happy to be spared my philosophizing. Looking a second time I noticed that he was fast asleep.
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