Yet Another Day at the Races

What's goin' on, America.

As some of you know, Abby has had some pretty impressive feats of prowess in Pinewood Derby (er, 'Powder Puff Derby,' if you're a Girl Scout) racing through her Girl Scout troops. 

She and Papa John have a definite system down for how they create their race cars.  First, she picks out the design by Google image searching race cars, then he creates the car in his workshop and coats the body in a graphite lubricant to create an air-tight, heavy aerodynamic exterior.  She the sands down the graphite to fill in any holes in the wood, picks a color, and together they spray paint it.  He then takes the car and adds weights to it, removes access wood, and adds on the wheels.  She then paints the finishing touches on it, and it's ready to go.

The first year they worked together on this, Abby's broke multiple speed records and captured the Gold Medal for speed in her designated category (they break down the top three in speed for each level of Girl Scouts - Daisies, Brownies, Juniors, CSAs, etc.)  This was pretty impressive, so we weren't expecting to hit this goal again.

Little did we know we'd surpass it.

Check it out. . .

These races were supposed to start at 2:00pm, with check-in/car-weighing slated to start at 12:30.  Abby and I showed up right at 12:30 in order to snag front-row seats for the afternoon races, and therefore sat around for quite a bit while the gaggle of moms who were running this shit-show bumbled through every step of the process.  We didn't get underway until nearly 3:00pm (yes, you read that right - I had to sit in a chair and wait for nearly two-and-a-half f***ing hours.)  Didn't help things that between each race they had to rely on a couple idiot boy scouts to fetch designated cars from an ill-placed table at the far end of the church.  This meant there was about five minutes between each of the 60-plus races.  This is the very definition of a clusterf***, folks.

Abby, racing in the Juniors Bracket, didn't actually start racing until an hour or so into the races.  They burned through the Daisies and Brownies first, which took a long-ass time because there's far more Daisies and Brownies than Juniors.  In the very first race, Abby laid waste to her competitors.

By the time the Juniors took the track, the top speed recorded that day was around 210 mph.  Right out of the gate, Abby's car showed promise. . .

Second race.

She set a new record for the day with her second race (I missed the pop up window that displayed this notification, sadly.)

Third race.

Her slowest race.  Still faster than nearly all of the other cars that had raced that day.  Just sayin'.

Ella and Abby, on the edge of their seats.  All of the chairs in the front row on either side of the race track had kids sitting in them, but I refused to move - I wanted my vantage spot.  F*** those kids. 

Yet another record set, in her fourth and final race of the afternoon.

Abby took 1st Place in Speed, yet again, this time for the Juniors bracket, but I kept track of race times throughout the afternoon, and she had the second-fastest car there (the fastest car belonged to some high schooler.)  I was pretty pleased with this.

Showing off her new hardware.  She's back-to-back Champion of her age group - second year in a row she's taken Gold.

Had to get a pic of these two BFFs in front of the sign. . .

The winning team, after the races (I didn't realize that she wore the exact same sweatshirt last year at this thing.)

- Brian

Dirt Trackin'

Ryan (left), the mastermind of the evening's activities, his dad, and his dad's friend.

What's up, Internet.

So for those of you who know me, 'race cars' isn't something you'd say I'm particularly 'in to.'  Swords?  You bet your ass.  Collecting records?  Obviously.  Watching shitty cars drive around in a circle, kicking up dust, surrounded by Walmart regulars smoking Marlboro Reds and pounding Busch Lite?  Not so much.

Still, when a bunch of your friends decide to up and spend an evening at the races, it's kinda hard to say 'no thanks.'

The Dual.  A dive bar in Auburn we met at for dinner and drinks beforehand.

And that's what happened last night.  Me and four or five of the dads I regularly hang out with up and decided to go to Auburn for dinner and a night at the races.  We'd each bring about $20 in singles, that way we could bet a dollar on a car and, if that car won, we'd end up taking the pot for that race.  We could bring coolers of our own beer (no bottles, since it's a public event and everything) and snacks, and otherwise just. . . yeah. . . watch a bunch of shitty cars drive around in circles for a few hours.

Again.  NOT my cup of tea, per se, but hanging out with these guys gets pretty fun.

So here's the story of how Yours Truly ended up doing something totally not-Brian in the slightest.

Enjoy.

The Dual Bar, being just a hole-in-the-wall, local shit-hole, doesn't even take credit cards, so they have this 'ATM' (and I use that term very, very lightly in this case) where you can get cash.  Fortunately I didn't have to use it.

Just look at all these shitty local businesses. . .

A urinal for each, individual customer?  To hell with that sissy, city-folk nonsense.  'Round these parts, we just all piss into a trough.  What in the actual f***.

Playing some pool while we wait for our food orders to arrive.  This place is so small they don't even have a grill - they have a hot plate they cook individual burgers on, which - no surprise here - takes for-frickin'-ever.

I will say this, though:  the burgers were awesome.  I mean, just look at Pete's face - that dude ordered two baskets for himself.

A classy, classy establishment.

 

Following dinner, packing up coolers.

Seriously in the middle of nowhere, here.

Ten minutes or so later, we pulled into the Motor Speedway, ready for beers and car-racing.

While we walked to the front entrance, the Smoke Monster from Lost got loose and killed a crap-load of trailer trash.

Behold the Deplorables.  I guarantee the average level of education with these folk was a G.E.D.

VROOOOOOOOMMM

I can't complain too much, though - I won three races throughout the evening, and - in the long run - spent a grand total of $2 for dinner, seven beers, admission to the races, and two souvenir koozies.  Not too shabby at all. 

 Way to go, asshole.

I hope that picture cousin Cletus took turned out.  I'm sure it's a keep'r.

If there are signs like this hanging up, you know you're surrounded by Trump supporters.

As the evening races kicked off, we all started getting severe weather warnings on our phones.  Approaching thunderstorms and hail were rushing in, and so the races were called off around 10:30 (which, honestly, was totally fine with me by this point - after watching, like, more than three races, they all start to look the same after awhile.)

We had to run back to the cars, getting soaked along the way.  It was coming down in frickin' buckets.

Our last stop of the evening, after leaving the Motor Speedway, was to stop off at a bar in Auburn for a few more rounds, as it was still fairly early out, and no one felt quite ready to return to our wives and children.  There was some live music going, and we hung out for a couple more hours before ultimately heading back to Midland. 

- Brian