Circus Maximus

Welcome, race fans.

Okay, today's post is probably gonna weird you out a bit: Brian J. Hough just went to a NASCAR race.

I'm completely serious.

So my local group of friends I roll with regularly - The Kings of the Hill - are twelve or so guys with several interests, most of which are pretty cookie-cutter 'dads in their 40's' interests. Watching sports, joining Fantasy sports leagues, grilling/smoking crap, playing golf, drinking beer, etc. The problem with this, folks, is that Yours Truly, well, doesn't share a lot of these interests.

The first ever Fantasy Football Draft Night, 2018. Definitely not my scene. 

Here's some examples. These guys have been doing a Fantasy Football league since 2018, and I tried it the first year it was created and decided it sucked and I wanted no part of it. They go (and invite me along) to a Red Wings game once a year, and I always decline because I hate sports and have zero interest in dropping $300 on an overnight hockey game in downtown Detroit. They play golf every Wednesday during the warmer months (yes, there's a golf league), and watch NFL games at local sports bars every Thursday during the season, and I skip both of those because a.) I hate golf, and b.) during football season I'm in school and don't like going out or drinking on a school night.

You can kinda see the pattern here: I have a great group of friends, with completely different interests.

That's not to say we don't hang out practically every weekend, out at a bar, or at someone's house, or on some random outing out of town for a special occasion or whatever - I just have a tendency of saying 'no thanks' quite a bit. And I do feel bad about it sometimes, but since we hang out so much outside of these other things I tend to overlook it. Still, once and awhile the guilt will get to me, especially when someone extends an invite privately instead of making an announcement in our large, group text.

And that's how I got roped in to going to NASCAR today.

Collier - probably the biggest NASCAR enthusiast in central Michigan - texted me privately and asked if I'd consider coming out with the small group of dudes who go every year, as they're only able to ever get like three or four of the dads to go (racing being one of the fringe interests only a couple of the guys are into.) The last few years the guys have gone the race has been rained out, and the tickets roll over if there's increment weather (folks would riot if they paid $50 and didn't get to see anyone race.) So he had three free tickets and was trying to twist people's arms into going this year, and after five or six years of saying 'no thanks,' I finally relented.

Collier, Erik, and Collier's dad, Mark, hook up a cooler for its drive down.

Alongside Collier, Erik was going (he enjoys the races and always goes), but the other three dads going were all first-timers, and definitely NOT fans of racing (or the whole Trump-ish/white supremacist subculture that surrounds it): Lonnie Big Balls, Steven, and Yours Truly. We got up bright and early to meet over at Collier's house at 7am, where we began loading up everything we'd need for several hours of tailgating and three hours or more in the stands. Aside from the five dads going, Ryan's dad and three uncles were going, along with his son, Miles, and Lonnie's son, LJ.

Some weird-ass, double-wheeled car we spotted on the way to Jackson. . .

It was a looooooong day, driving two and a half hours each way and spending nearly nine hours down there (somewhere around Jackson, by Lansing - I forget), but it was fun and I'll likely do it again next year.

. . . . though $50 just for watching cars driving around in a circle seems like a rip-off. For that price you could buy a whole stack of used vinyl, or a couple new records. Just sayin'.

Anyway, here's some pics and video - enjoy a day at the races, folks. . .

The four 'friends' rode down in the second car in the caravan - the other consisting of Ryan, his dad and uncle, and Myles and LJ.) Steven drives like he's running from the cops, even while driving his wife's minivan. Absolutely terrifying.

Two hours-ish later, we had gotten through the security checkpoint and parked our car, the closest the Collier fam had ever gotten to the Speedway (according to Ryan.) We set about preparing for a couple of hours of tailgating.

Headquarters established, The Kings of the Hill crack into some beers.

After things were set up, we all decided to head over to the Speedway. Surrounding the outside of the Speedway are a ton of kiosks, shops, pavilions, and activities for attendees to check out - shop for merch, get autographs, listen in to interviews and podcasts, etc.

You'll notice the dads in the back are all rockin' open beers - that's totally legal here. NASCAR isn't so stuffy that they frown on open intox, kids.

Outside of the Michigan International Speedway

(It's bigger than it looks.)

Kevin and Kirsten Crampton - who are regulars at the Collier Euchre Tourneys and Collierpalooza - are also big NASCAR people, and met us down there with their couple boys. They were able to get a pic in front of some racecar they like, and even met (and got autographs from) the guy who drives said car. So I guess that was cool for them. 

Places like this are just perfect for people-watching, too. I was enjoying it all day (like these specimens right here.) Clothing optional, I guess.

They do have some rules here, but it sure wasn't heavily enforced, that's for sure.

Tons of driver/car/team merch could be found here if you wanted it, but no one in our group bought anything.

You can't really tell from the pic, but the shops lined either side of this thoroughfare for quite a ways.

Erik and I stopped off at this place so he could pick up his reserved headset. For $35 or something like that, you could rent a headset that was noise-cancelling, but also came with an attached radio transmitter that would let you tune in to any driver's helmet frequency so you could ear individual car chatter between driver and his pit crew. You could also tune in to various TV and radio networks that were broadcasting live during the race. I, obviously, didn't bother getting one of these.

Leaving the shops, we met back up with the rest of the group and started to make our way back towards our designated area of the parking lot.

Steven, Collier and Erik, leaving the Speedway.

Ton of corn hole boards set up, all of which were seeing heavy use. Doesn't sound all that much fun playing on frickin' parking lot concrete, but to each their own, I guess.

Leaving the Speedway

We had to cut through the much-closer, VIP parking lot - that parking must cost a lot more, who knows.

When we got back, it was back to snacking and cracking more beers.

Kevin, one of his sons, Steven, and Lonnie Big Balls

Collier fires up the grill for some lunch.

The spread.

Setting out food, getting ready to eat.

Whipping up some Smashed Burgers.

Ryan's other two uncles (and one of their friends) also met us down there. I guess there's five brothers in total, with four of them on hand for today's festivities.

Lotta fat and grease on those brats.

Digging into some lunch.

One of his uncles (forget his name) orchestrated a buy-in - $10 per player - for the race, just to make things interesting. Everyone drew a number out of hat, and whatever number you got, that was the order in which you got to pick a driver/car for the race. Whoever placed closest to 1st Place, won $100, and whoever got second-closest got $40 (it would have been $50, but Tom had to back out of this trip at the last second.)

First glimpse of the legendary GoodYear Blimp, which, for the rest of the day, could be spotted circling around the racetrack below.

An assembled picture of the entire group, right before walking over to the Speedway for the beginning of the race. I have no idea why I look so pale here - I think Collier brightened this pic up as best he could (because Lonnie isn't that black), and I was the only one standing in direct sunlight. I'm the tannest one there, I feel attacked.

Coming back to the Speedway.

What's cool is that they let you bring your own coolers full of drinks into the races, too - definitely helped because it was going to be hot and sunny for the next few hours, with zero shade to speak of.

These are some super tall stadium seats. The largest stadium I've ever seen (outside of the Coliseum, I suppose.)

Erik - who, like I said before, has done this trip a few times before - gives folks the run-down on what to expect upon entry into the stands.

Heading towards Section 23, our designated spot for the race (overlooking Turn 1, I was told.)

On the way to our seats, Collier was clearly in Heaven. He doesn't get into sports that much, but DAMN - this race thing is his bread and butter.

Our vantage in the stands. Not a cloud to be seen, perfect bronzing weather.

Erik attempts to get a group pic of The Kings of the Hill (Steven is hidden behind Collier somewhere.)

Steven gave me a couple of these (I hadn't packed enough beers - ended up drinking nine throughout the day and sweat them out so fast I wasn't even remotely feeling it by the time we left.) Not quite as good as, say, Bud Light Lime, but perfect for the hot, sunny weather.

After the National Anthems (they played Canada's as well as 'Merica's), there was a fly-over with these four planes. Probably spraying us with chem-trails ('cause Biden.)

The cars accelerate into their standard speed (or whatever you call it) once they go around the track a couple times behind the pace car. You'll have to excuse the second lap there, folks - it was so sunny out I couldn't see what I was recording at all.

The beginning of what would turn out to be an almost three-hour race.

That monolith rising out of the campground that's spread out in the center area of the track like some kinda dingy, Star Wars-ish spaceport is the score board (I'll come back to that in a sec.)

Miles and LJ sat right in front of me (you can see my bronzing thighs to the right), fortunately both wearing ear protection. This race was LOUD.

That center area of the racetrack was packed with RV's and campers. . .

An hour or two into the race, Steven managed to get a better group pic of us dudes.

As I said before, the blimp continued to make circles over the stands for the duration of the race.

So the driver I went with is some dude named Ty Gibbs, and the only reason I picked him was because a quick Google search on betting odds had him as the 9th-best pick for the race (and I had drawn #9 out of the hat for picking drivers/cars.) His number, 54, dropped off the scoreboard for the first 3/4 of the race, so I assumed I just burned $10 for the day (the only money I spent all day, since the tickets were free and we didn't have to buy anything the entirety of our time there, so I was fine with it.) Then, slowly but surely, the dude started climbing up in the ranks. On the scoreboard, the pole positions are the numbers at the left, with the drivers' numbers at the right. You can see that, by lap 194 (out of 200), my guy had reached 3rd Place. I had a shot of winning $100, but first my guy had to beat #24 (Myles), and #11 (Lonnie.)

The last two or three laps of the race were a nail-biter. Myles' car - #24 - who had been winning most of the day, suddenly ran out of gas (seriously) and had to pull over and exit the race. The following few cars jostled for the lead, and the stands were going INSANE.

In the end, Lonnie's driver (#11) took first place, so he got the purse of $100. Nobody had the second-place car (whoever that was), but Yours Truly managed to nab 3rd place. So I won $40, netting a $30 profit from my day at the races, which I was totally cool with.

It took a long time for the stands to clear out, so we stayed right where we were and let other folks attempt clambering down the steep-as-f*** stairs without knocking into each other (the steps were concrete, and like Mayan temple -level steep, nerve-wracking to say the least.) While we waited (and drained our remaining beer), Collier snapped a panoramic shot of the racetrack.

Waiting for the guys to fight through this swirling sea of humanity in order to return their rented headsets. The lady overseeing this was bellowing into a microphone to get folks to queue up in an orderly fashion, but there were a lot of sunburnt drunks stumbling around yelling at one another, so it was about the farthest thing imaginable from 'orderly fashion.'

Back a the campsite, we hit up the nearby porta-potties (over-flowing with human waste, literally, at this point - super disgusting), drank a final beer, and began to tear down our tailgating site.)

Making a final round of burgers and brats for those who wanted dinner before starting the hours-long drive back to Midland.

Still no rain, the weather held out. . . the first time in four years, I'm told. They've been rained out every recent year like clockwork.

Collier really wanted Myles (or himself) to win, but he was obligated by law to relinquish the winnings to Lonnie Big Balls.

And there you have it, gang - the end of Brian J. Hough's first-ever outing to a NASCAR event. Never thought it would have ever happened - I'm still not a big fan of watching cars go super fast in a circle for three hours, I don't get the appeal - but it made for a fun, memorable day, to be sure.

- Brian