Why everyone should go to at least 1 NASCAR race in their life.

Let us pick up where we left off shall we?

I'm awakened by my cousin standing next to my bed saying "Dude, wake up, we're gonna miss the race!"  This is the same cousin who was out drinking with me till 3 AM.  I shouldn't say drinking with me, because he abstained, but he knew how much I drank and thought it was pretty damn funny that he was waking me up at 7 AM.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me dude.  I'm still drunk.  At least let me get a shower.  Go get the grill out of the garage I'll be right out."

I shower, dress in the most hillbilly thing I have (jeans and a shirt that says "After partying all night, Chuck Norris doesn't throw up, Chuck throws down."  It was a gift, but I thought it appropriate given my current state of affairs.) and walk outside just as he's getting the grill into the bed of his truck.  He has a cooler full of meat and potato salad, I grabbed the 30 of Bud out of the trunk of the Audi and tossed it in.

"I need coffee" I say.

"We need ice."

"To the Mobil Mart!"  I shout with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

We stop at the Mobil Mart where another cousin is working (this cousin's brother) and stock up on ice, water, iced coffee from the D&D thats in the store, and a 12 pack of Cokes. (Note: when there is a long day of drinking in your future a caffeinated beverage of some kind is absolutely essential to keep you going.)

We hit the road and I plug my iPod into the truck stereo.  If I'm sitting in a diesel pick-up for a 2 and a half hour ride into NH at 7AM on a Saturday I am sure as shit going to be playing DJ.  We shoot the shit on the way up about girls, life, family etc. and arrive at the track a little past 930.  Let's see if I can describe this for you.

Imagine the biggest parking lot you've ever seen.  Now take that parking lot and put another right behind it, except a little higher on a hill.  Do the same again...and again...and again.  Fill every odd parking lot with RV's, pop up campers and those crazy tour bus type things and you're getting what I saw when we first turned off the highway.  No put a road in the middle of all of these parking lots that goes up the hill, and when you get to the top imagine 10 of the biggest parking lots you've ever seen all as one GIANT parking lot with scores of teenagers in red vests with lights (yes, its morning, no need for lights) directing you where to park.  And we're just talking about the parking lot here.

We park, and my cousin goes to get tickets.  A guy pulls up on one side of us in a brand new 3 series BMW with his son in the passenger seat.  He is not going to be fun.  He's less hillbilly than I am, and I'm about the 10th or 11th least hillbilly person this side of NYC.  I look across the lane and see the people I'm looking for.  Four thirty something guys and their wives/girlfriends, a tent, GIANT grill, and flag poles waving their favorite drivers number 30 feet above their Ford F-150.  Those people will be getting rowdy.  This is what I'm looking for.

I hop into the bed of the truck, grab a Bud out of the cooler and light the grill.  "It looks like it's beer o'clock."  Shouts one of the guys at the F-150 as I crack the Bud.   Good stuff. (Note: I'm not sure if there's rules about this or not, but I figured bringing an American beer was a good idea.  I don't think anyone drives the Heinekin car in NASCAR, so despite my penchant for foreign beer I restrained myself.)  

I go through the meat and the cooler and find some marinated sirloin tips.  It's 945 AM and I'm drinking a Budweiser and grilling steak in the bed of a pick-up truck in the middle of the biggest parking lot I've ever seen in the morning sun.  This is why I'm here.  

I look to my left and see the stands and the front straight away and a few cars whizzing by on the track.  My cousin comes back with the tickets and says we gotta hurry so we can see the car that he used to work on in the early race.  I tell him once the steak is done and we eat, we can leave, but I need a base if I'm gonna be drinking all day.  Even if it is steak at 10AM.

We eat and I finish 4 or so beers at the truck.  I tell my cousin to stand on his roof and he'll be able to see the race, but he does one better.  Apparently there is a radio station that has what amounts to minor league car racing on it.  We heard that his friend won the race, and my first thought is "Yes, we get to party with the winners tonight!"  I tell my cousin to make sure we call him before we leave.  

We eat, finish up and I pack the travel cooler.  Now, a lot of people don't know this, but at a NASCAR race you can bring as much beer as you want into the race with you, as long as it is in a can, and your cooler isn't bigger than 14"x14"x14".  This spells trouble for me, but I load the cooler with about a dozen buds, six or so cokes, two bags of chips and ice.  We walk through the parking lot to the gate.

"Got a bit of everything in here huh?" Says the guy checking my cooler.

"Sure do."

We go inside and find seats on the front straight away.

My cousin asks me why I dressed up.  "What the fuck are you talking about?  I'm wearing jeans and a Chuck Norris t-shirt?"

I look around and notice that my cousin and I are among the minority that are actually still wearing shirts.  It was 1015 in the morning and I was surrounded by shirtless beer bellied hillbillies and their hillbilly wives.  Now, one would think that if you get fifty thousand people or so in a small enough area there would be a fair amount of attractive young ladies.  Well, you would be wrong.  Nothing.  I was dumbfounded.  But I guess you can understand why you girls wouldn't want to be surrounded by shirtless old hillbillies.

I drank all day.  Yelled at shit I had no idea what meant.  Watched a fight in the pits, watched a number of fiery crashes and saw all kinds of redneckery in the stands.  It was pretty great.  The sun was out and the races were entertaining.  

There were 3 races and we were inside the track for a long while.  But it didn't matter, because when I ran out of beer, I took the cooler, left, refilled it and came back into the race.  Unfortunately my cousin wasn't drinking so I didn't really have anyone to get rowdy with, but I can see this getting ugly if I go next year with a group of friends.

I guess the point in the end is, even if you don't like car racing, and I really am not a big fan, the experience of actually going to a race, being outside, tailgating and drinking your ass off is a lot of fun.  And in the meantime you get to see some nutty fuckers driving WAY to fast around in a circle with 40 of their closest friends driving WAY too fast on the same small circle, crashing pretty frequently and making a shit load of noise.  Plus, hillbilly watching is one of my favorite past times.  I will be attending again next year.  Hopefully with my friends from the city.  It could be amazing, it could be ugly.  Either way it will be fun.  I'm looking forward to it.