Darlington

This weekend me and some friends from work rented an RV and went to a Nascar race.

What? Why is that funny?

Anyway, it was fun -- big, noisy, dirty fun, and I learned a lot.

For starters, I learned that you don't have to wear earplugs to watch the race, even though you definitely should. 43 racecars roaring past you for five straight hours is not a *maybe*, *possible* hearing damage situation. It's a certainty.

Another thing I learned was that nobody's interested in your observation that "racecar" is a palindrome.

"Chicken Tenders" is a very, very broad category, and there's not much regulation of what can and can't be passed off as chicken. I think one dude tried to sell us a deep-fried bark chip.

Despite its progress in emissions testing and green construction, the environmental movement has a long way to go. I tried to point this out on several occasions during our two days there, but I think I was drowned out by the six thousand Winnebagos running their diesel generators.

People will wait in long lines at any time, day or night, to purchase Dale Jr. T-shirts, or anything else emblazoned with the number 8.

Beer is as essential to the Nascar experience as gasoline, and if given the choice which one they'd rather do without, the average fan would get cracking on some biofuel technology right away.

Goody's headache powder does work and tastes godawful.

There *are* black people at a Nascar race, though not very many, and nobody messes with them.

If your belly is big enough to cantilever the rest of your mass, it's possible to fall asleep sitting on a parked motorcycle. We saw this happen.

The first person to market a perfume that smells like burning rubber will make a fortune.

If you're trying to climb up on the roof of your RV and you fall off and land on the awning support, it bends. It can be bent back, though, by removing it and applying some judicious prying against the back bumper.

So yeah, I learned all this stuff. *Understanding*, however, may take a little more time.

*****

As bemused newcomer, I pretty much rounded out our crew, which had all the other bases well covered.

You had Brendan, the Hard Core Fan:




Larry was Public Relations -- I swear he was instant best friends with everyone we met.




Michael was the Responsible Guy Who Makes Sure We Get Back Our Security Deposit. In addition, he drove us there and back and expertly navigated narrow campground lanes, all while wearing cut-off jeans and a sleeveless shirt.




Foust was the Observant Artist, who took it all in with a funny little smile...




And Kevin was the Good Son who missed the race so he could be home in time to see his mom on Mother's Day.




And then there was me.



Oh, and Jeff Gordon was the jerk who stole the victory from our guy, Denny Hamlin. No picture of you, Jeff.