Well, the third times the charm I guess. After two very miserably failed attempts last season, I finally made it to the race! I know I know… alot of you out there may be laughing at me because, when I moved down here, I swore I wouldn’t give in to the redneck thing but, it isn’t really like THAT either! I mean, sure, it’s a bunch of beer-chuggin’ hillbillies watchin’ 43 guys take left turns around a mile-or-two long track. There IS that side to it. And actually being there, brings that to the forefront even more. (See: “Jr. fans”) But there’s more too.

Of course, there’s competition. There’s wrecks. And strategy. Wrecks. Advanced technology. And did I mention wrecks?! Seriously, who doesn’t like seein’ a good wreck? Well as long as your driver of choice — or Jr. — isn’t involved. Anyway, just like anything else, if you’re even the slightest bit competitive, and you can find a favorite to root for (whether it be because he has you’re lucky number, or a pretty car, or HE’S pretty) it’s only natural to wanna see how it plays out, right? Right?

Moving on. Being there is quite an experience. First, the bad: for the most part, you have no idea what’s going on. It gets tough to tell who’s in what position, and when something exciting DOES happen, you don’t have know-it-all analysts breaking it all down for you. Then there’s the fans. Remember them? The “beer-chuggin’ hillbillies”? Yeah, they can be obnoxious. But NOT as obnoxious as Jr. fans. And not that anything is wrong with Jr., because there isn’t. He’s a good guy. But I’ve decided that most of his fans are working with one too many chromosomes, if ya know what I mean. They’re like the NASCAR equivalent to Yankees fans. Yeah that’s right, I went there.

But now for the good. It’s huge. (Go ahead and chuckle. Get it out. I’ll wait… you done? Okay.) Seriously, you can’t fathom the enormity of the whole thing without actually being there. Even the sound is enormous. Make sure you get earplugs, trust me. And it’s neat to feel the warm breeze of the cars speeding by on a cool night. (I know. That sounds a little gay and you can judge me all you want, but it’s true.)

And there’s something about the smell. In and of itself, the smell is bad. But it adds to the experience of being there. But then you get home and realize that you wreak of some toxic combination of high-octane fuel, melting rubber, exhaust, and the beer that spilled all over you when the drunken rednecks were stumbling down the aisle. That smell could wake the dead. In fact, you may wanna burn those clothes. Just a suggestion.

All-in-all, good times were had. BTW, Kyle Busch ended up winning the race. He’s not my favorite or anything but he doesn’t bother me either. What’s more impressive was HOW he won. See, with like, two laps go, he got tired of Jr. — who was in the lead at the time — holdin’ him back, so Busch “politely” nudged him up into the wall and went around him. Well, Jr. ended up wreckin’. I kinda felt bad about that because, again, I don’t have anything against Jr. himself. But what made it all better, was seeing Jr.’s arrogant, ignorant, hypocritical, and all-around jack-ass fans get all their panties in a bunch over the whole thing. Oh well. “Rubbin’s racin’.”