The Great American Race

NASCAR is an American tradition that I, a Canadian, grew up with. It is often dubbed “The Great American Race”, and it found its way into my living room via my father, who rarely missed a Sunday at the races.

As a child, I never cared much for car racing- it seemed like an awful lot of turning left which, coincidently, is not exciting- but I absorbed a great deal of NASCAR knowledge being in the room while my dad watched the races on television.

Two years ago my life changed. A friend of my aunt owns a NASCAR track in Long Pond, Pennsylvania, and I went along with my family for the experience. Four days of VIP passes and all the joys and wonderment of a weekend with a different crowd. I don’t say this to discriminate, and if you’ve ever been to a race, you can’t dispute that good ol’ boys are out in droves.

I had little to no expectations for this trip and so I had a rude awakening. Upon our arrival we drove under the track during the practice and before the windows were rolled down, the intoxicating rumble of cars moving 200/mph could be felt in our loins. It opened my eyes to the world of auto racing. Of big engines and bigger balls.

This year, we went back. Another weekend at NASCAR, only this time, I’m documenting the trip. Family fun in the Poconos. Nine people, two SUV’s and five days later, all that will remain are the memories.

THURSDAY

11:30am- Of course, we planned to leave at 9 a.m., which turned into 10:15. Before crossing the border, both vehicles had to make the obligatory stop at the duty-free. 60 beers, nine 26ers and $20 in cigars later we were back on the road.

2:00pm- Somewhere in New York State we passed a van of young guys who had a sign taped to their window. My Uncle Bruce was on the phone at the time, but when he saw the sign ‘show us your boobs’ he dropped the phone and shouted to my aunt, ‘Muriel, slow down, I’m going to show them the big ones!’ while attempting to pull his shirt out of his pants as fast as possible. Later, Uncle Bruce divulges that if we hadn’t made him laugh, he possesses the necessary skill required to make the big ones bounce.

4:30pm- Dunkin’ Donuts coffee is not good. However, they have the most amazing lids I’ve ever encountered. If you haven’t seen them yet, go check it out.

8:30pm- While eating at the Edelweiss restaurant near the track, we dine not more than 20 feet from Richard Petty, ‘The King’ of NASCAR. This is a big deal and I have to admit being a little excited. We ended up getting his autograph, though I think it is already lost. Also, upon overhearing that someone ‘isn’t together with their girlfriend anymore more, but she’s still living at the house due to circumstances’, Uncle Bruce points out that a lot of marriages end up like that.

FRIDAY

7:30am- I wake up to Uncle Bruce singing the “Star Spangled Banner” and pouring himself a rye and coke. What a rad Uncle.

2:00pm- During the first NASCAR practice session we use our pit passes to go under the track and over to the garage. We are no more than 30 feet away from all the cars, drivers and mechanics.

6:30pm- While having a cigar on the porch with Clayton and my dad, Uncle Bruce cruises up to the sliding door and shows us the big ones.

SATURDAY

7:45am- Uncle Bruce comes out wearing what he calls his ‘traveling pants.’ He stands in the kitchen doing squats to make sure that these pants won’t “tense up his bag.” I laughed hysterically.

1:00pm- From our seats above the grandstands we can see the entire infield of the track, which is full of motor homes. If the hippies at Woodstock had all traveled in motor home, this is what it would have looked like. Imagine the ruts that will be left in lawn. Children, dogs and maybe even smaller motor homes will likely be lost in the trenches.

3:15pm- I am struck by the size of the American flag flying in the infield. National pride is the coolest thing about Americans. I’m proud to be Canadian, which is not common in my country, so I respect Americans who are proud of their country.

8:13pm- We sit down to watch game three of the Stanley Cup Finals on NBC (take that OLN!!). During the playoffs great tradition has begun in Edmonton where the anthem singer starts ‘O Canada’ but only sings one stanza, after which he holds out his microphone, to let the crowd do the rest. The Edmonton fans sing at the top of their lungs, and I get chills. John Davidson, the NBC analyst, mentions that the “atmosphere is electric after the rousing rendition of ‘Air Canada.’” What would he say if I called his song the “always beautiful ‘Bruce Banner’”, or if I suggested we sing ‘God bless Comerica?’

SUNDAY

8:30am- We are already driving to the track for a race that begins at 2:00. A drive that normally takes a mere 4 minutes now takes over and hour. Gridlock, baby!

11:30am- No food is being served in our section of the VIP, which I feel is ridiculous. When you’re paying extra money to be treated better than everyone else you should be treated better than everyone else. It’s a status thing.

11:31am- We head to the pits to use our passes. This means we walk up and down pit road, shoulder to shoulder with the other NASCAR junkies, like socialites in a night club, only instead of getting hammered and grooving to tunes we stare at parked cars and closed tool boxes. I think I saw Paris Hilton being young and having a good time.

12:36pm- The VIP lunch is served. It is not very VIP. However, the open bar makes up for all mistreatment.

1:12pm- The Army a capella group takes the stage. You would think that a guest singing group would only belt out one or two numbers. Nope. 9 songs and 25 minutes later, I can’t believe the fastest sport in the world is the slowest to get started.

2:30pm- The race is underway and it is no wonder they call it ‘NASCAR Thunder.’ The noise is pleasantly deafening. I feel more of a man for having heard it.

3:17pm- It dawns on me that I cheer for drivers based almost solely on their design and the sponsor on their car. Not only do I cheer for them based on this, but I decide whether or not they are reputable human beings based on this same factor. People have been killed for less.

6:02pm- Apparently being in the VIP section doesn’t mean that people in tank tops don’t get really drunk and shout obscenities.

Sometime after 6:02pm- The weekend draws near a close as a fellow named Denis Hamlin wins the race. Congratulations to him, it was his first win, and it was well deserved.