Being with Vicky has gotten me into some pretty crazy shit.
Like NASCAR.
I know. I know. I didn’t see it coming, either!
But my male sports gene was bound to come out at some point
and now I’m probably a bit more of a NASCAR fan than Vicky. We watch the Sprint
Cup races every week when they’re on – except that moronic NRA race in Texas –
and once a year we head on over to the Auto Club Speedway to watch qualifying
for their race.
And that’s what we did yesterday, hitting the road rather
early and making it to the track about an hour before the festivities. Vicky
had learned how to get free tickets from AAA, which is only right considering
they’re sponsoring the race, so the whole day would be free except for the gas
and the snacks – two things you don’t want to mix up.
Prior to qualifying, and because we got there early, Vicky
wanted to walk through the bazaar of merchandise trailers before we went
inside. You didn’t think we’d actually get in for free, did you? Well, I’d learned
my lesson a while ago. I understood that Vicky had to pick up a momento from
the Jeff Gordon trailer. And, heck, we only did this once a year.
This year, Vicky bought a pair of Jeff Gordon “24”
ear-rings. Do I think she’ll really wear them? Sure. Once. But what the hell?
It brought her a little joy.
Last year’s visit to the track had shown me that my aging
body doesn’t take kindly to vertigo, so I asked Vicky if we could sit lower
this time. We did and waited for Qualifying to start.
As usual, we joked with each other about the other people we
saw and this and that. Eventually, we had to put in our ear-plugs but we still
joked via text messaging. One of the best things about being with Vicky is the
ease with which we make each other laugh. We’re always giggling or laughing and
I love that Vicky is pretty damned funny.
So, we sat there, joking with each other, trading the
occasional kiss – making everyone sick.
When Qualifying began, we traded the occasional comment
about the drivers. More specific comments were held for Jeff Gordon’s
qualifying lap and Juan Pablo Montoya’s qualifying, too. Jeff Gordon is Vicky’s
driver and I follow Juan Pablo. Both drove pretty well, but our comments about
them were nothing compared to what we said and the disgust we showed towards
Danika Patrick and Brad Keslowski.
Vicky can’t stand Danika after NASCAR has shoved her down
our throats as the savior of the sport. If she had been given a chance to prove
herself – and if she was a half-decent driver – our attitudes might be
different. But we’re sick of NASCAR praising her for every lap she drives or
every wreck she survives. We’re just sick of her.
Brad, who we call Keslousy, is an inbred hick who is full of
shit. Other than that, he’s fine. He didn’t win last year’s championship so
much as Jimmy Johnson lost it.
And so, we watched Danica qualify five spots from last place
and we watched Keslousy have to start from the back and had a great time. In
all of my days, I would never have imagined I’d enjoy NASCAR. I probably wouldn’t
enjoy it nearly as much without Vicky. But when we share it, no matter if we’re
at the track or on our sofa, we have a great time.
(Mind you, I won’t be back there for 364 more days…)
