Brenda and Bob the Cop- a friendly couple who like to talk shit; Bob the Cop bears a striking resemblance to Jeff Garcia...
Here is a rough breakdown of our day:
I don't care what stories those kids from the Sandlot tell, the Beast is OK with me.
2 pm: We return to the Winnebago to drink, eat, and watch the race/football/golf on TV. We're beginning to crash a little bit.
4 pm: A gigantic rainstorm hits, and we watch from inside the warm confines of the Winnebago while everyone sprints back to their respective campsites, completely drenched. This includes Danny, Tina, Brenda, and Bob the Cop.
Lane and I spend the next hour cooking hot dogs and brats, and making up fake announcements to all the stragglers returning from the track that "the dryers are on the track, clear skies are heading this way, the race is restarting in 40 minutes!" This is not going over so well with the diehards that want nothing more than that to be true. An hour later, however, as about 1/5th of the crowd is leaving the grounds, this joke becomes reality, and Lane and I soon begin peddling our hot dogs to people in exchange for their ticket stubs, so we could get in. We are only successful with two people. Two! Who wouldn't trade a shitty, wet, worthless ticket stub for a juicy, delicious hot dog?
6 pm: Everything dies down and the rain delay is over, and we decide to see if we can just get in for free. And lo and behold....
We end up sitting together, all 8 of us, in ridiculously good seats. If Future Jim would've sent me a message last week saying "At 6:30 pm next Sunday you will be in the 20th row at the Kansas City Speedway watching NASCAR" I would've told him he was crazy. Then I would've told him to find Biff Tannen and steal his book that holds the results of every sporting event for the next 50 years.
So the entire day was a great success. Beer was consumed, laughs were shared, engines were started, and horizons were expanded. I won't be actively following the chase for the Nextel Cup or anything, but I do have a newfound respect for the sport of auto racing. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go back to nursing this hangover like I'm Florence Nightingale.