The Tricky Triangle

So now we are here  at the Pocono Raceway for the guys to enjoy one of their sporting passions:  NASCAR racing. 

It's really not my bag, but I'm always up for a cultural experience any day.  I went to my first NASCAR race with a high-school boyfriend to Dover, Delaware in the late 70s.  Another with Gary and E in Virginia many years later.  To me, the first ten laps and the last ten laps are enough.  But, since I was promised a day in the Amish country afterwards, I said yes.  Hey, I'm easy. 

We drove into the check-in area so that Gary could pick up our tickets for both the race and camping spot.   We were boarded by two of the security crew; one of them had about three teeth left in his head, but he was the nicer of the two.  They wanted to look around for guns and drugs.  We laughed about it and they were cool about it.  Thank goodness, because we were sneaking me in without paying.  Isn't that awful?  Kind of like a kid in the trunk of your car when you went to the drive-in; remember?  I did not want to go to the race itself, so we saved quite a bit of money there.  I was still a little nervous about being found out.

We drove into the campground, found our spot, and settled in for the evening.  Took a couple of bike rides to check out the encampment.  What a community.  Some of the sites were so done up with driver and team flags and grills and tents, games and bikes, classic cars; you name it.  Everyone, except kids, had a beer or other adult  beverage in hand.    And this was at 4pm!  Next day, I found out that adult beverages were the same as morning coffee to these campers.  One guy had a camper with a screened porch on the back and a fabricated metal deck upon which he sat and held court. 

When night fell on the check-in day, we wandered down to where a rock concert was being held.  Sounded like rock-n-roll.  At the end of one song, a guy came up from the audience and gave his story about finding his personal lord and savior.  Then several more wanted to come up from the audience and there was some sort of group prayer.  We moseyed off to our trailer where I made some really good multi-bean quesadillas.  The fireworks afterwards were quite nice; the pyrotechnic ones, just in case you were thinking of the bean aftermath.

Two minutes before the race, I was set up in the camper at the table in the back, pillows adjusted just so for my ultimate writing comfort at the computer.   Blam, blam, blam!!!!  Freaking loud blasts went off not 100 feet  from where we were parked.  Supposedly this is typical of the start of a race; well, I didn't know and that pair of underwear will never recover!

We had parked right below the edge of part of the track; this track is called the Tricky Triangle and their motto is "What 4th turn?"  As a car lover, though, even though the noise was loud, it was very exciting.  I'd hear the cars coming up to the turn, getting closer and closer, then *vrooooooom* around the corner.  It really was awesome.  And because I had writing to do, some biking to do, photos to take, the actual length of the race was not so bad.  Sneaky Dale Earnhardt  Jr. took advantage of some mistakes made by other drivers to make the win.

We stayed another night before heading out, so we got to watch most of our neighbors pack up and leave.  I'd say they do this a lot because they had a good system down pat.  Next morning, we headed out to Amish country in Pennsylvania. 

What's Next?:  Intercourse, Of Course