Got 'er Done - Part II

On Sunday, we woke up about 9:30 and made some breakfast sandwiches with sausage, eggs, and cheese, washed down by a morning High Life. (19)

Race day is like nothing I have seen in my entire life. The Martinsville Speedway holds about 60,000 people so it’s similar to the scene outside of a colllege football game. Vendors set up shops where you can buy all sorts of NASCAR gear. We decided on purchasing a confederate flag with our weekend mantra, “Git ‘er Done,” written in yellow writing. (22)

Unfortunately, the town of Martinsville was sold out of sunscreen and coolers, which would each present its own problems later in the day. The cooler we were able to get around by bringing in a cooler about three times the size allowed in the race and pretending like we didn’t know. Security was nice enough to say, “you boys just don’t bring that next time.” (23) For the sunscreen, we just burned in the 80 degree heat.

At the race, it was loud and hot. It seems like the race itself is secondary for a lot of the fans there who seem more focused on the contents of their koozies. Laps 1-100 were a lot of fun, 100-400 not so much, and then the final 100 I enjoyed again.

Best race day conversation that I overheard:

Woman Standing in Line at Outhouse: Jeff Gordon is not gay! You give me five minutes with that man and I will prove to you that he is not.
Guy Standing in Line: Lady, Gordon is such a queer.
Woman: Five minutes and I will prove he’s not. He may be bisexual but he ain’t gay. Hehehe.

The two of them put their differences aside and toasted koozies, cackling behind their 15 collective teeth. (26)

Naturally, I was pulling for my guy, #9, Kasey Kahne from Cle Elum, WA who put in a helluva race. You can imagine that I was booing with the rest of the fans when Jeff Gordon crossed that finish line. Kahne, a half a lap behind, finished in second place. (28)

As I walked away from Bojangles with a box of fried chicken after the race, my roommate turned and asked me a question:

My roommate: Where’s your koozey?
Mambles: Sheeet, I left it at the race with my pouch of Red Man.
Roommate: Get ‘er done.