Have Mercy

Quick poll:

Better Uncle Jesse:
Uncle Jesse from Full House, or
Uncle Jesse from Dukes of Hazard?

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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.

Got 'er Done- Part I

Early Saturday evening, my roommate, two guys from my section, and I climbed into a 1976 RV and headed to Martinsville, VA for a NASCAR weekend, courtesy of the Advanced Auto Parts 500. There were so many people that we met and moments to this weekend that a single blog entry will not suffice. I’ll start from the beginning and will include in parentheses the number of beers I had at that point:

The RV:

This RV was recently purchased by some friends of mine at a charity auction for the bargain price of $900. We get about ten feet from where we’d started when we heard a loud, scraping noise outside. Upon inspection, we realized that we were dragging a metal pipe that seemed to be attached to the water or sewage system. There was not enough time for a proper fix so we just removed the piece and were on our way. (1)

About an hour on the road, the RV started hurking, jerking, and making loud banging noises which meant we were running out of gas. Apparently, the gas gauge leaves a bit to be desired for accuracy. We switch the auxiliary tank and are able to coast into the nearest gas station, which for some odd reason, had two pool tables and three extras from Deliverance. (4)

Walmart Supercenter Store in Lynchburg, VA

Our next stop came at the Walmart in Lynchburg. We purchased two camping chairs, a dozen bottles of water, and a bucket to be used as a urinal since the RV bathroom does not flush. I’m beginning to wonder if removing that pipe back in Charlottesville was a good idea. (6)

Martinsville

We finally arrived in Martinsville at about 9:00 pm and found a large field filled with RV’s, tents and enough domestic beer and Camel lights to feed an army. The guy running the field said it was $60 for an RV but we agreed on $40 and had a home for the night. (8)

We fired up the BBQ and had a few burgers before venturing out to meet our neighbors. This is where the real fun began. (10)

The first group we hung out with were from Pittsburg. Five guys in their thirties, including Bob who was already passed out in a camping chair next to the bonfire. He would poke his face out from his hooded sweatshirt whenever one of his buddies screamed his name. (11)

At our second bonfire, we met four brothers from Ohio. Somebody was lighting off fireworks at a nearby field and every time something would explode, one of the brothers would scream “Git ‘er done!” This became our rallying cry for the night and the following day.

We then met a guy who was a huge Mark Martin fan who would giggle uncontrollably every time he said “Martin is going to win in Martinsville…hehehehehe.” (15)

In what was one of our brighter ideas of the weekend, we decided to check out the speedway at night. We stumbled to the main entrance and eventually found an open gate which allowed us into the grandstands. A maintenance worker warned us that there were about three hundred sheriffs patrolling the speedway and it might be a wise idea to leave. So we left, but not without me trying to start a golf cart parked in the concourse. (17)

On the walk back from the Speedway, I fell in a ditch and rolled my ankle as I am prone to do.

Just when we thought our night was over, we procured some firewood and were able to make a bonfire in our BBQ. Enjoying a night cap, a 55 year old woman and her 70 year old man, who was either her father, boyfriend, or pimp, stumbled towards our fire.

The woman, staggering back and forth and holding a big bottle of wine, said, “you boys got a corkscrew?”

My roommate, thinking she said quarter said, “I’ve got a quarter,” as he handed it to her.

She responded, “no not a quarter a corkscrew, but I will keep your quarter.”

“You boys wanna play butt darts?” she added before stumbling off into the darkness

Confused and a bit frightened we asked no follow up questions and went to sleep. (18) Seriously, what the hell is butt darts?