Here we are at the Daytona Speedway. We’re watching a qualifying round for the Classic 24 race, so there are all sorts of vintage cars up to the usual chicanery and trying to stay on the ground and out of the bleachers on the straightaways.
Then there’s this thing. The V-10 Dallara SP1. The Dallara puts out around 700 horsepower, and spins up to 11,000 RPM if you’re braver than I am. The car’s something along the lines of 20 years old, so it’s hardly state of the art, but many of the cars he’s passing are substantially older. But hooboy, they look like pedal-powered cars compared to this thing.
I raced in this tournament once, and won. Back then I had a gorgeous race horse. She was white, fluffy, and ran like a maniac. I couldn’t wait to get out on the track and show the other racers how it’s done. The race began and I swiftly took the lead. Things were looking up for me. However, halfway around the track my horse stopped to lay eggs. That’s when I realized that they gave me a giant chicken. I’d been gypped.
But then the eggs hatched at the last minute and the little chicks won the race for me. That’s just how it works around here, I guess.
Back In the Day: Drag Racing With Bill “Grumpy” Jenkins
Ah, 1968. Back then, people called you grumpy if you were simply polite and quiet. Nowadays, everyone’s carrying coffee cups at work that have slogans emblazoned on them threatening to assault you if interrupt them before the coffee’s gone. And no one is called grumpy. The BSBFB hereby calls for a new era of good manners and quiet, polite discourse everywhere in public life. That way, we can stand out from the crowd when we act grumpy. It’s no fun when everyone’s doing it.
Hey Fellas, Hold My Hot Pink Virgin Lemonade Martini And Watch This
If I recall correctly, I used to do the exact same thing when I was a kid, except there would be a lot fewer people watching and I would have to clean the blood and broken branches out of my Little Tikes Cozy Coupe myself. Every once in a while I’d have to go get dad to pull the red and yellow convertible wreckage out of the ditch next to my house. He was pretty mad the first time, because my little car didn’t start out as a convertible. It sort of ended up that way after some on-the-fly modifications. Big branches and roofs don’t go together very well.
One thing I realized during my trips down the slight incline in my mother’s back garden is that nothing beats having the wind in your hair, the bugs in your teeth, and the twigs in your eyes. Sometimes avoiding the trees isn’t the best option. If you don’t hit the trees, you just keep accelerating. Then again, I wasn’t very bright when I was 17.