Dover - Year 2

You'll remember last year when I took my mother to Dover for the NASCAR race. She said that before she dies she wanted to go to a race. That was a pretty good hint that she wanted to go to a race. She had such a good time that I decided to take her again this year. And because we had such a good time, my father said he wanted to go, too.

My father is not much of a people person. That's why he was a teacher. Well, maybe that's why that didn't work out too well. And he doesn't like loud noises. Which is why he likes racing. Well, maybe that's contradictory.

This is the view from our seats this year:


Anyway, last year we sat in turn 2. Looking back, that wasn't too bad of a place to be. You can see the cars zooming out of pit row back into the turn and you see them coming toward you. Plus the seats were cheaper and that's where a lot of the hot redneck chicks with cowgirl hats were sitting.

The Monster Mile Monster:


This year, my dad suggested we sit along Earnhardt Row, which in Dover parlance is down the front-stretch along pit row. Tickets were a bit pricier, but we sat at the end of pit row.

We made good time getting there. Both of my parents were excited when I got there. They did the last long hard suck on a cigarette that they would get for over an hour. We stopped in Smyrna, Delaware for $5 footlongs at the Subway\Dunkin Donuts. There they got to suck down a couple more cigs.

What was funny is that you could tell the race was in town. These weren't your usual Delawarians. Or is it Delawarites? I'm talking deisel-driven pick-ups on over-sized tires belching thick black clouds of exhaust. The operators of this vehicles stopped for donuts and coffee leaving their part-time jobs at Home Depot for the day. They proudly displayed their American flags, shit-kicker boots, and dirty jean-shorts. Their hardened hands caked in Pennzoil, Skoal, and last night's barbecue sandwich.


Another 30 minutes or so we stroll into Dover and slowly make our way to the parking lot. My mom has a handicap parking pass that she got on the corner of Biddle Street and North Milton Avenue. She got it in exchange for a hot chrome 45 and a couple of nickle bags. (I am kidding, of course).

We were directed to the rear parking since that's about where we were sitting. Turning into the handicapped parking I see state troopers checking for identification. See - you're supposed to have a card to accompany your placard. My mom cannot find her card. The state trooper asks my mom for her driver's license and a bag of Doritos. He asks what her reason is for having a handicapped tag. "Uh....um....hip pain. And it really hurts today." After about a minute of inspecting her driver's license, he relunctantly let's us in. Finally my dad says from the back seat, "You could have come up with something better than that!" Seriously. I didn't think he was going to let us in. In reality, my mother was in a car accident when I was about 11 that dislocated her hip and she's had problems with it ever since. Lesson learned for next year - "Why do you have a handicap tag?" "Because I was in a car accident that dislocated my hip."

What's worse, as we pull into the "handicap spot" most of the people around us are war veteran amputees with prosthetic limbs. Oh, boy.

With my friend's 55-220 lens I capture this guy hiding behind the garages. Security did not catch him trying to sneak in a fan inside his pants.



Here's the Richard Petty Hall of Fame car. The NASCAR Hall of Fame was opening the following weekend.


We finally make our way to our seat. It feels as if we walked a 'monster mile' to get there. Our seats are about 40 stories up from the track. Meanwhile, I'm hauling all of the gear since my parents are both in their 60's and would no way be able to carry our stuff. So I'm hunkered down with 2 coolers with sodas, water, and ice, a camera bag, a backpack with magazines, sunscreen, snacks, and other miscellaneous stuff. I either looked like a paratrooper ready to be dropped behind enemy lines or someone standing outside of Wal-Mart on Thanksgiving waiting to get in at 4am the following day to get a discounted Wii. Not only that, I don't have a shirt advertising my favorite driver. I stick out like Martin O'Malley at a pro-business development meeting.

F-16's doing the fly-over during the National Anthem, which was such by Joe Nichols.


After about an hour of sitting in the blazing sun the race finally starts getting ready. The pace car is rolled out - an electric hybrid Toyota Camry. How far has racing come when the pace car is an electric hybrid built by the Japanese? You know die-hard NASCAR Americans are cringing at this sight. One solid American in front of me starts grumbling about how un-American it is. I tell him that in 15 years all NASCAR's will be hybrids and they'll need to take 30 minute mandatory pit stops in order to recharge the batteries. He got even more disgusted at my prediction and starts swearing about how Obama is destroying this country. I love it.


The race finally starts and my father comments about how loud it is. I told him that I warned him how loud it was. He says, "But I didn't think it was going to be this loud!!!" This is even with our Sprint FanView sound-muffling head sets. NASCAR Sprint FanView® is your ultimate race day companion!

Martin Treux Jr coming in for a pit stop and a tire getting away from the pit crew. I'm sure he got docked points for that.


The race is a bit melodramatic. I think 4 guys kissed the wall, one in turn 1, the others in turn 4. Fortunately I didn't see any guys kiss each other. An exciting point in the race came when Kyle Busch and Jimmy Johnson were fighting for the lead. Both landed in pit row for new rubber and more juice. Johnson, being at the beginning of pit row, pulls away first and when he sights Kyle starting to pull out Johnson floors it to beat him out. Of course, there is a speed limit in pit row for safety reasons and as soon as he did that the black flag was thrown and he had to do one lap and come back into pit row and quickly make a commercial about the dangers of not having cable television.

This basically took the air out of the race. Kyle Busch was now safely in front and unless he wrecked, he would win the race. But out of this stewed the hatred of Kyle Busch from 90,000 Dover race fans. This guy, who I'll call one of the Dover Boys, reminded Mr. Busch that he was number one in redneck world - though he used a different finger. And not just once. Or twice. He did this for the remaining 27 laps.


Kyle Busch is #1 (or something like that).


Kyle Busch doing his burnouts in front of the finish line.


Here's Kyle Busch doing his Polish victory-lap.


Here's a picture of Dover Boy with his best friend Bud.


And here's a picture of his dad, Bud.


After the race I had to turn in the Sprint FanViews (do I get royalties for pumping them in my blog?). I told my parents that I'd be a few minutes and to wait for me. When I got done, they were gone. How far could they have gone? My mom has a bad hip and they're both in their 60's. I looked for chairs. I looked for a Howard Johnson. I looked for a television that my be broadcasting The Wheel of Fortune. Nothing. Where could they be?

I waited for about 10 minutes. Nowhere to be found. So I slowly began to walk toward the truck. I perused the souvenir stands. Nothing. I finally took my 80 pounds of gear back to the truck and dropped it off. I headed back and made a few circles of our path back to our seats. Finally I find them wandering aimlessly about 45 minutes later. Fortunately they were able to smoke a couple of cigs.

My dad says, "I was just getting ready to go up to a cop and tell him that I can't find my son." I thought that was funny, but I'm sure it would have generated unnecessary panic.

We finally got back to my truck, waited for a while, then decided to head out. I remember from last year that traffic was ridiculous on Route 13 north. It wasn't moving at all. So this year I decided to head SOUTH on Route 13 and pick up DE Route 1 around the Air Force base. Awesome idea. We get on DE Route 1 and there is hardly anyone around. We finally hit traffic a few miles up, but for the most part it moves and we make decent time. I got to my parent's house about 8:30, dropped them off and I'm back in Carroll County by 9:30. Much better than the 1am from last year.

Year 2 of Dover was a success. My dad liked it and I wouldn't be surprised if he joined us next year. Care to join us?

The drivers leave via helicopter. This is what you see for like an hour after the race. Look how low he is.