2011 Dover 400

No Dover 400 would be complete without a recap on my blog. Though I'll have to admit that the novelty of the race gets a little thinner each year. But it's still a good time!

As I mentioned before, my grandfather passed away last Friday and the race was on Sunday. We all knew that nothing was going to happen between Friday night and Sunday afternoon. I wasn't sure if my parents would be up to going to the race. And I was afraid to broach the topic. Would it be inappropriate to ask my parents for the tickets if they didn't want to go? I finally asked if they were going and my dad said, "Yeah, why not?" Well that answered that question!

Sunday morning, I half-assed getting ready and drove to my parents' house in Hazzard County. We loaded up my truck and headed out. We cruised up I-95 at like 80 mph and it really seemed like nothing. Everyone else was going that fast. My mother commented that the drive was so smooth, unlike the ride in her Ford Explorer. She told my dad that she thinks she wants a Honda Pilot next.

We arrived at the Subway just north of Dover that we've stopped at for the past 3 years. It's a Subway \ Dunkin Donuts. What an awesome combination. I got (wait for it....) a sub and a donut!

I took a picture of this device. I'm not sure what it was. It says 'Phone', but it had a cable hanging from it and you couldn't see the numbers you're dialing. And how do you access Facebook from this thing?



We got to the track and parked in the handicapped parking (because that's the way we roll at a NASCAR event!). Actually my mom, perhaps you'll remember this from last year) was in a car accident that left her with hip displacement and she suffers from pain from that. I'm not complaining about not getting to park in another zip code and walking. We pulled out the chairs and tailgated old-people type. I drank a beer. My dad had a cigarette, and my mom had an iced tea and a cigarette.

We finally decided to roll in. My mother and father were given a shuttle pass. I decided to make like a hiker and take all the gear with me and walk. Told them I'd meet them there. I walked what seemed like 2 miles (it may actually have been 2 miles!). I lugged the gear up into the grandstands. I sweating worse than Obama facing the House of Representatives. I finally get to my seat and my parents are nowhere to be found. I fortunately missed most of the corny pre-show activities. Since I had some time to kill, I whipped out my (wait for it....) book - Sammy Hagar's Red. It's a good book. I have about 30 pages to go. I'd probably be done if I wasn't on damn Facebook all the time.

The crowd seems a little small this year. For a moment I thought I was at an Orioles game at Camden Yards.



Here's a zoom on pit row. There's Reed Sorenson in the Target car, Marcos Ambrose in the DW, car. That's DeWalt for those of you who go to Home Depot and pretend you know about tools. Jeff Burton is in the Caterpillar car,


Have you ever seen so many Republicans in one place before? Do you see my friend Chris near the turn? Me neither.

Here's the infield. Contrary to the drunken fest at the Preakness, the Dover fans are quite civilized.


No sporting event would be official without a fly-over.

And really cool sporting events get sky-divers with American flags trailing behind them. This guy landed in the seat next to me. Fortunately he bought the next round of beer.


About 15 minutes later my parents arrive. This is after the fly-over of the F-16's, but just before "Gentlemen, start your engines!" What do they say in races that include Danica Patrick? 'Lady and gentlemen, start your engines'??? I have to admit the roar of the engines firing up is one of the most incredible sounds you'll ever hear. And them pulling away from pit row is amazing, too. I keep my headphones off for a few laps to appreciate how loud it is. When the cars come out of that final turn and they waive that green flag and the cars go from, what, 60 mph? to 140 mph in a matter of a couple seconds. It'a AMAZING!

I'm thinking of getting wheels like this for my Honda Pilot - red wheels and tires with yellow writing. How awesome would that be?



The pace car leading the pack.


The green flag...


Have you ever picked up a tire? On the wheel? It's heavy. Yeah, that guy on the left is putting it in his side pocket. I guess training for pit crews does not involve pizza, beer, and Facebook.


Here's the point of the race where I start getting distracted. This guy had this bug on his shirt for like an hour.


Grandpa Goodwrench fell asleep here.

You're going to have to control yourself with this next picture. Yes, that's a fat hairy naked old guy drinking beer. I wanted to recommend a new line of soft-underwire bras for him, but he obviously wouldn't hear me since he has on those ear protectors.


This stupid chick in the camo hat got in the way just as I was about to take a picture of the cars coming into Turn 4. I never knew a girl could be so hot in camo. Or in Turn 4.


I think I was the only fan not advertising my favorite drive (Carl Edwards). This is a ravaging Kyle Busch fan. Most people were telling Kyle that he was number 1.


And a Carl Edwards' fan. You probably think I'm kidding. But seriously, I was the only person not wearing a racing shirt. My mom had on her Jeff Gordon shirt.


Here is one of the highlights of the race. Someone kissed the wall. I think it was Reed Sorenson.


Matt Kenseth ended winning the race. However, all of the attention was on Carl Edwards (who's leading in the points category) and Jimmy Johnson who were battling it out all race-long. A caution with about 35 laps to go shuffled everything and neither driver was able to get back to the front. It was like starting the race all over again. Drivers usually win NASCAR races with skill. But sometimes it helps to be lucky.

And that's my recap of the 2011 Dover 400. Who's going with me next year?

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.

Dover 400 Log

I recently got to attend my first NASCAR race. Here is how it went.

Saturday

10:30 - Early to bed. Need to get a good night's rest.

Sunday

4am - Baby wakes up and executes the "See if Papa Wakes Up and Comes and Gets Me Test" to make sure that I will still attend to her if she needs me.

6:30 am - Baby decides that she should execute the same test again to see if the results are successful. I decide to get up and shower, dress, eat, and get my things together.

9:30 - I head out the door on they way to pick up my mother.

10:30 - arrive at my mother's house. This whole race thing is actually a birthday present for her. The only thing she requested for her birthday was to go to a NASCAR race. I'm the only one who wants to can take her. It takes me nearly 10 minutes to contain her as she's bouncing all around with excitement.

11:30 - we arrive in Dover. Traffic comes to a screeching halt and we inch along at a grueling pace. I've never seen so many campers parked on the shoulder of a major road in my entire life. Apparently, wherever a NASCAR race is being held you are allowed to walk around in the street with open containers of beer with your shirt off waving your Confederate flag. Yee-haw!

11:40 - Elvis has blessed us with his presence. It's amazing how Elvis shows up at these kinds of events. What's really funny is that this guy was not intentionally trying to look like Elvis.

11:45 - we are granted quick access to the track handicapped parking because my mother has one of those fake handicapped placards. Okay, it's not fake, but her knees hurt. Whatever. As long as I can park 50 yards from the entrance, I'm game.

11:50 - we rent our video scanners and headsets. They are conveniently out of the regular scanners that rent for $19 and we are forced to rent the $50 ones - provided I give them my driver's license, a major credit card, and a year's worth of Redman Chewing Tobacco.

11:55 - we make our way to our seats. Although Dover is one of the smaller tracks on the NASCAR circuit, it's still a huge place. You could put all of the yuppie polo-shirt wearing NASCAR fans drinking Samual Adams beer into the infield and not have used any space.

11:56 - we find our seat. Well, it's not really a seat. It's a quarter-mile long sheet of aluminum with numbers every 6 inches. Apparently all of the fans are supposed to sit sideways??? My mother sits and I sit next to her and we easily have used up 5 seats. I hope they don't show up.

11:59 - now that I've taken it all in, I break out my book, Valkyrie, and begin reading it. My mom continues to stare at the track and is in heaven. She's the kind of fan that would wear a shirt that says, "God must be a NASCAR fan since he gave life to Jeff Gordon."

12:35 - all 135,000 fans have now arrived. My seat by rule has shrunken to its statistically designated 6 inches. I have some cute 25-ish reddish-brown haired girl in a short skirt practically on my lap on my left side - because there's no space to sit. But I really don't mind. Really I don't. I hope she couldn't tell that I was practically breathing in her ear. It could have been worse. I could be sitting next to her fugly fat boyfriend. What's up with cute girls and fat guys??? Anyway, my mother is leaning on my other side. We're packed in.

12:45 - national anthem and the obligatory fly over of some planes. We get F-16's from New Jersey. It could have been worse. A New Jersey chemical factory could have done a fly-over.

12:55 - the opening prayer. The announcer prays to Jesus Christ asking him to protect the drivers today. I can appreciate that. I want them to be safe, too. He then thanks Jesus Christ for Dover Downs Speedway. Because you know Dover Downs Speedway was created by devine intervention. Then I get to thinking. Are there no Jews in NASCAR? Are we making a big assumption that all NASCAR drivers and fans are Christians?

1:00 - the cars start making their practice laps. Holy C-R-A-P that's loud!

1:02 - there are now 42 cars circling the track grouping up into position being led by the pace car. Holy C-R-A-P that's even LOUDER!!!

1:03 - the pace car pulls off and the race begins. The sea of rednecks rise to their feet shaking their fists and Tony Stewart hats, swearing into their Budweiser cans spitting particles of chewing tobacco into the backs of the heads of the fans in front of them. The cars hit turn one and head our way. Y-A-H-H-H THAT's LOUD!!! The cars then cut turn 1 and head into turn 2 right in front of us. SHHZZZAAAAHHH!!!!! I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF SCREAMING!!!! I immediately put on my headphones, only to be greeted by a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Great, I'm deaf. What?

I've never seen cars accelerate so fast in my life. And FAST!!!! And to think...they're ONLY going about 150 mph in the straight away. Down at Talladega their pushing +200 mph, especially without restrictor plates. Look how fast they're going!!!! (yeah, I don't think a still frame picture does this ANY justice.)

1:10 - okay, I'm bored now. It's one thing to watch a race on television where there is commentary and the camera follows different drivers. I'm looking at the same turn in loud silence. Here they come. There they go. Here they come. There they go.

1:30 - time to start focusing my attention on something other than the race to amuse myself. Hey, there's a funny redneck decked in a Dale Earnhardt Jr t-shirt and a Hendricks Motor Sports racing hat in front of us. This guy must weigh 105 pounds, but is about 6'2" tall. And he obviously lives on beer and cigarettes. He's very tan, leathery tan. With a yellow-stained mustache, probably from the cigarettes. Or too much papaya. Though he looks 47 years old I suspect he's really 22 years old and gets too much sun from teaching the outdoor life skills class at the community college. What really cracks me up is that it appears as if he thinks he's communicating directly with the drivers. He's yelling into his Miller Light, while holding his Marlboro with the other hand, shaking his hands with determination and intentional motions.

1:35 - Suddenly the Pepsi truck gets lost and races out on to the track!!! The crowd is stunned! What's really embarrassing is he passes Joe Nemechek and Mike Bliss coming around Turn 2. But give him credit. He was drafting Bliss coming into Turn 1, then did a sling-shot maneuver around both of them going high in the turn.

1:45 - someone asks the funny redneck how he can sit there without a headset to muffle the noise. He yells, "What?" After several repeats of the question, he says that you don't really need a headset cuz it ain't all that bad. You get used to it after a while. I think most people would call that hearing loss, but if he calls it 'gettin' used to it'.

2:10 - several girls keep getting in the way when I'm trying to take pictures of the cars. I should delete the pictures, but I'll display them to show you how rude they were.

2:55 - funny redneck realizes his communications equipment is malfunctioning. He's trying to get DE's attention, so he begins waving to him. I'm sure Dale is waving back, because they're good buddies and everything.

3:31 - fairly uneventful race. No big crashes. There have been a couple of cautions to remove debris from the track and one caution to pick up a CAT Diesel hat and a Budweiser can that were tossed into Turn 3.

4:21 - funny redneck is on beer #17. He's now angry at the other drivers and is yelling at them incessantly. His taunts must be working because there are several lead changes at this point. I wish I knew what he was yelling, but I'm one of those sissies that wears a headset and all I see is funny redneck giving drivers the finger and moving his lips. At one point he drops his cigarette into his Chuck Taylors that he's had since when he dropped out of high school.

4:39 - At first I thought this guy was an official NASCAR photographer. Then I realized that he is a photographer from one of Eastern Shore's newspapers (Salisbury Times?) is standing in front of us getting photos for Monday's sports edition.

4:45 - the most exciting part of the race for those of us in Turn 2 - someone hits the wall and takes another driver with him, but does a donut burnout and takes off again.

5:01 - some fans are deciding to leave early. This lady has in hand everything you would need at a NASCAR race - a bouquet of flowers.

5:24 - Funny Redneck, whom I've now named Cletus Billy Ray Pickens, is hot. His hat's now on backwards, presumably to keep the sun off of his red neck. He's on his feet giving his drivers the verbal beat-down. Don't mess with Cletus. Apparently Jimmie Johnson leading the race is a personal attack on Billy Ray's personal integrity. He ain't taking it sitting down - or at least he ain't taking it until he passes out.

At one point I hear him yell, "Dale Jr. is a gawd!" I sit puzzled for a moment. Then I realize that he said, "God".

5:55 - the race is getting interesting. There was a pit stop, throwing Jimmie Johnson into 6th place. Out of the pit they race and it's bumper to bumper. 1o laps to go. Johnson seems to be making a pass on every lap. Tony Stewart has grabbed the lead. Johnson has caught up to him. 3 laps to go. Johnson grabs the lead. Stewart gets it back. The crowd is going NUTS! The nuts are going nuts! 1 lap to go. It's neck and neck. Johnson gets ahead. He pulls away. Everyone cheers. They must hate Tony Stewart. He does drive one of them ferin' jobs - a Toyoder. Johnson wins the race. Wow!!! That was really exciting.

6:00 - 134,995 people move out of the stands. My mother and I wait. There's no sense in trying to beat them to the traffic jam.

6:15 - everyone has moved out of the stands. We make our way out and head to the car.

6:25 - we sit in the car and notice that NO ONE is moving anywhere. I convince my mother that we just sit in the car and wait it out. No sense in running the engine and burning gas. It's actually quite nice outside. It's about 70° and breezy. I read my book - and finish it.

6:40 - NOTHING has moved yet. However, some people are backing up and moving to other rows, only to find that they can't move anywhere there either. Everyone is pointing and laughing at them. There's going to be a redneck fight!

6:45 - the smart people are breaking out there barbecue grills and beer and making dinner. Note to self - if I come back to a race, bring dinner.

7:00 - just for the record - no one has moved yet.

7:15 - still - no one has moved yet.

7:25 - some cars start moving. I start my gas-guzzling SUV and pull into the traffic. I notice that the 4-lane road running through the middle of the parking lot has no one in the oncoming lanes. I decide to make this MY lane and gain about 15 car lengths. Jackass SUV driver, I know, but your punk ass is still sitting behind that diesel spewing hill billy pick-up with the Mark Martin flag hanging behind the gun rack that stacked with fishing rods.

7:35 - we FINALLY get to the main road, but it is log-jammed going north. My mother says to go south and find somewhere to eat. Good idea. I'm sure NO ONE decided to go out for dinner after the race. We find this family restaurant called Family Restaurant and pull in. It's surprisingly not too crowded. We are seated and this Asian woman is our waitress. "What you want, lady?" she asks in a thick accent.

8:00 - dinner is served. I got mozzarella sticks, fried oysters, broccoli, and mashed sweet potatoes. Hmmm.....so good! Mom pays for dinner. I think that's great, considering I've already spent about $200 for this event.

8:20 - we're back on the main road. Still a TON of traffic. However it is slowly moving. We should be home in a day or so!

9:30 - we finally make it to I-95. We're cruising!

10:00 - we see a construction sign. Work being done after Route 24. Heck, that doesn't affect us because we're getting off on Route 24. So we pass Route 543, the last exit before Route 24.

10:00:01 - traffic comes to a screeching halt. Ugh! We sit.

10:01 - and sit

10:05 - and sit

10:10 - and sit

10:15 - finally start moving. 15 miles per hour! At this pace I should have my mother home in 3 more hours!

10:20 - lane shift - right lane closed, merge left.

10:35 - we finally make it to the exit.

10:40 - mom's at home. I pee....for like 7 minutes. The toilet flushed itself 4 times without me doing anything.

10:50 - I'm back on the road. To Eldersville. I decide to forgo the wonderful construction traffic on I-95 and use backroads through Harford and Baltimore County to get to the I-695. Additionally, I like dodging deer in the middle of the night when I'm really tired and jacked up on Diet Coke.

11:55 - I finally make it home. I immediately pee for another 7 minutes.

Monday

12:02 - I take a quick shower to get the caked on oil, tire shards, and layers of Marlboro smoke off of my body.

12:05 - I hit the bed and 7 seconds later I am asleep.

12:06 (exactly 1 minute later, or so it seemed) - the alarm clock rings and it's time to get up. I throw the clock out the window at all the damned happy song birds and go back to sleep.

6:25 - Mrs. Eludius tells me to get out bed. I tell her that I'm sleeping in.

??? - I get out of bed, take another shower, get dressed a go to work.

??? - I arrive at work.

??? - I exist at work with ringing in my ears and a blind stupor hanging over me. I go to 2 meetings and have no recollection of the meetings except for the emails from attendees asking me questions about it. Uh......

I feel like crap all day. Like I'm hungover. Without having drunk any alcohol. I can't imagine how Cletus feels. Did he go to work today? Does he have a job? And is he still giving Dale tips as he rounds Turn 2?

Thursday

I think I'm finally out of the funk. Amazing how long it takes to recover. Note to self - if you go to another NASCAR race, take off the next day, you idiot!