Remember When I Decided NASCAR Was Cool? -AKA- My 100th Article
Written by Patterson Belser, Tuesday April 13 2010
by Patterson Belser
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Admittedly, I have been MIA for far too long. Travels have happened, races are now in the past, and I realized just how much I wanted to get back to this. But it is strange; writing is not like riding a bike. You want to come back with something at least readable…preferably decent. Not only that, but this is my 100th post to PlayerPress. The pressure is really on right now. In that vein, I decided that the way I would do this was to tell a NASCAR related story from my past.
A few weeks back, Raygan Swan wrote a piece on Yahoo! about race fans talking about the first time they ever went to a race. I was so impressed, that I decided that it was time that I relayed my own story to each of you. Now, I may miss some details here and there, and some things may appear more awesome than they were, but I am going to do my best to put this out there in as factual a manner as possible. Or at least, as factual of a manner as my feeble brain will allow me to remember.
When I was in high school back in Alabama, I had a friend by the name of Blake, and he was a huge NASCAR fan. I believe his mom lived in North Carolina, and she was a giant Rusty Wallace fan. As they say, like mother like son, which I believe is how he became such a big fan.
At the same time, I never liked NASCAR. I was not just one of those people that did not “get it” but I took great pleasure in making great fun of it. But Blake used to push it at you, and try to tell you on it, and I still did not care for it in the least. I would explain to Blake, I am sure with great high school drunken flair, that NASCAR was stupid. Not only was IT stupid, he was stupid for being such a rube as to watch it, let alone enjoy it.
Blake approached me one day, asking if I wanted to go to Talladega with him for a Saturday ARCA race. Pleasantly, I am sure, I told him to screw himself. I mean seriously…why would I waste a perfectly great Saturday in the middle of nowhere watching goons racing cars against each other.
He took this positive criticism in stride, only to retort with, “You can take a cooler of booze inside, they do not ID you, and they only check for glass.”
What?
No, seriously, what did you just say?
It was with those magical 19 words that I stopped deriding my newest best friend, and caused me to change my mind instantly. Seriously, even if I thought the whole cars driving part would be stupid, I could still drink beer outdoors, in the open and with no fear of arrest. It is seldom, to say the least, to expect all three of those events to be able to happen simultaneously when you are but a wee 17 years old. This was a win-win in my mind and I graciously accepted his offer.
Apprehensively, I made first contact with my parents while holstering this now stupendous offer of getting drunk, while underage, in a new town, all while watching cars go left for hours. My father was completely behind this idea. He explained that when the cars pass, it raises the hair on the back of your neck, and told some random stories about his own travels to Talladega in the past. These were fantastic stories to me, but I do not think that my mom thought the same. My mother was skeptical to say the least. Luckily, I believe my father must have intervened and vouched for me, because I was granted passage to this wonderful oasis of underage alcohol consumption.
We recruited a young lady by the name of Britta to travel with us (and let us ride in her car, which was fantastic) and we headed out to Talladega on that special Saturday.
I still remember the feeling of exhilaration when we walked into the track. Yes, I am sure the cars were going to be exciting and all, but I was 17 years old, and just walked past a wall of Alabama State Troopers, and no one arrested me for having a cooler full of booze. Oh was it spectacular.
As we got comfortable in the stands and I got a few beverages in me, the start your engines thing happened and they started running. I am sure I would have been complaining more about how boring it was, but I believe I was too taken aback by the shear massiveness of Talladega Superspeedway. I had driven past it on the interstate before, but you do not get a feel for the size of it whatsoever. That place is gargantuan.
Fast forward to 50 laps and a few drinks later…
Do yall know what is completely awesome? CARS GOING LEFT!
It is completely incredible. I had no idea. What an ass I had been! As the race went on, I got completely into it. There are a few reasons for this:
1) I was 17 and drunk
2) I was 17 and drunk and it was loud
3) I was 17 and drunk and it was loud AND there was a driver running up front (who wound up winning) named Tim Steele, and I thought that sounded like a porn star and I giggled like a little kid
All in all, it was a highly entertaining day. We stayed after the race, and watched Winston Cup Happy Hour, and that was really cool as well. I was quite impressed by the Cartoon Network car. What, like I am the only person who used to watch reruns of Scooby Doo, Where Are You? Oh, and to answer that question in your heads right now…Scooby and Scrappy Doo does not mean you were a Scooby Doo fan, it only meant that you watched Cousin Oliver in puppy form.
I rode home from Talladega that day quite drunk, as sunburned as I have ever been and I believe that I proceeded to pass out during the car ride home. I walked into my (parents’) house stinking of booze, which greatly entertained my parents. I went about explaining, at great detail, that stock car racing was the most unbelievable event I had ever witnessed.
The next spring, I was the first person to sign up to go for a full weekend at the 1999 Winston 500, and I have stuck around ever since. Because of Blake, Britta and a cooler full of beer, I get to hang around and make my attempts to entertain all of you.
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