June Nascar Special

By Tamela Harrell

very driver who has strapped on a helmet and climbed behind the steering wheel has wanted to win at Darlington because the toughest is most desirable. For those few select drivers who have won races at the granddaddy of superspeedways, there is a priceless satisfaction in knowing they’ve conquered the unique egg-shaped oval nicknamed ‘Too Tough To Tame,’ from www.nascar.com’s front page.”

There were three of us going and we were supposed to leave at 9 am for the Friday and Saturday night races at the “too tough to tame” track in Darlington. Nick and I have been to a few races, but this would be our friend Michael’s first Nascar race and he was well prepared, having studied the particulars about Darlington (new rules at the track - one clear plastic bag and one small soft cooler per person, etc.) and knowledgeable about the details of drivers and their machines.

Nick has a special technique for “planning” out of town events (NOT!!). Don’t buy tickets or book hotel rooms ahead of time. He makes it sound like anyone who plans ahead is a super sissy and enjoys bragging about how his based-on-faith formula guarantees his freedom and true happiness. He explains the joy of not being obligated to deal with the problems of sudden rainstorms or other unexpected calamities befalling those who aren’t blessed with a commitment challenge. Michael and I took advantage of the extra time that Nick was spending preparing culinary masterpieces for our picnic to search the internet for hotel rooms near the race. We were able to persuade Nick that the only rooms available were in western Atlanta or southern Hardeeville except for 2 rooms at a no frills, but hopefully clean, motel. He reluctantly gave in to our sissified whining and we booked the rooms.

Friday - Busch Race: We’ve walked all the way around the bazillion mile track, my feet ache, Nick has that steady and determined look, and there are no fans selling tickets. Nick is still hoping to demonstrate his virtuoso ticket magnet skills, but as the race is about to start, we buy our seats the old fashioned way, saving the deal-making for the big race on Saturday. You haven’t lived until you’ve watched a race from the first row at the start/finish line, where the cars send a spray of stinging dirt and grit across your face, the smell of fuel mixed with the occasional cigar fills the air and earplugs are not optional. The downside is that you can’t see the rest of the track and when one of the cars crashed into the wall directly in front of us I wondered if it was possible for a car (or cars) to pop up and roll over the barrier into the stands. But the excitement of being close and personal is a thrill worth experiencing.

Saturday - Nextel Race: We have breakfast at the Chat n Chew where Billy Sharp told us stories of racing in the “old days” when drivers made a mere $12 - $15,000 in first place prize money and tickets were only $6. We learned that on Thursday nights, after the qualifying trials, you could mingle with the drivers at the local Dynamite Club, where they ate pickled eggs and drank beer.

After all that chattin’ and chewin’ we left for the races and in search of Cale Yarborough’s home (on the way to the races). We found our way to Cale Yarborough Highway and there it was - the big open gate with the sign that said Cale Lane and a large house not far down the road. Nick and Michael wouldn’t let me have my ever-so-sensible way. I wanted to drive up to the house, knock on the door, introduce myself as a Bluffton Breeze reporter and get a story. During our search for Cale’s house (Nick says we weren’t lost), we came across a street sign that said Chruch Street on one side and Church Street on the other. Upon seeing one side (Chruch Street) I said, “Hey, look at this. They spelled Church wrong!” Then, I thought - “No, that’s not possible. Maybe the street is named after Mr. Chruch (pronounced Crooch). But, sure enough, the other side of the sign was Church Street.

We got to the track early and walked to within an hour of the 7 pm race time. Scalpers wanted double for the few tickets they had. Michael and I smiled weakly at our fearless leader as he reassured us that this is the best way to enjoy? the day. We knew that Nick’s plan had never failed, but we began to grumble and whimper. We walked around and around the track with 3 fingers held up, signifying that we were looking for 3 tickets. Finally we got an offer for one ticket in the central grandstand at face value and bought it for Michael. Then Nick and I found tickets for 2 in a section near Michael at “face” plus $5. Hooray!

We rented headsets (couldn’t hear over the noise on Friday night, but they were great on Saturday) At every commercial break, the announcers told silly jokes, like “Have you heard the one about the cross-eyed school teacher who couldn’t control her pupils?” During pit stops, I tuned into the Jimmie Johnson channel. At one point in the race, when the crew wanted Jimmie to take a pit stop, the conversation went something like this. “Jimmie, hey buddy, how’s it goin’ out there?” silence “Hey, are you ignoring us?” silence “Hey, Jimmie, you need to copy.” more silence and then from Jimmie: “I can only hear the last sound of each word.” That’s when the crew yelled ‘PIT!, PIT!, PIT!, PIT!, PIT!, PIT! STOP!, NOW!” It worked. Jimmie pulled in and let his team do their magic.

Weekend at the Races:
Tickets: $95 each,
Hotel Room: $72 each,
Jimmie Johnson cap & shirt $50,
Food $$$,
Overall experience and memories -
PRICELESS