Drunk Rednecks hollerin’ about their Mammas! Alabama and Auburn fans running amuk! (No one can spell amok.) Topless blind drunk bimbos in the infield. Cars crashing into the crowd! Reverent Fans worshiping at the shrine of Saint Dale Earnhardt of the Blessed Number 6! The reek of burnt rubber. The roar of super fast engines. Pit crews biting their nails and having another round of Red Bull and Jack. Springtime at Talladega!
No, my stepmother is not referring to my father's 90th birthday party, but to the NASCAR race.
She did not, however, predict the tornadoes. I was on my way to fetch my brother at the airport when I heard over the radio that tornadoes were crossing my path ten minutes up the road. So I waited it out.
We then had many gen- erations, a big party with blue- grass music.
And, of course, the birthday boy, who likes to say he is as "old as dirt."
4 comments:
...and not even a combover!
Yee Hah, too much fun!
Don't go to Graceland without me,
I'll meet you there.
Count me in on the Graceland voyage, too!
Blasphemy . . . Earnhardt drove the 3 car to glory my dear. Mark Martin drove the 6 car, back in the good ole days. Race on.
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