Our family went to the car races in Jefferson, SD, last night. We did this last year, too -- same weekend. Last year, it was the night we met our eldest's new boyfriend whom she ended up dating her entire sophomore year. Not quite as momentous occasion this time around.
Anyway, we went to the car races. We didn't know anybody racing, so to make it interesting, I bought some M&Ms at the snack stand and whoever picked the winning car in each heat got an M&M. The snack bar also had food half-price (last race of the year -- getting rid of stuff, I imagine) . . . and we stopped for ice cream on the way home. A rather fattening night, on the whole (although I'm proud to say I resisted food AND ice cream -- but not M&Ms).
So, anyway, we went to the car races. And two thoughts kept going through my head. No, three. No, FOUR.
2) I wish we'd remembered to bring in our stadium seats. My butt hurts.
3) There are a lot of tattoos in these stands. Seriously, why is that? There are definitely more large, prominent tattoos here per capita than you would see at, say, the movie theater or the grocery store. What's the correlation between people who enjoy watching cars race around a dirt track and people who enjoy carving permanent decorations into their skin? These are the questions that keep me up at night . . .
4) My best friend in high school drove a race car. Actually, her family is still into racing today, but I was always amazed at the fact that, in high school, she actually drove a race car. In real car races, like this, at real race tracks. She always wanted me to come to the races with her and I never did. Looking back now, I'm thinking I was a pretty lousy friend. When something's important to someone you love, you make it important to you. Or at the very least, you make it a point to attend once or twice. Forgive me, Julie.
And so, as I was saying, we went to the car races. Last night. And I expect we'll go again sometime. Cheap entertainment, good chili cheese fries, and a great excuse to indulge in M&Ms.