NASCAR ~ The Real Chase begins ~ Speed Control and the Fontana Curse

 Congrats to Jimmie Johnson on winning Richmond and leading the pack into The Chase.

The Chase has begun and I must admit that I am really sorry that Jr. didn’t make it. Ryan too. But life goes on and there is always 2008, which promises to be more exciting than what 2007 has been, as far as racing itself is concerned. 2007 has been pretty boring for me. The main “excitement” has been controversy, sensationalism and posturing, not good old fashioned “get out there and kick some butt racing. Yes, there have been a few moments of excitement, mostly due to Juan Pablo Montoya, a few good finishes, but for me the season has been mostly mundane.

Hopefully the actual Chase will be different.

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rscn6403.jpg ** Actual speed limit sign in Whitney, OR. Photo Credit: Me**

As for the last two weeks in my life:

I once again did the Scope’s for both Cali and Richmond, knowing we wouldn’t be home…and once again saved them as drafts instead of publishing them. To my astonishment, I get home, look at my blog and no posts. Duh.

I won tickets to Fontana from the Kodak Contest that our fav Canuck hosted at his NASCAR Ranting and Raving Blog.  A couple of cow things came up and it looked as if we were not going to be able to go. With disaster narrowly averted, we set out for lovely Southern California. We get to Southern Oregon, not quite to the California Border. Now mind you, the last few Cali trips have been disasters so I am feeling a bit apprehensive. Dale is already mad at me for going into one of my “I don’t wanna fly… govenment agents might try to get me for slamming Senator Larry Gag, or Mexican Mafia might decide to shoot down the plane we are on because the cops just busted a huge pot farm in our canyon…yada, yada, yada…” Flight gets cancelled and we drive, against Dale’s looming sense that he is married to a LUNATIC. 

My spiffy high tech, automatic speed control alarm, which is implanted in my body, is going off every 5 minutes because Dale hits 66 mph.

EH! EH! EH! 66!! ^*!! Watch your speed! Getting a speeding ticket is like throwing a hundred dollar bill out the window to see where it blows!”

The speedometer drops 1 MPH.

“EH!! EH!! EH!! 68!!”

Dale gives me a look I know well. It’s the look that comes just prior to him turning into Satan’s Spawn.

I close my eyes and tell myself to stop it, everything is o.k., and he’s a good driver. I try again to tell myself that, until I open my eyes and see the speedometer at 85 mph and he’s looking at something off the back of his shoulder with a curve coming up in front of us.

“EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” I am slamming on the invisible brake that is on my side of the floor board.

I then bring myself back out of the denial I have been trying to keep myself in for the last few minutes. Dale is not a good driver. He drives way too fast, is inattentive and has been in several accidents because of it. I never had, nor do I at any time now, have an anxiety issue while riding in a car, with anyone else other Dale. (Except two of my four daughter’s, who are also really fast, bad drivers. I won’t ride with them at all. Not even two blocks.)

He hits the brakes, as I have startled him out of whatever deep thought was going on in his mind. I see that Satan’s Spawn has now arrived.

“You are going to kill us scaring me like that!” he says.

I say, “Well, if you were paying attention to what you were doing, I wouldn’t have to have the auto alarm!”

Fire begins to flare out of Satan’s Spawn’s nose. His eye’s turn reptilian looking. Blood begins to drip from his ear’s as the pressure in his brain increases.

“I may be in deep doo-doo”, I think to myself.

The truck stops. Satan’s Spawn is in full blown mode now. The truck turns itself around and heads back the way we came at 25 mph.

“What are you doing?” I innocently ask the Man-Child of Satan.

“I am going mining.” He boldly states.

“Ha-ha.” I say.

The lizard-like eyes glare at me. The truck continues it’s forward trek at 25 mph.

” I figure that if we drive 25 mph back to the mine, we will get there about the same time we would get to Fontana if we were driving 85 or 90 and I don’t have to listen to the incessent EH! EH! EH! all the way there.”

I am stunned. “He’s kidding”. “He’s just having a temper tantrum because I am right about his driving skills, and soon Jesus will exorcise Satan’s Spawn from my Beloved and we will be on our way.”

A totally wordless-from-him hour later, I know he wasn’t kidding. We are not on our way to Fontana. We are on our way to John Day, OR. At 25 mph.

We had planned on going to the mine on our way back from Fontana and spending a week there. I knew we would be gone until last night.

I just planned to be somewhere else the first week.

I ended up Labor Day weekend in the middle of nowhere, with no phone or electricity, or internet…or second car to run away to NASCAR Sanity Land, otherwise known as the lone bar in Prairie City, OR… Not knowing who won the race in California.

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Stayed in nowhere land until yesterday afternoon. A prisoner aginst my will, held captive by Satan’s Spawn.

I have decided the the Labor Day Race in Fontana is not meant for us to go to again. Spring? Maybe. Fall? Never again.

And now you know the rest of the story. Satan’s Spawn has been exorcised. The auto-speed indicator is still in place. We have to drive to Boise this evening, for Doc appt.’s in the morning.

Keep me in your prayers:)

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7 Comments

  1. A couple “cow things” came up?

    Please don’t tell me they got the whole slice and diced by aliens routine!

    But if they did…

    Nevermind, I got steaks in the fridge.

  2. Gross.
    Twilight Zone Music plays. Coast to Coast AM is always right.The Aliens have taken over. Baby Busch is now on Tony’s team.
    I am still having a hard time with that.
    The rest of the drama is way to much for my fragile psyche to handle.

  3. being a crusty old truck driver I can sympathise about being a passenger..I hate it.. especially with my sister who seems to think that she is the Indy 500 everytime she gets behind the wheel..I now refuse to let her drive with me in the vehicle…After 3,000,000 miles on the road and surviving I can see it all coming to an end when she wheels that damn KIA with me screaming inside…

    anyway here’s hoping there is some excitement in the chase….any suggestions on how to keep Milton’s heifer from visiting my vegetable garden would be greatly apreciated..

    cheers

  4. Clance’, I love you but if you ever see me hitchhiking to a NASCAR race, please don’t pick me up. Nothing against you and Dale, but a ride with you just sounds, well, scary.

  5. Oh man, what can I say? Except maybe “congratulations on winning the tickets” – on second thought, maybe not.

    Sorry you didn’t make it there.

    Take Care.

  6. I am SOOO glad my hubby is a sane and attentive driver. If he pulled that stuff on me I would be a widow. Not from him getting into an accident, but my having killed him LOL.

    I finally got caught up with the races, watched this last weekend’s race last night. Very exciting and such a bummer about Junior 😦 I cried when his car blew up and he didn’t get to finish.

    I LOVE that speed limit sign hehehehehehe

  7. The speed limit sign is perfect for the way we think, huh Jean? LOL

    Luckily my hubby has some good qualities that outweigh the @##hole ones.


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