On Sunday, Aug. 8, 2010, my father, sister and I went to the Heluva Good! Sour Cream Dips at The Glen in Watkins Glen, N.Y. What follows is the third part of my impressions of going to our first NASCAR race, focusing on the post-race, with the first part about the pre-race and a second part about the race itself. My sister also wrote on her blog about my dad, who looks like driver Mark Martin, talking to Martin before the race, and my wife, who wasn’t at the race, wrote about not going to the race.
Part III: Post-Race
As I’ve mentioned, while we enjoyed being able to visit pit road and see Mark Martin and Joey “Sliced Bread” Logano up close, the race itself was boring, partially thanks to the race being on a road course and partially thanks to this driver:
Montoya led 74 of 90 laps, which no matter how you spin it, something both ESPN and Speed tried their best to do so, it’s boring to watch one driver dominate a race like that…
…unless, of course, your driver is the one dominating, which with my driver being Jeff Gordon, the driver of the No. 24 car, that (uh, obviously) wasn’t the case.
What also didn’t help my enjoying the race was that I’m not particularly a fan of the No. 42 driver, Montoya. In fact, for the most part, I think he’s a jerk, which has nothing to do with his nationality or ethnicity. It’s just that I don’t like his pushy and arrogant attitude.
And just to prove to you that I don’t discriminate based on nationality or ethnicity, for the record, I do like this Colombian, who –at least to my heterosexual way of thinking and maybe to your homosexual, or even bisexual, way of thinking, depending on your own sexual orientation– is easy on the eyes:
Photo by Joakinen from Flickr
Anyway, as I was returning from dropping off our Sprint FanView and was heading toward the exit, I overheard a father, who was walking behind me, say to his 9- or 10-year-old son:
“Huh. That was something how far ahead he was of everybody else, wasn’t it? I wonder how he did that.”
Without skipping a beat, I turned around and said:
I just couldn’t resist.
Then suddenly without warning, except a large crowd of people in front of me, I was stuck in the middle of this:
Being that I am my father’s son, I struck up a conversation with the person next to me.
“Well, that wasn’t much of a race, was it?”
“Well, my driver won, so it was pretty good.”
Instead of saying what I really thought of the cock-sure (well, to put it politely) Colombian, I said the next most stupid thing:
“So you’re a fan of Montoya? How long have you been a fan?”
“Ever since he started NASCAR. I just like the way he handles himself on the track…”
Er, like an arrogant bastard? I thought but didn’t say and then just allowed him to ramble on about how Montoya had a bad couple of months and how this was redemption for him.
At the end of all that, the only thing I said was this:
And there the conversation ended.
I wish I had told him I was a Kevin Harvick fan, then maybe we could have gotten into a fight like this too:
THAT would have made my NASCAR experience complete.
Have you ever been in a situation like the above where you were a hypocrite to what you really believed?