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John Brady, Tech Support Powermaster Motorsports, is this month's selection for sending in my choice as the best caption. The caption, I knew I shouldn't have had that second burrito from the concession stand! best describes the unbelievable body contortions demonstrated by Pat Ryan, of Rob Atchison's crew, as he celebrated the win by Atchison at the Martin IHRA Northern Nationals. Thank you, John, for reading our magazine and for taking the time to send in your caption. Your CompetitonPlus.com sticker will be heading your way as soon as I can figure out what the problem is with our ordering and receiving procedure with respect to the stickers. I have heard, They are in the mail once too often for my satisfaction. Speaking of eating burritos and other foods at the track, this month's picture for supplying a caption is of Don Bosley, Northeast District Manager of Amalie Oil, getting ready to enjoy a few burgers at the Amalie Oil cookout in Epping, New Hampshire.
I have decided to rename my van. It is technically a Chevy Astro but it will hereafter be known as The Ark. I hate rain. I really hate rain, but probably no more than the folks trying to schedule races all over the country. The roundy-round people are not even going to try to qualify for their race in Dover this weekend. The NHRA must feel waterlogged about now because of the water disasters of their last two events. This column was going to be about my first trip to Indy. I was going to tell you about how I arrived at Indy expecting to find the Taj Mahal of drag racing facilities. I was going to tell you how disappointed I was to find a track that was sub-par when compared to most of the national event venues that I have attended. The disillusioned feeling was going to be the topic of my column. I was going to write how bad I felt about the track and the lack of history that I felt. At the end of the event, I was going to get real mushy and tell you of the transformation that I had gone through and how I had left the track singing the praises of Indy. I expected to be standing on the start line with camera in hand with my burst bubble attitude wondering what happened to the history. I was going to tell you how I heard a small whisper in the back of my mind during the first picture I snapped. Indy. I would have turned around to see no one near me. Puzzled, I would have started to take pictures again. Later in the day as I would have walked through the sun-splashed pits past Big's pit, the whisper in my mind would have been a little louder. Indy. Passing Shirley's rig, the whisper would become stronger and almost become a vibrant voice. The voice would become a screaming fanatical yell when in the finals, Big and Shirley would meet and set new national and personal records as the crowd burst through the fence onto the track amid the thunderous fire works and screams of INDY INDY. Unfortunately, the memory that I have of Indy at this time is dang rain. I did not get to attend the rescheduled event. My lasting memory of Indy, until I get to go back and unearth the history, is of me driving down the return road in front of the empty wet stands in the ARK as the water lapped up around the doors and tried to sink us as we headed back to South Carolina. I suppose my transformation into part of the Indy lore will have to wait until I get to experience the complete uninterrupted weekend. So, now I am heading to Budds Creek early to help with Rev. Hartley's Habitat for Humanity Project. Did I tell you that a hurricane is headed for Budds Creek? I hate rain.
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