The crowning moment to my birthday weekend was our visit to the Holly Springs Dragway. The smell of burning petroleum sent me back to my “Use Your Illusion I” days. Forget the face-melting, eye-blinking, leg-spazzing, hand-jazzing aesthetics of Detroit Steel for a minute and just recognize - racing does not get old, ever.
In fact just last week I witnessed an old fashioned foot race down a street right off Airways Boulevard. Three pre-teens running down a road wearing jeans, t-shirts, and untied sports shoes for real. One guy called it using the ol arms up/arms down (probably short a hanky or checkered flag) to signal “go time” – I hadn’t seen such a thing in awhile, I waited through a whole stoplight to witness it. All of this racing and competition are certainly premonitions of interesting times ahead.
My take-away message from the Dragway? Corn dogs for now, coupons for next time, and this vision always:
1 comment:
Haha, so glad you got the Hank coozie!
Post a Comment