Welcome, gay NASCAR fans! Children, I am still shouting after Carl Edwards' grand and glorious victory Sunday at Atlanta Motor Speedway! Following on the high heels of his thrilling last-lap win over Jimmie Johnson in the spring, Carl's victory Sunday made him only the second driver -- after Bill Elliott, 1992 -- to win both Cup races here. What an incredible weekend of racing we had at NASCAR's fastest track!
Things looked great for our DeVine 9 1/2 Sunday from the very start: We fully occupied the first three rows! It was Ryan Newman on the Bud pole, with Carl Edwards, Elliott Sadler, Mark Martin, Dave Blaney and Kasey Kahne filling out the Big Six! I tell you, I felt like my boys were showing out for me on purpose, here at Gaytona.com's home track and all!
When the checkers fell, we had Carl the winner, Jeff Gordon in 2nd, Mark in 3rd, Jr. in 4th, Jamie in 6th, Elliott in 10th, and Mikey Waltrip a very respectable 11th place. In the points, Carl is now in 4th place, just 107 points out of the lead. Considering that a race winner can gain 156 points, does this mean that Carl has a shot at the Cup? It's almost too wildly exciting to contemplate!
Ryan lost two points positions as he quickly passed from the pole to the hole, as the feller says, finishing in 23rd. Mark gained one position after running a really super race. He later declared he could race until age 60 if he kept getting cars like the one his team gave him in Atlanta. With a 6th place finish, Jamie held on tight to 11th place and his hopes for the stage-time and million-dollar bonus that go with it.
Here's how it went down in Atlanta, y'all -- first the race, and then my exclusive Signature Report on living high and wide in the infield! I'm going to tell you everything that's fit to print -- and possible to remember!
There was a special joy in the air this weekend at Atlanta Motor Speedway because so much of it had to be rebuilt after a terrifying tornado hit there back in July. The speedway folks did a great job, but we have to note that not everything is back like it was. The old pressbox and suites on the backstretch are gone entirely, their bare beams covered over by advertising banners. The destroyed north-end scoring pylon was gone, and I found I could only read the numbers on the southern one with binoculars.
And what of the driver introductions and the ride-around? In a really strange move -- some kind of cutback? -- the drivers were paired in their parade-lap pickups, which confused the traditional pre-race hooting and hollering. I mean, poor Denny Hamlin had to ride around with Jeff Gordon! Can you imagine how that innocent boy, who hasn't done anything to anybody yet, felt getting pelted with all those boos on the backstretch?
I was not able to hear the invocation on Sunday; I believe the anthem was by Julie Roberts. What treat we had for the flyover: an actual B-52! Let me tell you, this thing started out big, then got enormous, then went all the way tremendous on our ass. It seemed to block out a quarter of the sky when it finally screamed above our heads, ejecting a purple vapor.
Helping to start the race was Georgia's disgrace of a governor, Sonny Perdue. This guy's big claim to fame was deregulating natural gas, which has helped the price of gas in Georgia to go sky high. This year, we are looking at a 65% increase, plus you have to spend hours shopping around to about 12 companies to make sure you are not getting extra screwed. Thanks, Sonnyboy.
Ryan sat on the pole, but quickly fell back, surrendering the early lead to Elliott. Right away, there was a wreck right in our turn involving Rusty Wallace, Kevin LaPage and Mike Skinner. Elliott didn't pit and kept leading. Then he lost the lead to Carl, who shortly lost it to Mark.
We were loving all this good racing, and lots of the passing was right in front of us! At lap 42, Jeremy Mayfield's car tore up and the caution came out. Jr. led until Tony Stewart passed him, but just for a minute. At lap 65 -- again, right in front of us -- Dave Blaney spun out. However, this masterful driver, who's been doing so well just lately, kept it off the cars and the wall and drove right off. Jr. continued to show the way.
A few people had made green-flag pit stops when Kurt Busch, who seems Absolutly hexed in Atlanta, hit the wall. Jr. kept a-leading, then Kyle Busch passed him. Our next caution was for a wreck involving Kasey and Atlanta's hottie native Reed Sorenson, who was making his Cup debut at his home track! Too bad, Reed, but dude it's totally cool that you went 134 laps!
The next caution was at lap 158, when Martin Truex Jr. -- again, right in front of us -- hit the wall. Jr. led, and the yellow fell for caution at lap 190. But long about lap 208 it was Carl's turn! Casey Mears brought out the caution, and Carl held the lead. Unlike in the spring race, when Carl won after a thrilling white-flag pass of Jimmie Johnson, Carl strung out a dominating lead of 2.713 seconds over Jeff, driving it home like a champ!
BETTY JACK'S 'SIGNATURE REPORT' --
WHIPPING IT OUT IN THE INFIELD!
First of all, I have to thank my wonderful race pals Amy and AJ for yet another weekend of boundless hospitality. What could be better than a trailer in the second row on Turn 2? How about a new, deluxe trailer in the second row of Turn 2! We had a great time getting wild in the gals' new Prowler and kicking it with all our buds in Turn 2! Thanks Amy and AJ, and a big shout-out to Reuben, Megan, Shelly, Wayne, Larry, Randy and the whole Turn 2 gang! Turn 2 representin, y'all!
Truck qualifying was underway when I arrived on Saturday, and soon enough it was time for the IROC race, brought to us by our friends at Crown Royal -- oh, that is delicious whiskey! This was my first IROC race. It's not so easy to watch because the cars are the same colors. Plus, some drivers from open-wheel racing, and you know I don't go down that road, man. The cute part is that because the cars are set up identically, they run in a pack like mini-Daytona. Martin Truex Jr. took the checkers.
Next up, the truck race got off to an insane start when Steve Park, Mike Bliss and Eric Norris crashed in Turn 1, with two of the their mangled trucks locked up and burning. All got out OK, but the big fire necessitated about 30 minutes of work on the track. I was already heading back down the ladder for a refill, and it was still lap 3, Lawsymee!
NIGHT-TIME IS THE RIGHT TIME!
As Kenny Chesney has taught us, "When the sun goes down, we'll be groovin." Well honey, that is even 100 times more true down in the infield! As it was the night before Halloween Eve, Amy and AJ led us in a serious pumpkin-carving event. We ended up with four glowing jack-o-lanterns high up on the trailertop: two excellent witches, a fierce howling wolf, and a #24 followed by a symbol Shelly insisted meant "blows." Making our campsite even scarier was a moving-eyed skull hanging from the front of the trailer: It would light up and bark "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" whenever someone passed. Trick or treaters appeared: Witches; animals; a tiny, glittering Spiderman strutting his foam muscles.
Next door, we were happy again to see Randy, his sisters, and Larry and his girlfriend Nancy. (And we talked, most fondly, of Randy's wife Vicki, whose passing since the spring race was on everyone's heart.) As the chill settled in, Randy fired up his old orange-grove style smudge pot, which greatly aided our efforts to stay outside too long and drink too much. Here's the funniest part: The red-glowing chimney would sort of "save up" for a while, then rare back and pass a huge fireball out the top! Our evening's sport became watching newcomers edge ever-closer to the soothing warmth, then jump 10 feet in the air when the pot belched! "Is that my hair?" they would shout, sniffing the air.
Randy's neighbors on the other side, a lively older crowd, had set out a fine show of beverage: Jagermeister and Red Bull! We expected them to get entertaining, and they did not disappoint. After most of their party had drifted elsewhere, one big-haired woman impersonated Bette Davis in some overheated scene, shouting into a lighted cellphone she held two feet in front of her face, while two men seemed intent on restraining her.
"Dude, is that your girlfriend?" Tommy asked Larry, pointing at Nancy, whose sleeping posture in a lawn chair seemed to suggest she might spend the rest of her life in a body brace unless someone moved her quickly. Larry responded, helping her inside the trailer -- where did all these people lie down? I took one last hike around the infield and returned holding my friends in even higher esteem because most people had quit their camp chairs for the toasty comfort of their trailers. Truly, we were hard core. Secure in that knowledge, and declining the lasagna Amy kindly offered at 2 a.m., I slept.
STARS ON PARADE!
After a delicious breakfast the next morning, I headed out for my morning prowl at the exactly right time: I was barely away from the trailer when I saw Richard Petty! Near the garages, I spotted the chauffeur-driven golf carts of Jamie McMurray, Kasey Kahne, and Dale Jr. I saw Bobby Hamilton driving his own cart -- I suffered a flashback to the previous Atlanta race, when Bobby almost ran me over with this cart in the parking lot! I saw Hamilton Jr. signing autographs in the fenced area between the garages and the drivers' motorhomes. Then, in a stroke of total luck, I spied Carl Edwards, showing off that gorgeous smile on his way to sweep Atlanta! You can see the picture I snapped at the left.
BETTY JACK'S FINAL THOUGHTS
Just as they might wonder what's the attraction of watching guys turn left all afternoon, the uninitiated might ponder what makes folks leave their comfortable homes and drive hundreds or even thousands of miles to set up a camper in a field and live like hillbillies for a weekend. I think I know part of the answer. No matter how lucky we are, the adult world is hard and full of disappointment. You work all the time, but your money is spent before you get it. Forget about taking the summer off -- you'll be lucky if you get a week or two. And all the while, the relentless tick of time, with Christmas coming faster every year, and your age seeming more like your parents' than your own.
Maybe we love to be at the track because for a few hours or days, being an adult is as terrific as you once imagined it would be. You can stay up as late as you want, drink all you want, smoke 'em if you got 'em, eat all the food in sight, hoot and holler and generally go crazy. As you stand on the trailertop watching folks, the grown-ups and the kids suddenly seem very much alike -- bopping from trailer to trailer, backslapping and high-fiving each other, pointing slackjawed at the wrecks, yelling and laughing and cutting the fool. Forget that high-stacked in-box and those reports due next week. Forget the disappointing performance of your 401K and the looming decision about longterm care insurance. For a few hours or days, while the engines scream and laughter rings out from every direction, you're a kid again, wheeling your bike down a golden hill with the wind in your hair, and all is warm and right, and the future is as bright as the sun lingering low over the backstretch. I think that's why we come back, over and over. Because in the midst of the glare and the heat and the smoke and the noise and the laugher, we find something precious, something that somehow makes our lives, for a few hours or days, right. Just right.
That's it for this week, kids. We'll see y'all next week at Texas. Let's all meet up down at the Track Bar!
Love,
Betty Jack DeVine
E ME at Bettyjack@gaytona.com
