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October 24, 2002
I was in NASCAR heaven Saturday. I spent the morning in the infield at the Busch race, wandering around in the gentle rain that would eventually postpone the race. I had checked the weather radar before leaving home. There was a solid wall of precipitation from Memphis all the way to Oklahoma. I knew there would be no racing in the Bluff City that day. But my credentials were waiting for me and a little moisture was not going to deter me. After making my way to the infield I grabbed my umbrella and headed out. It wasn’t hard to find the action. The sound of revving engines was easy to follow. The scene that unfolded before me resembled a wet anthill. Team members, press and a few brave fans scurried about the little track’s infield. Although most expected the race to be postponed work continued as if the sun was shining brightly. One by one the cars were rolled out of the garage to tech inspection. As the crews waited their turn I took the opportunity to chat with some of the guys. I asked them what they would do with the afternoon if the race were postponed. Most simply replied, "hang out." A few said they would watch football. Two first timers said they would go to Graceland to pay their respects to the other King. You know, the one that is not named Petty. One young man said he would spend the down time studying. And judging by the ribbing he got from his teammates he should probably study very hard. All said they hoped the race would be run as scheduled. As the teams completed inspection the cars were parked outside the garage and covered. Lined up side by side even the machines seemed to be eager for the race to be run. From the garage I went over to where the team’s haulers were parked. With their rear doors open most of the trailers had canopies erected for protection from the nasty elements. Many had large charcoal or gas grills going and savory scents drifted through the rain. As the cars were parked the crewmembers came to the haulers for lunch. The menus varied from hot dogs and hamburgers to chicken and shish kabobs. On most teams the truck drivers do the shopping and cooking. Watching one chef at work, I asked how much food it took to feed a race team for a weekend. "Too damn much" was his reply as he basted mass quantities of chicken. The rain changed from merely steady to a frog-choker and I took shelter in the media center. Food was plentiful here as well. The Memphis Bar-B-Q was a hit with the visitors. Also on the table were ribs, rolls, fresh fruit and brownies. The drink cooler was generously stocked with the "official soft drink of NASCAR," the "official bottled water of NASCAR" and the "official sports drink of NASCAR". The caterers had done their homework. The room was also equipped with numerous phones and televisions. Information packets and press releases were displayed in racks next to the copy and fax machines. I was pleased to see members of the media welcome the Marine Color Guard to the buffet. The rain stopped, but the clouds still hung low. Optimistically people began to walk a little faster and with more purpose. However, after a few minutes the rain began again. I continued to walk around until the race was officially postponed and rescheduled for Sunday. During my wanderings I spoke with several drivers and their wives. I asked them what they planned to do with the afternoon. I laughed when in unison the guys replied, "take a nap." The girls were going shopping. But like everyone else they wanted to race Saturday afternoon. I have always suspected racecar drivers were simply big kids. This was confirmed for me when I saw my favorite Busch star playing with another driver’s son. They romped together in the rain and puddles until both were soaked. The spectators laughed when the "kids" threw water on the child’s father. An overgrown kid himself, the dad simply laughed with us. I had the most fun I could have in the rain Saturday. However, one moment stands out from the rest. I saw Mike McLaughlin and Kerry Earnhardt chatting after the drivers’ meeting. While they were talking a paratrooper from the team scheduled to perform before the race approached. I was not close enough to hear what was said. However, the respect Mike and Kerry had for the young man was apparent. As the uniformed fan turned to leave I clearly heard him say "Thank you, sirs". Immediately, both drivers replied, "No man, thank YOU." No race will ever be as satisfying and fulfilling as the pride I felt at that moment. I’ll never forget it.
Other articles by Orlena Miller.. The thoughts and ideas expressed by this writer or any other writer on Insider Racing News, are not necessarily the views of the staff and/or management of IRN. Although we may not always agree with what is said, we do feel it's our duty to give a voice to those who have something relevant to say about the sport of auto racing.
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Just Having Fun In The Rain
