I was a dirty girl this weekend. Okay, get your mind out of the gutter. The husband and I went to the dirt races this weekend. My newest favorite type of racing. There’s just something about sitting there dodging the dirt clumps and rocks that I love. Almost as much fun as watching top fuel dragsters go down the track.
This is only the fourth dirt race I have gone to. We are drag racers by birth, but I’m new to the dirt scene. In fact, every time we go I learn just a little bit more about what is going on. Which, gives the people in our group alot of chances to make fun of me.
We pawned the twins off on Grandpa and Yia-Yia and headed out for the race. If you’ve never been to a dirt race, when I tell you the dirt just hangs in a cloud over the track, you won’t believe me. But it does. It looks like fog. Pretty soon, that dirt starts to blow and begins to pelt your face. It gets down into your clothes, into your shoes… into places it should never be. If it’s hot out, it’s even worse… the dirt hits and sticks. It gets into your drink. It gets into your food. It gets stuck in your teeth. But, I love it.
Would I stop drag racing to dirt race? Not on your life. Am I ashamed to admit the first race my kids ever went to was a dirt race? Kinda. But, it is what it is.
Saturday night, sitting in a corn field, dirt falling from the sky like rain. I’ve got my shades on. (Okay, okay they are safety glasses, but that didn’t sound quiet as cool.) This momma is a happy camper.
Remember to dodge ‘em.