I wanted us to visit southern Connecticut - to see Mystic Seaport and other picturesque towns in that area. But it was about 300 miles from our RV park in Coatesville, Pennsylvania - much too far for a driver of a certain age to handle comfortably. The intermediate spot we decided upon was in the Pocono Mountains, which according to Nancy was the preferred honeymoon site for middle-class newlyweds when she was growing up near Philadelphia. (The more affluent sailed or flew to Bermuda.)
When we arrived at our RV Park in the town of Mount Pocono, we were informed that the Pocono 400 - one of the premier NASCAR racing events - was scheduled for Sunday at the Pocono Raceway, just a few miles away. This was an opportunity for us to do, on this trip, another activity we had never done before - and had never imagined ourselves doing. We bought a couple of great tickets from another RV owner who had some extras for sale.
NASCAR is the National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing. It had its origins, supposedly, during prohibition, when the moonshiners souped up their cars to outrun the government "revenoors". The drivers held competitions between themselves, at some point the races became organized, rules were established, NASCAR was born, and eventually it became big business, with the best drivers becoming rock stars for the folks who follow the sport like most fans follow football or basketball. Just as I hate James Harden of the Houston Rockets and revere Steph Curry of the Golden State Warriors, the fans immediately behind us despise Kevin Harvick and cheer for Kyle Busch.
Our seats were right in the center of the grandstands and fairly near the top. We looked out over a vast sea of (presumed) Trump supporters. In the infield of the two and a half mile track were hundreds of RV's, people who were there for the race weekend and some of whom probably go from race track to NASCAR race track as a lifestyle choice. You may be able to make out those RV's behind the pit/paddock area in the photo below.
Just outside the grandstands is a concession area, with a huge selection of food choices and racing paraphernalia. I enjoyed a corn dog and Nancy bought a lamb gyro sandwich. On the advice of some aficionados we also rented earphones which allow you to listen to the race broadcast as well as the chatter between drivers and crew during the race.
The opening ceremonies, which went on for quite a while, had a military theme. Suddenly, way high above us, a group of five or six parasailers appeared, performing maneuvers and trailing pink smoke, one of them carrying an American flag. One by one they landed perfectly on the track. Each of the drivers - about thirty-five in all - was introduced; a couple I had actually heard of - Kyle Busch and Jimmie Johnson.
A military band played a strange version of The Star-Spangled Banner, a minister delivered an invocation, and the announcer yelled, "Gentlemen, start your engines!"
After three times around the track behind a pace car, the race began and was scheduled for 160 laps. We were really happy that we had rented headphones, because the screams of the engines, which were thrilling, were also overwhelming - and possibly damaging - to naked ears.
At intervals drivers would pull into the pits and their crews would perform incredibly fast work to refill the fuel tanks and change tires.
At first the race was exhilarating, but to be honest it became a bit monotonous. It was hard to get a sense of who the leaders were and to appreciate the drama of the competition. I suspect it's much easier to follow on television. There were no car crashes. Not that I was hoping for one, exactly, but it would have broken up the routine. By mutual consent we decided to leave shortly after half the race had been completed.
We learned later that the race was won by Martin Truex, Jr. It was a great experience and we appreciated the chance of bonding with all the good old boys and girls who are passionate about the sport. But we won't be following the NASCAR circuit around the country.
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