The Night Before Daytona

T’was the night before Daytona, and all in the condo;

Gents were passing out, save B, enjoying a hand-O.

The jean shorts were folded in duffels with care;

With the hopes a mulleted throng soon would appear.

K was nestled, all snug on a couch,

Dreaming of Natty Light, flowing down his mouth.

And G in a beater, and I with a snooze,

Barely awake, too much Tucher, o’ perfect booze.

Then at daybreak, the audible sputter,

A babbling brook? No, G’s busted muffler.

Up 95 N the Accord it did creep,

While I clutched a pillow, in an attempt to sleep.

The pace of our sojourn was nothing but slow;

Fingers crossed, at such speeds, the engine wouldn’t blow.

When, what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,

A glorious oval and buckets of beer!

Many ounces later, in efforts so slick,

We begged and bartered, to procure a tick’.

Once in the speedway of world-renown fame,

Jorts, moustaches, and tattoos of fierce flame.

Now Stewart, now Harvick, now Burton and Gordon,

On Johnson, on Sadler, you Chevy and Ford ones.

To the starting line, and avoid the wall,

After ‘Start your engines’ and the green flag does fall.

Down corners at speeds at which one must fly,

But not the clutch of my Schlitz can you pry.

Around the track, the engines they flew,

As the overweight broad, on the bleachers did spew.

The boozing, the cheering, never a bore,

Gordon in 5th gear, foot to the floor.

Many drinks on the brain, the thinking not sound,

Machines in motion, track-whipping around.

The throng to their feet, to lean and bend,

Signaling the race was drawing to end.

The finish line, checkers unfurled from a sack,

But no, a wreck totaled the pack!

Extended race, the crowd was merry!

More laps to spin, bank, and parry.

As before, Gordon left the flow,

Winner, gold medal, best in show.

Apt taker of spoils, a winner crown wreath,

Brought few smiles among grins missing teeth.

An amazing event, we returned to the ride.

To speed, a reverse trip’ed 95.

On splinter’d bleachers, where porking was stealth,

We’d learned a lesson of enormous wealth.

Four winks of the eye, and bumps of the fist,

Realizing the grandeur we’d many times missed.

A sport for hicks, we’d often smirked,

Was pure enjoyment, their holy work.

Back at the condo, a reddened nose,

From howling winds, a body part froze.

In the hot tub we sank, among quieted rubes,

Eyes reddened, grins bared, from pulling tubes.

We heard them exclaim, eyes gaping with wonder;

“WHOOOEEEE!, You look just like Dale Jr.!”