Fans share stories of first live racing experience (NASCAR.com)
March 5, 2010
Michael Moore didnt get to see his first race from the grandstand — but he has an unforgettable story.
You never forget your first time.
Completely clueless about what was to happen, I remember being so nervous and I couldn’t stop fidgeting. The engines cranked, anticipation bubbled in my stomach, the green flag dropped and whammo!
I lost my NASCAR virginity.
Of course I’m talking about racing, what did you think I was talking about?
The Brickyard 400: That was my first time.
Fellow Hoosier Tony Stewart won the race and immediately I was hooked and fascinated by the enormity of the sport and the color of the crowd.
And recently, I had the unique opportunity to visit with a friend before she lost her NASCAR virginity. The conversation prompted me to inquire about other fans’ first times.
Not only did you all have me laughing hysterically, but I also was amazed by the vivid details you were able to recall after so many years had passed, proving NASCAR is the type of sport that leaves a permanent impression.
Stories of lasting friendships made at tracks, memorable moments shared with family and the bonds created through a shared affinity for a particular driver.
But enough with the sentiment, let’s hear from the guy who tried to impress the ladies at his first race by making a port-o-potty with a telephone workers tent but then later went to jail for public urination.
“I had a brainstorm, which in those days my brainstorms were few and far between. Why don’t I score some points with the ladies and help them out. I set up a small tent, dug a hole under the tent in the center and put a toilet seat on legs over the hole. I hung a sign on the front of it, “ladies-toilet.” It wasn’t long until I had a line of lady fans taking advantage of my invention,” said Michael Moore, 54, of Hot Springs Ark.
Moore lost his NASCAR virginity in 1989 at Talladega, no doubt a rough place for a first time NASCAR fan, which is probably why he never made it to the green flag.
The morning of the race, Moore had already downed more than his fair share of alcoholic beverages, which as you know wreaks havoc on the bladder.
“The lines were long at the gates, but we finally made it in,” Moore recalled. “I thought I had better go to the rest room one more time before the race started. When I got there the lines was longer than the lady fans lines at our campsite the night before. I noticed there were a few guys going around behind the rest rooms, so I followed. Great idea, no lines back there.”
Moore hurries through his business as you can imagine.
“And all the sudden all the guys that were standing on both sides of me scattered,” Moore said. “The next thing I know this big, broad shouldered Alabama State Trooper has me by the arm. He told me, ‘son your under arrest,’ and said [urinating] in public was against the law. I was going to their make shift jail in the parking lot. I would have to pay the ticket before I could get out. I paid $95.00 to get out of jail. But the kicker of this story is, they took my ticket stub and said I could not go back into the grandstands.”
Needless to say, Moore cried like a baby and went back to his campsite.
“My buds had no idea what had happened. If only I would of [peed] in my pants or ran like the rest of those clowns did,” he said. “My advice for all you first time race fans: do not go behind restrooms at the race track to [urinate].”
10-4, thanks for the tip.
On a cleaner note, Ben Janca, 68, of Hughes Springs, Texas, shared his ‘first time’ story, which took place at his hometown track. It was a Nationwide Series event and Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s first win. The day would be archived forever, literally and figuratively.
“My daughter and son-in-law treated me to a first-row seat, six or seven seats before the start/finish line. What impressed me the most was the rush of air and the noise on the start and restarts. The photo in the paper the next day was apparently taken from somewhere in the infield and showed Junior just as he was crossing the line,” Janca said. “It also showed the stands and sure enough, there I was on the front row.”
The background image of the stands was blurry.
“But I knew it was me,” he said. “I’ve been to several Cup races since then, but nothing will ever top that first experience.”
Ken Cornflocker, 52, of Frederick, Md., agrees. A die-hard Jeff Gordon fan, his first race was at Dover sitting in a skybox.
“It was pretty cool to be sitting that high that you can see everything on the track and what you missed you could turn around and catch the replay of it on a television in the back,” he said. “The race started and Jeff wasn’t doing so hot at first. Someone passed him and I heard a group of people clap. I was thinking, ‘wow, that driver has a lot of fans.’
Then a little bit later someone else passed Gordon and the group clapped again. I thought, ‘hmm, that is weird.’ Then a few laps someone else passed Jeff. The crowed clapped again.”
Finally Cornflocker inquired about the continual clapping.
“What’s up with that, they don’t like Jeff,” he asked. “He told me, ‘hell no, he wins too much.’”
Now Cornflocker knows how Jimmie Johnson fans feel.
But back to my virgin, her name is Valerie Dauby and we bonded in her chair one day—she’s my stylist and from southern Indiana.
Through random conversation, I learned she was going to Las Vegas to the Shelby American, her first NASCAR experience.
She didn’t have a favorite driver yet or have the first clue about what to wear or bring to the race. I tried to push my opinions on her and make suggestions about who to cheer for, but her husband had already sold her on Dale Earnhardt Jr. She even got the darn T-shirt for Christmas, so no hope for Hoosier allegiance there.
We chatted this week after she returned from Vegas.
“I didn’t realize it would be so big,” she said. “Also I really thought it looked like the state fair, which was a pleasant surprise because I love fair food, but I didn’t expect it to be such a party. There was shopping, entertainment, everything right there.”
Once the green flag dropped she turned to her husband, Tom, and tried to say, “Oh this isn’t as loud as I thought it would be.”
“Although as the race went on I thought, ‘ok now I’m tired of listening to this’,” Dauby laughed. “But when the cars first came around the turn—you know how I feel about Dale Jr.— I thought, ‘wow I’m in the same place as him, that’s really him down in that car!’ I’m real stupid about celebrities.”
There was no single defining moment of the day, just an overall enjoyable experience with her husband. I can’t tell if she is now a die-hard NASCAR fan or if she’s just content to partake in one of Mr. Dauby’s pastimes.
Either way, what I learned is that NASCAR might be one of the few activities men and women can truly share a passion for. I refuse to watch golf with my husband and he would rather pass kidney stones than watch Desperate Housewives (thank goodness for multiple televisions). However, when it comes to NASCAR we meet in front of the same screen.
That’s the beauty of NASCAR.
And that’s the beauty of NASCAR fans as well. They come in different shapes and sizes, tell different stories, PG and R-rated, love the sport for different reasons, and no matter what, they never forget their first time.
The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
Comments
Got something to say?
