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THE MAC TOOLS GATOR NATIONALS
EXPERIENCE
Since this is going on the web-page, www.stiffpole.com (free plug), I figured what the hell, I might as well share it with the Focus readers as well. Some of the spellin’ might offend students of proper English, but god-dammit we are talking Gainesville and drag racing here so I need to git back into that southern state of mind. Myself and Big Walt recently had the pleasure of attending the Mac Tools Gator Nationals, which is the biggest annual drag racing event held in Florida. We had been gearing up, so to speak, for this event since going to the Route 66 Nationals in Joliet, IL last June. It was the first NHRA event that we had ever been to and it was fucking intense, I thought nothing could top it. Well I was wrong, bad wrong. Pop yourself a cold brewski and let Big Stiff tell ya’ll about Gainesville. The original game plan was to leave early Friday morning with my other drag racing pal and let Big Walt tow the trailer up there and get everything set up Thursday night, since he was taking his sister-in-law (kinda). Her husband (kinda) is the one that gets us the tickets and pit passes, and he also races in Super Comp…but alas, best laid plans always get messed up and my buddy bailed at the last minute. So Big Walt drove up from Venice and picked me up at 10:00 PM instead of 7:00 PM, which is the time we were shooting for. Oh well, what are ya gonna do, so we are running a couple hours late, big deal. I had already picked up the supplies, which consisted of 5 cases of Busch beer, a bottle of vodka, some turkey meat, corn and veggie baked beans. We had the world by the ass, and we had a shitload of beer (5 cases 3 days do the math) so we were prepared. After hitting the road in Big Walt’s “Texas Cadillac” (i.e.. Chevy Suburban), we first had to stop at the Flying J truck stop to empty the holding tank or “shit container”, as it is refereed to by the seasoned RV traveler. The “Flying Pollack”, as I later renamed it, is the RV driver and Trucker’s best friend, it’s a fucking gas station that you can buy anything at, TV’s, VCR’s, anything...plus they let you dump your shit for free. At any rate we finally got to Gainesville at about 1:30 in the a.m. and proceeded to check into the Jaycees Campground.
THE CAMPGROUND:
Big Stiff hasn’t been camping in 20 years, I used to go when I was kid and that was in Michigan. From what I can remember it was a pretty subtle affair. Well there isn’t anything subtle about the Jaycee’s campground in Gainesville. After taking our $120 for our 3 day stay (we opted for the water hook up, otherwise it would have been $90), the person in charge told us there were plenty of sites available with water. We drove around for about 30 minutes until we found a “site” with water hook up ( thank Christ for the Mag Lite which, if you don’t own at least 2 of them, you’re a pathetic loser). I tested the water and it spewed out like an elephant pissing on my foot, did the same damn thing to Debbie (Steve’s wife). So we had our “spot” and proceeded to drive Debbie to the Gainseville Raceway, where Steve met us at the gate to get us in and give us the all-important “pit crew parking sticker”. If you don’t have the “pit crew parking sticker” you’re pretty much fucked when it comes to bringing in beer and food, and the track doesn’t sell beer even though Budwieser is a major sponsor of this event ( fuck it, don’t ask). Anyway we dropped Debbie off, had a beer with Steve, and headed back to the campground. After getting everything set up and drinking a few more beers we crashed about 4 am. We then proceeded to get up at 6:30 the next morning, it’s amazing what a great night ‘s sleep does for your attitude. When we stumbled out of the trailer, the first thing we noticed was police tape everywhere. It seems that our fellow Winnebago warriors had staked out their claim on their territory just like I envisioned the early Western settlers did back in the great western land rush of the 1800’s. We didn’t have any tape to do the same, and after asking a couple of our new “neighbors” if we could purchase some of their tape we were met with a resounding NO.
THE RACES DAY 1:
Oh well, it was off to the races; the track was only 2 miles from the campground and traffic wasn’t bad that early so we arrived at the track around 8:30 and I proceeded to mix a couple of bloody marys (just to take the edge off). Steve’s class was getting ready to race and they weren’t getting any qualifying runs, it was straight to eliminations. I like to point out that Steve races in the Sportsman ranks, not the Pro ranks. The Sportsmans make up about 90% of the racers there, and they get treated like shit by the NHRA. Steve won his first round, so everyone was in a pretty good mood. We went back to the motor home and proceeded to meet a couple of crazy bastards from Buffalo. These guys decided to drive down for the race and just kind of drove right in on Wednesday, since they didn’t have the all important “pit parking pass” we let them park in front of us in case those pesky NHRA security people would check their mini RV and see they didn’t have the proper credentials. For our generosity toward them they offered us some of their illegal contraband (i.e.. pot). After we politely said thanks but no thanks (it was 9:30 in the goddamned morning) they offered us use of their dirt bike and again we declined their generosity. Although we did meet up with them later, drank a couple of their beers and got vested in the finer points of the adult bar scene in Canada. The Nitro cars were scheduled to run at 11:00 and that’s what we had come to see. I don’t know what the hell nitromethane is, expect that it’s what the top fuel people use instead of gas and the stuff makes my eyes burn and it makes the cars the loudest damn thing I have ever heard in my life. Let me put it this way, I saw Motorhead in London in 1983 at a small club (100 Club), and compared to the noise the fuel cars make that was like listen to a Karen Carpenter ballad. So on the first run in Funny Car the Nitro Fish does a solo run and goes 4.94 at like 310 mph, that, sports fans, is moving. Again do the math - going 1320 feet in less then 5 seconds at over 310 mph. That impresses the shit out of me, which I guess is why Drag Racing is the only sport that I like. Anyway we went back to the motor home after the fuel cars ran and had a few beers. It was then that we noticed that a helluva lot of race fans sport “Mullets”. If you don’t know what a mullet is, let me inform you, it’s that haircut indigenous to the white male red-neck. Short on the top and sides, long in the back, you may recognize the name by some of its other catchy phrases such as “The Schlong”, “The Kentucky Mudflap”, “The Ape Drape”, “Business In The Front, Party In The Back” and so on. So now we had a mission, we would try to photograph as many “Mullets” as possible and not get our asses kicked in the process. Being a bit older and wiser than Big Walt I let him be in charge of taking the pictures; my job was to be the “spotter”. Saturday was declared mullet day. We hung around the track till about 10:00 PM that night to see if Steve would win second round in S/C but he red-lighted and we headed back to the Jaycees campground and then it got interesting.
THE CAMPGROUND PART 2:
We got back to the campground and the first thing we noticed is that we had some new neighbors. It seems that the folks arriving on Friday morning took umbrage to the way the first generation of settlers had staked out their property claims, according to our new neighbors it had almost come to fisticuffs with the way the police tape was liberally used to stake out the original claims. Well, all I can say is fuck it, I’m glad we weren’t there. As a matter of fact I think fuck it became the whole attitude of this adventure. Me and Big Walt were fast becoming one with the rednecks. For the paltry fee of $40 a night that we had paid at the campground we could also enjoy the evening’s main festivities, an honest to goodness live Country Rock band. We concluded that this was “cheap at twice the price” of admission. One thing that you have to understand is even though these people at the campground were dyed-in-the-wool rednecks they did have money. As someone once said “there is nothing more frightening then a redneck with a disposable income”. Well Big Stiff can attest to that. After firing up the grill, having some food and sharing meaningful conversation with our new neighbors, the husband looked to be about 50 his bride not a day over 20. We elected to venture out to the main congregation area and git ourselfs sum culture. As I’ve stated before, this was no ordinary campground, for a sum you could indulge yourself in some “Bloomin Onions” or if you had a hankering you could purchase a T-Shirt, or several, that had such witty sayings on them as “I Heart Muff Divin” or the subtle yet direct “Show Us Your Tits”. I’m sure the proprietors of the stand did a very brisk bidness with both of these All American Redneck “standards”. But hey the band was cranking and the Rednecks had long since dropped any hint of civility, myself and Big Walt were just along for the ride. At this point I would like to mention that a Redneck race fan doesn’t walk anywhere, I mean what the hell’s the point. On the 8th God created the internal combustion engine. Why in the hell would you walk anywhere if you could plop yer wide ass in something that had a engine, “Christ boy figure it out, what are ya, some kind of retard”. So it seemed everyone, with the exception of us, was driving something, anyfuckingthing. I got a little sidetracked there, just trying to give you the gentle ambiance of it all. So we git down to where the band’s playing, which is a semi trailer with the side cut off (a very efficient stage, I might add). We then pop a couple cold Busch’s and be prepare to be enlightened. Well, enlightened we were, because the older gentleman sitting in the golf cart to the left of us has a “message” which he keeps repeating every 45 seconds as if some higher being has programmed into his skull. His prolific message goes exactly like this, “T is for Texas, T.I.T.S Texas”. Now we are on a higher plain, kinda like the baby Jesus has informed us of something to strive for, I feel the power and know Big Walt does too. Despite trying to contain our newfound religion, something even more spiritual happens. Four Rednecks, or as I refer to them, “Wisemen”, drive up on their ATV pushing a paraplegic retard drunk passed out in his wheelchair complete with the halo (some might call it a head support, but it looked like a halo to me). The “Wisemen” in their infinite wisdom also adorned their special chosen one with a sign, but I like to think of it more as a revelation, because scrawled on this simple cardboard placard were those profound words of wit, “Show Us Your Tits”. After pushing this “special” person into a tree, one of the “Wisemen” made the astute comment that “This asshole doesn’t no where the fuck he’s goin’, he must be fucked up”. The 3 other wisemen just laughed and proceeded to right their little special baby Jesus and take him toward the holy water (a dried-up fucking lake). Me and Big Walt figure we can hang with these guys, just not in this century. The last great miracle that happened on this enchanted evening involved three devices which no self respectable redneck should leave home without, a blow-up doll, a blow-up pig, and a whole mess of helium balloons. Just as the Country/Rock band was getting’ ready to play homage to the South’s greatest band, I’m course referin’ to Lynyrd Skynyrd, one aviation genius in the crowd proceeded to tie the above-mentioned inflatable devices to his belt and show his reverence for this group of cultural icons. Yeshireebub, while the band played ‘Gimme Three Steps’, a blow-up doll and a blow-up pig, adorned with the requisite bra and panties, floated over the stage. It was enough to bring a tear to one’s eye.....And that was just day 1. Stayed tuned for the rest of the story.
Cheers, Big Stiff......Free Plug 2: We now have about 13,000 releases on our web site, all orders ship the next day. Check it out at www.stiffpole.com …Sorry, no Skynyrd though!!!!
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