I concluded my ultra long weekend of birthday celebration with a trip to the redneck riviera known as Fontana, California. The Auto Club Speedway is flanked by dilapidated steel mills and miles of 100,000 plus square foot distribution centers.
The NASCAR population lives up to all stereotypes: big trucks, big guts/ asses, lots of American beer, southern accents, driver-themed flags and all other sorts of memorabilia, shitty tattoos, homely women, extremely unhealthy food and good times.
I had never imagined myself as enjoying NASCAR, but perhaps it was the great hospitality of our hosts, the pit passes or great seats, but it was a blast. Unlike most American sports the drivers come speak to certain audiences, for example us in the Budweiser booth for a Q and A with Bud's driver. He was down to earth and seemed happy to be answering questions from our small crowd. I can't wait until my next chance to see a race.
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