Racing Dreams

Last night was "Cousins Night".

Sadly, not all of the cousins decided to partake. Jim had an excuse; it was his birthday.

But a horse and buggy ride through Haddonfield? Come on Josh. The cheese factor could have been lower.

BUT.... regardless of how many people went, we had a blast.

We went to Mid Atlantic Grand Prix. Which is essentially, go karts for adults and/or speed junkie kids. (identical to the cars from the film "Racing Dreams")

The place is a short distance from my parents house, so we met there at 430pm. Hilary, Douglas, Joe, and I headed out from there.

It probably only took 15 minutes to get there over the Delaware Memorial Bridge.

Once we got there, we signed up for memberships, got our free headsock, and were told that the first race we could join was at 715pm. WTF?!?

We were already there so we decided, Why not. Just stay. Shoot the shit. And then race like mofos.

The first step in getting a membership is choosing a "Racer Name" which would be displayed on the big screen in the waiting room and track your speeds for all to see.

I went with the obvious choice:

Had to kick it old school and represent all my teammates from the Global Velvet Gloves Squad.

True playas and ballaz. hahaha

Then they take your photo. Didn't know why but proudly stood and had it taken.

There is a go cart in the lobby that you can sit in and get a feel for what you are in store for.

Not sure that it is a completely accurate representation considering it doesn't move and in a few minutes it will be going 60mph around hair-pin turns on a track covered in what feels like Crisco Oil.

Then we got comfortable with our "headsocks". These must be worn under the helmets. I can only assume to protect you from head bugs from other racers before you. To me, we look a bit like medieval homosexuals... but that's besides the point.

I felt a bit like Knight Rider rockin this get up. Was sorta waiting for my car to start talking to me in an endearing computer voice and calling me Michael. Sadly, that never happened.

We also had a pleasant opportunity to admire a signed headshot from "MRS. NEWARK".

WTF?!?! I am not sure what the qualifications or competition for MRS. Newark is BUT, shit son. This lady is busted. Joe told me that he thinks he got a lap dance from her at the strip club down the road once. hahahaha

Then we reviewed the Safety standards and got ready for our moment in the sun (or in the warehouse to be more accurate).
They called our race heat # and we opened the doors to the track. The smell of gas fumes and screeching of tires got me real excited and confident that I was going to whip some ass from 6 inches above the ground.

Needless to say, my visions of "whipping ass" never panned out. I finished in second to last in both of the races we ran. I was attacked violently by both Joe and Douglas on different occasions. Fairly certain that Douglas tried to kill me with a massive T-Bone hit that jarred all my guts loose from their normal positions and left a giant rug burn on my back from the impact and coarseness of the seat.

We all left the track laughing and were presented with our "Race Sheets".

Now I understand the picture thing. They not only wanted everyone to know what your times on the track were, but they also want everyone to know EXACTLY who The Velvet Glove was. hahaha

Good times.

Next time I will be prepared for such mayhem.

And I vow to get revenge.

The Velvet Glove will return.

The Velvet Glove will take that checkered flag.

Count on it.