Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Hitting Daytona with John.

When one of your best friends calls and says they have an extra ticket to a 24 hour race in Daytona, an extra bed in their hotel room, and you can drive their Ferrari, how could you possibly stay home?

I didn't.

The Blu Buck project was stable, the BTC renovations were done, and the family was happy.  

I hopped a plane to Orlando, drove a surprisingly sporty beetle out to Daytona, and met up with John. 

Lots of pictures follow.  Thank you John for a weekend that reminded me of how fun it can be to be a "grown up".

My ride, next to John's.

Pre-race cocktail party.

Post-cocktail party, pre-race steak, complete with theological discussion that is now in its 12th year.

The super swank Ferrari box seats area.  Our tickets were not for this section, and when we tried to come back later in the day, the pretty ladies woman-ing the entryway didn't find our names on the list.  A hilarious reminder of the rat race.

Try not to get bogged down in the size of the infrastructure dedicated to this sport.  Or any sport.  You might get distracted by the priorities of our species.

John interviewed me for my first job at Fannie Mae. We've lived together, worked together, traveled the globe together, and we don't see nearly enough of each other these days.

The cars spread around the grounds were fun to look at, but my favorite part was John.  So I paired them in pictures.

Lots of pictures.  

This one belongs to John.

There's a lake in the middle of the Daytona Speedway.  Because.

And a Ferris Wheel.

And one of these things.

The race went from one afternoon straight through the night to the next afternoon.  We got a good night's sleep, and came back in the morning to see how the night had treated the various drivers. Some of them had had a rough night.

Possibly the thing I wanted to bring home most.

More pretty cars around the grounds.

Watching the winners circle from our box seats.  The swag these drivers get was amazing. The Rolexes, high end liquor, and whatnot didn't surprise me.  The guitars did. 

The last cool car, in the parking lot of a pep boys, or some other auto parts chain.

This was fun.  Even when we blew by two cops.  Luckily they were trapped on a parallel road by the car dealerships and would have had to jump a waterway to get to us.  

Yup.  Why not?

We went for a walk on the boardwalk, had a nice thai dinner, and caught each other up on our very different lives.  The next morning John suited up and took his car to the Daytona track for a day of racing, and I headed home to my island of happy, small town living.  This was a blast, and at the same time the solid reminder I was needing of why I love our life in Water Valley.

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