On Thursday afternoon, I received an email from a buddy asking me if I wanted to go to Maryland International Raceway to take in some drag races. I was in, but I wasn’t sure my girlfriend would want to go. Luckily, she was indifferent and I played the wine festival card, so she was in. Sure it was a bit of an inconvenience for her, but she’s cool like that so it wasn’t a problem.

The plan was to leave at 7:00 p.m. and arrive at the track around 8 p.m. Of course, much like any plans that I make or participate in, we were not on time. No biggie though, my dad was always on CPT, and thus, I inherited that fine quality. So, it doesn’t really bother me if I’m late. Well, except for a job interview.

Anyway, after a somewhat complicated plan to meet one third of our party at a mall that was close by, we were on our way. Now, my buddy Mike just recently traded in his suped –up Mustang for a one-year older, Mustang Cobra. I gave him a lot of sh*t for trading it in, but I have to admit, it’s nicer than his old Mustang.

The women (my girlfriend, his wife), as they shall be referred for the duration of this posting, were following us in my Civic, complete with duct tape. Mike’s desire to drop the hammer was thwarted by the sudden appearance of cops, or the lack of horsepower of my Honda. Although, he was able to illustrate the cars 0-60 speed multiple times. I, of course, was no fan of him mashing the gas as we were turning. We were fishtailing like we were on ice. I gotta admit, I was little scared. I think two drops of pee came out one time.

Anyway, we arrived at the mall and were waiting to meet up with two other people. We kicked around the idea of eating, but couldn’t really decide if we should eat or wait. The women had to go to the bathroom, so we headed for the food court. While the girls were in the bathroom, Mike went to buy a drink from this Chinese place. The guy gave him a free sample. Next thing I know, he’s ordering what I think was Teriyaki chicken and spicy BBQ chicken. I walked over, and the guy was trying to give me a free sample.
 
Now, anyone who knows me knows I’m not going to turn down free food. It was good, but I had to wait for my gf to come back to see if she wanted some – yeah, I’m considerate. She tasted it and agreed it was good, but opted for Chick-Fil-A. (Shrug) Whatever, give me the greasy, good chicken. Just as we started eating, we got the call that our friends were about 5 minutes away. We quickly finished up and headed out to the parking lot to meet them. Shortly thereafter, we were back on the road.

From the time we left the mall to when we actually arrived on the track probably wasn’t that long, but it felt like an eternity. I think it’s mostly because there’s absolutely nothing around the track. It’s all small houses on great, big lots, with trees, grass, more trees, and then some more trees. Some people would call it scenic. I call it boring, and a good place to get killed by some backwoods psycho. But, anyway.

We arrived at what we thought might be the track because, basically, it was the first thing we saw with a sign and lights. It turned out to be a dirt track, but the guy there was able to give us sound directions to the track: “Uh, you go down a little bit and make a right.” Ironically enough, he was right because the track was essentially the next right turn.

We parked and made our way in. It was more of a hike than I expected to the stands. We had to walk around the pit area because only one set of stands was open, but it was cool. We got to see a lot of the cars sitting and waiting to race. Most of the cars that were sitting were race cars. They had racing slicks, custom paint jobs, roll cages, and huge hood scoops… except for one car. An old, I would have guessed 1984 – 1989 Corvette, stock, with a spoiler.

I thought to myself that this car must be fast, since it was in with pro class. It wasn’t. It may have been the driver more than the car, I’m not sure. There was a full second between the green light and when he actually started moving, and he went down the track like he was just cruising on the highway. He got blown away by the other car, which was loud and took off like a pro would.

We watched burnout after burnout, and quick 1/8 and 1/4 mile runs. These guys weren’t joking. They came to run, and they came to win. Some cars looked awesome, like the 1975-1979 Chevy Novas with Custom paint jobs. And others did not, a 1985-ish Chevy Silverado that looked like it was painted black using spray paint. (It was pretty fast though.)

After the pros went, we got to what was called the street division. That basically means regular road cars. This was, by far, the most entertaining of the classes simply because of the types of cars being raced. Some guy raced his dark grey, second-generation 6-series BMW. The guy on the PA estimated the car to be worth $90,000, the most expensive car of the night. It’s on track performance didn’t really live up to the price tag, as the car spun its tires for the first few hundred feet. That killed its time.

Another person raced a Honda CR-V. Yes, a CR-V. And, there was a passenger in the car. It performed exactly how you would expect a Honda SUV to perform. Other cars that raced: a Chrysler 300M, a new Nissan Sentra, a bunch of Mustangs, an old 1985-ish BMW 3-series, and a 1994-ish Toyota Corolla. The Corolla had a dent on the passenger side with some sort of decal (it may have been tape that had drawings on it). As we were leaving, we passed the Corolla and the decal had, in hand written letters, the word, “ouch.” That car took the cake as POS of the night, at least for me.
 
The most popular car (by the number of them racing) of the night was, you guessed it, the Mustang. There were easily more than 10 Mustangs of varying years that raced that night. There were also quite a few Chevy Novas. I remember seeing multiple Chevy S-10 small pickup trucks, and a couple of Camaros.

I was surprised by the number of black people at the track. I halfway expected to be the only one. But, there were quite a few, and I think that all of the people who raced their superbikes that night were black. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It was just an interesting statistic.

There was a couple sitting in front of us with their 6-18 month old child. I had no idea how old the baby was, but s/he was small. The father was holding the child. When the cars would approach the line and do their burnout, creating massive clouds of smoke, the mother would cover the baby’s face with a cloth so the kid wouldn’t inhale the fumes. By the way, burning rubber stinks, if you don’t know. I don’t recall them covering the baby’s ears when the engines roared. But, far be it from me to criticize someone’s parenting skills.
 
I had a good time and would definitely go back. Next time, though, I think I wouldn’t sit by the starting line. The exhaust fumes and the burning rubber smell are overpowering. The next day, I had a hangover, and I didn’t have a single drink.