Friday is date night for Tammy and I. We try to do something special together, just the two of us. We usually go out to a nice dinner, then catch a movie or go shopping. Now, before you start calling me mean names for doing such girly stuff, let me tell you what we did last Friday. We went to the dirt track!

I love my wife so much. She is anything but girly. She loves to go rock climbing and when we snuggle on the couch on Sunday afternoon, it always involves watching NASCAR or football, depending on the season.

I have a little history with dirt track racing. I raced thunder bombers one summer back in college. Please, check out this article in which I wax nostalgic about those days of dirt and steel.

Going to the track is a great sociological experience. You ain’t seen no red neck ’til you been down to the races on Friday night. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have plenty of respect for the working class and I’m a Texan through and through, but if you like people watching as much as I do, then there’s nothing better than seeing Granny whoop and holler for her boy in the 15 car. She most likely will have nacho cheese running down her chin or, if your really fortunate, it’ll be Copenhagen instead.