The journey to Race Week 2.0 started in a similar fashion to many of the racers traveling to get to Tulsa, Oklahoma. The one big difference being I didn’t have a race car that I was hauling or driving. Slight bit of bummer if you ask me. Instead I had my super stock 2018 Grand Caravan spaciously filled with everything I could think I would need from home for the next week. Camera bag neatly organized with lenses, laptop, cable accessories and chapstick. An old school blue and white cooler packed with the essentials, coke and dill pickle chips, that screeched at me each time my grubby little hands opened the lid. Brand new tires aching to see the open road. First stop, Tulsa Raceway Park!
Well, almost the first stop. Might have forgot to mention I had three kids in tow and two of which needed all their school stuff to accommodate their e-learning year. Technically the first leg of the trip was my first solo road trip with all three kids and to grandmother’s house we went. Seven and a half short hours later we arrived in Udall, Kansas amped up on songs from Trolls World Tour and McD’s for days. A night of rest to transfer car seats and luggage and transform Carol, my mom van, into the race track warrior she was meant to be.
Sunday morning came and I was getting antsy for some racing. Slight nerves about going to a new city by myself driving almost three hours from my home base for Race Week. I hit the open windy road to Tulsa, Oklahoma by nine thirty stocked up and ready to go. Mesmerized by the lush landscape of Oklahoma and the towns lined with old brick buildings and stop lights that shone with a faded hues of red, yellow and green. So many times I thought to quickly pullover and photograph buildings and other unique characteristics in the towns. That would have turned my three hour drive into an eight hour drive real quick. Besides, it is hard to shake the mentality of needing to get to my destination in record time. Minimized gas and rest breaks, stopping only for the essentials.
On the outskirts of Tulsa I stopped for food at Arby’s in what I assume to be an older section of the city. Once again met with old brick buildings and narrow roads. Even the sign to one of my fast food staples had a touch of old school flare. It was glorious. I ordered two beef and cheddars, one for lunch and one for dinner, a salted caramel chocolate chip cookie and a side of honey mustard. The cashier jokingly asked if it was for the cookie in which I responded yes with straight eyes, the rest of my face covered by a yellow honey bee print mask hiding any other visible expression. He stood stunned for a moment and said that he hoped I was joking. Of course, but my sarcastic humor couldn’t resist the opportunity.
Less than ten minutes from the track my anxiety and happiness grew. As I pulled up I felt a bit shocked at the amount of racers and people already in attendance. That buzz I continue to describe filled the air. Spectators walking around the lengthy pits with their heads on a swivel. Race cars, RVs and people moving all around. Favorites arrived in style and surrounded by a circle of fans looking to get a picture or take video of their arrival. It was a glorious day to start Race Week.
Enamored by each crew working to get their cars through tech and then play the waiting game for track to be hot, then to only wait again for their classes to be called to get into the lanes. Ten lanes wide seemed ideal for set up. Easy to see the which racers were ready to make their pass running swiftly as the track staff directed them to their lanes.
I was ready for that tire smoke. That gloriously terrible smell that you begin to crave being around. Longing for the ear splitting sound as they burnout before hitting that quarter mile. This is what I drove almost 700 miles to document and be encased in. I thought I knew what I was in for but looking back I had no damn idea.
Always,