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Mr. Austin34471 had good idea, so naturally I'm climbing on to exploit the inspiration of another.
I've had trips like this, haven't you?
I swear I'll never write another of these damn things!
“Lets go race in Florida”! Its where all the teams go
to escape from the ice and the slush and the snow.
We pooled our money and disability checks,
then loaded the hauler with all us rednecks.
The car is all prepped to head south and play,
Its got a new 305 that we bought on eBay.
At last on the road, but we raised such disorder
When we stopped for the night at “South of the Border”.
To make a long story short, I bailed out the crew,
We jumped into the dually and drove south, straight through.
It was late when we got to the track, such slackers!
We found the pits full of new toters and stackers.
The pit steward showed up, so he yells and discusses,
Then parks us out back with the figure 8 busses.
We give him the finger, like good country hicks,
Then proceed to unload in the ant hills and ticks.
No power, no lights, no scales, no concessions,
No fuel, no tires and no practice sessions.
“Hey, there’s cars on the track!” What makes us beserk
Is that we’ve missed warm-ups, the speakers don’t work!
Now we must cross the track to get into the pits,
But time trials have started, so we waits and we sits.
We watch the late models, the crates and the supers,
Then come the modifieds and the Super-Dupers.
Out-of-towners, the locals, the veterans and up-starts,
Mini Cups, Bandoleros, scooters and go karts.
As I’m starting to doze, someone BIG grabs me,
I turn and look up at a giant: ronabney!
He said “boy if you want across, just ask nicely
If you do it correctly, you won’t have to ask twicely”
So we yelled “Let us in” in a loud redneck chorus,
And at last that damn pit gate opened up wide before us.
It was late, so we snuck in avoiding detection.
And we blew right past tech and the safety inspection.
Our dirver lined up in the field at the tail.
Starting last with no practice, we think “epic fail”.
We start alongside a spectatular car,
Driven by a young teen, the next NASCAR star.
At the drop of the green, this millionaire punk
Turns “right” at the flagstand and our car is junk.
We’d like to go pound on this kid so abhorrent,
But our crew’s on probation, and most have a warrant.
I say as we turn and walk off from the fight,
“Get out the tools y'all, we’re working all night!”
I've had trips like this, haven't you?
I swear I'll never write another of these damn things!
“Lets go race in Florida”! Its where all the teams go
to escape from the ice and the slush and the snow.
We pooled our money and disability checks,
then loaded the hauler with all us rednecks.
The car is all prepped to head south and play,
Its got a new 305 that we bought on eBay.
At last on the road, but we raised such disorder
When we stopped for the night at “South of the Border”.
To make a long story short, I bailed out the crew,
We jumped into the dually and drove south, straight through.
It was late when we got to the track, such slackers!
We found the pits full of new toters and stackers.
The pit steward showed up, so he yells and discusses,
Then parks us out back with the figure 8 busses.
We give him the finger, like good country hicks,
Then proceed to unload in the ant hills and ticks.
No power, no lights, no scales, no concessions,
No fuel, no tires and no practice sessions.
“Hey, there’s cars on the track!” What makes us beserk
Is that we’ve missed warm-ups, the speakers don’t work!
Now we must cross the track to get into the pits,
But time trials have started, so we waits and we sits.
We watch the late models, the crates and the supers,
Then come the modifieds and the Super-Dupers.
Out-of-towners, the locals, the veterans and up-starts,
Mini Cups, Bandoleros, scooters and go karts.
As I’m starting to doze, someone BIG grabs me,
I turn and look up at a giant: ronabney!
He said “boy if you want across, just ask nicely
If you do it correctly, you won’t have to ask twicely”
So we yelled “Let us in” in a loud redneck chorus,
And at last that damn pit gate opened up wide before us.
It was late, so we snuck in avoiding detection.
And we blew right past tech and the safety inspection.
Our dirver lined up in the field at the tail.
Starting last with no practice, we think “epic fail”.
We start alongside a spectatular car,
Driven by a young teen, the next NASCAR star.
At the drop of the green, this millionaire punk
Turns “right” at the flagstand and our car is junk.
We’d like to go pound on this kid so abhorrent,
But our crew’s on probation, and most have a warrant.
I say as we turn and walk off from the fight,
“Get out the tools y'all, we’re working all night!”
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