Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Brush with Greatness --------------- Richard Childress's butt sweat
An occasional series.
By The Erudite Redneck
There we were -- Dr. ER, myself and Bird -- in Indianapolis, readying for our first (and only, so far), visit to the Brickyard 400, the NASCAR race at the storied Indianapolis "cigar car" track.
It was a few years ago. The night before the race, on the recommendation of a flack I'd been dealing with in Indianapolis, we had searched out one of Indy's renowned steak houses, St. Elmo's, downtown.
It was fun enough being in town for the race. With a steak and drinks on the way besides, ol ER was happy as a calf slobberin' on a salt block.
Then the waiter, knowin' we were race fans in from out of town, said to me all showin'-off like, "Do you know who sat where you're sitting last night?"
"No, who?" ol' ER said.
"Richard Childress!"
"In this very seat?" I said. It was a hardwood straight-back chair against a wall. Maple, I seem to recall.
"No shit!" I said, or some approximation, and the waiter produced a bidness card that indicated that, yep, sure 'nough, Mr. Childress and part of his entourage had been in St. Elmo's recently.
Totally cool.
Now, if you know who Richard Childress is, well, you know how cool it was for my buns to be sittin' in the very selfsame chair that his were, what with his connection to Dale Earnhardt and all, especially.
And if you don't know, why, his connection to Dale might suffice, but if not you can click on the link above and go to the Web site for Richard Childress Racing.
Sniff, sniff. The ER household can smell tires burnin' off. Racin' can't be far off!
END
By The Erudite Redneck
There we were -- Dr. ER, myself and Bird -- in Indianapolis, readying for our first (and only, so far), visit to the Brickyard 400, the NASCAR race at the storied Indianapolis "cigar car" track.
It was a few years ago. The night before the race, on the recommendation of a flack I'd been dealing with in Indianapolis, we had searched out one of Indy's renowned steak houses, St. Elmo's, downtown.
It was fun enough being in town for the race. With a steak and drinks on the way besides, ol ER was happy as a calf slobberin' on a salt block.
Then the waiter, knowin' we were race fans in from out of town, said to me all showin'-off like, "Do you know who sat where you're sitting last night?"
"No, who?" ol' ER said.
"Richard Childress!"
"In this very seat?" I said. It was a hardwood straight-back chair against a wall. Maple, I seem to recall.
"No shit!" I said, or some approximation, and the waiter produced a bidness card that indicated that, yep, sure 'nough, Mr. Childress and part of his entourage had been in St. Elmo's recently.
Totally cool.
Now, if you know who Richard Childress is, well, you know how cool it was for my buns to be sittin' in the very selfsame chair that his were, what with his connection to Dale Earnhardt and all, especially.
And if you don't know, why, his connection to Dale might suffice, but if not you can click on the link above and go to the Web site for Richard Childress Racing.
Sniff, sniff. The ER household can smell tires burnin' off. Racin' can't be far off!
END
Comments:
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Oh, my goodness. You're calling your stinkin' behind sittin' on the dried-sweat seat of Richard Childress a brush with greatness? You must be Jonesin' for racin'.
That's a lot like sittin' in your favorite chair in your favorite house watchin' your favorite TV and yellin' to everyone who'll listen: "Look, right there on my TV, it's Dale Jr. Hey, there's Bobby Labonte, in the green car. Ain't that Rusty Wallace. Man, right here in my own house, too."
Was watchin' Beverly Hillbillies this mornin' and couldn't help but think of you, ER. There are just some aspects of Jethro Bodine you'll never overcome. :-)
That's a lot like sittin' in your favorite chair in your favorite house watchin' your favorite TV and yellin' to everyone who'll listen: "Look, right there on my TV, it's Dale Jr. Hey, there's Bobby Labonte, in the green car. Ain't that Rusty Wallace. Man, right here in my own house, too."
Was watchin' Beverly Hillbillies this mornin' and couldn't help but think of you, ER. There are just some aspects of Jethro Bodine you'll never overcome. :-)
Well, I reckon you had to've been there! We WERE caught up in the moment, and the time and place! :) And dang it, besides our shared aversion to timeses and gasentas, and a shared likin' of vittles and gingham, I don't have a thing in common in with Mr. Bodine!
St. Elmo's is known for its especially painful and horseradishy shrimp cocktail. This post prompted this memory from a friend:
Fantastic! Last time Billy Bob (not his real name) was here, we went to dinner there. Ordered the famous horseradish laden shrimp cocktail. Now, I love prime rib and I *love* horseradish and Billy Bob, being a hot pepper lovin' guy, well, I never dreamed he wouldn't like hot stuff.
I take a big scoop, bite in and wait for that great feeling when it comes back through your nose, clears your nasal passages and feels like it's going to take the top of your head off!
Billy Bob just got a really funny look on his face, put down his half eaten shrimp and said "I don't think I like that very much."
Funniest damn thing I ever saw!
TO WHICH ol' ER replied:
How funny. Horseradish is way different from yer standard jalapeno or chile pepper. I was at a banquet once -- a fete by the Oklahoma Wheat Growers Association, as I recall :-) -- and on every plate was what APPEARED to be broiled tomato with parmesan cheese. Noooooo. It was fresh horseradish, and I swear to God everybody in the place, and I mean 300 or so people, musta bit into it, with the same misunderstanding, at the same time because suddenly there were 300-something gasps, 300-something sets of forks and knives rattling, and 300-something water glasses bein' turned up all at the same time! I'm with you: I like to feel the top of my head separate from my jaws like the saucer section separatin' from the good ship USS Enterprise!
Fantastic! Last time Billy Bob (not his real name) was here, we went to dinner there. Ordered the famous horseradish laden shrimp cocktail. Now, I love prime rib and I *love* horseradish and Billy Bob, being a hot pepper lovin' guy, well, I never dreamed he wouldn't like hot stuff.
I take a big scoop, bite in and wait for that great feeling when it comes back through your nose, clears your nasal passages and feels like it's going to take the top of your head off!
Billy Bob just got a really funny look on his face, put down his half eaten shrimp and said "I don't think I like that very much."
Funniest damn thing I ever saw!
TO WHICH ol' ER replied:
How funny. Horseradish is way different from yer standard jalapeno or chile pepper. I was at a banquet once -- a fete by the Oklahoma Wheat Growers Association, as I recall :-) -- and on every plate was what APPEARED to be broiled tomato with parmesan cheese. Noooooo. It was fresh horseradish, and I swear to God everybody in the place, and I mean 300 or so people, musta bit into it, with the same misunderstanding, at the same time because suddenly there were 300-something gasps, 300-something sets of forks and knives rattling, and 300-something water glasses bein' turned up all at the same time! I'm with you: I like to feel the top of my head separate from my jaws like the saucer section separatin' from the good ship USS Enterprise!
Mmmmm horseradish! If you want a good dose that will bring tears to your eyes and cure you of all winter colds, get a steak wrap at Braum's. I love horseradish, but can't take the heat of peppers. Go figure. Must singe different nerve endings or something.
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