The Ballad of Nascar Dave

In a nation that is centered around convenience, I wonder if people often realize the magnitude of how spoiled we really are. The American way of life is truly a lazy machine, constantly begging to be oiled up for better performance. Third world countries strive to find food each day while in the United States walking inside to restaurants has been replaced by drive-thru windows. The controls to the radio formerly on the dash have been relocated to the steering wheel on most modern day vehicles, Lord help us if we had to reach for something. Most hair dryers come packaged with labels warning us to, "not operate while sleeping." This egotistical, narcissistic approach to life, much like a virus, infects our well being year round and makes us completely dependent on things conforming to our method to life. We are losing the fight for independence.

I was recently pondering whether this quest for convenience has also blinded our inspirations in life to where the only source we go to for direction is the Self-Help aisle in our local Barnes and Nobles? There are no road signs in life. After all, isnt it difficult to be motivated when there is nothing to motivate us? If everything has been handed to us, within arms reach, or can be accessed from the click of a mouse then what is pushing us to live life to its fullest? What happened to adventure? I'm guilty of it, too. Stress most often invades my body and depletes me of anything positive in my life. I would love to have the frame of mind to where I wake up each day, thank God for blessing me the ability to open my eyes, and keep a smile on my face. The "live life to its fullest" phrase has been beaten to death, but does anyone actually embrace it and use it as a code to live by? Every once in a while I will cross paths with something or someone that makes me question the state of my current life, and the direction I'm heading in. As of Saturday, May the 20th, I think I found the man that could change my life.

He's not a preacher. Not a teacher. He's not even into charity work. He's a drunken fool they call, "Nascar Dave."

At the Nascar Nextel Cup All Star Challenge this past Saturday, there were a number of rain delays that forced people to leave because of the late time. In the glass box area, there were several seats beside me that were available from those who abandoned them with an unbelievable view of the Start/Finish line. With twenty laps left, a drunken man stumbled to my row of seating and plopped down onto the comfortable padded seating, escorted by a loud, plump friend with a plastic cup full of beer that spilled everytime he cheered for something on the track. The drunken man in the seat was sloppily dressed, shirt half tucked, wrinkled khaki pants and dirt stained shoes that seemed to have better days. The dress code for the Speedway Club he was now in was being broken like a Barry Bonds steroid test. For less than two minutes he watched the action on the track in squinted eyes, clutching one unlit cigarette in his fingers and another for backup tucked safely behind his right ear. Without regard for the Non-Smoking signs, he searched for a lighter in his pockets and never found it, fortunately for us.

After the first two minutes he was in a deep slumber, one thats only rivaled by those in a comatose state. The friend with the full beer sat down next to him, and realized Nascar Dave was out of order for the rest of the evening. The man was loud, and he was lonely, and he was going to make damn sure he had a buddy to share in his inebriated delight. Instantly, he struck up a conversation with a tall, lanky man with thick black rimmed glasses sitting in the row in front of him. Turns out the new friend worked for a newspaper, and was here to document the All Star race experience. He was bait, and the full beer guy was now engaged in some serious fishing.

"Hey man, you going to write an article about me?" full beer guy said. Nascar Dave beside him miraculously still held on to the unlit cigarette.

"I wish I could, Im sure you have a good story to tell," thick glasses guy replied, with the sort of defensive tone that implied, I don't really care to be talking to you now. Please shut up so I can watch the finish of the race.

"Well, I tell you, my buddy right here, you should be writing about him. This guy right here is famous," said full beer guy, tapping thick glasses guy on the shoulder until he turned around. Each time he motioned, his beer would spill a little bit more, forming a small puddle at his feet. His beer was more like half full by now.

This peaked thick glasses guys interest. He turned around and investigated what could possibly be famous about this pathetic waste of human life. He asked the obvious. "How's he famous?"

"Man this is Nascar Dave!" half beer guy said. "Nascar Dave has been to 108 straight races. He knows all of the drivers. Great guy," he answered convincingly. Half beer guy went on to explain that Nascar Dave made his money by scalping tickets, and that he supposedly made a killing doing it. He then funneled this money into more tickets, more gas money, more travel money.

When Thick glasses guy turned skeptical, Half beer guy then explained the science of scalping, and how Dave has been successful in the dirty business. "Well it's technically not scalping if he's not on the speedway's grounds. He'll walk a half mile down the road and start his sellling there." Thick glasses guy took the liberty of snapping off a few shots of a drunk and drooly Nascar Dave, inciting laughter from those surrounding him. He really was pathetic to look at.

From what I gathered, Nascar Dave had figured out a scientific formula for this method of living. The only address he lived at was the license plate and model of his truck, however according to his friend he always had a roof over his head. He rarely stayed in motel rooms. At all the different tracks throughout the country, he had a contact he had met over the years at each track. As the races rotated tracks, hed simply call a friend in the area and ask to crash on the sofa in exchange for seats and all access passes to tour the pit and garage areas. Quite the barter system. After all, he did know the drivers and had developed an underground reputation for being a Nascar ultimate fan posterboy.

How does Nascar Dave give me inspiration? Dont get me wrong, in no way do I respect his beligerance and abuse for alcohol. But take a second and think about it. Hes doing what he loves for a living. He has dedicated his life completely to doing something that he loves. Those born into society are automatically fed the preconceived notion that one must work a 9-5 job, get an education, find a nice house with a picket fence, have a cute, furry dog and pop off an average of 1.5 kids. From the point of birth in the United States we are given this box, denied creatively from thinking outside of it. We, the American public, are like robots feeding and working on the same schedule everyday. It is often frowned upon for one to lack priorities in todays harsh world, any event in which someone does something different or chooses to live an alternate lifestyle then it is met with instant ridicule, b/c it defies what we associate as the "norm." An obvious example here is gay marriage.

How many times, and this holds true for myself, have you looked back at your life and said to yourself, "I wish I would have done this, or If I could go back I would definitely do that." Nascar Dave is doing those things. Hes living life one day at a time, one race at a time, one track at a time, traveling around the country and leaving his imprint, however positive or negative it may be, on those surrounding him. His family are the fans of the Nextel Cup and each weekend his front yard is a mile and a half track with hard banking turns. For me personally, I dont want to be another statistic. If my dream is to travel the world with Brittany one day, then dammit Im doing it and I'm not just going to talk about it.

I admire it. He's taught me that you have one chance at life, do what you wish, as long as it makes you happy. I get so wrapped up in the stresses of work, paying bills, cleaning up dog crap, mowing the yard, etc...that I often forget I should be enjoying these things. I'm blessed to have a great job, a house to pay for, a dog who shows me unconditional love, and a yard to keep up. Time is our worst enemy in life. The only way you can beat it is by spending every second wisely.

So thank you, Nascar Dave. Though your filthy, dirty shoes have walked so many drunken miles and embarrassed yourself by passing out and drooling in public, youre living life with no regrets, seeking the things that you love. I tip my glass to your quest. And I know if you were reading this then you'd be tipping your empty Budweiser can right back at me.You've got my vote as President. By the way, wondering what happened to Nascar Dave?

His friend left him there. But he never dropped his cigarette.