Nascar 08

First, a few items of housekeeping. If you desire to subscribe to this blog (I know they don't make it quite so simple here as they do for other blog sites) you can click subscribe at the bottom of the page, which I think will save it as a live bookmark, and it should let you know (in your browser) when a new meld is released. Due to demand, I'll continue to post on facebook when a new meld comes out, but expect one on the order of once or twice a week. Also, if you so desire (not a plug here) you can comment on these melds with either a) a gmail account or b) the shirt on your back. That's right. You don't even have to be a member of the Google universe, or any universe, for that matter, which I guess really opens up the possibilities. I'm not begging for your comments, I just know that it's not obvious that you can do such a thing.

Okay, now that's taken care of, welcome to the melding of the heads, Friday edition. A happy belated birthday to Cristina's mom, Giovinna. We're making the trek to Cooper City today to celebrate. There will, indeed, be much rejoicing. Mrs. Nevala, this meld's for you.

As you may know, I hail from Indianapolis, Indiana, The Racing Capital of the World. The day I was weaned off the teat (hypothetically, I guess, because I was never literally "on the teat," for which I am eternally grateful, but this subject is another meld entirely), I was taken to the track for a couple of reasons: 1. To have my hearing broken in. 2. To begin the process of acquiring the taste for racing. Now, there was really only one form of real racing, and that was the form that took place every Memorial Day weekend at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. The Indianapolis 500 was, at one time (if not still) the largest attendance of any single day sporting event in the world. The entire month of May aced out the entire month of December by far in measure of anticipation. Cars would start circling around the track as early as April and wouldn't stop until the race was over. It was a glorious and beautiful beginning to summer. Plus, it was cheap (if not free) to watch testing and practice. Three or four times every spring, we'd be watching practice at the track. In the summer months following the 500, my dad would take me to a small track called the Speedrome, where these goofy little cars with the stereo and all the seats removed would drive around in ovals and figure-8's all night long. This was equally as special. Racing was a very important part of my upbringing, and no doubt influenced the person I am today.


A few (like 13) years back, the power players at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway (hereafter referred to as IMS) decided to bring the premiere performance art of the South to Indianapolis. Thus, the Brickyard 400 was born. Everybody was pretty excited to see NASCAR come to Indy, but when they started fixing races in the late 90's in order to generate TV ratings and people who cared (which it did), many Hoosiers (including myself) were turned off to the point of hatred. After all, who wants to see street cars with stickers for headlights go around the track 50 miles an hour slower than the slowest Indy car, bumping and jostling the whole time? Open wheeled racing is just so much faster, sexier, and demands so much more driver skill. And that's just how I felt before I became a Formula 1 fan.



A few (like 8) years back, Tony George (who I am convinced is one of the greater men to ever walk the earth), completed a multi-million dollar renovation of IMS and brought the European snobs of Formula 1 to Indianapolis. For my dad and me, this was the greatest thing ever. I hadn't been too much of an F1 fan until this point in my life, but there was no turning back. I haven't missed an F1 telecast in I think about 2 years, and even though they're live from all over the world, and it usually requires odd watching times, I wouldn't even think of it. The man who thinks he rules the world, but ends up just making F1 fans angry because of his power trip, Bernie Ecclestone, calls NASCAR "taxi-cab racing." On that point, I agree with him 100%.


So, when I knew I would be rooming with a guy who's aunt owns a NASCAR team, I smelled a sitcom in the making. Well, maybe not a sitcom, but I looked forward to many opportunities to rip him up one side and down the other for his ridiculous passion. When we got to school, he told me that he had brought his Play Station 3. Awesome. Of course, the only PS3 game I've played is the F1 game, and the only game he spends any amount of time playing is NASCAR 08. Hoping to show him a thing or two about racing, I took to the controls one afternoon. Given my love for most things racing (when you switch views, you can't tell its a stock car) and my tendency to jump into things with three feet, it became immediately apparent that I was going to spend a lot of time playing this game. There were times when I think I could have spent time with friends, but instead I stayed in to race. There were times when I should have slept, but I stayed up to race. There were times when I should have eaten, but I ran to the dining hall, ate, ran back, and picked up the race where I left off. But, put on a clinic for Chris I did not. From reading the above, you can probably imagine how my opinion of stock car racing (bumper cars) influenced my desire to operate one like a delicate instrument. It took some time, but I am getting to the point where my car (The number 42 machine) is no longer "collecting the 18 and 44 cars down on the apron." And, I've mastered the art of the draft, something which only seems to matter when you're driving a car big enough for a family (husband, wife, 2 kids, dog, goldfish) instead of an engine attached to a monocoque (honestly, if terms like monocoque don't make you want to watch F1, I don't know what will) and some wheels. But the big problem is that there is no 2-Player, so there is no way of really knowing, head to head, eyeball to eyeball, toe to toe, shoulder to shoulder, who is the better man (I say better man because when we start, we'll say, "may the best man win."). Also, I've started winning races like it's going out of style. Word on the streets is that we're getting the F1 game soon. I'll keep you posted.

Well, that's all I've got for today. I guess if you didn't care much for IMS history, you probably didn't like this. Well, I've got two words for you. You should. And watch some F1. It'll change your whole outlook on life. We'll meld again soon. Until then..

Two Cents

Friends, I sincerely apologize for the delay since the last post. I've been busier than a mega-church nursery worker who's going solo for the week because all the other volunteers got tickets to the football game. But I'm sure you've been busy too, which I guess makes things a little better. Expect more from me as I start to get into a routine now that I'm all moved in at school. Anyway, this week's meld is designed to tear at your heartstrings, if even only a little. It's about the downward spiral of humanity, and how what you mean when you say, "everything that's right in this world" is shrinking severely. Let's meld.

I write this post usually to keep those who give a rat's behind in "the know" of interesting and unusual experiences in my life. Well, yesterday I had a doozy. Had an elephant flown by me yesterday, I probably wouldn't have been so, well, amazed. I got up, as I do every Sunday morning, at the crack of dawn to go lead worship for the middle school ministry at my church. The plan was for my girlfriend, Cristina to come to my church with me and leave from there to drive up to her house to take care of some "things". Let's put it this way, if there was a customs checkpoint between Miami and Ft. Lauderdale, and the clerk asked if we were traveling for business or pleasure, the answer definitely would not have been pleasure. Although there was one pleasureful part of the day, Cristina's mom's Alfredo sauce, which I would rank among the best foods on the face of the earth. I could probably eat it as a soup. And Big Brother 8, which they all have some obsession with. I could see getting into it, but only for the comedic value. Where do they find these people? But I digress. I had a whole new band, so practice was trying, to say the least. When we got up to do first service, my guitar wasn't sounding off like it had a pair. In fact, it wasn't sounding off at all. so we played the first two songs, with me singing whilst communicating with people in the back to get me my other guitar, which the Foghorn-Leghornesque ("Luckily, I keep my feathers numbered for just such an occasion") problem-prevention side of me had demanded I bring. I got it switched out fairly seamlessly, but the band sort of fell apart, which was a bit of a drag. Anyway, we got our act together, but my other guitar didn't work either. After a prayer and a Zaheer Mohammed trip to the stage to get to the bottom of things, my guitar started working in time for the last two songs, which demanded acoustic. It was a rough service indeed.

We came back in second hour and blew the roof off the place though, so that was good, and by that time Cristina had arrived. I walked out of service to grab a drink when I got done, and she had been on her way to the main service when she realized that she had left without her cell phone. Well, the sermon was going on, so we couldn't check until after the service. I had Todd make an announcement at the end of service, we scoured the room, and had called it about 30 times, but to no avail. In fact, we called it until whoever took it turned it off (didn't want the ol' conscience bothering them). So it appears that Cristina's phone was stolen. At church. During Middle School worship. I doubt crimes get much more heinous. Can you imagine stealing a phone from someone at church, ignoring all kinds off attempts by the person you robbed to get her phone back, and actually keeping or selling it? It's pretty low. And suffice it to say, the rest of the day wasn't too much more upbeat (aside from the aforementioned alfredo & Big Brother combo. I don't know about you, but I take my Italian with a side of reality.) So, if you see any red razr's pop up on Ebay, you'll know where it came from.

Well that about does it for me. I've got to get back to my phony-baloney job. I apologize if you were looking for a laugh and I failed to deliver. Deal with it. We'll be melding together soon. Until then..