I had a few tricks up my sleeve back in college when it came to making those Virginia boys swoon over a can of Natural Lite: I knew a lot about Nascar. I knew drivers, their numbers, their sponsors, track news… Growing up in Jacksonville, Daytona was almost just close enough to hear the rumble. But I’ve since lost that somewhat disingenuous interest, and thus going in a somewhat ironic way was a marvelous way to spend a Sunday. The weather was perfect, the hotdogs tumescent, and the confederate flags a-flyin.
Hey, just a quick note about attending Nascar races. You’re going to want to grip the rails and smile, because it is pretty goddamned impressive, but don’t—smile, I mean. At one point, a blur of cars went by and a minuscule scrap of rubber sailed over the fence and bounced right off my front tooth. It didn’t hurt, but I felt a little dumb. Best stick to sipping that cold can of America, kid.
Later on, I repurposed my shorts for a quick night out to see some live music and sip bourbon:
But really, who needs live music with ears ringing from the glory of throttling engines and bikini clad fans?
Until next time, RIR.
[Deets for the cheap seats: Jacket, Daughters of the Liberation/Anthropologie, also seen here and here! + Rag & Bone cargo shorts + LNA Desert ripped neck tee + Joie Ajax booties/Joie sandals + Joie Marlo silk top.]