And meanwhile, back at the ranch, while the estrogen set was planning, preparing, and eating timpano (see November 10, 2014 post), at least some of the testosterone set were watching cars go round and round in circles at the Phoenix International Raceway.
For Fathers’ Day, Bill’s son Dave made arrangements for them to attend the NASCAR race that ran this past weekend. The real gift was a parking space for the RV that he, his brother Allen and his son Alastair drove to the race from Denver. They spent the entire weekend. He couldn’t possibly have gotten him something Bill would have loved more.
Within 24 hours of opening his gift, Bill bought enough tickets to include both of his sons, Alastair, and my brother Dave, and commenced planning.
Bill has been working on the arrangements since June. Saying Bill is somewhat compulsive is like saying that Noah’s flood was a rain shower. I’m talking down to illustrating a to-scale sketch of the campsight.
You think I’m kidding….
He purchased plastic ticket holders on lanyards so that they could wear their tickets around their necks. He bought a huge canopy and tarps to use as sides, and had several practice runs at setting it up. He carefully considered the size of the cooler, how much beer he needed, where he would park the car – should it face north and south or east and west? He made certain there was a camping grill. He planned for the necessary amount of firewood. He made sure he had a Jeff Gordon baseball cap.
But the day before his kids/grandkids showed up in the RV, I offhandedly asked Bill, “What are you guys going to eat for the next four days?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “We’ll figure something out.”
Now you KNOW if women were planning that trip we would not be worrying about ticket holders or canopies. We wouldn’t have the faintest concern about which direction the car would be parked. There would be no to-scale sketches of the campground. BUT WE WOULD KNOW WHAT WE WERE GOING TO EAT AND WHO WAS BRINGING WHAT FOOD FOR WHAT MEALS.
It’s how we roll.
I’m pleased to report that they didn’t starve, but that’s because our daughter-in-law took care of sending enough burgers, brats, and buns to last the entire weekend. And it’s a good thing because otherwise they would probably have lived on beer and cigars, with the occasional $11 hotdog purchased from concessions. Alastair would have lived on Sprite. Because they think the lemon-lime drink actually has lemons and lime in it.
Here’s how they roll. Within minutes of setting up camp, my brother is lighting up a cigar….
Dave had to leave for 24 hours to attend the funeral of a friend’s father. Bill, Allen, and my brother Dave were in charge of Alastair.
S’mores for breakfast…..
By time a few hours passed, Alastair was all in for the beer and cigars….
Actually, of course, I’m joking, because Alastair was well taken care of in Dave’s absence. But they couldn’t help but pull our legs by sending the photo of Alastair posing with an adult beverage.
When the long race weekend was done, they came home looking a bit like something the cat had thought about bringing home but decided it was too disgusting.
The verdict? A great time was had by all.