Who Knew Delaware Could Be So Fun?

It's such a little state after all. I was excited to get to spend the day at Dover with David and Danielle on Saturday. Positively giddy actually.

It was going to be a great day, anyway. But getting to spend some kid-free, quality time with two of my favorite people just really put the day into the extraordinary category. Why? Well, for one reason, I don't know a lot of people who would not only see a smiling face in the nose of a plane, but who would also indulge my desire to contort myself into silly poses in front of said grinning plane.

And who else would find this sign as humorous as I do?

Granted, I'm not a NASCAR super-buff or anything, but I just don't understand why hosting Race 2 in the Chase is such a banner worthy accomplishment. Home of the State Champions, Home of the Brave, Home of Race 1--sure. But Home of Race 2? Not so much. How about: Welcome to Race 2? I should totally take over the marketing at this track, I think.

Speaking of banner worthy:

In case you haven't noticed, I love to be silly and play what I deem to be perfectly harmless pranks on people. Apparently, my NASCAR BFF Ashely is the same way, so together we hatched a most diabolical--if overly sparkly--plan. That would be how PR extraordinaire Joey D ended up sporting a hand-bedazzled BigSpot hat. And bless the boy's heart, he was actually going to wear this nightmare of a hat out in public--that's just one of the reason's he's also one of my favorite people. Hard to find a guy willing to proudly sport blinged-out, tacky head attire where national TV crews roam freely and everyone has fingers poised ready to send incriminating tweets out into the world. Which makes me feel a tad guilty for posting this picture to my blog, but not enough to actually take it down. Clearly, I would not qualify as one of my own favorite people. I'll work on it.

I loved being at the track with D&D because I got to see everything through their eyes making it all feel new again. Admittedly, those fresh views included some things I'd have preferred not see such as myself wiping the sweat off of my upper lip here.

But the good stuff far out weighed the bad. For instance, this really cool shot of the team before the first pit stop that Danielle took. My pictures never turn out so awesome.

And this wreck that happened right in front of my face, had my face been pointed in that direction instead of studying the guy wearing the hat made from a Budweiser box, that is. My priorities can at times be a bit skewed.

And I think they were having a good time too, if their big ole grins are any clue.

You may have noticed that thus far I have yet to mention anything about The Curse of the Mellon. I do want you to know that I took special efforts to not let my bad luck-tainted self within range of anything or anyone that could be harmed. This is as close as I got to the car and my BFF prerace:

 Of course, after he realized that I was the cause of all of his Richmond woes, I'm sure he rescinded that BFF declaration without delay. He probably has sent someone to seek and destroy any evidence that we ever even met . That is why I have hidden my beloved hero card where no one will ever find it: in my closet.

I actually think that Brian may have decided that my husband would make the better BFF. Why else would he give this helmet to Drew and not me?

Not that I let a debate over ownership keep me from trying that baby on.

Two observations: It squeezes my cheeks and makes my voice all surround sound inside my own head. I never realized my voice was so irritating--how can ya'll stand to listen to me? Oh wait...never mind.

But back to how I worked hard to contain my curse. I wanted to be extra cautious and keep my hex far away from the crew chief and all of those power tools, so I chose to sit on the handy little hill behind the pit boxes. Can you find Mellon?

The fact that it was shady there on the hill? Absolutely nothing to do with my decision. At all. 

Did all of my careful curse-containment planning payoff? Well, my friends, it certainly did. Brian finished 13th without any major technical malfunctions. I thought that my bad luck woes might be behind me, so I decided to test the theory at Dover Downs: 

 But no. Misfortune is still sticking around if the rate at which my money disappeared is any indication. Now, I have to wonder if I had stayed home would that 13th have been a top 10? A top 5? Maybe the team will respectfully request that Andy leave the Hapless Mellon at home. Could this have been my last NASCAR race? Depressing thoughts right there. So what choice did I have but to drown my disappointment in a huge slice of banana chocolate chip cake? And that right there is but another reason why I love Danielle, she understood this without me even having to explain. Plus she ordered the strawberry shortcake so I could have a bite of that too. BFF #1 status, earned.

And then the day was done, and we had to say Good Night to our Day at Dover.

Or as I like to call it, the perfect day that really was.

Curse of the Mellon

All of the makings of a legendary day were in place. Beautiful weather, an easy road trip to Richmond, premium parking and that was just the tip of the perfection iceberg.

BigSpot had a fancy suite at RIR filled with great people from SnagAJob.com.

A suite with a view so good it made me question whether sitting on top of the war wagon really was the best seat in the house. But only for a minute. Or two. Air conditioning may have made it three. But I digress.

Our favorite driver arrived for a little meet and greet. He handled the Q & A session like a pro--he made it look a little too easy actually. I was tempted to ask Brian if he knew how to make my high beams stay on in the Volvo, but a quick look from Drew told me that wouldn't really be appropriate.I swear that man can read my mind, but only when I'm up to no good. Not when I want him to bring me home a latte or rub my feet. Then it's all static. But I digress. Again.

 In hindsight, Drew was probably right on this one. I mean I wouldn't want to put my BFF on the spot like that. What!? He is so my BFF! No, I most certainly am not delirious. You don't believe me? Well, check it: 

Yes, I know that picture is blurry, but trust me when I tell you that hero card says: To my BFF LAURA. In silver sharpie no less.  What? You think I asked him to write that? What? Lo siento.No hablo ingles. (despite my dedication to Rosetta Stone)

So you can see the day was going spectacularly. Not that there weren't a couple bumps along the way.

I don't have any idea what I was doing/saying/thinking here, but trust my husband to capture the moment forever. And trust me to post it here for you all to laugh at--am I your BFF too? Thought so.

But anyway, as I was saying this day was going to go down in the books as one of those too good to be true kinda days. The stuff of fairy tales even.

I got a new photo to frame for Drew's desk.

I discovered a new NASCAR job opportunity to pursue.

I saw Kyle Busch walk by in a pink fire suit. And he didn't run me over this time, so that was a bonus.

Yes, all the dominoes were lining up for the perfect run. I could almost taste the checkered flag. And then without warning, something went wrong. Just as that last domino was about to be placed, something tipped the scale and the whole course came crashing down. Splat.

I thought the #11 guys moved fast during a routine pit stop, but that's nothing compared to how quickly they moved in Richmond Friday night. Before I could blink my eyes, the entire team was behind the wall working on the car. Thank goodness for Twitter or I'd have had no idea why.

No11BraunRacing: A whisp of smoke signals a broken fitting on an oil line for @bscottracing. The @BigSpotDotCom team will take it behind the wall for repair.

So frustrating! To work so hard and then have it all fall apart because of a single broken part. How could this happen? What could be behind such horrid luck? And then I remembered. How I wish I hadn't.

Someone--who shall remain anonymous for he knew not what he was doing--did this to the BigSpot car before the race.

See it over on the left there?

L.L. my initials. On the car. In silver sharpie. Like the mark of the devil since clearly I am misfortune incarnate. No more than that. I am cursed. Now, my dreams of a NASCAR career are really dead. Who's going to hire a girl who leaves a trail of broken oil lines in her wake?

At least I'll always have the memory of the perfect day that almost was.

Yes, there's always that.