Yesterday I worked until about 7:00, then kicked back from my desk, made a quick change of clothes, and headed out to the county fair.
I love fairs, and it has been about thirteen years between them. They haven’t changed. The flowers are still wilted in the flower displays, the bunnies still chew at hay and ignore you, and the cows still smell like cows. The rides are still up and over, round and round, and dip and swoop, and run with colored lights. The people running them haven’t changed, either, sitting with a slack ease in those fold-up chairs as they take your ticket in hands still grimy from having set it up a thousand times before. The food is greasy, overpriced, and the best tasting thing this side of a 4th of July picnic.
However, I had never before tasted the delights of the demolition derby until last night.
There is not much better than watching young men and women backing up into each other until their cars break. Unless it’s watching a 40 year old woman wheeling her mini-van around like it is an extension of herself, doing the same thing. Dude, neither her nor the SUV would quit, and every time it looked like she was out, she got the thing going again. Practice. It’s all about practice. -grin-
If I can get my work done in time again today, I’m going back tonight. Tractor pulls by the end of the week. And there might be one with a jet engine on it!
(laughing, but loving it)