Tennessee Hospitality, A La The Terminator
Won Over By Reality
by Tim Bayer
WEBSTER, NY—(Weekly Hubris)—5/24/10—BAM! As I was turning the corner in Sevierville, TN, I got blasted in the rear left quarter panel. I looked over and saw that the offending driver was not an adult. It was a 12-year-old boy! A Terminator behind a steering wheel who had apparently mistaken me for John Connor. This could get ugly.
In August of 2006, I was hired to transport a car from Maryland to Texas. Instead of just driving straight through, I decided to make the journey an adventure. I did some research to identify nine points of interest along the way. I would take five days, leave Maryland on Sunday, and arrive in Texas on Friday. This gave me a few days to explore parts of the states through which I would be driving.
In Sevierville, TN, I just had to stop in to visit the NASCAR SpeedPark.
The NASCAR SpeedPark is a go-kart park with eight individual tracks. One of the tracks is for the eight-years-old-and-under crowd. Mini-karts for mini- people. Check out the shades on the driver of the #31 Kart.
Of the six tracks for full-sized people, one track had karts with roofs. These enclosed karts had beefed-up mufflers that rumbled with a very low, throaty big-engine sound. The little rumbling cars actually sounded like what you would expect from a miniature NASCAR.
The remaining five tracks featured the more common, open air, no roof carts. Here was the opportunity for a guy from New York to mix it up a bit with the locals. I purchased a ticket and stepped into the fray.
I hopped into the first car on the front of the line in pit row, buckled up and, pardon me while I slide into present tense: I’m ready! The driver of the 45 kart next to me glances over and nods. I nod back. Southern Hospitality.
The starter turns us loose and I’m off heading for the first turn. (Without exception, the folks I had met thus far on my trip were very kind and friendly; consistent with what I had heard about Southern Hospitality. What I quickly learned was this, however: Southern Hospitality stops where Turn One begins.)
BAM!
The guy in the 45 kart bumps the rear right side of my kart, moving the back wheels a bit sideways.
Exiting Turn One, I look over to my left to see a 12-year-old Terminator in a red scull cap featuring a black Maltese Cross. Before getting into his kart, the Terminator had probably been a normal Southern kid: Yes, M’am; No, M’am. Now, inside his kart, he’s alllllll business, NASCAR business. The Terminator pulls up alongside, sizing me up with a serious-as-a-heart-attack death stare. Clearly, I am in his sights as we head into Turn Two.
BAM!
I now have a “Days of Thunder” flashback: “No, no, he didn’t slam you, he didn’t bump you, he didn’t nudge you . . . he rubbed you. And rubbin’, Son, is racin’.”
In short order, I realize that I am not being singled out. The “rubbin’” is random abuse. It’s a kart-on-kart free-for-all out here. If there’s an opportunity to trade paint with your neighbor, ya’ trade paint! Yee-Haaaa!
I get it. GAME ON!
We approach Turn Four and I line up the Terminator.
BAM!
I look over at Master T while thinking in a New York accent; How ya’ doo-in’? Ah, fugget-about-it. You’s welcome!
I’m getting the hang of this NASCAR mindset. Yeah, sure, I was a-takin’ some, but I was a-dishin’ it pretty good, too.
Next lap, Turn Three, the feller in the 45 taps me from behind with the ol’ bump-and-run. It spins me a little sideways, I nick the wall, and that feller in the 45, he gets away—for now.
In my mind, I lose the Whatchyou lookin’ at? New York accent right quick, and I start thinking in NASCAR terms.
I mash the pedal coming out of Turn Five and . . . NOTHIN’! Damn restrictor plate! I draft with the 27 kart to get back in the mix with my new buddies. I was a-runnin’ good ‘n then I spotted that feller in the 45 kart. I tucked in the draft line comin’ down the back stretch. I cut low into Turn Seven, and jet out into the rear quarter of the 45.
BAM!
I look over and grin, thinking, “Howdy! ’member me? We all dun got formally interduced in Turn One a few laps ago!”
That feller in the 45 kart an’ me was a-gettin’ along just fine. Ya-HOOOO!!
BAM!
D’oh! I had lost track of the Terminator and he bumper-bounced me again. But now, the Terminator is in front of me as the group of karts head, helter-skelter into the next turn. It’s payback time.
BAM!
And so it went—given’ and gettin’ on every turn, with everyone havin’ fun! Southern Hospitality!
After a spell of racin’, we were all flagged into the pit by the crew chief. I got out, went to the chief an’ told him my car was, “Needin’ right-side rubber an’ a couple uh shims.” I don’t know the precise meaning of what I said, but I said it as convincingly as I could. I must not speak the NASCAR language as well as I thought: the crew chief just looked at me.
Once out of the kart, the Terminator was transformed into a happy-go-lucky 12-year-old, laughing and goofing while standing in line waiting for his turn to get back on the track.
AND . . . if you ever have an opportunity to travel through Sevierville, TN, stop in at the NASCAR SpeedPark for some Southern Hospitality on the go-kart track. Keep an eye out for the Terminator, though, and don’t take the rubbin’ personally, ‘cuz rubbin’ ain’t nothin’ but racin’.
Tim Bayer
Tim Bayer, Webmaster, and Assistant Editor of Weekly Hubris, was born and brought up in Webster, New York. He attended St. Bonaventure University, earning a BS in Computer Science, and then worked in the hi-tech world. In 2002 he turned his creative energies to product development and video production with the release of his first independently produced products. When the demand for web site design and freelance writing increased, he once again switched skill sets . . . to writing and web work. An avid or, to be more accurate, rabid, disc golfer, he may often be found chasing plastic while in pursuit of the perfect round on a disc golf course, or designing and developing disc golf products for Demogrid.com. He says he tries to find the humor hidden in everyday experiences, because, “life is too important to be taken seriously.” (Author photo by Tim Bayer. Author Head Shot Augment: René Laanen.)