from Insider Racing News

August 19, 2004


Friday was the last day of summer for my son - Monday he was officially a first grader. Because of this momentous occasion, we hopped over the hill to Concord Mills Mall and spent the day at the NASCAR Speed Park.

For those of you who are not familiar with these amusement parks, they are (obviously) NASCAR-themed with different go kart type cars on various tracks and all of the cars are brightly colored clones of their Nextel Cup counterparts. We love our local Speed Park, my first visit was during the "Race for Hope" charity event and since then we have been hooked.

My husband says I drive around the Mecca like a PTA Grandmother - I am really not sure what that is, but it must mean really slow. I am not slow, I am careful. Heck sometimes I even go a few miles over the speed limit.

But there is something that happens to me when I strap into those Speed Park cars; I become a different person. As we walked up my heart began to beat a bit faster, the anticipation built and I had to giggle just a bit. Oh yeah tighten up those belts - Boogity, Boogity, Boogity!

As we climbed into the cars, my husband looked over at me and sighed. Unfortunately, he knows me way too well. I really hate that sometimes.

He took my son and hopped into a nice safe Brian Vickers double car and gave me "the look." I sighed. Yeah I know the 3 car was off limits. He would have to remember I was a bit too uh…intimidating last time. Okay, so I rattled two or three or ten cages. But it was not my fault - you cannot race the 3 car any other way. It would be cruel to the car.

So I eyed the cars that were left. The 99 car looked clean but I quickly dismissed it - Cousin Carl drives it now and he is a rookie. I don't need a yellow stripe. I dismissed a few more, too nice, too young. I was getting depressed, especially when a little 9 year old grabbed the 20 car. Rats!

Then I saw it - the car. There was a car whose driver never gives up, who runs hard - the 16 car. Oh yeah, I was made to be Greg Biffle. Go Baby Go.

Now Greg Biffle is not on my personal list of favorites, but I do enjoy watching him race. He yields to no one and is always in the action. I love watching him run. He is so good, yet so aggressive. For ten or so laps I could be Greg Biffle.
We got going, hubby and child putting around happily. I watched the other drivers take off casually for ten minutes of joy. They foolishly thought this was just for fun, but this was no joy ride. Oh no -- they were the enemy - they were going to learn what happens when you tangle with Greg Biffle. I mean me.

I started out with a warm up of nicely moving a Dale Jarrett 88 out of the way. "Oooops" I yelled out to the person then muttered, "sucker" as I drove by.

The second car was a beautiful black 3 and quickly I intimidated an Intimidator. It was child's play. I drove like Robby Gordon at Sears Point with 4 sets of tightened lug nuts.

Watch out, here comes the 16 car, buzzed in my head.

After watching, the 3 car was try to get back up to speed. I sped up on a teenage boy and girl puttering around making goo-goo eyes at each other both in "his and hers" number 19 cars - how darling. I hesitated, we were on the s-curves and I could easily take them by out-braking them; but these were kids and in love, do I do it? So I asked myself, what would Greg Biffle do? Would Greg take it easy on them? Would Greg cut them some slack?

The next thing they knew a blur of red and black darted to the inside braked quickly and sped off. The girl ran into her boyfriend and they spun. Hey, I did not touch them. One of them racin' deals. Oh well, what a shame.

After that I knew it was my job to uphold the 16 car's status. I was Greg Biffle and I was not going to be intimidated nor would I give quarter. I passed everyone my little motor could. Okay, I seemed to speed past a lot of surprised drivers - but hey I couldn't help it if I am just a better driver. Rubbin' is racing.

Greg would have been proud, I just know it.

Just as I was just catching the front of the pack we ran out of track and were directed into the pits. Rats. I was all warmed up and we were done.

Luckily my son wanted to ride again and this time with me. We were first in line for the double cars so I had no choice I had to take an 88 and I was bummed. It is not that I don't like DJ - I actually do. Great guy. Great Champion. But let's face it, DJ is a finesse type of racer and when you want to rattle a few cages the Big Brown Truck is not exactly putting the fear in people.

My son and I strapped in when it hit me. This was MY mythical race and so it could be what I wanted.

So in my race scenario poor DJ had gotten food poisoning and needed a relief driver. Yes, and Greg Biffle was available. Yep, I was back in the race.

We took off first and our lead soon became insurmountable. After a lap or two we hit the tail end of the field. Unfortunately for my victims they had no idea Greg Biffle was driving. All they saw was a middle 30's mom and her sweet adorable 7 year old son. Well that was the last thing they saw before they spun.

I guess we must have taken the air off of a lot of spoilers and had not gotten our brakes at Napa. Ooopsie, my bad!!

I soon found out the double cars had more power, plus no one suspects Dale Jarrett would sneak in, out brake and make them over correct. I guess they did not get the memo of the driver change.

The only close call we made with the officials is when we tangled with the 19 car. I pretended to scream in panic like I had no idea what was happening as I nosed into a corner and took the preferred line from him and made some incidental contact. The contact happened to cause Jeremy's poor car to turn 180 degrees.

As my son screamed "Yes!" I saw the track warden admonishing the poor kid for attacking the obviously scared mother and child. I almost felt bad for him - for about half a second.

We continued on our merry way putting people laps down - with each victim we would let out a victorious cheer. Too soon we were done, but the victory had been sweet.

As my husband climbed out of his Bobby Labonte car he just shook his head. He knew that chastising us would do no good. We had taken on all comers and had won.

Greg Biffle would have been proud.