Sunrise over the Speedway
Last night, James and I set up camp in the Peninsula Campground, behind Turn 1 of Lowe’s Motor Speedway. It was cold—a near full moon out. The truck race had just finished and fans were headed back to their campsites. It was dark, so when we got out there, we couldn’t see just how many RVs had made it out already.
There was a stiff breeze in the air—and it was cold. We bedded down about 1:30 a.m. It was quiet in the campground. Everyone had gone to bed—no parties tonight. All through the night, though, we could hear big rigs running up and down the road—diesel engines roaring as they headed up the hill.
I woke up about 6 a.m. out of reflex. It was still cold. Dump trucks ran up the road and a red hue colored the sky. It was still quiet—except for a couple of folks headed to the Port-a-Johns or walking their dogs. Then the sun rose from out behind the Mallard Creek Landfill. I took a stroll through the campground. There were hundreds of RVs in the campground—as far as I could see.
They were from all over—Florida, Georgia, New York. Some were flying flags of their favorite drivers. Some were flying U.S. Armed Service flags.
On the stainless steel bleachers of the Speedway, the sun sparkled.
Race Day had come.
- Ben McNeely