NASCAR Snapshot

Texas race, last month. We parked on the back stretch side, because SaxyGal's foot is broken, and that's where she and her RandMan had tickets. That left me and the BeerHound walking half the circumference of the track.

We walked from the back stretch to the finish line. I pointed out our seats as we walked by, which were straight up from the entrance to pit row.

It was still early, and there were only a few fans in the stands. We were in sight of the finish line. I had chills. I couldn't think. I was just shivering. So I asked the BeerHound to hold my beer and did my happy dance.

(It's not a pretty sight. It just looks like I'm running in place really fast, but like a girl--'cause I am one--with my eyes scrunched up tight and a huge grin on my face. I'm a total dork.)

We took a couple of steps closer. There was a small door in the fence, with a couple of steps leading down to the track. The door was open and there were two NASCAR officials guarding it.

"I think we can get a picture of the finish line through the opening," I said to the BeerHound. I approached at what I thought was a respectable distance, intending to use the telephoto feature.

"Excuse me ma'am. I'll take that." It was one of the NASCAR officials looking really serious.

What? Like it's top secret or something? Did I cross some invisible line? Well, actually, when I did the happy dance, I did it INSIDE the yellow line next to the fence, and I figured I was being busted for that.

The guy looked at the camera. Then he walked down the stairs and through the opening. He took one picture of the finish line straight on, one from the middle looking up the track, and one looking down.

He handed the camera back to me with a knowing smile on his face. We thanked him effusively.

We walked about 20 paces back toward our seats. Then I did the happy dance again.

It was a good day.