The year was 1985.  ABC was still showing the Indy 500 on tape delay.

I made sure that I didn’t watch TV or listen to the radio, because I wanted the race to be new, fresh, and exciting.  I didn’t want to know in advance who won.  I didn’t want to read the last page of the book before the other 499 pages.

So I’m watching the race when the local station pops in with a news break.  Some national news, the weather, and . . .

And at the Indy 500, a former New York cab driver spins and wins.

Aaaargh!  This is the same station that’s showing the race, and they spill the beans.  I called and complained, and the guy I talked to admitted that they blew it.

Fast forward 24 years (a quarter century?  How old am I?).  I tape the Bristol race, and don’t get to watch it Sunday.  Avoid news sites.  I don’t get to watch it Monday.  Avoid My Yahoo, with the Nascar segment.  This is getting hard.  Tuesday I manage to watch the race, fast forwarding through commercials, while doing some work and mixing up two batches of chocolate chip cookies.

Good race, not terribly exciting, but great just because it’s Bristol.  The last twenty laps I’m standing up in front of the TV – for a race that’s already over 48 hours old.  Still fun.

Some day I want to join my favorite sister-in-law (and favorite brother) as attendees at a Bristol race.  For now, watching a two-day-old race and being in it to the end is close enough.