Sarah Barron 1st Block Aug. 29, 2001 "Race Day" It was a tradition that my family kept up for many years, but one that has fallen behind in the recent years. Sundays have been "race day" for as long as I can remember. We would come home after church and my dad would fire up the grill. As a family and sometimes with friends, we would sit down and watch the ritual Sunday Nascar race.
Of course we didn't eat just anything on race day. It was always racin' chicken and bratwurst. Lucky for my dad, the cook, the Nascar season was only February through November. This left out some of the coldest weekends. After the food was cooked for the human half of my family, out came the hotdogs. There was something about the sixty-nine cent packages of processed meat that my dog and two cats couldn't resist. While my dog would eat majority of the package in no time, my cats would nibble on one hotdog throughout the race.
The more comical part of the day was when my dad had eaten too much hot sauce and got the hiccups! On certain race days, our dad wasn't there to cook us sausage or chicken. But we were still in front of the TV watching the race. Only on these days we were more focused on finding our dad in the infield than whether or not Dale Earnhardt was winning the race. My dad and all his friends still go to a few races every year. But my mom, my sister and I were still loyal to the race whether or not there was food on the grill.
Once a year we had a big race party on the first race of the season. All my dad's friends would come to the house and we would have more food than you could imagine. Everyone had their favorite driver and routed him on throughout the race.
We do not always sit down to watch the race as a family anymore, although we are still loyal fans. My dad taught my sister and me the fundamentals of Nascar and gave us something to always cheer for. Our family's favorite driver was recently killed in a crash but that doesn't stop us from enjoying the sport. Race day is something I will always hold close because it was a time that my dad got to enjoy something he loved with his daughters. I've always told my dad he was lucky to have two daughters that loved the sport of racing as much as my sister and I do. Over time I've realized that it was us that have been the lucky ones to have a dad to love us and let us enjoy his sport.