My Ma loves NASCAR. She’s 66 and a total firecracker for it. I enjoy it but I don’t follow any of the data… I like the crashes. But my Ma LOVES NASCAR. Last year we went and had a brilliant time. We decided to go again this year and she surprised me with pit passes for before the race. Apparently, this is a big deal. I wouldn’t know, I was just along because everywhere my Ma and I go together, we have fun.

Two things you need to know about my Ma:

1. She is TERRIFIED of breaking any rules. To the extreme.

2. She LOVES Joey Logano. If you don’t know who that is, that’s okay, I didn’t either. He’s a driver for the number 22 car. And totally adorable.

We waited like 40 minutes for the damn tram to take us to the pit area. I swear, the ‘tram’ was a wagon pulled by a pick up truck. Holds maybe 30 people and not in the greatest condition! But we board and no one fell out while we were going, so that was good.

Now there’s only 30 minutes left on our passes. Everyone has to be out of the pit area by 11:30am to prepare for the race. The walk through there was a long one! And to top it off, the tram took so long, we both had to pee. We’re down to 15 minutes left. My Ma does everything for me. I’ll be damned if we get kicked out before we get to his pit area!

I start to notice security getting a little tight and not letting people through. I grab my Ma and tell her just stay with me and we slide on past security no prob and there we are, standing on the pit row-way. Ma was STOKED! People everywhere, Ma wanted to stand on the finish line. Totally blocked by people so the only way to get through was to hop 3 half walls. So me and my 66 yo Ma,  hoping walls and ducking security. She was not happy.

We wander about, and found ourselves in front of the stage – right on the finish line. I have never seen my Ma that excited before! She signed her name on the line! We watch the driver intros and then scoot back to the pits to try to find Joey’s pit before security busts us.

They caught us. “Ma’am, you have to leave this area now. Get moving!” My Ma turns tail and heads to the exit BUT DIDNT TELL ME. I have one goal: get to #22 pit. I see security – who clearly sees me – and I grab my ma’s hand behind me and tell her to stick close. I turn around to her to see that I’m holding some lady’s hand and she didn’t know what the fuck to do. Hahahahahah that shit was funny. Security busts her out, I’m still ducking them, and my Ma is no where to be found.

I get to the end of the row and no #22. I cannot have totally missed it. Damn it! Now I have 2 security guys on my tail, I’m bobbing, I’m weaving, I’m getting yelled at. Then I see him. Joey Logano just sitting there. No fans hanging about. Just him hanging with his crew. I think he weighs like 8 pounds.

I slink up behind him. “Mr. Logano! I’m sorry but can I take a picture with you? My Ma is a HUGE fan and she would shit if I got a picture with you!”

“NO PICTURES! GET OUTTA HERE NOW!” That damned security guard again. Get off my nuts, pal.

“Now, hold on. All she wants is a picture.” Joey Logano to the rescue!! We take a picture and he says, “that guy really wants you outta here?”


“Well, then let’s take another one just to waste time.”


So I HUSTLE my fat ass back through the pits, up the stairs, through the very first section (my seat was in the very last section at the very top), and ‘jogged’ (by jog I mean walk fast then pass out every 50 feet) to my seat. Up what seemed like 8,000 steps and finally found my set.

My Ma was no where to be found.

I prepped my speech, got all my shit ready for when she would get there, and made friends with my NASCAR neighbor. It must have been another 10 minutes before she got there. I spot her and signal her to the seats (she looked lost).

“How the hell did you get back to the seats so fast??”

“My new BFF Joey gave me a ride.” And I handed her my phone with THE picture on it.

My Ma shit a Twinkie.

“NO WAY! NO. FREAKING. WAY!” And that’s all she could say for the next 30 minutes or so. Hahaha

I’m so grateful I got to do something special for my Ma; she does so much for me. I love my Ma.


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