I was still dealing with the switch-up when the coach leaned in and added, “It’s going to be awful. We have to show up around 5:00 or 5:30 and spend most of the morning volunteering – then we have to come back and do it again in the afternoon.”
The second biggest cheer of the day came from the announcement that Brad Keselowski’s motor had blown from, you guessed it, debris. Mr. Keselowski, the leader for roughly half the event, was done for the day. In unison the entire crowd, comprised of people who have long-declared sole, undying loyalty to one of the 40 drivers (presumably even Brad Keselowski), jumped to its feet and applauded.
There were things I grew to hate about that job, but one of them was NOT our group or the ribbing they gave me — if you’re a chubby white guy from Texas named Marshall who drives a truck you’re going to take your share of abuse in Newark.