The start of summer can’t pass without firing up the grill. Here’s a shot of two 16 ounce, 1-inch thick rib eye steaks I grilled on Memorial Day… the picture doesn’t do them justice. They were grilled prefectly, and they were delicious! I also got some hamburger, hot dogs, and kielbasa that I’ll grill up this coming week if the weather holds out.
I spent the morning and part of the afternoon watching the 89th running of the Indianapolis 500.
It was a bit nostalgic. I remember being a child of 11 years when my family made the trek from Norristown, Pennsyvania (where we lived at the time) to Indianapolis, Indiana to see the 61st running of the 500-mile race in 1977.
A week or so before the trip, I remember my Dad asking who I thought might win the race. Being 11, I didn’t know many race car drivers. The only driver I really knew of was A.J. Foyt. He was a three-time Indy winner before 1977 and is arguably the most well-known driver of all time. Looking back at 1977 today, Foyt probably wasn’t a favorite. He was 42 at the time, and the chances of winning a 4th Indy were probably pretty slim. But A.J. Foyt did win, and my Dad was amazed that I was able to pick the winner before the trip.
I remember a few things about that trip. It was the first time I was ever in a motel room. My parents slept in the bed, my two brothers and I spent the night on the floor in sleeping bags; Our seats were actually in the bleachers of turn 3 at the Speedway. My only other sporting event experiences were Phillies and Eagles games at Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia. I thought we’d have REAL seats, not bleachers like we had at school; The cars flew by so fast (about 190 to 200 mph) that all we could actually see was a blur of color. The sound was like 33 very loud bees buzzing by your ear. Like any good race fans, we all wanted crashes to happen in our turn; The Goodyear Blimp was floating above the track, probably providing aerial views of the race. When it passed over turn 3, my Dad yelled "Black Sunday!" as a joke. Some people laughed, others looked at him like he was a drunk race fan; You can’t watch a 3-hour race as an 11-year-old without having to pee. The bathrooms were actually very long "sretch" outhouses with many holes cut in the plywood seats. Jesus Christ, did it ever smell!
I also remember the hype and history of Janet Guthrie being the first woman to ever race in the Indianapolis 500, and I was there to witness it first hand. Today, I watched Danica Patrick race her Rahal-Letterman #16 car to 4th place. That’s the best finish ever by a woman in the Indy 500. On top of that, Danica Patrick became the first woman to ever hold the lead at the Indy 500. It was a great race, and the first time I watched the Indy 500 from start to finish since I was a kid.
…a tropical heatwave. The temperatures rising, it isn’t suprising. She certainly can, can-can!
Sorry. Where the hell did that come from? Christ, it’s a Marilyn Monroe ditty even! Anyway, this out-of-focus picture is from the travel alarm clock on my desk at work. It shows the temperature of our office at 90° F at about 4:27pm. It’s quite warm… no, scratch that… it’s fucking hot in the Pacific Northwest, and it’s only May. I blame the sun! That big glowing orb of a star isn’t supposed to be so damned bright. It’s supposed to be blocked by rain clouds. This is the Pacific Northwest, ya know.
Luckily it’s supposed to cool off a bit tonight and over the Memorial Day weekend. The little desk fans that nearly all of us have are as useful as a limp dick in a whorehouse when it gets this hot. Hopefully we’ll get some form of air conditioning at the office before the next heatwave has us sticking our heads in the mini fridge… but I’m not holding my breath (I’ll be too busy panting).
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