A Night at the Races

When you think of a "Figure 8" race, what exactly do you think of? Maybe figure skating. Maybe Mario Kart. Or maybe nothing specific comes to mind. I would have felt the same way up until last night, when I witnessed what has to be one of the most redneck events that humankind has ever dreamed up.

Imagine a demolition derby. You know, with those beat up shells of cars that people drag into a big arena and then crash against each other. Okay, now put those cars on a figure 8 track. Get all the drivers out of their cars. Have them stand ready behind a line in the dirt until a flag is waved. Then have them run and jump in their cars, either through the windshield, the sunroof, or (boring) by opening the driver's side door. As soon as they can start their cars, they are free to start the race. After that, anything goes. They can push each other off the track, crash into other cars at the intersection of the figure 8, pass on either side, and as long as their cars continue to run of their own accord, the race goes on. Now imagine placing bets with your friends on which car would win each race. Put it all together with a large helping of Bud Light, and you have the "Figure 8" Races at the Teton County Fair in Jackson, Wyoming.

Now if you wouldn't necessarily expect a car race to be much like a demolition derby (by the way, the demo derby is on Sunday - we missed the pig wrestling), then, as far as these races are concerned, your expectations would be wrong. Dead wrong. These cars were complete pieces of crap. They could barely run, and they would often develop more than one flat tire only minutes into the race. But that didn't seem to bother most of the drivers, as they were more interested in pounding the other cars into the ground than in actually winning or even finishing the race.

For the first race I saw, I put two dollars on number 11, who was labeled as "Old Faithful." He won the race by a landslide. Needless to say, I was beginning to feel lucky. The next race, I didn't fare so well. My car didn't win, but nobody else picked the car that did end up winning, so the pot got added on to the next race. Which I won. So I made about ten dollars right there. I couldn't lose! Unfortunately, I soon found out that I could in fact lose, and I could do it spectacularly. For the last race, the winner's bracket, number 11 comes back out, and I think I've got a sure thing. He won his first race with absolutely no competition. This guy was going all the way. So I put five bucks on him. As the race started, all the drivers began running to their cars...and he ran to the wrong car. Then he had to run around to his driver's side door (go through the windshield, you idiot! The windshield!!!!) and had even more trouble getting the car started. By that point, there was no chance. So, at the end of the night, I was about even.

But when you factor in that I got to see cars crashing into each other, flipping over, and getting their bumpers knocked off, all while drinking warm beer and sitting with all the local cowboys and barflies, I think that, at least in some sense, I made a profit on the evening. God bless local culture.