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Fan Fable
You can see it all in the infield.  I have been told that from the first race I ever attended.  Over the years I have found that to be very true.  In 2002 while camping in the Daytona infield, I saw something I had never seen any where
The 6’ Daytona Dick

We arrived in the infield on Thursday morning around 3:00a.m. 
Posted every where were signs that read:

No open fires, motorized vehicles, bicycles or fireworks.

We were glad the bikes were inside and hidden.  We were excited to finally do Daytona the way it was meant to be done.  The Infield!  Jimmy had done it many times but since I hooked up with him we had been 3 times and we had always sat in the grandstand.   It was a race fan’s nirvana.  All the practicing and racing you could stand for 4 days.  Let me tell you those drivers have cabin fever from not being in a car under race conditions in awhile. Even practise is exciting.  We had a great spot in turn 1.  Once again, the race wagon fit into a space where bigger, badder and more expensive motor homes fear to tread.  We were in heaven. 

The infield is a cross between Mardi Gras and a Woodstock concert.  By Saturday night the crowds had worked themselves into frenzy.  Beads and bare breasts were every where. 
In case you haven’t been to a race at one of the older tracks, there is a custom that has been around since I’ve been attending races.  Bubbas every where used to have signs that read:

Show us your tits OR
shooters for hooters.

Well, some how this custom has evolved to no signs but men walking around with hundreds of beads around their necks.  Must be the bubbas cleaning themselves up just like NASCAR.  Now, beads are given to a woman when she flashes her breast. 

Back to the story.  Fireworks are shooting across the sky.  Open camp fires are every where.  Golf carts and bikes are roaming all over the infield.  We are enjoying a live band that is on top of the motor home down from us.

All of a sudden a jeep pulls onto our road.  There are at least 50 people surrounding it.  I walk down to see what the excitement is about.  At that same moment a police car pulls up.  The crowd grows to see what the police are here for.  What do I see on the front of the jeep but two huge inflated breasts.  Riding shotgun is a six foot tall inflated penis.  It was truly lifelike down to the balls at the bottom.  Well, it seems that while we saw every human body part known to man, both male and female, in the infield, there was a problem with a six foot inflatable dick.  I run back to my camp to grab the camera.
My husband asks what is going on.  “A 6 foot dick is going to jail” I yell, as I run back to get a picture.  The police man promptly took the plastic penis out of the jeep and tried to throw it in the back of the police car.

Bad mistake.  Very bad mistake.

First, it caused the crowd to go wild.  Flashbulbs were popping ever where.  Second, it was too big to fit.  He had to pull it out and let the air out of it.  This only produced more hoots from the crowd.  The crowd has now swelled to around 150 people.  The policemen are talking to the driver.  I notice that the boobs are still on the hood.

I can’t help but remark to the girl next to me; “isn’t that some shit.  The dick goes to jail but the boobs get to stay”. 

I did not realize what I started. 

All of a sudden, the girl and her friends start chanting:  “bring back the dick.  Bring back the dick”.

Rather than bringing back the dick the police decided that the boobs would join the dick in the back of the squad car.  The police and his prisoners leave.  The jeep pulls away with the lone driver. 

The morale to this story is:

It does not matter what the signs say are not allowed. 
Shoot fireworks from your motorized vehicle, that you light from your campfire, as your friends ride around you in circles on their bikes.  Show all the real body parts you want but leave the 6’ inflatable dick home!                         

Tell Patty that Laidback Racing sent you.
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