Fast Cars. Slow Sunday.

Wind blows dust up from the ground.
It forms mini cyclones. For a moment I wonder what wind would look like if it was a color.
I kick some random kernels of corn in the driveway.
"This is fucking silly. Work on Sunday."
The things I could do with this afternoon.

Junk, rides up on his bicycle.
He's got a bucket of chicken. He's late.
He smells like booze. Not fresh booze, last nights booze.
Later he tells me about how drunk he got. I think, "no shit."
He's harder than any 50 year old person I have ever known.

The minutes crawl.
That's alright, the day is really nice.
I would be at the apple orchard.
I would be at the pumpkin patch
I would be by a body of water.
I would be at Hollywood beach.

I put my hands in my pockets.
I kick some more corn around.

I'm listening to the NASCAR race on the radio of all things.
Well i'm not, but by default and circumstance I guess I am listening to it.
Who knew such events were even hosted on the radio? This is wildly interesting to me.
The best part about it is the excitement of the announcers. These guys must have done a pile of blow before the race. I can't believe the play by play commentary and the amount of useless NASCAR facts these two can rattle off! Is this even real?

I unload a couple trucks
I smash my finger in the rear latch of an old ford. I curse at it. I say things you shouldn't say to such a good old truck.
I still feel it eight hours later.
It will be fine.

I try talking to Junk.
He stands right next to the radio. He looks in my direction like he might respond but he never says anything. He's too deeply focused on the race.
I won't bring myself to listen to it. I don't want anyone to catch me up on it either.

I smell grilled hotdogs and hamburgers in the wind.
somebody's enjoying their day.

I walk up to the main office to have some chicken and maybe talk to someone else.
The NASCAR race is on T.V.
I liked it better over the radio. At least then I only had to surrender one of my senses.
The office employees are getting worked up over a discussion about current gas prices. This happens almost daily.
It's puzzling to me that some people are so puzzled by the cost of gasoline.
I mean... you assholes realize it's only going to keep increasing right?
I stay out of these conversations at all costs.
I wish I had a Pabst to wash down this chicken.

The trucks are lining up again, gotta get back to the pits.

I turn the wheel-door on a wagon-trailer filled with soybeans.
The farmer gets down from his tractor and approaches me (Those are the nice farmers.)
"Are we havin fun yet?" So far this is my favorite line of small talk. It's always followed by a small chuckle.
He is very old. I'll bet he has probably farmed more than 60 harvests.
He's has trails of dried tobacco spit on his face.
I strangely recognize him from my youth. He's unchanged, exactly as I remember him.

The day goes on, as does the race...
Tolono is a ghost town.
Besides the few farmers coming and going I haven't seen a soul on the streets.
Where are the people? Why aren't they out doing afternoon activities?
I hope everyone didn't pass up such a perfect day to stay home and watch fast cars go around a circle.
If that's the case, I fear the world is going to end very badly.

A commercial comes on.
It's an add for a new Ford Truck.
I can't help but roll my eyes at new car commercials. The marketing has gotten way out of line. It's nothing like the Ford that smashed my finger. That one does honest and practical work.
The new one apparently can make your dick look bigger. I'm thinking about getting a loan...

Following the "Ford F150" is a commercial about "the gasoline crisis" and coming up with solutions to solve the amount money we spend at the pump. "How perfectly ironic" I think.

Here's a solution - Stop building vehicles that operate on gas!
Did anybody think of that one? We have the technology right? Right.
It's too bad we don't have technology that makes Americans less naive and foolish.

Here's a solution - Gasoline crisis? Quit racing ridiculously fast cars around a race track for hours at a time. Quit encouraging that kind of excessiveness.

Thanks for making my Sunday top notch, NASCAR!