Takin' it to the Speed Streets

We were not in competition, but I think my tailgate trumped Saturday night's Nextel All-Star Challenge.

Organized for the second year in a row, fellow drinking buddies' attendance quintupled last year's headcount and extended our tailgate hours, along with our waistlines, thanks to coolers of cheap beer.

What began as a last-minute excuse last year, one car of diehards now blossomed into a four-car convoy to Lowe's Motor Speedway, and a pre-purchased block of some of the cheapest seats available. Admittedly, it wasn't about the race, which ended up an afterthought.

So while Jimmie Johnson soaked himself in a victory here that's become patterned behavior, we preferred the refreshing shower that pushed back race times and forced us under tents and SUV trunk lids.

Race fans threw chicken bones. We threw bean bags at Cornhole, the latest tailgate craze. They listened to the Red Hot Chili Peppers perform an abbreviated set. We listened to four hours of commercial-free XM radio, and danced in the grass.

The Challenge has its flaws. Interruptions between the heats are a buzzkill, and the shortened segments leave little room to allow a driver to adapt and recover. Plus, every race every weekend is an all-star event, anyway.

It's a meaningless competition except for the million dollar payday, so I say make them prove they're a better driver (and athlete, or so they say), pure and simple. Suggested concept for my "NEILSCAR" All-Star event:

Segment one: Two laps in tricycles, chugging a beer every time they pass go, with a pit stop on lap two to change the big tire. Ah, Revenge of the Nerds comes to mind.

Segment two: One lap three-legged foot race, with their crew chief in tow. Yes, I realize it's a mile and a half, but they're athletes, remember?

Segment three: Seed the field according to the results of the first two, and give 'em go-karts for an all-out five lap race, with wrecking encouraged.

Now tell me you wouldn't pay for that. Actually, you may not have to; we were never ticketed at the gate this year.

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There's never been a better cornball lineup for this week's Speed Street stage events; if M.C. Hammer, REO Speedwagon, Twisted Sister, Stephen Pearcy (formerly of Ratt), and somebody called Your Mama's Big Fat Booty Band doesn't entice you to attend a free concert, then show up for nothing more than the bags of free useless crap you can swipe from participating sponsors.

A year's supply of Advil was welcome, but the travel-size deodorant sold me on why not to buy their product.

As I recently reported on the demise of the CityFest street concert series (moving to the N.C. Music Factory on the other side of downtown), this is your alternative. Lose the striped shirt and the usual urban pretenses; an opportunity presents itself to let your hair down.

Well, maybe just a little dab of gel will do.

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