No, I didn’t attend. Get serious. Although, I will admit to the following: when I was 13-years old, having gone with my parents to the Daytona International Speedway and done one of their one lap ride-along experiences. Interestingly, it was right after that I stopped being able to sleep through the night.

I also will admit to having gone to drag races on a Sunday!, Sunday!, Sunday!, around that same time, though, if I recall correctly, it was at the Great Lakes Dragway in Union Grove Wisconsin, not at the U.S. 30 Dragstrip in Hobart, Indiana. My clearest recollection is that it was cold and I was underdressed, and my father wisely purchased a thick Sunday paper so that we could wrap ourselves in the pages under our coats to keep warm.

Most relevant to the Nascar event, however, may have been my trip to a demolition derby in Soldier Field while in high school, which I was reminded of when I saw the picture of the recent racers sliding into the piles of tires used as barriers on the Chicago street course.

That looked like fun. Forget watching the professional drivers floor it on the straightaways. I can see that from amateurs anytime on the local highways, and with the added factors of a cell phone in their hands and my life in danger.

No, give me a car with a safety cage and a good old pile of tires to ram into. That’s an event I could get behind. A whole new meaning to being retired.