When my sister-in-law texted me "ideas for the 4th?" I was online looking up my latest if-not-now-when idea. I texted back "demolition derby in riverton." She wasn't quite sure what to do with that one. But a day later, after consulting with her car-restoring husband she called to confirm that they were in.
And just to keep it all fair, I called my mother-in-law the next day to offer her the likely once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She laughed out loud. And the more I talked the more she laughed. Then she realized that I wasn't kidding and she laughed some more at my earnestness. I told her that some distant day, when she was on her death bed and she looked up at me lamenting the fact that she'd never seen a demolition derby, I would have a clean conscience. She confessed that she would have to tell my father-in-law (I believe it was, "oh, ho, ho, I've just GOT to tell Brad about this, ha, ha, ha") and promised that she would call back tomorrow to say they couldn't go. Except when she called back the next day, she wanted tickets.
And oh, my. There are almost no words to describe the evening.
Hilarious? Obviously. Take that, skeptical mother-in-law of mine! Maybe that'll teach you never to doubt my truly fabulous, if not mildly ridiculous, ideas.
Hilariously dangerous? Indeed. That would be a flash-mob-style version of The Macarena to kill some time while they called in the Jaws of Life to extricate a driver on the far side of the arena. Jack's in there somewhere. Driver was fine, by the way--just trapped. And the guy who's car caught fire twice in the last round was okay, too--Uncle Jesse Duke was on staff put it out.
Totally fabulous? You betcha.
Craig and I picked the number two cars in all the last grunge matches--and on our first night out, too. We're naturals at this. All I gotta do now is figure out how to slip in and out of my car through the driver's-side window (after occasionally sliding across the hood when I'm in a real hurry) and I'll be all set.