The college I went to was in a small, backward town. There were six churches and one bar. Almost every night, that bar was packed with college kids, most of whom were too young to be there. It helped that the bar owner was the town sheriff's brother.
We were at our usual table – me and my drinking buddies, Tom and Jack. We were talking about what we would do over the summer after our sophomore year of college.
“C'mon, guys, it'll be great,” I said. “We watch racing on TV. We like to party. The cars are awesome. Imagine forty cars roaring past you on the back straight and then belching flames when they downshift for the hairpin turn! There's crazy amounts of hot pussy. Everybody gets stupid drunk, and the lucky ones fuck their brains out all night. Can you get the tent, Tom?”
“The tent's no problem,” Tom said as he re-filled our mugs. “Even if it's just a camping trip, I'm in.”
I said, “We'll drive up Friday, party all night, maybe sleep a little, maybe not, drink breakfast, and go to the track. There's racing on Saturday and Sunday, and we go home Monday. We're not paying for grandstand seats. There are plenty of places on hills and on the edge of the woods where you can watch, and thousands of people partying and smokin' hot chicks everywhere.”
“Yeah, with their boyfriends,” Jack said. “I can go to the mall if I want to see that.”
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