The Race

As I was clipped from behind my car began to spin out of control. 

It was frightening. 

I circled 1,440 degrees.  (That's 4 times, for those of you without calculators.)

To say I was dizzy was an understatement.  My reading glasses only exacerbated the vertigo.

I screamed like a girl and managed, somehow, to straighten the car.  I gently pushed on the gas pedal and accelerated to 35 mph.

As an endless stream of aggressive sports cars passed by me on both sides, I wondered when this stupid NASCAR simulator race would finally end.

Maybe I should clip one of them and SEE HOW THEY LIKE TWIRLING AROUND LIKE A STINKIN' PINWHEEL!

I'm lucky my lunch stayed with me.  Actually, the NASCAR Museum is lucky my lunch stayed with me.

After what seemed like an hour, the race finally came to an end.

I removed my reading glasses and struggled to open the door.  Upon exiting the torture chamber, I stumbled clumsily toward the exit. 

All around me I heard excited voices.  "That was great!!"  "Awesome!"  "Where'd you place?"

I was thinking, "Where's the bathroom?"

The race results were posted on a wall in 260 point font.  

Lovely.  Public humiliation.

There were 15 of us competing as part of our "team building  exercise".  For crying out loud.  Why didn't they do a Sudoku competition?  Or a quilting contest?  At least I'd have a fighting chance.

I was certain to be at the bottom of the NASCAR simulation race.

I looked at the race results.  The letters were moving.  I grabbed hold of the wall and focused, looking for my name on the list.

I was 14th.

WTH?  How could I not have been at the bottom?

Was it a clerical error?  I did not pass one car on the track.  In fact, cars pass by me like I was a kidney stone heading south.

Wait. One. Minute.

I beat somebody!   Hooray for me!

Maybe I should do this again.  I could get good at it.  My virgin NASCAR race and I wasn't even last.

If fact, I think I accelerated all the way to 40 by the last lap. 

Okay, maybe it was 39.  

I felt sorry for number 15.  He or she must really suck at NASCAR driving.  I squinted at the standings and saw that it was Ellen who came in last.

Poor, pathetic Ellen.

I decided to comfort her. (That's how empathetic I am.)

This was a delicate situation.  I did not want to embarrass her.  I mean, coming in dead last in a NASCAR simulator race.  How humiliating.

"Hey," I whispered.  "Don't feel badly about coming in last.  Who wants to win a NASCAR simulator race, anyhow?"

"Oh," she said, casually. "I didn't race.  I couldn't get my car started."