You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
Driving in Alabama.
It might have been the 22nd state to join the union in 1819 but it’s the first state of Racing.
I know that some say Daytona is the birthplace of NASCAR, but I would argue that Alabama is where the sport has become a religion.
As I drove past the Talladega Super Speedway recently, I suddenly realized why I was so tense, so apprehensive, so angry and gripping the steering wheel like it was the last beer on Earth.
I was driving in Alabama.
Alabama isn’t known for it’s educational system or indoor plumbing, but when it comes to auto racing, every Alabaman knows that rubbing is racing.
What this means is swapping paint is a highly accepted way to get from point A to point B.
And 70mph is just a suggestion. It’s hardly the law.
Driving to Alabamans is more than transportation; it’s sport, bordering on crazy. Alabamans drive like they’re sponsored by a major automotive product.
You can be in Tennessee on I-65 and there’s a sense of equanimity. It’s business as usual, highway hypnosis.
But as soon as you cross into Sweet Home Alabama it’s on. There’s an unofficial green flag and the race becomes real. It’s the same interstate 65, but there’s a different attitude, a different need to be ahead of the next guy. It’s road rage with all the rage and even more speed.
What I learned about Alabama is that old guys in pick up trucks with no tailgate will race ya hard. What I learned about this red neck state is that a grandma in a General Lee car with 2 small dogs in the front seat will cut you off and flip ya the bird just because grandpa ain’t bringing it at home.
Bama-racing is about drafting the car ahead of you, then sling shotting into the free lane and putting the pedal to the metal and passing that guy only doing 85mph.
You can almost hear the rebel yell coming from the driver as he barrel asses down the interstate. You sure as hell know he’s sporting the stars and bars on his bumper.
The state is known as the Yellow Hammer State, but it should be called the “put the hammer down state”
And as much as you might want to fight the urge to compete, you cannot. It’s like a disease that spreads to each motorist through exhaust fumes.
When cars with missing quarter panels fly by you and then SUV’s with Jesus Fish blow your doors off, you start feeling the need for speed.
It’s a territorial thing. That’s my space, my rolling chunk of asphalt and I’m going to keep it at all costs. And that’s when the state of Alabama has you. You are in the game, you are in the race.
Suddenly I 20 to Anniston is an extension of the Talladega Super Speedway.
Talladega is a 33 degree banked tri-oval that is 2.66 miles long. It’s known for some of the fastest, most insane, most aggressive racing on Earth.
Highway 20 zooms past this laboratory of speed. It’s filled with orange cones and work zone hazards.
The roads are cracked and unlevel. There are dust clouds of chaos on the cusp of every hill.
That’s Alabama.
A driving state with a bad attitude through one big big construction project.
Remember. Rubbin is Racin.
And that is crazy.