About a month ago we went to the dirt track at Ft. Morgan on Sat. night. Since we're going to try again this Sat. night I thought I'd reminisce.
We got there about 5pm and the ticket booth wasn't open yet. The woman inside said "Go on and find a seat and come back to pay later." I LOVE small towns.
The track is 1/4 mile dirt/mud oiled oval.
The pace car is a pink and purple truck.
There were numbers like 7c and 88d. No fancy figure-eight flag waving here, just up/down green, yellow, black/white checker.
I suspect that everyone in the stands knew each other and everyone in the cars except us.
A hot dog, hamburger, fries, large brownie and diet coke was $6.00.
They were playing 50s music. All I needed was a poodle skirt and Brett rolled up jeans and a white T-shirt.
The wind which had been blowing from the east began blowing from the west. When we looked there was a huge storm cloud headed our way and we headed for the car.
We were waiting for the race to restart and noticed everyone looking toward the west so we got out and there was a tornado forming.
The whole bottom of the cloud was rotating and it was pulling up little wisps of moisture and clouds from down low and it was starting to rotate clockwise. A small funnel formed and grew a tail that dropped below the cloud. It separated once and looked like a corkscrew then pulled itself together and up and disappeared into the cloud. While we were standing there another one formed and disappeared.