Amtrekker

Hey Team,

What an incredible day I just had the opportunity to live through! Made even more incredible by the four days of hell preceding it. So in true Amtrekker fashion I’m going to go ahead and pretend all of the bad stuff involving trying to get where I am now didn’t happen and we’ll just focus on all the awesome.

Huron, SD is amazing. And they seem to love Amtrekkers.

When it looked like I wasn’t going to be able to make it to Huron in time for a practice session Friday night Karl (the guy that got the ball rolling on this little adventure) drove three hours each way to come pick me up in Willmar, MN (Which the residents will have you know is pronounced wilmer, one syllable. Not will-mar…like it’s spelled.) and MADE SURE I got where I needed to be to get familiar with the car I was supposed to drive.

After we pulled into the fairgrounds where the raceway is located we were quickly surrounded by a small audience mostly made up of people associated with the racing team that was allowing me to borrow their car. Mike owned the car and Michael, his son, is the regular driver (who is in first place in his class) while the pit crew is made up of Jason, Stevie and Jamie.

Michael showed me how to get into the car, buckle up and get things started (Don’t laugh, it was complicated. Well…different.) and then I took a couple spins around the parking lot area of the speedway because the dirt track had gotten too much rain that day. Even that was a ton of fun. Although having “so many” people watching took some getting used to. (Which I learned to get over really quickly today.)

The next day brought with it some geocaching (always nice to get one of those out of the way) with Karl and a trip to the local fireworks purveyor that resulted in, “Oh! You’re the Amtrekker! Take whatever you want up to ten dollars or so!” Again, I LOVE Huron, SD.

Eventually the time came to show up at the track for the big show. (Which quickly turned out to be much bigger than I ever could have expected!) Brad, the camera man from the day before, had made up some INCREDIBLE cards to hand out after the race car driving and everything seemed to be in order and ready to rock.

I got to squeeze in a couple slow laps around the track to get a feel for what it was going to be like to drive on dirt but it was still intimidating to know that the first time I was actually going to try to drive fast would be in front of THOUSANDS of race fans.

Shortly before the moment of truth I realized I didn’t actually know what I was doing. Asking everyone for advice seemed to be fruitless. Most everyone said something along the lines of, “It’s like driving a car.” And in fact: The best piece of advice I got all night was, “Drive fast, and turn left.” That seemed logical enough.

When the time came I jumped in the car, too excited to care that I didn’t know what I was doing. (Not only a recipe for disaster but also pretty typical in my world.) Lined up at the edge of the track I leaned over to Michael, the car’s regular driver, and screamed through my helmet over the roar of the engine.

“Is there ANYTHING else I should know?”

*Blank stare* “Just go have fun.”

“How far down do I push the throttle on the straight-aways?” I screamed right before I was given the flag.

*Puzzled look* “All the way!”

Oh! That sounds simple enough.

I had one lap around the track before I was given the green flag (The cue to “start the race” after coming around turn four.) and pushed the pedal down as far as it would go. Needless to say that worked out well until I started approaching the next turn and almost peed myself. Michael had given me a quick rundown earlier but I had never taken a turn approaching anything that fast on the dirt track.

It was a blast!

I can’t even describe what an intense feeling it was be that focused while driving a car by yourself in front of thousands of onlookers. In fact…I was so focused I forgot to keep my eye on the flagmen and before I knew it they were waving the checkered flag!

And as intense and incredible as that was it mostly served to make me jealous of the guys that get to actually go out there and compete. Man! That must be the rush to end all rushes. No wonder they go out there every weekend for one of the world’s most expensive hobbies.

I passed beneath the checked flag and took one more “victory lap” before coming in under the flag and in front of the grandstand. As I’m slowly pulling up I see through my helmet that Orville, the guy in charge at the speedway (who, by the way, put a TON of effort into setting this thing up), is holding a GIANT trophy.

I laughed to myself and thought, “That’s an awesome prop! Way to be thinkin’ guys!”

I jumped out of the car and the crowd started cheering. I go to shake Orville’s hand and I hear him say something along the lines of, “You may have to ship it. I don’t think it’ll fit in your pack.” Just as the announcer starts asking me questions I glance down and notice the plaque on this waist high trophy reads “Dakota State Fair Speedway; Amtrekker – 1st Lap” I’m sure the adrenaline helped the process along but I started laughing hysterically while trying to focus on the announcers questions.

(Wow this is a long post. And there was EVEN more!)

After I took the car back to the pit a guy on a 4-wheeler pulled up and said, “They want to know if you’d be willing to go back out front and say hi to some folks.”

“Cool.”

Little did I know that meant: spend the next half hour in an ever constricting circle of people asking me to autograph shirts, hats, programs, scraps of paper and a never ending supply of those cards Brad had made up! It was totally surreal! (Slash awesome)

So that was my weekend in a nutshell. I’m sure the video will be awesome. (Thanks again, to Karl and Meagan for hanging out, filming and generally being great people.) I can’t wait to cruise through the footage. Things have been going a mile a minute all week though so I’m still going to have to find a way to get that kiteboarding video up.

And here’s the most important thing…I LOVE Huron, SD. It was hell getting here but it was one hell of a ride once I made it.

I’m done.

Brett.

P.S. LOTS of pictures are on their way.

Like reading about the adventures? Want to donate?

Don’t let me stop you.

Hey Team,

Here’s a quick story since I still haven’t been in one place near an outlet long enough to compress this week’s video.

I jumped off the bus at about five o’clock this morning in Chicago several shades shy of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and decided to meet up with a friend for breakfast before making my next move towards Huron, South Dakota.

Since I had about an hour and a half to kill before Julianne would be up for work I thought, “Why bother taking the metro when I can just walk and explore a piece of the city I’ve never been.” After scoping a map near a metro stop I accosted the nearest security guard for directions to Halsted Street. He seemed really hesitant to tell me where it was and kept asking me for the address I was trying to get to but finally gave in.

After walking for about an hour I finally started to think I might know where I was. Which coincidentally is nearly the exact same moment a toothless man in dirty clothes walked up to me and said, “Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah, this is Halsted St!” If you know me at all you know how proud I must have been just to remember the name of the street I had been walking down for the last hour.

“But do you know where you are?”

“Well, I think that’s North Ave. up that way. And we just passed a sign that said, ‘North River–”

“You’re in greenie green.”

“Greenie green?!” I giggled. (Manly giggles, I promise.)

“Cabrini Green. I just saved your life.” Finally, familiar ground. At least now I was starting to get it. Obviously this dude wanted money and he thought the best way would be to make me feel indebted to him before he asked. I know this trick.

“HAHA! Thanks man. Who are you?”

“Stan, it’s a pleasure. There were two little gang bangers back there behind a building talking about how they were just going to let the kid with the backpack get up a little further before they jumped him so I decided to come up here and walk with you. I just got a feeling you would have done the same for me.”

Yep, just the way it should go down. “You’d do the same for me.” Ha! I’m not falling for this.

“Thanks, buddy. I really appreciate it.”

We walked and talked a bit more about what a terrible place Cabrini Green is according to him and how common crime is in the area then he took off about three blocks up. Just like that. The end.

BUT…he forgot to ask for money. It almost made me want to walk back and see how “in danger” I was. Good thing I had to meet Julianne for breakfast; it’s almost never a good idea to follow my impulses.

OH! And here’s a video someone else made of Cabrini Green.

I’m done.

Brett.

Like reading about the adventures? Want to donate?

Don’t let me stop you.

Hey Team,

Here’s a super quick update so I can go jump on a bus real quick and go try to clean up the stupidity spill I caused this morning. (Which, once again, wouldn’t be a problem if I were capable of planning ahead more than half a step. But that’s what makes me so endearing, right? Right? Arrgh.)

Had I looked into the actual logistics of what my head thought sounded like a perfect plan for this week I would have discovered that there is only one bus a day that heads toward the great (I assume) state of South Dakota. And it leaves at 11pm. From New York. Arriving almost two days later.

So suddenly I found myself under a ridiculous time crunch that would either prevent me from driving a race car in South Dakota or going through a coal mine in Pennsylvania. Luckily the coal mine isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. But several people have already put in the legwork to ensure that the race car adventure happens this Friday. (Which means I assured everyone I’d be there by Thursday. Which is officially impossible unless I can stir up a ride somewhere from the Chicago area. It’s not detrimental to the car racing that I can’t be there on Thursday…I just get to feel like a douche bag for not being somewhere when and where I tell them I will be.)

Bottom line: I’ve got to go bail and grab this bus to Chicago so I don’t have to wait around NY for the 11 o’clock bus when there’s still a small chance I can find alternate transportation out of Chi-town and save a little dignity.

Wish me luck.

(Side note: Charley doesn’t hold a strong enough charge anymore to compress an entire podcast in one sitting without getting some wall juice so the podcast should be up tomorrow instead.)

Okay…seriously. Here goes nothing.

I’m done.

Brett.

Hey Team,

I’m sorry so many of you out there couldn’t partake in the 1st Annual Pseudo-sports Olympics…because yesterday was AWESOME!

The Olympics are a testament to the competition and sportsmanship inherent in the human spirit. A grand event dedicated to the best in us and an opportunity for us all to vicariously experience greatness.

The PSEUDO-SPORT Olympics are more like thirty people running around in a park all day playing games they haven’t played since elementary school. In short it’s a grand event dedicated to the fun we all forget to keep having when we all “grow up.”

It started with a five-inning game of kickball that (let’s be honest) wouldn’t have been kickball without the occasional bloody toe or unexpected blow to the head while running down the baseline. There was even plenty of screaming about what constitutes “baby bouncies” and how wide the imaginary bases were. It was like none of us had ever grown up (that was supposed to sound more positive and less pathetic than I think it came out).

Also, blue team won that round. No big deal…but I feel that should be pointed out.

Next up was horseshoes and badminton which were both awesome but tougher to organize teams into so eventually that gave way to ultimate frisbee in the rain followed by more yelling about what constitutes “fair play” and whether or not tackling is legal.

Then came the game of the day: Dodgeball! Oh man, that was fun! There’s just something about maliciously throwing things at people and having them still be willing to laugh it off after they take a red rubber ball to the face. Extremely satisfying. AND…another blue team victory. Just saying.

My camera seems to be having issues again (The last year has really taken a toll on my few possessions.) so no pictures today but you’ll just have to take my word for it and get on with organizing a Pseudo-sports day where ever you are! Don’t forget to send me an invite!

I’m done.

Brett.






Like reading about the adventures? Want to donate?

Don’t let me stop you.

Hey Team,

Some will say, “I didn’t want to know that?”

Most will say, “Why are you tell this to the world?”

My answer to both? “It’s too funny not to pass along.”

Those of you that follow my twitter feed already know a portion of the story but that doesn’t mean you have all the gory (read: ridiculous) details.

You all know I only travel with one pair of shorts and one pair of pants so you can imagine how disturbed I was when I ripped a hole in the crotch of my shorts on one of my Greyhound long hauls the other day. But I’m less positive you all truly understand how cheap I can be. Despite the threadbare status of these shorts I was determined than I could fix them myself. (It wouldn’t be pretty but it would be serviceable until the next hole cropped up.)

So, when I found myself in North Carolina last night with a needle and thread that just happened to do a really good of matching my shorts sitting next to me I knew what had to be done.

Unfortunately, I was still wearing the aforementioned ripped shorts and through sheer force of laziness decided it wasn’t worth it to go hunt down my pants in my backpack. Plus the hole was already in easy reaching distance…no need to move.

Doubled over I proceeded to do a masterful job of stitching up my crotch (I grew up in an upholstery shop.) knowing full well that there were a thousand different ways this could go wrong. But nonetheless feeling confident that I was a gifted enough seamstress to be able to 1) Prevent myself from giving myself a vasectomy and 2) notice if I happened to go through an extra layer of cloth into my underwear.

I was wrong on at least one count.

Luckily, it was the less painful of the two. When I stood up to shift the hole to a more manageable position things stopped cooperating. I tried to pull the shorts down…no luck. I couldn’t stop laughing when I reached down to figure out what was going on. I imagined having accidentally caught a stitch in my underwear and having to do a couple stitches over again. Still laughing uncontrollable I finally got things under control and caught a glimpse of the NINE (let me say that again…NINE!!!) stitches that I sent not just through my shorts but through my underwear to boot!

I still haven’t been able to fix my shorts.

I’m done.

Brett.

The smart thing to do would be to just buy a new pair o shorts. Want to help?

Don’t let me stop you.

Hey Team,

Here it is! After acting like a sick little sissy for a week I finally managed to finish up the sailing podcast! Enjoy!

“Amtrekker travels to New York City of all places to learn to sail in the Hudson River courtesy of the Atlantic Yachting Association! In two short days he manages to break sailing and earn his keel boat certification!

“Heaving to”ensues.”

And here’s the YouTube link!

Thanks, Team!

I’m done.

Brett.

If you enjoy the podcasts…why not donate?

Don’t let me stop you.