The announcer called the adult contestants to the line and I had that first guilty tingle – similar to what the Roman plebeians must have felt when they watched the lions pacing back and forth in the coliseum, waiting for dinner to be served. The drivers skidded through the watered-down infield to the start. Engines in need of lozenges roared. The announcer counted down. The green flag waved and seconds later my senses were overwhelmed by the endorphin rush from hearing the first metal-on-metal collision.
My wife and I packed our three children into the car and drove south into the corn and soybean fields of Illinois. We were taking the kids on a sampling tour of downstate children’s museums, searching for that rare find: something to keep the little angels occupied while also providing some adult entertainment.