Gypsy season ends

 

Monday was just a great day. I worked all morning, as is the case with every Monday, then just did little things all afternoon.

I read. I went out back of the motel, where the water laps up to a sandy area walled off from the water, and played my guitar, once in the afternoon and then at dusk. A guy I saw at MFB (motel's free breakfast) asked if I was the guy who was playing guitar last night. I told him yes, and he said, "You were good. Really good."

Hah. What does he know?

I was on Mojo Nixon's NASCAR show last night on Sirius XM. "Manifold Destiny." We talked about what sets Jimmie Johnson (and crew chief Chad Knaus) apart from the rest in NASCAR.

Mainly, though, I didn't think about NASCAR on Monday. Well, I mean, other than writing all the copy for "NASCAR This Week," our syndicated page that appears in newspapers across the U.S. and Canada. And a day-after column. And a blog.

I had my encounter with the little sea bird (see video blog here). I had a good supper. I read a few of the stories about Sunday's Ford 400 written by colleagues.

Remember: I didn't think that much about NASCAR. Who am I kidding? It takes over your life.

I needed Monday. It's been a while since I had "one of those days" that brought my temper up close to a boil. I didn't completely lose it, hence the notation "up close to a boil." Things piled up on me, though. I was detained in the lobby because I didn't have the proper sticker affixed to my NASCAR hard card. When I finally got to the press box, it was very hot and I discovered its location had been changed and its size greatly diminished. Because it was so boxed in on either side by luxury suites -- and because it was so narrow, and because there was a large column right in the middle -- the only place to see was on the front row, and until shortly before the race started, the sun was multiplying through the glass and causing that front row to sizzle a bit (not literally).

There were other aggravations but no need to waste excessive words here, lest I come across as just another spoiled journalist.

So I spent a good deal of the day pissed off and trying to control myself. It's not altogether a bad thing. I usually write best when mildly aggravated. The sarcasm bites more.

On Monday, though, I was happy, relaxed and unworried. The season was over (though I'm going to be very busy for at least the next week). I'd had a night to sleep on the frustration. The little bird gave me some perspective. Playing guitar is my refuge from the maddening world.

I finished off a book and stopped by a local bookstore to buy another. I had a nice conversation with the lady at the bookstore about literature. If I'm here (as in "staying in the Keys," as opposed to Miami), I guarantee I'll stop by her store again next year.
The three video blogs offer some evidence of the range of my moods. The first was shot in the Homestead-Miami Speedway infield. I'm really relaxed and content. The second was after all the pre-race frustrations. I'm talking to the air out on the stairwell, more for therapy than entertainment. The third was the next afternoon (Monday), when I felt as content and philosophical as some mystic. Or ascetic. Or some other word that ends with "-tic." I would think none was "lunatic."

One side of me wishes I had a few more days to clear my mind here in Key Largo. Another can't wait to get home.

I'll be co-hosting NASCAR shows on Sirius (NASCAR Channel 128) on Wednesday (11 a.m.-3 p.m.), Saturday (noon-3 p.m.) and Sunday (noon-3 p.m.).

I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. As a general rule, Thanksgiving is all good. The family gets together and it's pleasant. Christmas can get petty. Or maybe it's just that I get tired of normal life.

I've been a gypsy too long.

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