Of Luck And Fortune

Hi. My name is LASunsett. Many of you may not know this, but the LA stands for Lucky Ass. Here's why:

As many Americans already know, this is the weekend that the "good old boys" are coming to Indy. The second most prestigious race in the NASCAR Nextel circuit (and third major event of the year at the IMS) is scheduled for Sunday, the Allstate 400 at the Brickyard.

First let me say this: Whenever a race comes to town, I have always felt compelled to look around and find the side shows and events that accompany the race. They are as much fun if not more so than dealing with the mess, the big show seems to create. Because of this well known fact, it has never been my desire to go to the race, itself. The high volume of traffic and people that one must endure is astronomical, and I simply enjoy smaller events (like NFL or NCAA games) much better.

Secondly, I am not the biggest fan of the NASCAR circuit, even though I follow it in the Saturday, Sunday, and Monday papers. I read the results and the standings. The only reason I show it much interest at all is: Everyone around me, almost everywhere I go, has a fair share of racing knowledge, and they talk about it. So, if I didn't have some workable knowledge, there would be down moments in the flow of conversation.

But with all of that said and despite my lack of standard enthusiasm for these kinds of things, I just want to tell you all how lucky I truly am. I am the kind of guy that could register to win anything that I would enjoy immensely, and that would be it. No call, no mail. Just a thank you at the time I drop my entry into the box, and a goodbye is all I ever get. It's all I have ever gotten. It's all I ever expect.

But the if truth really be known, I did win something. Once. I did win two tickets to see Foreigner and the Doobie Brothers, in concert about 14 years ago.

I really wanted to go, because as my faithful readers all know, I love music. The contest was being held in a local convenience store right around the corner from me at the time, and the lady (who knew I was a regular) told me not many people had entered and I should take a shot. So, I took half of a stack of entry forms home with me. I filled out about 30 or so and took the stack back later and dropped them off. About a half hour later they called and said I won. So, that one doesn't count.

Anyway, after saying all of this, I am proud to announce that I didn't enter a contest to see the Brickyard, nor any other race ever. No, sir. Not one, not ever. Meanwhile, up until just yesterday, I figured this would be just another race Sunday, at home, maybe taking a glance or two during the course of the race. That's all I had in mind this time. Peace, serenity, you know, the kinds of things Sundays are made for.

How wrong, I was. You see, it turns out I do not have to enter a contest to find out how lucky I really am.

Mrs. Sunsett's friend, just last evening, called and informed us that she won two tickets to the race. How nice for her, she sounded lucky. The trouble of it all was, she already has her own. Well okay, maybe not so lucky after all. So as a philanthropic offer , she thought she'd offer them to us, since she likes us and considers us good friends. By the way, did I mention that my wife answered the phone?

Well, she did. And I am now going to the race. And I have been ordered to have fun. And fun I will have (for I am an order-taker, not an order giver).

So, many many thanks go to Mrs. Sunsett's friend, Marsh Supermarkets, Tony George, and the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for making me feel so lucky, by giving me Sunday, a day to remember. Creeping into the area for miles at a 5 mph crawl, spending an hour or two parking the car, and getting to the track by foot four hours before the race begins, is bound to create a lot of memories. And it will no doubt cause me to stop, pause, and think of just how truly lucky I am.

No sirree, Bob. I am lucky and I am going to have fun. Just leave me the names of some good hearing aid companies, if any of you know any. What didn't get taken care of by years of rock concerts and artillery fire in the Army, will likely be finished off by Sunday evening.

So if you happen to watch it on TV, watch for me. I'll wave to you. Don't yell to me, because I won't hear you. But you'll know it's me, I'll be the one having fun and looking like I am a man of great fortune.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to say:

Go Jeff Gordon #24.