Last week, I had a friend from out of state in town. Perhaps the most important activity on our list was a visit to Texas World Speedway, a monstrous two-mile oval practically in my childhood backyard. Upon pulling into the infield, she had no words.
It took us a couple of tries to catch an open gate into the infield tunnel, but I wouldn’t let her back on the plane for the trip home without getting a chance to see the speedway from the inside. The view of its humble exterior—a grassy hill that covers everything other than the top of the press box—just wouldn’t do.