A Few Thoughts On Your Upcoming Trip To New Hampshire

Much is being made of NASCAR’s impending
return to New Hampshire International Speedway on November 23 for the "New
Hampshire 300." Apparently, a significant portion of the Winston Cup
community – and a full 100% of the media corps – expects to freeze to death
on that date, or at least lose a vital appendage or two to frostbite.

"I’d say put your chains on,
because I’m sure it’s going to be snowing," said Virginian Rick Mast
recently. "Knowing the Bahres and their luck, I’m sure the snow will be a
foot deep by the time we get there."

Rick, you don’t know the half of it. As
a native New Englander, I know what late November is like around here. And
buddy, you’re in for a treat. One year ago, the records show that last year’s
temperature in Loudon, NH, the day after Thanksgiving was a balmy 17 degrees –
yes, that’s Fahrenheit – with an average wind speed of 11 mph. Under those
conditions, exposed skin turns black in less than 20 seconds.

Just kidding. Hahahahahaha.

And it’s not just the people that are
going to suffer. Motorhomes, the lifeblood of NASCAR, also do not respond well
to sub-freezing temperatures. Running water quickly turns to ice, making hot
showers (or even cold showers, for that matter) completely out of the question.
Lines freeze, then rupture, leaving you with an impromptu hockey rink underneath
your beloved Prevost motor mansion. And you know that other tank? The one
that holds the – shall we say – used water? That’s gonna freeze
too, leaving you with a 600-pound block of "yellow ice" to deal with
before you head for home. But don’t worry. You’ll probably be incoherent
from exposure by then.

"Oh come on," you may be saying.
"The New England Patriots play football 90 minutes south of NHIS, and their
fans have been known to take their shirts off during the game. How cold can it
really be?"

The answer, unfortunately, is very
cold. Brutally cold. Nose-running, mind-numbing, polar bear cold. So cold that
only the extremely foolish — or the thoroughly intoxicated — venture out, with
or without a shirt.

I live in neighboring Vermont, land of ski
areas, maple syrup, and the eight-foot snow bank. A place where "ayuh"
is a word and moonshine is an atmospheric condition, not a beverage. And while I
admit there are mornings when rising at 3 a.m. to shovel a thousand pounds of
slush out of the driveway seems a tad…well… oppressive, there must be
something to be said for it. After all, thousands of you "down
country" folk pay cash money to roll around in it each winter.

We thank you for that.

To those of you still determined to join
us on November 23, I offer a few helpful hints:

1) Dress in layers. Undershirt,
long johns, turtleneck, windbreaker and parka above the waist, ski pants,
two pair of socks and insulated boots down below. And don’t forget the
mittens and toque. Those unfamiliar with the terms "long johns,"
and "toque" should remain south of the Mason-Dixon Line for their
own safety.

2) Plan ahead. Many native New
Englanders keep an "emergency kit" in the trunk of their car;
comprised of a snow shovel, emergency flares, blankets, and enough food to
keep you alive until spring. Slim Jims and Coke, though tasty, are of
limited nutritional value, and should be left at home.

3) Put the weight in back. When
the roads are slick, it pays to keep the weight in the rear of your vehicle.
Many native New Englanders load sandbags onto the back of their pickup
trucks to increase winter traction. Locking your mother in law in the trunk
serves a dual purpose that we will not discuss here.

4) Steer into the skid. Snow
and ice make an oil-slick racetrack seem like child’s play, but the same
general rules apply. To some, steering into the skid seems illogical. After
all, do gazelles run circles around sleeping lions? Do flies land on
rolled-up newspapers? Of course not. But we insist on steering into the
skid, and somehow, it works.

5) Don’t lift. Local law
enforcement officials report that during the winter, 90 percent of all motor
vehicle accidents are caused by people attempting to slow down. With this in
mind, we recommend that you never, ever lift off the accelerator.
Pedestrians be damned.

6) Don’t stick your tongue on an
aluminum seat. Trust me on this.

Steadfast adherence to these rules should
give you at least a 50-50 chance of returning to the Land of Dixie with nothing
more than a few blackened fingertips and a lingering case of snow blindness. And
the way I see it, if this thick-blooded, lifelong New Englander can sweat his
ample backside off in the 100-degree heat of Daytona every July, a few of you
goose-pimpled rebels can survive a single day where the roar of the race cars is
drowned-out by the chattering of your own teeth.

See you soon.