In a message dated 6/20/05 9:12:34 PM, felder@KNOLOGY.NET writes:

<< Well, I went to the so-called US Grand Prix in Indianapolis . . . >>

What a dismal experience.  I went to a few of the US Gran Prix's many years
ago (the British invasion years, Graham Hill, Jimmy Clark, et al.) at Watkins
Glen and despite the hangovers and pissed-off, ignored girlfriends they remain
some of the best times I ever had.  Sometimes we would even remember to pitch
a tent.  To me, watching a road race from a grandstand never seemed quite in
the spirit of things.  But a crisp, sunny October day, trees ablaze with color,
stretched out on a grassy hillside working on a buzz of one kind or another
and sucking up all the eye candy of the spectacle -- quick, give me the keys to
the DeLorean, Prof. Brown, I'm ready for dose of it.

I guess the USGP reflects what America has become: no sense of tradition, no
sense of scale, no sense of the joy of life.  Just be sure to level the RV,
leave before the traffic get too thick and mix another one of those peanut
butter and chocolate martini's - shaken, not stirred.

George