I too attended that camp fire and what a camp fire it was. I arrived to it a little late out behind the Action Track, and found various people enjoying the various vices of life. So, naturally, I joined in. They were drinking out of a plain jug with no label and passing around an old tobacco pipe. As the pipe was passed to me I noticed it didn't smell like tobacco, nor did it smell exactly like marijuana. So, naturally, I smoked some anyway. After a while I felt a little strange but couldn't tell if it was really working or not. I turned to the old guy next to me, who was wearing a kind of funny old cowboy hat, and asked,"What the heck is this stuff, man?" Before he replied I realized that this wasn't just any old dude, it was none other than Jan Opperman! He replied," it's primo man...grass laced with Clabber Girl. I replied back," well I don't think smokin' it is working for me...have you ever tried snortin' it? He said," no, I'm not really into that sorta thing but I don't see why you couldn't." So, you guessed it, I did. And that's when it happened, I saw a bright, shield-shaped light coming down from the sky, emitting colors of red, white, and blue. As the shield drew nearer, I fell to the ground in an astonished stuper at the man I now saw before me. Tony Hulman. In my current state of mind it was impossible to cognate whether this man was supposed to be dead or still alive, so, I asked. He shouted,"Silence, young whipper snapper!!! You will not speak until the great Hulman has spoken!" "Fear not my friends, for in the year 3000 Indy racing will go back to Offy roadsters!" Then, just like that, the next thing I remember is waking up in the morning face down in a puddle of my own vomit. My head throbbed profusely on this extra bright and sunny, hot day, the heat threatening to melt the dried blood from under my right nostril. Un- beknownst to me, a rather burly, important looking guy approached. Bob Sargent firmly stated,"son you probably better get going." Then he says," hey aren't you that guy who always complains about my track prep."Yeah, you better go before something real bad happens to ya." I peeled my carcas up off the Indiana ground and stumbled over to my car one step to the side for every two steps forward. As I sat down my cell phone rang. I reached in my urine soaked pocket and pulled it out. It was my friend Davey Ray. "Hello." He says,"Hey what's up Mike? Can you do me a favor? "What?" "Me and KO got pulled over leaving the party and you have to bail us outta jail." Apparently Kevin Olson's license had expired in 1998. So, I swerved my way down to the Vigo County jail and posted the $200 bond (all in 1's and 5's I discovered in various pants pockets). They were surprisingly chipper, considering, and KO even suggested we stop somewhere for a bloody mary to get "right" before heading back to the party. I agreed. After a couple of stiff drinks at Buffalo Wild Wings we decided we better just hoof it across the street back to the Action Track, as to avoid any more run-ins with the law. Much to our surprise and disappointment we found the camp fire to be deserted. No Jan, no nobody. All that remained was a few ashes and an empty Clabber Girl package!
So what was the moral of this story?...........Answer: Don't drive a car without a license or you could go to jail
