Out of my Comfort Zone

This weekend, I indulged the other members of my household and did something that I would likely not have chosen to do. And I actually enjoyed myself.

My husband (all around great guy, wonderful dad and main sounding board) has a not-so-secret passion--his car. In my personal universe, a car is a vehicle with 4 wheels and an engine that gets you from point A to point B. In his universe, that is sacrilege.

We have a wonderful life together and I have learned to share his affections with a purple/blue 1998 BWM M3. It's his track car, complete with roll cage and race seats and a suspension that makes you feel every one of your fillings when you drive over a pothole. He is a driving instructor with the BMW car club and takes his car through its paces on tracks all over New England, upstate NY, and Canada. With the exception of Watkins Glen and Mt Tremblant (places where I can hike while he drives), I tend to send him on his way with my blessings. (One of the secrets to a happy relationship is understanding what makes your partner happy and letting him or her pursue it. He and his track buddies think I ought to be nominated for track-spouse sainthood.)

This past weekend, he was part of a race team for the goofiest, most bizarre race ever: you may have heard of the 24 hours of Le Mons. (Even *I've* heard of that famous race), but have you heard of the 24 hours of LEMONS?

It's an endurance race for teams of drivers with cars that cost $500 or less. My husband and 3 other drivers formed a team called the 'Sub-Orbital Space Monkeys."

When my husband told our kids about it, they both insisted on going. And that meant I needed to attend as well.

So, off I went, to spend the better part of a weekend on a dirty, noisy, grimy track full of testosterone and some of the most bizarrely decorated cars you will ever see.

And I actually had a good time.