It was a warm one that day, and we had about an hour before the running of the outhouses, so we wandered around a bit, heard some good music by Some Rock Band (not sure, but I think that was their name) -- a little Johnny Cash, The Beatles, and Buddy Holly. Only two food booths that we could see, but they were well-stocked.
The first booth had your usual fair fare -- corn dogs, dogs, burgers. The second booth had a little more variety, namely smoked bologna and baked beans with peaches. I had the smoked bologna, with marinated onions, and Wendy had the baked beans, minus the peaches. My sandwich looked like something Fred Flintstone would've eaten, but man, was it good. I just won't need any meat for the next month.
Time to gather for the race, so Wendy and I headed over to the strip of road where they'd have it. Parade first, which consisted of a tractor, the four entries, and a guy on a Segway. That was when I noticed something hovering in the air. At first I thought it was a dragonfly, but the perspective was off. It didn't bob in the air the way a kite would. That's when I saw it do right-angle turns. Ah ha! I thought. Gravel Switch has a drone. We figured it was taking pictures of the races.
Well, it was time for the races. The first race was between two bicycle looking contraptions that didn't look anything like outhouses. Race 2 was more like it. Both had outhouse-like structures, one of which looked like an outhouse had landed on a bicycle-style dragster. And man, could they run with those things. Here's a pic:
I couldn't get a good shot, but you get the idea.
So, that was our outhouse outing. In case you're interested, it's called the Great American Outhouse Blowout, in Gravel Switch, Kentucky. And remember. It's actually a few miles outside of Gravel Switch. I recommend a paper map. And a park ranger.
Keep writing, friends.