Friday, September 07, 2007


The street I live on is called King Richard Place. There's a nice green street sign on the corner that says "KING RICHARD PL" in big white letters.

There is a NASCAR driver named Richard Petty. I hear he's pretty accomplished as race car drivers go. He's won the NASCAR Championship seven times. Through his chosen career path, he managed to be nicknamed "King Richard."

My friend Turtle and her family are huge NASCAR fans. So much that I consulted with her father as an expert source for an Anthropology in Sports project in college. I have been to one NASCAR race in my life, the Pepsi 400 in Daytona, on a vacation with them.

I'm not entirely sure how this came to pass, but Turtle's dad somehow got his pilfering hands on the street sign that usually graced the top of a pole on the corner. The pillaged sign accompanied him to some NASCAR event, where Turtle's dad stood among a throng of screaming Richard Petty fans and was told by some bodyguard types that he wasn't there to sign any autographs. Mr. Petty took one look at my street's sign and declared "I'm signing that!"

The tale does not end with that newly gaffitied sign being returned to it's place of origin, though. Neat as that would be. Unless Turtle's burgling dad traded it for some e-Bay cash, it's in their home two miles away. I've told them I claim that sign if they ever tire of it. After all, I'm the one who lives there!

How's that for a random story?!

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