I was up in Louisville last weekend, somewhat for the Kentucky Derby, but mostly to visit friends and family. For those not from the Bluegrass state, the Kentucky Derby is the Super Bowl of horse racing. All sorts of celebrities come into town (the Queen of England even attended), there’s a week-long festival of drinking and music and fireworks preceding it, and in general it’s a good excuse to party.  I would have posted this earlier, but the Internet connection at my dad’s is crappy, to say the least.

Other than the usual catching up with my peeps, we went to a Derby party Saturday night at our friend Lissa’s. My god, so many Jello shots. Also, apparently having had a couple of beers per day from Wednesday through Friday increased my alcohol tolerance. To such an extent that after 7 Jello shots, 3 shots of rum, and a rather stiff Jack & Coke, I wasn’t even buzzed. I started feeling it somewhat during the second Jack & Coke though.

Circle of BoobsThe party itself was quite fun. Ironically, we only watched th one race, and even then most people didn’t seem interested in it other than to see if they were going to win the pot of money. And again for those of you who don’t know, on Derby Day there are horse races all day long. Oh, and I also somehow managed to go yet another year without having a Mint Julep. However, the party was quite cleavage-packed, which is always a good thing.

On the down side, the car sputtered out on the way over there, and we thought we were going to end up spending an extra day in Louisville, and $200 in parts (plus however much labor would be) to get it fixed.  So we asked around a little bit, and found someone who does work on VWs.  We were a little worried… but then we saw this on his forearm and knew that we were in good hands:

vw tattoo

He told us that the part we thought was bad wasn’t (and showed us why), but unfortunately he couldn’t really tell us what was wrong without some diagnostic equipment.  He was just some dude working the counter of O’Reilley’s Auto Parts, who happened to have a love for VWs.  I think he said that he owns 12 of them, and that in the past month he’s put racing engines in 4 of them.  He told us it could just be some bad gas (he called the gas in the area “pondwater”), and said that in any case we should be fine going back to Georgia.

So, that’s what we did.  The car tried to die when we stopped a few times along the way, but thankfully when we hit traffic it wasn’t acting up, and we made it home fine.   Hail Eris!