Friday, July 19, 2019     Volume: 20, Issue: 20

Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on April 12th, 2011, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 12, Issue 5 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [] - Volume 12, Issue 5

Urinal on wheels

Krider's pit crew doesn't mix well with his motorhome


Sometimes, when I really want something, I will foolishly try to convince my wife that she wants it more than I do. The theory here is that she will like the idea so much that we will actually go through with the crack-head plan, and in the end, I will get my way. I recently pulled this feat off when “we” decided to purchase a motorhome. While signing the papers, my wife commented how nice it will be for the kids and us to go on vacation in the “family motorhome” the next weekend. I didn’t waste any time and told her we couldn’t possibly go on a family trip with the motorhome, because my racing team would be sleeping in it at a racetrack that weekend. Before the ink even dried on the purchase contract, I was already referring to the RV as the “Krider Racing” motorhome. My wife, for obvious reasons, was not happy with me.

Cut to a couple of years later, and I did eventually take the ol’ family out on a trip or two with the Krider Racing/Family RV. Eventually, I learned not to refer to the gas-guzzling beast as the “Krider Racing” motorhome (at least within earshot of my wife, whom I love). Over time, she began to trust me again, and eventually I got the best of both worlds when I dragged her to a race in the motorhome. She isn’t a big fan of dirty, hot, loud racetracks, but with her home-away-from-home on wheels, complete with air conditioning and her own personal bathroom, she could stand being at the track.

The one thing I failed to mention to my lovely wife before we left for a weekend at the racetrack is that we would have roommates in the RV. These wouldn’t be just any old casual roommates (close friends, family members, etc.)—these roommates would be race team pit crew. These are hardcore mechanics who love racing, grease, and beer. My wife doesn’t even like to share the motorhome with me when I’m all greasy from working on the racecar. She certainly doesn’t want a total stranger sleeping two feet away from her all weekend. I explained to her that the race team only exists because I have a great group of volunteers who make the team what it is. They trade their time for Budweiser and bologna. As long as I give them plenty of beer to drink, a bologna and cheese sandwich, and a place to sleep, they will wrench on the car all day long.

So I lobbied hard to convince my wife everything would be okay and that nothing would happen if we had some crew members stay in the motorhome with us. It wasn’t easy, but eventually I convinced her it was her idea to host the crew, feed them, and take good care of them since they take such good care of her husband on the racetrack. She got on board and decided to play queen bee to the pit crew. She fed them made-to-order sandwiches, gave them suntan lotion, and encouraged them to wash their hands occasionally (which was her feeble attempt to limit the number of greasy handprints in her motorhome).

After a long, hard day of racing, the crew was feeling good, and our team was sitting on the podium. All was grand at Krider Racing. The crew was celebrating with many, many beers.  My wife doled out some bologna sandwiches, and the party was on. Besides the Budweiser, the crew was also enjoying some gummie bears soaked in vodka and a few shots of tequila. They were getting pretty rowdy. I didn’t care, though—I was happy that the crewmembers were enjoying themselves. They had worked hard all day filling the racecar with gas, changing tires, and making me look like a stud on the racetrack. I let them continue their celebration, and my wife and I headed off to bed in the motorhome.

At 3:45 a.m., I had a dream that it was raining outside.  My first thought was that we would need to change the tires on the racecar. Then, in my dream, I began to panic, because it sounded like my motorhome was leaking. It sounded like water was being poured directly into the RV. I sat up at the edge of my bed. My vision was blurred and it was dark, but I could CLEARLY hear the sound of… a man urinating at the end of my bed.

I yelled out, “Are you taking a leak in my motorhome?”

The crew member didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t deny. He simply said, “Yep.”

I yelled out, “Dude, get out of here!” I jumped out of bed to see the damage. There was no doubt: The puddle on the floor was evidence enough to prove this guy was so drunk he actually mistook the hallway of the “family” RV for the men’s restroom. All of the commotion woke up my wife. She looked at me and said, “You have got to be kidding me. I am going to roll over and pretend this never happened—and you can clean it up.”

And so I did. At 4 in the morning, I cleaned up the motorhome and made sure there was no residual anything, of any kind, left over. The last thing I wanted to have to deal with was to have to hear, for the rest of my life, every time we took out the “family” motorhome, about the incident when someone from the race crew peed on the floor. Since the “incident” happened, I’ve only heard my wife mention it 242 times. The race was last weekend. 

The Krider Racing crew helped the team finish third out of 169 teams at the 24 Hours of LeMons at Infineon Raceway. Rob says cleaning up a little bit of pee was totally worth it.

Weekly Poll
What do you think of the changes Santa Barbara County made to its cannabis ordinances?

It was too early to make any changes. The industry is still new.
The changes were necessary. Cannabis farms are ruining our quality of life.
The changes are too restrictive and could stifle a growing industry.
More changes are needed to address the odor problems and other issues.

| Poll Results