This definitely isn't County Clare

I imagine that for the next few weeks I will compare everything to my recent time in Eire. My first "back in the states" event consisted of driving in a '49 Plymouth to Dragway 42 for "Rock and Race." Drag racing seemed like a good thing to get my mind off Irish village life.


There were no Gregory Flynns or Paddy Flanagans to tell me stories. No one said slainte while slamming a pint glass against mine. Actually, no glass was allowed, but I was in good company. I do believe everyone needs a little rockabilly music.


Good music is good music. A spinning bass and a Johnny Cash song (performed by the The Hot Rod Hucksters) isn't quite the foot stomping fiddle playing that happens every night at McGann's, but for some reason, though my cliche wannabe Irish heart hates to admit this, I knew I was home when in between each Hot Rod Hucksters' song someone screamed out "Free Bird...Free Bird." A little Skynyrd never hurt anyone.