Jeff Foxworthy defines “redneck” as “a glorious lack of sophistication.”
For the most part this is a perfect description for my husband, especially last weekend.
Nate’s been playing softball with a group of guys from the Medford area for the last several years, since before we were a couple. I think meeting his softball team ranked right up there with meeting the family: I had to meet their approval before I was in. They’re a pretty harmless group of guys, so I don’t think I could pick a better crowd for Nate to hang out with in the summer. It’s good he has people to bond with outside his regular crowd.
Softball season usually runs from early May to Labor Day. In the “off-season” they really don’t see each other much except for the occasional random meeting at a wedding or out on a weekend. As sick of softball as Nate can get by the end of summer, he’s always ready to rekindle the friendships and get out there again in the spring.
So when Greg, the team’s sponsor, called a few weeks ago and invited Nate to join a different kind of team, he jumped at it. In typical Greg fashion, it couldn’t be something normal like pool or darts. It had to be something a little off the wall.
Greg invited Nate to join his outhouse racing team. Just saying it conjures up all sorts of backwoods visions, and brings the term “redneck” to mind.
Of all things to do in the winter in Wisconsin (skiiing, hockey, snowmobiling) outhouse racing seems to have a dedicated following. At least in Perkinstown it does. Nate agreed so on Saturday it was off to the remote area in the national forest to watch teams of four push a wooden hut on skis containing their fifth team member.
Greg’s team was a new addition, and their outhouse was sparkling new. The loving hands that built it (which were probably bribed with the promise of free beer) did a great job. It was sturdy yet light: about 220 pounds including the rider. All four of the pushers were rookies in the sport, but young and quick. They walked the course before the race to look for potential trouble spots.
When it was time to go Nate handed me his coat and sweatshirt, stripping down to his softball jersey which was the uniform of the outhouse team as well. They drew #1, so they were the first team to brave the course. When given the signal the guys were off up the hill and through the trees. I couldn’t see much of what was happening through the woods. Suddenly the outhouse burst into sight.
But it was two team members short. Where was Nate?
A split second later Nate and his fellow detached teammate barreled down the hill after it. The other two still hanging on continued to go with Nate frantically trying to catch up. He caught the outhouse with less than 50 meters to go, but they had to pull up and wait while the fourth caught them too before they crossed the finish.
Surely enough, there was an amusing tale behind it. Nate and the other guy on his side got pushed into the deep snow. As they tried to sprint through snow up to their knees, the outhouse gained speed and they had to let go or get dragged behind it. Fifth place may have been a disappointing finish for them, but I’m sure they will do better next year.
