Peterson said riding behind the beer wagon and manning the manure bucket is a rotating job. "It's not so bad," he says. "It's really a piece of cake." (Wipe that image from your memory before your next birthday party.) In fact, Peterson says, "It's such an easy job that if people knew just how easy it is, we'd have hundreds of people applying for it." We'll take his word for it.

These Clydesdales guzzle about 30 gallons of water a day and feast on oats and grass hay. But, Peterson says, their bedding of pine shavings is more expensive than the feed.

And speaking of food, Mike Lingerfelt of Talco, W. Va., is the man to see. He's the Keeper of the recipe and grillmeister at the Pork Butt on a Stick concessions stand.

Oh, stop snickering. Pork butt isn't from a pig's rump. "It comes from shoulder butt. It's pork sirloin," Lingerfelt says. "It don't get no better, other than the tenderloin."

Plenty of fans at the racetrack agree, for Lingerfelt says he sold about 30 steaks before 8 a.m. on the final day of the classic event. "We've sold 300 pounds of meat today," he says, and the semifinal round hasn't begun yet. "We've sold over 1,800 pounds of meat at this show."

Mike Lingerfelt has prepared Cajun food for years for everything from church groups to biker clubs. He wouldn't divulge the ingredients of the spicy, all-vegetable Cajun sauce he slathers on the steaks, but he did share a grilling tip: "A lot of people want to flip their meat when they're grilling," he says, shaking his head, "but that just dries out the meat. The art to it is to touch the meat just three times -- when you put it on the grill, then when you brush the sauce on it and then when you flip it."

The wiry west Virginian is tanned from hours in the hot sun for owners Dave and Karen LeGros, the Jennings, La., couple transplanted in Texas. Lingerfelt does this at 32 races -- most of the NHRA venues and a few NASCAR Busch Series events.

But Jim Schweitzer you'll find only at IRP. The Speedway, Ind., native is a fixture each Labor Day weekend atop the four-story tower, making sure the roof holds only authorized spectators. He has the best view, certainly the most elevated, and he is a model of Hoosier hospitality from whom the Indianapolis Police Department could take a few pointers.

The U.S. Army representatives are living testimonies to sacrifice. They're cheering on Top Fuel driver Tony Schumacher, guarding the Apache helicopter on display, explaining the military's merits to America's youth and manning the interactive exhibit. And they're doing it in the hot sun and wilting temperatures, somehow looking cool and unwithered in their scorchingly hot uniforms. They aren't allowed to ask for even a cup of cold water. They'd surely welcome a can of pop or bottle of ice water or even a thank-you from those hundreds of fans who come to the track in trucks and cars bearing "God bless America" stickers and the Stars and Stripes attached to their antennas.

No telling what those wacky fans who slap together a float each year will welcome. Maybe a few Budweisers or Miller Lites over in the campgrounds at night to inspire some more unique ideas. The float, designed and built by race fans and powered by an old Lincoln Continental, lumbers its way in front of the grandstands during pre-race ceremonies. So it's not the Tournament of Roses Parade. The Tournament of Races Parade is fine enough for these mainstream refugees and free spirits. "In the past they've had couches and bars and all kinds of weird stuff on there," says Indianapolis Star photographer Greg Griffo. "It's hilarious."

Bigger. Louder. Fuller. More creative. Those are Mark Hopkins' words to describe his signature in fireworks. It also applies to NHRA drag racing. And nowhere else in the 23-event POWERade Drag Racing Series does it all seem as magical and magnified as at the U.S. Nationals.

EDITOR'S NOTE: For photos and notes from the U.S. Nationals, see Indy Pix in Special Section.

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