HOW TO CELEBRATE 28 YEARS OF MARRIAGE

Twenty-eight years ago today, on a balmy September afternoon, Mr. Wonderful and I got married at the Kennebunk River Club Boathouse in Kennebunkport. We’ve celebrated fun anniversaries since but today’s takes the wedding cake. (And Danica Patrick can rest assured I’m no threat to her record.)

Friend Mike Marceau had invited Mr. W and me to pop over and enjoy the vintage stock car races being held at his “personal speedway.” The day happened to coincide with our anniversary and Bob was curious about this old race course, so we happily drove over. The Arundel Speedway had originally opened in 1964 but, by the early ‘70s, the one-third mile asphalt oval ceased operations. Subsequently, Mike, who owns the Arundel Lobster Company on Route 1, bought the multi-acred property and restored the track. Every September he invites friends and racers to enjoy a day of stock cars and hotrods vrooooming around his track.

Under Windex-blue skies and with temperatures hovering in the high 60s, we found Mike among a large crowd of Mainers shortly after we arrived. With a twinkle in his eye, Mike asked, “Val, wanna go for a ride on the track?” I gulped and said, “Uh, sure.”

Next thing I know, I’m being hoisted and lifted feet-first through the window of a 1936 hot pink Chevy coupe owned by Curt and Lois Ann Snow. (Who knew that the doors on these stock cars don’t open.) Plus, to squeeze me through the window, I had to bend my arthritic knee 45 degrees which more than challenged any relief I’d gotten two days ago with a cortisone shot. Pain be damned, I’m just glad I was able to be wedged in that hot pink car.

Driver Curt couldn’t have been more friendly. He told me his vintage car (built by Roger Bonnville in the late 60s and previously driven by Hall of Famer Bob Potter) had notched many wins, including the New England Antique Racers Championship.

It’s amazing how quickly you become best pals with a guy you’ve never met before while hitting 60 MPH careening around the track. As the motor roared to a thunder, I clutched the seat with white-knuckle hands. Curt said, “Wave to the crowd!” I did, and actually spotted — for a nanosecond — Mr. W waving back. The flag guy kept us in line with the other 10 cars screeching over the asphalt. All too soon, it was over.

I told Curt that, at age 83, I never thought I’d do something like that. He said, “Well Val, you gotta meet Joy Jones — she’s 82 and she’s a race car driver.” Joy’s car had developed a brake leak so she was unable to race today but we chatted for a while about her career. (She also whispered that we were probably the oldest people there.)

Bob and I helped ourself to a complimentary lunch at a long buffet table featuring baked beans cooked in a cauldron, bright red Maine hotdogs, chips and mini cupcakes. Mike’s wife Stephanie Nadeau kept restocking the cupcakes and candy tray as little kids helped themselves to the goodies.