I don’t go out often. When I do go out, I rarely go to a bar. Honestly, there are half a dozen bars less than a mile from my house and I have been in only one of them. But Saturday night I was in a mood. I had been watching college basketball alone in my house for days and I was dying to be surrounded by other people that would yell & cheer with me.
So we made dinner, left the kids with my oldest and headed out to catch some Butler tournament action. I went to a bar that is quite popular in town for the very first time. It was uneventful but enjoyable. But we were flying high after Butler’s huge upset and still looking for some fun. That’s when we decided to head to The Track.
You have no idea the glee this decision brought to me. I have run past The Track numerous times and there are always cars there – yes, at 9am in the morning. It’s that kind of place. It’s totally off the beaten track, in a slightly run down neighborhood, it’s in a building that looks… well-worn, let’s say. I’ve often joked about going to this bar but it’s safe to say that I don’t hang with the right crowd.
We headed to The Track and it was a dream come true! Fake tin ceiling. Guys hanging out on the bar stools that are probably shaped precisely to their asses because they are there so often. Bar mirrors ringing the ceiling. Stone wall behind the shelves of the bar. Teeny tiny restroom. Dirty posters on the walls.
I loved everything about it.
It was smoky but not nearly as hazy as I was expecting. It was dingy but not nearly as dirty as I was expecting. There was a picture on the wall of the building from 1900 declaring it to be the 2nd or 3rd oldest bar in the county. I felt immediately at home.
They let me update their March Madness tournament poster. There were pull-tab machines on the walls – and I played my first pull-tabs. They serve $1 beer on Mondays & Wednesdays. The guy at the end of the bar & I bonded over the music selection. OH! And the music – around 10pm a DJ walked in, hooked up his multi-colored disco ball and started rocking out. Apparently it was 80s night… or maybe it’s always 80s night at The Track.
The only thing missing was the disgusting jar of pickled eggs in the corner.
Ahhhh…. The Track – you were everything I hoped for. I might just stop in next time I’m out on one of my runs and say hey to the locals while I take a pitstop. And you can be certain that the next time I’m in the mood for cheap beer, dim lighting and pull tabs I will be back. Save a stool for me.