A senior moment

Well, steal my Geritol and call me "sonny." I've got the racing moment of the weekend, and it wasn't Justify's impressive win on the wettest day in Kentucky Derby history.

(Rumor sure to be, um, floated: He pulled it off by doing the backstroke.)

(Second rumor sure to be floated: Those Derby hats worn by the Hat Ladies doubled as flotation devices.)

(Third rumor, etc., etc.: That horse the Blob told you was going to win? Bolt D'Oro? The reason he disappeared so fast in the stretch is he went back for the horses trapped in steerage.)

Anyway ... what was I saying?

Oh, yeah. Racing moment of the weekend.

That happened in Tucson, Ariz., where a guy named Herschel McGriff had himself a big day.

First, he kicked off the K&N Pro Series West NASCAR event by playing the national anthem on his trombone.

Then he climbed in a car and raced in the K&N Pro Series West NASCAR event.

Alas, he didn't win. But allowances should be made. He is, after all, 90 years old.

Yes, that's right, boys and girls. At an age when most people are getting their car keys taken away by their snotty ungrateful children, Herschel McGriff said, "Up yours. I'm drivin'."

And if you're wondering how this was possible, well, it's because NASCAR doesn't have a maximum age limit. All you have to do to race is pass a physical and qualify. Which McGriff did, because, as you've probably guessed, he's not your average 90-year-old,

Nope. McGriff was named one of NASCAR's 50 greatest drivers back in 1998, and he's been racing longer than a lot of us have been alive. In fact, he won four races in what is now the Cup series way back in 1954, one year before the guy driving this sentence was born.

I'm 63 now. Let that marinate for a minute.

Let this marinate, too: Thirty-five years after that, when McGriff was 61, he won the last of the 35 races he's won in the K&N series. And 23 years after that, in 2012, he was still good enough to finish 18th in the K&N event at Sonoma Raceway.

Of course, he was only 84 then. Just barely gettin' started, one might say.

Steal my Geritol and call my "sonny," indeed.