The plan today called for a ride down the mountain to take part of the Toys for Tots ride in Salem but Saturday’s snow took care of that idea. With ice on the driveway and patches of black ice all over the place I won’t be on a motorcycle today.

Another boring NASCAR season came to an end last Sunday. Jimmie Johnson (yawn) won the championship for a record-setting fourth straight time.

NASCAR finished its latest season with declining TV ratings, declining attendance and declining interest in a sport that once claimed it would challenge the NFL for prime-time dominance.

Some blame the bland Johnson for the sport’s problems. Others blame the economy. While both may be contributing factors, NASCAR’s real problem lies within itself: the sport forgot its roots in an unrelenting quest for money.

The sport born in the moonshining hills of of the South got uppity and thought it was better than its past. It saw its future in corporate sponsors, private jets, polished, TV-ready cookie cutter drivers with no personalities and a cleaned-up image.

That’s not the NASCAR we grew up with and not the NASCAR that built the most loyal fan base in sports — a fan base that is deserting stock car racing in droves because NASCAR decided it didn’t need them any more.

When NASCAR made the decision to yank the traditional Labor Day race from Darlington and move it California, it was a slap in the face to the fans who built the sport. Attendance at the California track has declined to a point where some high school football games outdraw the races there.

NASCAR pinned its hopes on the bankability of Dale Earnhardt’s namesake son, but Dale Jr. appears to be buckling under the pressure. After complaining he couldn’t win at his father’s old racing organization, he moved to the powerhouse Hendrick Motorsports where he hasn’t won in 57 races. Junior didn’t make the chase. Hendrick’s other three cars finished the season first, second and third in the standings.

If NASCAR wants to survive it needs to abandon its pretentiousness and return to its roots but it may be too late. Southerners have a long memory.

Thousands upon thousands of area shoppers descend on malls and the big box store today for “Black Friday,” the start of the Christmas shopping glut and the traditional “busiest shopping day of the year.”

Amy and I will not be among the throngs. We don’t do Black Friday. The last time I was in the middle of the mess on the day after Thanksgiving was while on assignment shooting pictures for a newspaper. One of the photos appears above.

Even our area motorcycle dealer is in on the act: New River Valley Harley-Davidson opened at 6 a.m. with Black Friday discounts. I won’t be there. I’m under a wife-imposed moratorium on motorcycle accessories.

Amy and I will not be playing the consumer consumption game. The only gifts we will give each other and loved ones will be things we make: My photography and her arts & crafts. Any shopping we do will be local, not at malls or big boxes. Call it our contribution to the Sustain Floyd movement.

Or call it coming to our senses. Either way works for us.

As I explore the area where we live, often by motorcycle, I stop and just look out over the wonders that surround us.

Despite hard economic times, failures of our elected leaders at the local, state and national level and a national mood that seems too often coarse and decisive, we still have so much to be thankful for in this nation.

As Amy and I head off to spend Thanksgiving with my mother, we want to take a moment to say thanks to the friends we’ve made since coming to Floyd five years ago and the many others we made over the years and through this web site.

Happy Thanksgiving from us to you and our thanks for making all this worthwhile.

The letter arrived three-and-a-half months ago, a missive from the Internal Revenue Service that strikes fear into the hearts of the bravest of people.

“Your tax return has been selected for examination,” the notice declared. Uncle Sam wanted a closer look at our business return from our first year in Floyd. That was the year we opened Blue Ridge Creative at The Jacksonville Center and spent far more money than we made, normal for starting a new business. Blue Ridge Creative never made any money and we closed it three years later.

I called and made an appointment. A second letter arrived the next day with details of what the auditor wanted for the initial meetings: Tax returns from 2003 through last year; receipts, bank statements and all other supporting material. I had three weeks to search through boxes and gather what I could find. In some cases, I had to contact vendors and customers and obtain information from them.

A couple of years ago, the IRS stepped up audits of small businesses because a study showed such businesses are often cash operations where large sums of incomes go unreported. Most of our customers at Blue Ridge Creative paid with credit cards or check. A number of local artists in Floyd tell me they have undergone audits. Some told horror stories of contentious meetings with examiners and bills for new taxes along with fees and penalties.

So I drove down to Roanoke in September a little nervous about the meeting at 10 a.m.  I felt our taxes were in order but you can search the Web and find hundreds of frightening stories about others who felt the same and found the IRS didn’t agree.

At the IRS office just off Campbell Avenue in Roanoke, I was led into a windowless room with plain white walls and a small table. The IRS agent was young, courteous and extremely professional. Most of the 45-minute interview tuned out to be questions about how we operated our business, our bookkeeping methods and our operations.

He made copies of my documentation, asked a few followup questions, and sent me on my way, saying he would call if he had any more questions.

A week went by, then a month, then three months with no word from the auditor. Finally, last Friday morning, the phone rang: The caller ID said “U.S. Government” with a Roanoke number. It was the long-awaited followup call.

“I’m ready to close out this examination,” he said, adding that he would meet with his supervisor that day to get signoff on the final report. His report should arrive in the next few days.

On Monday, the official notice arrived: No change in tax liability, no taxes due, no penalities, no interest, no fees. He made a couple of adjustments but the changes did not affect the bottom line. The notice asked us to sign and and return the report if we agreed with the auditor’s conclusions. If we did not agree, we could exercise our rights to appeal.

Appeal? My mother drowned the dumb ones. We will sign and return the report. The boxes of receipts and records that have sat in our living room and den over the past three months will be packed up this week and returned to storage.