There is a zany event held each year in the little town of Avoca, Neb. simply named the “Quackoff.” Mobs of people descend on the town on the last Saturday of January to race ducks. Revelers drink cheap beer and cheer on their favorite ducks. The ducks, most of them rented for the occasion, are given names almost as bizarre as the event itself: Roast Duck, Quack Pipe, Duck Off.
You get the picture.
So yeah, you rent a duck, get a little boozed up and race it across the tennis court.
Here’s a picture of my brother-in-law, Luke, racing his duck named Ping. Never mind that prior to Saturday, Luke was a virgin duck racer. The Luke-Ping combo ran for an awe-inspiring 6th place out of a field of about 160 ducks.
Call it what you want to. But here in Nebraska, we call that impressive.
I’m not making this up.
Really.
I’m not.
