I would rather be stuck on I-95 behind someone driving 47 mph with their left-turn signal on than watch another nanosecond of a Nextel Cup race.
They drive in circles, then they stop because of a caution flag, then they drive in circles again, then they stop for another caution flag. This goes on for several hours, and then it's suddenly over; it is oddly reminiscent of the Carmen Electra-Dennis Rodman marriage.
Man, this country needs to wake up and smell something other than an oil spill.
Because one day, while millions of slack-jawed Americans are lying around scratching themselves and blankly staring at a senseless 750-horsepower spectacle, the Statue of Liberty might be floating out to sea.
Fox and ESPN and now TNT seem to do a terrific job of blanketing NASCAR I just have no idea ever of what's going on. At any given moment, it sounds like the hog-calling contest at the county fair.
And yet, crowds of 150,000 gather at speedways to take it all in (aided, I'm sure, by the occasional beer) and crowds at home also gather in equally impressive Nielsen numbers (aided, I'm sure, by the occasional beer).
I've never gotten it, and I never will get it (and, trust me, I am often aided by the occasional beer well, actually, the
I wouldn't care if Michael Waltrip got ticketed at the Pocono 500 for going too slow.
I wouldn't care if Dale Earnhardt Jr. left DEI for the USO.
I wouldn't care if Jeff Gordon skipped a race for my child's birth.
I just don't care about improperly mounted rear wings and adjusting air-fuel mixture and raising the track bar and planting the throttle down and slipping out of the groove and working the wheel and cranking it up and finessing the gas and new cars that don't like wedge and broken exhaust pipes and faulty fuel-pump cables and 41/2-inch splitter rules and right front tires blowing out and cooling air flow and melting foam and floor boards and rollbar paint and heat shields and forward bite and rubber knots and debris cautions and brake systems and brake heat and brake dust and Turn 4 and tobacco-chewing crew chiefs and the No. 24 DuPont Chevrolet.
I don't want to hear another word about the Car of Tomorrow unless it is an electric vehicle that doubles as a cappuccino maker when you turn the ignition key.
I love Joe Gibbs, but if Joe Gibbs Racing were to show up at my home on the Fourth of July, I'd point those boys to the nearest Arby's drive-thru.
There is no upside none to watching Jimmie Johnson and Kevin Harvick and Kurt Busch bang around the track for several hundred miles or so. Now, put those fellas on the Santa Monica Freeway at rush hour with a screaming baby in the backseat, and then you might have some good TV.
Anyway, I hope I've at least put a seed of doubt into NASCAR regulars about how you spend your quality time here in America. Plus, I'll do you another solid; here's a list other things you should do before you tumble into another NASCAR race:
-Read a book.
-Key the letters "MPG" onto an SUV.
-Listen to the "The Very Best of the Lovin' Spoonful" while eating Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk.
-Tap a person on the shoulder who is speaking on a cell phone at the table next to you in the restaurant, ask him politely if you can see the phone for just a second, take the phone into the restaurant's kitchen and drop it into the nearest pot of boiling water. Add salt, as needed, and stir occasionally.
-Play some seven-card stud with your daughter.
Boogity, boogity, boogity, my butt. Shuffle up and deal!
Norman Chad is a freelance writer
based in Los Angeles. Send your comments
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