Sleeping With Stock Cars

There. I watched the Daytona 500. Yes, I did. It was the first time for me. I can’t say I saw it all. I saw Jon Bon Jovi performing on TV with some lady singer. I’m not sure who she was, but she had a good voice, and the song was peppy. I saw the start of the race. I saw some rubbin’ and some bumpin’ and I saw the green-white checker finish. Despite my best efforts, I also spent a lot of time examining the insides of my eyelids. It’s remarkable that I used the phrase “green-white-checker finish,” because until the phrase was used about 5:00pm on NBC, I had never heard it before.
The look on my son’s face was priceless. He moseyed down the stairs in his 16-year-old “who the hell cares” way, then just stopped in his tracks. “You’re watching NASCAR?” His incredulity filled the room. I said, “It’s the Daytona 500. It’s their biggest thing.” He said, “Why don’t you go get a beer and a TV dinner?” I said, “Yeah. I’ll get my tank top on while I’m at it.” Who knew my kid was such a snob?
I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried. With apologies to the Stones, I can’t get my NASCAR-loving buddies no satisfaction. (There’s that subject-verb agreement thing I love so much about stock care racing. You know, there’s a big difference between poetic license and redneck speak). I just can’t make it through a race. Maybe I need to pay attention to all the back stories.
Jimmie Johnson won the race without his crew chief, the NASCAR equivalent of a head coach. It would be like the Steelers winning the Super Bowl with Bill Cowher jutting his jaw back in Pittsburgh. Apparently, the Johnson team got caught in some kind of car-design violation early in the week (if you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t racin’). The NASCAR bosses kicked him out of Daytona. There was a wreck on the final lap, which led to extra laps. Then, there was a wreck on the actual final lap, which was really two laps after what was supposed to be the final lap. Johnson was declared the winner. It’s good news that he was the first car to cross the finish line, anyway. The guy with the checkered flag waved it enthusiastically, and Johnson drove his car the wrong way around the track on purpose (practicing right-hand turns, no doubt) and we knew he was happy. This had to do with the green-white-checker thing.
I will say this: Tony Stewart, the NASCAR bad boy, got in a lot of trouble during the race for aggressive driving. It looked dangerous, but it was kind of fun to watch. So, even though I didn’t really get all the subtleties of what was happening, I knew he was misbehaving. (If you ain’t misbehavin’, you ain’t racin’?) He did knock another guy off the racetrack. Then, the other guy flipped him off (“made a hand gesture,” according to our subject-verb agreein’ announcers) and knocked Stewart off the racetrack to get back at him. That, I understood. I like a good dust-up when I’m not involved in it. A couple of times, Stewart got sent to the back of the pack as punishment. He still roared back for a green-white-checker fifth place finish, showing his pluck. I like pluck. So, as of this moment, if you ask me what driver I’d choose to follow as a fan, it would be Stewart.
Don’t think for one moment, though, that I’m about to run to AutoZone or Home Depot or wherever and buy a “#20” decal for my rear windshield. I think my son would move out of the house. He’s desperately seeking a peace-sign sticker, 60’s style, with which to pimp his ride.
What’s the next big race I’m supposed to be interested in, something at Talledega? I'll think about that while shopping for tank tops. Here’s where we stand, a major philosophical shift: In the extremely unlikely event that someone were to offer free tickets and free lodging to attend a race at the Texas Motor Speedway (the closest NASCAR track to me), I will actually consider going. So, just in case this happens, I’ll be stocking up on beer and TV dinners.

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