The knuckle-headed nation of NASCAR has turned the 2011 racin’ season into an episode of Jerry Springer, and it’s about time I put down the ‘shine and git y’all caught up on the drama. Cousin Carl’s been flirtin’ with EVERYBODY, the entire state of Kentucky was in gridlock, Mini-Chad is terrorizin’ the garage area, Keselowski is now “Krash-a-lot-ski“, and apparently potheads enjoy changin’ tires. If that ain’t enough fun fer ya, this new Wild Card thingy has thrown a wrench into the standin’s, and this week the boys gotta turn RIGHT! Here’s the details… near as I can figure, anyway.
Let’s git started with the “Courtin’ of Carl”. Edwards has made a gazillion dollars and racked up a crap-ton of wins while racin’ fer Jack Rousch, but his contract was up, and every other owner in NASCAR was actin’ like Pepe Le Pew chasin’ that sexy kitten. After teasin’ everybody fer months, Carl did the most boring thing possible and staid put at Rousch Fenway in the 99, leavin’ the rest of us feelin’ jilted. Not cool, Carl. We coulda had somethin’ special.
And howzabout that race in Kentucky? After them greedy bastards stole a race from California, they done went and screwed it up… BAD. The racin’ was about as interestin’ as watchin’ yer own hair grow, but it didn’t matter cuz nobody got to see it anyway. We were busy sittin’ in gridlock outside the track that made an L.A. freeway at rush hour look like Talledega. Hell, even DRIVERS were stuck in it. And once ya got in, if ya did, it was time ta turn around cuz there was no parkin’ and the race was almost over anyway. Atta boy, Kentucky. Ya done us all proud.
Not everyone in the garage has been in a pissy mood though. Jimmie Johnson has been havin’ a little fun at the expense of his crew chief Chad Knaus. After kidnappin’ a cardboard promo cutout of Chad, JJ has been snappin’ shots of “Mini-Chad” all over the place, and addin’ his own witty captions. You can check ‘em all out on Jimmie’s Twitter.
#48 was also the first to bring us pictures of Brad Keselowski’s leftovers after a head on meetin’ with the concrete wall at Road Atlanta. “Krash-a-lot-ski” was doin’ some testin’ at the track when somethin’ done broke underneath and the Blue Duece turned into a 150 MPH missile. He managed ta whoa her up to about 100 before the wall did the rest of the work. Oh, his ankle helped too, and ended up in a buncha pieces. He wasn’t cryin’ fer long. He managed ta win the following Sunday at Pocono.
And just when ya thought NASCAR was done with the shenanigans, a couple dumbasses on Montoya’s pit crew thought it might be fun to smuggle a LOT of dope in their free time. The right front tire changer and the engineer on the #42 team both got arrested, suspended, fined, and fired, but they were probably higher ‘n the moon and didn’t care anyway. Bein’ Colombian and all, Juan Pablo is probably just happy they didn’t git caught with cocaine instead. That coulda been AWKWARD.
With all that in the rear-view, this NASCAR fan was just hopin’ fer somethin’ like “normal” to come back. Instead the tornado of weird continues this weekend and we git to head up North into Yankee territory to Watkins Glen in New York. That’s pretty far from the equator fer a sport centered in the Carolina’s, and the cherry on this sundae is that the track has RIGHT TURNS. In fact, most of ‘em are right-handers, and it has this tricky little macaroni elbow in the backstretch that our European friends like ta call a “chicane“. I ain’t a French guy with a funny name like Balzac or Dumas, so I’ll just call it the “Bus Stop”.
That’ll just about catch ya up on the wacky world of NASCAR racin’ fer now. There’s a bunch more stuff I could wear out yer ears with, but we’ll save that fer next time. I’ve already been away from the booze fer half the day typin’ this one, so I probably shouldn’t push it.