Daytona is Killin' Me....
Holy fuck y'all. This Daytona marathon is tearing me up. I've been a tad on the sick side the last couple weeks, so I may or may not get to all the reviews of sangin' and what all. I did tape them for review when I can deal with it. So if any of y'all want to submit your own Daytona bits for a regular post here at Willard's, knock yourselves out - I'd be happy and proud to throw it up for you.
heh. I said "throw up".
Meantime - no Patty Petty Pity Parties for me, Please. I don't need your sympathy, just your patience.
The Craftsman Truck race last night was a real barn burner. Hated to see my teefie boy Travis lose it the way he did, but nice to see Johnny Benson drive like the maestro he is. And take second to a monkey.
heh. I said "throw up".
Meantime - no Patty Petty Pity Parties for me, Please. I don't need your sympathy, just your patience.
The Craftsman Truck race last night was a real barn burner. Hated to see my teefie boy Travis lose it the way he did, but nice to see Johnny Benson drive like the maestro he is. And take second to a monkey.
posted by The Dixie Butcher at 5:03 AM
5 Comments:
What NASCAR needs is more jet fuel.
Or Ricky Bobby.
What jinxy needs is more NASCAR...
Git off yer ass, Dixie! How's that for no pity.
Y'all, I ain't a big NASCAR fan at all but I was housesitting for a buddy who is and he had the race TiVO'd on Sunday so I was forced to watch it. I played video games most of the time and turned it over to the race for the last 20 laps or so.
The ending of that race almost made me a NASCAR fan for life. That shit was AWESOME. Cars flyin' up the outside to take the race... The Jack Daniels car crossing the finish line in a manner that a Jack Daniels car should... on it's hood....
Man, that was some good stuff. Beat the hell out of that NBA All-Star game.
Heh heh. That's how they gitcha. Restrictor plate racin'..... eventually you move on to the hard stuff, like Bristol & Martinsville. By then all Hope is gone. You're a die-hard NASCAR fan.
By crossing the finish line on his roof and on fire, Clint Bowyer single-handedly did more to promote NASCAR than anything Brian France did in the last three years.
Friend of mine had never watched a race before in his life, but has declared he is forever a Clint Boyer fan (I had to tell him the driver's name). He said that anyone that finishes U.D.O.F. then calmly climbs out of the car is his driver.
Speakin' of favorite drivers, somebody needs to come up with a Clint Boyer upside down on fire t-shirt.
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