
Hey! Where'd that jet dryer come from?
Last night I caught about 25 laps of the Daytona 500. As you may have heard, rain delays had pushed it into prime time. So it was either that or “Two and a Half Men.” Having been in Daytona over the weekend, I was marginally interested in seeing how Danica Patrick might do (38th place).
There’s something about watching a few dozen garishly-painted cars roaring around the track as one, never changing their relative positions. After awhile it begins to seem like a carousel. It’s like when you’re waiting at an intersection and a whole bunch of cars are turning left in front of you. That’s some compelling television.
Look, I get why people like NASCAR: Occasionally, there are collisions and fires. Like the one pictured above. What happened was, one of the cars in the carousel crashed into a safety truck. Oops! So much for safety! But the Jerry Bruckheimer firestorm it created probably snagged a few new fans — guys like myself, who have been on the fence when it comes to watching cars drive in circles. And it certainly brought one of the drivers a big spike in his Twitter popularity.
I’ll admit that it’s interesting when expensive cars burst into flame. Or when they spin out of control and disintegrate. It’s just the racing part that’s tedious.
Oh Dave. Sorry . May I suggest you find an old copy of Tom Wolfe’s The Last American Hero is Junior Johnson? (I’m dating myself by even knowing it exists). Anyway, they do maneuver for place, the art of drafting behind another car at speeds close to 200 mph, etc., add intensity and interest. That said — I don’t watch races much anymore, not on TV anyway. Can’t afford to go anymore.
I’m sure there’s strategy and artistry involved; it’s just that you can’t really see it. You have to take the commentators’ word. It’s kind of like listening to a basetball game on the radio.
But no judgment against those who like NASCAR. I know millions do.
I used to live in Daytona Beach and I tried to learn to appreciate the races. I failed. The noise was excruciating. Even miles away we could hear it inside our house with the windows closed and the AC running! Inside the raceway it was just awful. I never met anyone there who appreciated the fine art of maneuvering or drafting. Most of the fans I met were ghoulishly – and often drunkenly – hoping for blood.
Now that sounds cynical! But I believe it.