If you read my stuff you know I am a BFH, which stands for Big Freakin’ Hillbilly. I grew up in Kentucky and live in the vast unwashed Midwest. For many years I tried to hide the fact I like country music, driving a big gas guzzling SUV, owning guns, grilling in the back yard and other simple pleasures. I am not anti-intellectual, I like reading, science, own a telescope, have a discount card at Barnes and Noble and I went to college for longer than I should have. However, I have never understood the fascination with NASCAR. Even before it became avant-garde I thought NASCAR was just a bunch of hillbillies driving around in circles for no reason, something you could see on the I-264 around Louisville any day you want. With full apologies to Gary in Albuquerque, here is my message for all of you: NASCAR is not cool.
NASCAR is the twenty-first century equivalent of having a Members Only jacket anytime after 1985 or doing the Macarena anytime after Al Gore did it at the 2000 Democrat Convention. NASCAR has been embraced the masses and therefore, by definition, is no longer cool.
NASCAR was cool when it started. When BFH’s like me took actual “stock cars”, sooped them up and out ran government agents on country back roads while delivering illegal whiskey commonly known as “moonshine”. Tales of these drivers were folk legends in the south. They hid their secret methods of enhancing their cars performance like Clinton tried to hide the names of his girlfriends. They challenged each other to races on the dirt roads where they ran “shine”. Then they moved to dirt tracks, then paved tracks, it became a business, they made some rules, it got on ESPN and it was downhill from there, just like the X-Games.
This weekend there was no race. A lot of people were in a state of panic. I heard analysts talking about how NASCAR needs to offer a wider variety of races so the calendar is full. Naturally, I have a suggestion: Senior NASCAR. A couple of time a year they bring back a bunch of the old drivers and put them on the track in vintage Cadillacs, Oldsmobiles and Mercury Marquis’ and let them have at it! Think of it, hours of watching old farts drive around in circles at fifty-five with their turn signals on! Hundreds of pit stops due to enlarged prostates and every car sponsored by Viagra. This is a winner and to me just as exciting as watching Estonian Folk dancing or regular NASCAR.