Forty three drivers. Hours of watching them drive in circles at outrageously dangerous speeds. Fourteen years ago, that was my take on Nascar. Then W came along. I'm thinking he picked Bobby Labonte and the 43 before he learned to use a fork. I tried to watch, I tried to get excited. But all the cars looked the same and were moving at a million miles per hour. That's when I found the bright orange car, very easy to see on the track. And my love affair with Tony Stewart began.
When Jeff and I got married...he too had to chose a driver or forever be shunned by W. So Jeff picked the rookie, the guy who struggled to stay off the wall. With a few years experience and a little of Jeff's good mojo, Jimmie Johnson is now a five time champion. The guy can certainly pick 'em. After a few years of floundering and a short lived adoration of Jeff Gordan, H finally settled in on Jimmie too. After all, he was Jeff's driver and he never picks the last place guy.
Fast forward to today, the final chase race and Tony starting the race two points out of the lead. Winner takes all, 5.6 million dollars on the line. It's no longer the orange car and I don't have a hard time finding him at all. I could probably name forty of the forty three drivers on the track. My heart stopped a couple of times, the rain delay made me cringe and after 267 laps, Tony came out on top. I love Nascar. Thank you, W.
It's amazing what you'll follow, learn and begin to love....all to be one of the boys.
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