NASCAR
I am not a NASCAR fan. At all. However, my 8 year old daughter went through the trouble of searching through the entire “school store” to find a coffee mug (which I do like) that said #1 Dad. We live in northern Michigan, which is a fairly redneck locale, and so the only option she had was NASCAR. I am pleased to say that she didn’t even know what NASCAR was, and got the cup merely on it’s #1 Dad merit.
I cherish this cup.
Now, NASCAR? Not so much. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’d enjoy driving a race car. I also think I’d do very well, right up to the point that I wrecked in a fiery inferno. There is this tiny little Neanderthal in me that comes out when I’m driving things like 4-wheelers, snowmobiles, dirt bikes, and I think race cars. I drive them like an absolute maniac. There’s a rather interesting story that I’ll tell someday that involves me breaking my back on a 4-wheeler…
BUT, watching NASCAR is about the lamest, most boring “sport” I could ever imagine. If you are a NASCAR fan, and you’re reading this, please explain the joy you get from it. Because apart from my coffee mug — it just doesn’t do anything for me.
UPDATE: Apparently, “NASCAR” must be shouted, and needs to be spelled in all caps. I’ve corrected my silly ignorance. (at least my silly ignorance in this matter)







19 comments
Leave a reply