We all tune in for the potential excitement, but the storylines set up the race. At Pocono, we witnessed Jimmie Johnson make his 600th career start. We wondered if the Big Three would dominate yet again. We also wondered how the bad boys, and maybe a few bad girls back at the shop, would fare after 13 cars failed post-qualifying tech.
Watching Loudon on Sunday was a whole lot like watching Shawshank Redemption. I have seen bits and pieces of that movie, maybe, a couple of dozen times or more. The first half of the New Hampshire race had me watching nothing but our favorites of this year over and over and over.
Kentucky. The land of Daniel Boone. Horses. Bluegrass (be it those you can grow, pick, or sing along to). Bourbon. Maybe they should consider marketing something called Dr. Truex’s Tonic and Magical Elixir. I mean, whatever he is drinking delivers some pretty positive results.
Daytona delivered. The action and the broadcast were both superb. If you missed it, you really missed something.
I was wrong. That is something you do not hear me say very often. How about this, then? The broadcast from Chicago was the best I have seen in years. That is something I do not ever remember saying, writing, or thinking. I did not think Chicago would be much worth watching. Boy, was I wrong.
Stage points? We don’t need no stinkin’ stage points. Pit late, then say hello to my little friends. Fresh tires. Now, they proved to be the key to victory at Sonoma.
Rain. Sometimes rain really sucks. Outside my window, nothing but rain. In Brooklyn, Michigan, a two hours rain delay, a window for NASCAR, and with 140 miles still to go the rain returned and the racing ended. It was cold, wet, and miserable...both here and there. Just a perfect bloody Sunday.
Man, Pocono is pretty. It is so green. Watching a race from there is like watching a video on kittens or puppies. You might not be riveted to all you see, but you could calmly drift away to your happy place as you find yourself in the midst of peaceful meditation.
Australia. If there was any road to success on Sunday, it was to be a native of Australia. Perth-born Daniel Ricciardo led from start to finish to claim the Monaco Grand Prix. At Indianapolis, Toowoomba’s own Will Power kissed the bricks and drank the milk. Unfortunately, the last Aussie to drive a Cup car was Tasmanian Marcus Ambrose four years ago.
It was a nice prelude to the All-Star Race in Charlotte on Saturday. First, we had a down and out established team show some life by taking the front row. The pole went to a former champion just a week after he ran his first race of the season.