NASCAR News With Attitude

By Dorothy Nobis For The Daily Times

It was a tough weekend.

Last weekend, without a NASCAR race to watch, I found certain body parts twitching and an uncontrollable urge to rev someone’s engine. I drove to the local gas station and sniffed the fuel (even though the stations I chose do not serve up Sunoco, which was a bummer. It’ that fan loyalty thing, ya know), but some of those truck drivers got a little testy when I got real close to their tanks and inhaled deeply. That and the twitching got me evicted from several stations. Whatever.

I got a police escort from area gas stations, I moved on to all those great retail outlets that carry NASCAR stuff. I caressed the likenesses of Dale Earnhardt Jr., Jimmie Johnson and my Sweet Boboo, Elliott Sadler (when I could find his stuff. It’s too bad retailers don’t understand the impact my Sweet Boboo has made on the sport. If I were his marketing person - - note to self: become Elliott’s marketing person - - I’d have Sadler’s face on everything from bologna to fragrances …… The fragrance thing could be my ticket to fame and fortune and, maybe, to my Sweet Boboo. Note to self: get chemistry kit to make Scents of Sadler. Will need essences of fried bologna, gasoline, motor oil and hunting dogs).

I rearranged the shelves to make NASCAR items easier for customers to reach and I lowered the prices on a lot of it. Unfortunately, the store managers didn’t appreciate my efforts to increase sales and they had big burly security people not only escort me to my truck, but escort me outta the parking lot. All I was trying to do was help. Whatever.

Then I went to car dealerships to test-drive Monte Carlos, Impalas, Fusions, Chargers, Intrepids, and Camrys. When I rolled the driver’s window side window down so I could get in and put my ever-so-cute Wart Burton helmet on, I ran into trouble. I didn’t have a booster seat, so when I drove outta the lot, everyone thought it was some kid behind the wheel, which brought every law enforcement representative in the darned area racing to the rescue. When I tried to outrun em, it got really ugly. They threw down some kinda spikes in the road, which I managed to avoid by driving on the sidewalk, then they put up a barricade, which I ran through, just like I’ve seen em do on Starsky and Hutch. They got me, though, and took my helmet, my driver’s suit and my Elliott Sadler blow-up doll, along with my driver’s license.

I begged em to leave me the blow-up doll, and suggested they should be chasing the really bad guys, but they cuffed me and stuffed me anyway. Whatever.

By then it was late, so I went home and quaffed a bottle of my vintage white zin. It’s not as good as it is with a NASCAR race as a chaser, but it make me feel better.

Since I can’t go to any of the local stores or gas stations this weekend after Thanksgiving, I’m going to have to find something else to do. I’ve got most of the stuff for Essence of Sadler, but I had to order the essence of fried bologna. I can always clean and shine my NASCAR shrine room, but since Mojito, the Devil Kitten moved in, he has taken a liking to everything NASCAR. That means most of it is covered in DK hair and some of it has little teeth marks on it, when the DK decided to haul it around the house.

Mojito has clawed my Dale Earnhardt Jr. No. 8 stuffed car, and he’s gnawed on my Ward Burton bobblehead doll. The Devil Kitten also climbed the wall (for real. I don’t know how he does it, but it looks like one of those climbing walls at fitness centers, except my wall just has tenny tiny claw holes all over it) and removed my little Tony Stewart Home Depot Christmas ornaments I bought last year. The DK managed to eat the little tiny Tony Stewart helmet, which caused us both great anguish when it was time to pass it, if yanowhatimean.

Anyway, next week is the Big Banquet, and I will be glued to the TV, mostly to see what the drivers look like in penguin suits and, prob’ly, to be the fashion police of their wives/significant others/dates/all of the above.

I found a sparkling vintage white zin that I purchased just for such occasions, and I decided to spare no expense and bought the really good beanie-weenies. Wonder if I should barbecue those beanie-weenies or throw em on the grill?

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