NASCAR Nation
November 15, 2004
by Craig Curtice

Now that the Presidential election is over, I still can’t help feeling hopelessly bitter when looking at the divided red and blue states on the Electoral Map. So to make myself feel better, I’ve decided to place blame for Bush’s re-election not on the homophobes in Ohio, but squarely on the shoulders of NASCAR Nation. Sure you’ve heard of NASCAR dads, but this runs even deeper.

So who is NASCAR Nation? I figure it’s mostly men, but women too – addicted to NASCAR and motor sports in general. They are completely obsessed with everything from Indy Car to dirt track racing to demolition derbies. They drive pick-up trucks, travel in RV’s, and ride ATV’s. They want their TNN. They listen to crummy patriotic country rock. They use leaf blowers instead of rakes. They slur the English language, wear stanky trucker hats, and swill cheap corporate beer. Call them the “R word” if you will, at any rate they have spoken and they ain’t gonna take the Bush bashin’ no more.

Maybe it’s just my seething blue state resentment talking here, but NASCAR fans are ruining our country – supporting a superfluous “sport” that pisses away outrageous amounts of fuel, oil, tires, machinery, and manpower. Lest we forget, this country is at war in Iraq and Afghanistan and we should be conserving our precious resources. Over an average 500-mile NASCAR race, each car gets about four miles a gallon and requires 125 gallons of fuel to finish. Now, choke on this – between all 116 drivers and 110 races in NASCAR’s Nextel Cup, Busch Series, and Craftsman truck series – at least 15,950,000 gallons of fuel are burned each season.

My rudimentary math is just the beginning of the resource consumption since the total doesn’t include the endless practice rounds, warm-up rounds, and testing rounds, or the oceans of gas necessary to move the entire NASCAR circus from one city to another. Fleets of tractor-trailer trucks transport teams, cars, tools, parts, and tons of equipment, while fans by the hundreds of thousands waste even more gas driving themselves to races. I haven’t even mentioned the emissions, worn tires, blown engines, or wrecked cars (the real reason driving at high speeds is interesting).

With the exception of servicemen and women serving overseas, this country isn’t doing much of anything for the war effort. Slapping a magnetic “Support Our Troops” sticker on the mini van doesn’t mean diddly-squat. In WWII for instance, women sacrificed wearing nylon hosiery to conserve petroleum, but the only time NASCAR has done anything to conserve energy was cutting a mere 50 miles off 500-mile races during the gas crisis in 1974.

I propose that since NASCAR Nation re-elected Bush, they can support him and the war by ceasing all NASCAR operations until the war on terrorism is completely over. If the drivers were the heroes they are perceived to be, then they could follow in Pat Tillman’s noble footsteps, and the expert mechanics and pit crews could get to work on civilian automobiles. I just had my clutch replaced this week – maybe I could’ve gotten the work done in minutes instead of waiting two days and bumming rides.

Today the United States has an uneasy casualness about gasoline, and it seems like older folks have completely forgotten about the gas crisis we suffered through thirty years ago. Someday this country could wind up like a Mad Max wasteland fighting for gas, but it may be more like the 1979 film Americathon, in which a bankrupt US has no gas left at all – people ran or biked to work.

See, what I understand about oil is – it won’t last forever, yet we all bitch about high gas prices and continue to buy oversized SUV’s and trucks. NASCAR Nation wants you to join, but I refuse to place a 3 in my back window and tailgate old people on the expressway. I’m actually embarrassed that I used to like watching Dukes of Hazzard on Friday nights.

I’ll eventually accept the election outcome, I’m just disappointed that we can’t seem to elect someone the entire nation can admire and respect wholeheartedly. Where is our Papa Smurf? Morgan Freeman? Gladiator? John Ritter? We need to wake up and smell the fumes, people.

(Craig Curtice is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine who will bitch about anything really.)