Club Arnage

Maybe I should have posted this in "Race Coverage" but it looks like we mere pions are not to be trusted. Anyway, for those that give a rats ass about Roundy Roundy Car Bashing, here are my jottings from yesterdays race. Sorry it's a bit 'wordy', but I always wanted to be a moto-journo and I get all carried away......

 No sooner had the “and the home of the braaaaaaaaaave” warbled to a close and the spaceship like B1 stealth bomber and accompanying F18s made their low pass over the speedway – and George Dubyah asked the assembled gentlemen (?) to start their engines, the 2004 Good ‘ol Boys circus rumbled into life, with the opening battle – the fabled Daytona 500.
Seated in the bleachers overlooking the ‘Superstretch’ – or back straightaway to common-folk, we had a spectacular view of the entire circuit, except for the tri-oval area and pit lane. As it turned out, all of the drama was to occur on the back stretch anyway. There was not an empty seat in the house and the weather was perfect for NASCAR’s showcase event.
Stock car crowds are a funny bunch. They are, in the main, good natured and benign, outwardly loyal to their favorite drivers (so bedecked are they in the relevant team regalia) although around 70% of them were rootin’ for “Little E”
I suspect, for no other reason than the fact that his father “The Intimidator” splattered himself against the turn 4 wall at this same hallowed track 3 years ago.
The tubby toothless old crone next to me screamed “Go Dale!” every time Earnhardt the younger passed by us, until she was so pissed on Bud Lite (how do you get pissed on Bud Lite?) that she didn’t care anymore, preferring to cackle about how much pot she’d smoked the previous evening, to a somewhat disinterested mullet who was skeletal, sunken eyed and sun-baked, sporting a dirty baseball cap and minimal teeth.
The shock-wave of the freight-train of 30-some stockers passing at 180mph + was impressive and during the early laps it was all fairly intense, coming off the west banking 3 wide and balls out. Mark Martin in the Viagra car was first for the early bath, causing much hilarity about the staying power of his sponsor’s product, when his Childress engine let go 15 laps in. The Mark Martin fans quickly switching allegiance to whoever was leading at that point.
Next Schrader got tangled-up in the wall, coming off 2 and came past us backwards in a massive plume of tyre smoke and ended up on the infield grass, half of the mid-pack scattering to avoid him. Schrader fans promptly switched to hollering for Tony Stewart in the #20 Home Depot car, given that he was leading the race, at this point.
The race then settled into a groove, Johnson, Stewart, Kenseth and Earnhardt setting the 173mph average lap pace, until a truly gargantuan accident befell the DEI car of Michael Waltrip. Waltrip got squeezed up against the wall, exiting turn 2, hit and ricocheted down the banking and got heavily tee-boned by a following car. His now V shaped Monte Carlo passed us sideways at about 150 mph, before running onto the grass, losing a wheel and flipping end-over-end four times before coming to rest on it’s roof, amid a huge plume of steam, oil smoke, infield sod and car parts.
The wreck was loud and frightening, ultimately involving 11 cars, but the reaction of the Earnhardt fans around us was rather nauseating. Waltrip is Dale Jnr’s team-mate and the man best equipped to challenge Little E in the 500. During the 10 minutes it took to extract Waltrip from the mangled wreckage, the Budweiser clad (and filled) rednecks cheered and whooped and high-fived each other – not even knowing if Waltrip had survived the accident. All very disturbing.
The back stretch clean-up took a while and the pace car brought the pack back together, so that the re-start once again got the hairs up on the back of 375,000 necks. NASCAR restarts are scary. The restrictor plates used at super-speedways like Daytona equalize acceleration leading to a (relatively) gradual progression to race speed, a lot of bunching and door rubbing in the pack. The restart was clean and Tony Stewart took the mid-race section by the scruff of the neck heading the 4 car break-away from the main pack, with Earnhardt holding station a couple of car lengths back. Having been at this same track a couple of weeks previously and seen Stewarts Rolex 24 hour race come apart when his car’s suspension suffered the same fate, with less than 1 hour to go, I was quietly urging Tony on – but Earnhardt, who shared Stewarts Rolex drive (with Andy Wallace) was right on his bumper - and biding his time.
The afternoon blazed on. The hi’billies progressively got trashed and brazenly switched their allegiances, as their so-called favorites fell out of contention. There was lots of very untypical dissent from the grandstands as Air Force 1 took off and rose into the western sky above turn 2. “The bum couldn’t even stay ‘til the end” being the main complaint.
With 30 to go, Earnhardt made his move. Stewart didn’t make it easy, but the pass was good and Earnhardt made it stick. The unashamedly partisan crowd went ballistic, as the # 8 car came around in the lead. Waved caps, rebel yells and sprayed beer (and saliva) from a legion, many of whom seemed too hammered to know what they were celebrating.
Stewart gamely tried to stay with him, but as the 500 miler thundered on to it’s conclusion, Earnhardt gently stretched out his lead.
It has to be said, that he deserved the victory, clearly running a strategic race, staying out of trouble and staying on the pace – and making his move at the right time and nailing it shut, when he’d completed it.
The vast majority of the crowd went home happy that Little E was the chip off the old block they so revere – man of the match must go to Dale Jnr – but Tony Stewart must get a mention in dispatches – not only for finishing second – but for dragging the train around Daytona for the majority of the afternoon.    

Oh dear cut and paste doesn't seem to like my commas. sorry.
To add a little flavor, herewith a loudspeaker pole, with Lake Lloyd and the main stands at the speedway - but mainly a loudspeaker pole.

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er........ thanks for the race report, whatever your day job is don't give it up.

The Photo really gives the speedway the true scale lost normally. I have never been there but my brother has been to a couple of 24hrs there and tried the explain it, you photo has done what words have not.

Nordic, the words are


Its HUGE

It never seems that big on the TV.

I must go see one year.

Hi Matt,
Here I thought you were just cussing up a storm. It looked a hell of alot drier than it was a couple of weeks ago.  I got together with some of the old Talladega Gang to watch it and was wondering what you thought of the race.  I'm still not at all a fan of restrictor plate racing but there where some fine drives Sunday.  I thought the drive of the race was from Stewart.  Driving a car that was damaged the day before and repaired overnight and using engines that are clearly inferior to the DEI plate engines, he dominated the event until Junior simply put his foot down and powered away, even then Stewart fought hard to take it back.  This was what I really dislike about the restrictor plate events, the inferior driver won in a superior car.  I for one don't think that Earnhardt Jr. has a shred of the ability of Tony Stewart, or Jeff Gordon for that matter, but he's just able to just power away from them at Daytona or 'Dega.  There were a couple guys out there who were clearly determined to end the day in Halifax Medical Center,  Biffle and Souter both looking like accidents waiting to happen.
The "Big One" was pretty alarming, the way that Waltrip's roll cage collapsed in on him was very worrying, especially given that Michael is 6'5.  There were some anxious moments on the TV broadcast until it was obvious he wasn't hurt.
John

Top stuff Matt, I can almost smell the high octane fuel, along with the Old Spice, head lice, Brut and Body Mist.
Having only seen the watered down UK version of oval racing, I'd love to get a bit of this action, although the dentistry bills may prove prohibitive.
Whooping and cheering because some unlucky sod has had a big'un is indeed stomach turning, and something I'm glad I haven't experienced, it would be very hard to keep my tongue in my head. i believe something similar happened in the British GP a few years ago when MS came off (and broke his leg?)
Where's the next race venue in your diary you lucky, lucky b*stard?
H

Praise be to Baby Jesus and all the little orphans! (had the Phoenix Nights DVD out again last night) You're a John Cooper Clark fan! I thought I was unique.
Tables flew. bottles broke, the bouncers shouted, "Lumber" - the dummy got too chummy in a Bing Crosby number!
Oh, I could go on and on and on and on. His machine-gun delivery of Psycle Sluts at Leeds Town Hall is legendary. What a top fella - even though he's a Manc.
Thank you for the compliments H.
Verily, I am a lucky bastard - there's no denying it. That said, I f**k*ng earned it, if I might be so forward - no such thing as a free ride and all of that - but I cannot lie - I'm a lucky bastard.
Mobil 12 Hours of Sebring is next up on March 20th. It is worth coming to FL for as The Moose, Smokey, Chris, Pidge and others will testify. Easy for me to say - being less than 2 hours from the circuit - but a great atmosphere, steeped in history. An excellent Le Mans warm-up - and lashings of ginger beer.  


 

Only been once (the Rolex in 2001). As I was driven into the infield (by Gunnar Jeannette - name drop, name drop!!!!), two things made me gasp: the size of the place - it is indeed H-U-G-E - and the angle of the banking. Gunnar told me that when he first raced there in 2000 that during the yellow flag periods, he had trouble stopping his car from drifting down the banking as the speed was so slow!

Rick,
If you want to see something even more mind melting, go to an event at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Same length as Daytona (2.5 miles) but over twice the seating capacity.  For the Indianapolis 500 the attendance regularly tops 400,000 for race day alone.  And talk about steeped in history! First race in 1909.  Being there on a quite day when nothing is going on, just the wind blowing through the trees is a very moving experience, you can hear the ghosts.
John

Yeah, it's on my wish list. That double tiered grandstand is just like nothing else!

One day........

 ;D

Rick,
Being a photographer, when you go there make sure you take a look around the IMS photo studio.  Its absolutely mind boggling the archives of photographs taken by the IMS staff through the years.  The catalog of photos taken during a single month of May is
staggering.  Last time I was there I purchased a beautiful 8 x 10 photo taken during practice in 1967 of Graham Hill seated in a Lotus 38 with a smiling  Jimmy Clark and Parnelli Jones kneeling on each side of the cockpit.  
John

"for you that's how the world could end; not with a bang but a Winnebago"

Sorry guys. But I agree re JCC. He's still on the curcuit I understand. Some might say he was the white Lynton Kwesi Johnson.

Psycle Sluts (Pt II) by John Cooper Clark

the dirty thirty
the naughty forty
the shifty fifty
the filthy five
zips, clips, whips and chains
wait for you to arrive
hell's angels by the busload
stoned stupid, how they strut
smoked woodbines till they're banjoed
and smirk at the swedish smut


life on the straight and narrow path
drives you off your nut
by day you are psycopath
by night you're a psycle slut


on a bsa with two bald tires
you drove a million miles
you cut your hair with rusty pliers
and you suffer with the pillion piles
you got built in obsolescence
oh you got guts
but you don't reach adolescence
slow down psycle sluts


motor cycle michael
wants to buy a tank
only twenty-nine years old
and he's learning how to w**k
yesterday he was in the groove
today he's in a rut
my how the moments move
brut fun psycle sluts


he cacks on your originals
he peepees on his boots
he makes love like a footballer
he dribbles before he shoots
the goings on at the gang-bang ball
made the citizen's tut-tut-tut
but, what do you care, piss all
you tell 'em psycle sluts


now your boyfriend burned his jacket
ticket expired
tyres are knackered
knackers are tired


you can tell your tale to the gutter press
get paid to peddle smut
now you've ridden the road of excess
that leads to the psycle sluts


or you can dine and whine on stuff that's bound to give you boils
hot dogs direct from cruft's
done in diesel oil
or the burger joint around the bend
where the meals thank christ are skimpy
for you that's how the world could end
not with a bang but a wimpy.

See this too, worthy of H I reckon. Or the other way round.

http://www.cyberspike.com/clarke/tenyears.html

.... and you too Andy! It's a small world (but I wouldn't like to paint it).
"heir to a crumbling biscuit empire" is a classic line.
My faves are "Readers Wives" - let's hear it for the brassy brides of Britain, the altogether ruder readers wives...... and "I married a monster from outer space". "Kung-Fu International" is also superb - couldn't get an ambulance, the phone was screwed, the receiver fell in half, it had been kung-fued.
Apologies to anyone who is reading this and thinking "What the hell has this got to do with motor racing?" It hasn't. But if you can find a copy of an album called "Disguise in Love" by John Cooper Clark, geddit and all will be revealed - it is truly wonderful.
I had a re-dose of 'Phoenix Nights' the other day. I'd like to remind anyone who cares about the car alarm Max installed in his Volvo.
"Get back yer bastard - I'll brek yer legs".
...and when Potter's stair lift broke down (a topic very close to my heart, as I sell the damn things) "Think, now what would Thora Hird do?"    

What kind of creature bore you
Was is some kind of bat
They can’t find a good word for you,
but I can...

TWAT.

 ;D ;)

....she 'ad the big bug eyes
the death ray glare
feet like waterwings
purple 'air

What a man.
I still find myself, when I'm in mid rant about the state of our public transport, slipping seamlessly into

the bloody trains are bloody late
you bloody wait and bloody wait
a bloody bloke got bloody stabbed
waiting for a bloody cab

In a near tragic incident, I almost ran him over in Edinburgh a few years ago. I was indulging in a bit of Sweeney style tyre chirping around the back streets when The Spidery One popped out of a doorway like a champagne cork. He was dressed exactly as you would expect, I missed him by a hairs breadth, he reeled around and shot straight into a pub. It was Festival time and I suspect he may have been on an afternoon session, thank God I didn't get Kung Phooied. My fave album- Snap Crackle and Bop. I'd never have forgiven myself if I'd killed the b*stard.
Thanks for the link Andy, I'm amongst the vinyl already.
H

In the version I read of Trains, it's not "bloody" he's saying I can assure you. Is this an all too rare bit of literary diplomacy H?

And thank God you never ran him over, it would have been a right unpleasant job picking tufts of gelled up, permed up, dyed up hair out the grille. And I wonder what his last words would be? TWAT! maybe?

Mind, the idiot shoulda looked where he's going. Really, some people!

We stepped out, tentacle in hand
You could tell that the earthlings wouldn't understand
They'd go, "nudge nudge", when we got off the bus
"It's extra-terrestrial, not like us"
And "It's bad enough with another race, but, f**k me, a monster from outer space.

He's almost Shakespearian in his prose and horrendously under-rated. Perhaps future generations of scholars will study his works in school - it would make English Lit a bit more fun than "Once more into the breach, dear friends...."

And just think if you'd murdered him H.......

In closing, William Shakespeare walked into a pub and the landlord said, "Get out, you're barred".

Matt, in honour of you Northerness. Yes I know Burnley is Lancs but Batley and Keighley, your part of the world I think? Is this why you now live in the Big O?

Burnley:

I'll tell you now and I'll tell you firmly
I don't never want to go to Burnley
What they do there don't concern me
Why would anybody make the journey?


I'll tell you know and I'll tell you flatly
I don't never want to go to Gatley
I don't even want to go to Batley
Where is that place exactly?


Do I wanna to go to Redditch?
I wouldn't visit in a souped-up sheddish
What am I some kind of Nebbish?
No I don't want to go to Reddish


I'll tell you now and I'll tell you briefley
I don't never want to go to Keighley
I'll tell you now, just like I told Elsa Lanchester...
I don't ever want to go to... Cumbernauld



LYRICS © JOHN COOPER CLARKE

Aye, lad, there's nowt wrong with Batley or Keighley tha' knows.
(Actually, Keighley is f**k*ng horrendous, but we have to keep up the facade). In reality, I lived in a rather genteel part of W. Yorks called Baildon - not quite the dark satanic mills - more Audi A6 and lunch at the golf club.
My relocation had little to do with the squalor of Bradistan. The boss sent me over here to do a trade show and forgot to order my return to th'mill.
Didn't JCC do a number called, "The Hanging Gardens of Basildon"?

He did indeed:

Bluebirds sang our favourite tune
That scented summer's afternoon
When the shadows vanish and the flowers swoon
It's her sweet smile what dazzled 'em
By the, er, Hanging Gardens of Basildon

So long Charlene, see ya Shirl'
I'm stronging it with an Essex girl
One of the several wonders of the world
Turn left at Dagenham
For the, er, Hanging Gardens of Basildon

The Red-Wood Forest is a bunch of sticks
The Wall of China is just a pile of bricks
The Pyramids mean less than nix
It's the A-13 I travel on
To the Hanging Gardens...

I beg your pardon?
I said the Hanging Gardens...
Of Baden-Baden?
No...
The Hanging Gardens of Basildon




lyrics and recording are © john cooper clarke

I once found myself in the middle of a rather unpleasant punch-up in The Five Flags at Denholme, but you're right, Robbo, it's a wonderful part of the world. I very much miss the dramatic scenery of the Pennines and the Dales. The highest point in FL is only about 200ft above sea level and in the area I live in, it is as flat as a fart.  

What a load of cobblers. You're all George Formby's, you dress the same and are about as funny. And TIGHT AS A NUNS  when it comes to sticking your hands in your pockets at the bar..  ;)

Ecky thump.

 
Obviously not one of BigH's.  ;D ;D ;D ;D

I don't think I've ever heard anything about his flatulents referred to as flat!!  ;D

That's original. Socio-demographic profiling a speciality of yours, is it, Andy? You are clearly a bigot with a dead pig fixation.
I would have taken your views on the quality of George Formby's art seriously, had you not admitted to being a Jack Douglas fan.
And what do you get if you cross George Formby with Eddie Murphy?
......."Turned out nice again, Motherfucker".

No I'm a pig with a dead bigot fixation. I was flamin' you bro and up north is lovely, in fact I'm going there next week.

Just to kiss and make up in cyber sort of a way, here are Peter Kay's Universal truths:


1)Triangular sandwiches taste better than square ones.
2) At the end of every party there is always a girl crying.
3) One of the most awkward things that can happen in a pub is when your pint-to-toilet cycle gets synchronised with a complete stranger.
4)You're never quite sure whether it's OK to eat green crisps.
5)Everyone who grew up in the '80s has entered the digits 55378008 into a calculator.
6)Reading when you're drunk is horrible.
7)Sharpening a pencil with a knife makes you feel manly.
8)You're never quite sure whether it's against the law or not to have a fire in your back garden.
9)Nobody ever dares to make cup-a-soup in a bowl.
10)You never know where to look when eating a banana.
11)It's impossible to describe the smell of a wet cat.
12)Prodding a fire with a stick also makes you feel manly.
13)Rummaging in an overgrown garden will always turn up a bouncy ball.
14)You always feel a bit scared when stroking horses.
15)Everyone remembers the day a dog got into their school.
16)The most embarassing thing you can do as a schoolchild is call your teacher mum or dad.
17)Some days you see lots of people on crutches.
18)Every bloke at some stage, while taking a pee, flushed halfway through, and raced against the flush.
19)Old women with mobile phones look wrong.
20)It's impossible to look cool whilst picking up a frisbee.
21)Driving through a tunnel makes you excited.
22)You never ever run out of salt.
23)Old ladies can eat more than you think.
24)You can't respect a man who carries a dog.
25)There's no panic like the panic you momentarily feel when you've got your hand or head stuck in something.
26)No one knows the origins of their metal coat-hangers.
27)Despite constant warning, you've never met anyone who has had their arm broken by a swan.
28) The most painful household incident is wearing socks and stepping on an upturned plug.
29)People who don't drive slam car doors too hard.
30)You've turned into your dad the day you put aside a thin bit of wood to stir paint with.
31)Everyone had an uncle who tried to steal their nose.
32)Bricks are horrible to carry.
33)In every plate of chips there is a bad chip.
34)Knowledge is knowing tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

 

Fret not, I'm not easily offended - as well you know.The universal truths quoted are from a slightly different Peter Kay(e) - he's the intellectual one, who wrote 'A Year in Provence' and worked for some nancy London ad agency (Bingle, Bongle, Bogart and Beauregard or summat).
Bolton's own Peter Kay's words of wisdom are a little more basic, but still as true:
"It's that fine rain.... it soaks yer through"
"We're doin' it! Here we are at t'top o' t'tower - living the dream"
"I had this epiphany - like on the road to Domestos"
"I was in this chip-shop down south and they didn't do gravy. I says, "Has tha' nowt moist?"
"Why do mums always buy crap cola?"
"Our first video was a Ferguson Videostar - had to take t'front room window out to gerrit in't bloody house"  

LOL Matt..............wonderful stuff ;D

I think the Year in Provence bloke was called Peter Mayle. He's a complete tosser. I'd like to tread on his lemons.  >:(

OOhh fook, you're right. I'm stunned that your list of trueisms comes from the same man. I stand corrected and humbled, you smug git.