Monday, June 30, 2008

The Anatomy of a NASDOG


Since my performance in the ring on Father's Day was less than stellar and I hadn't bought a present for Dad yet, I figured what better way to spend the day than to just hang out and do guy stuff with him. So, because it was too stinking hot to do any manly activities outside, we turned on the boob tube, sat on the couch - remote in one hand and beer in the other, and spent several quality hours of surfing through the various channels looking for the most manly sporting event.

While boxing, of course, is my favorite sport, I am quickly becoming an avid fan of many other spectator sports including hockey, tennis, golf, and now NASCAR.

Watching Tiger Woods sink a dramatic birdie putt at 18 in the final round of the U.S. Open which forced an 18-hole playoff was quite spectacular. However, in my opinion, watching Dale Earnhardt Jr. win the LifeLock 400 at Michigan International Speedway was just as entertaining. Not only did I learn some motor head lingo from Dad while watching the race, I also received an anatomy lesson.

The conversation went like this:

Dad: Ok, Newman. This is called NASCAR. NASCAR is an acronym for National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing. To truly enjoy this sport, you must have a set of those little fuzzy things like you do between your back legs.

Newman: Ok, Dad. I think I understand. But didn't Beulah Ruth enjoy watching NASCAR with you?

Yes, but she mostly was looking for fashion faux paws to avoid.

You mean like mullets, fanny packs, and bling?

Dad: Exactly, Newman.

Now, pay attention, son. Next, you will see some cars coming in for a pit stop which is where a racing vehicle stops in the pits for refueling, new tires, repairs, mechanical adjustments, and sometimes a driver change.

Dad points to paws and explains: These are your tires, Newman. You are going to get four "new" ones during your next pit stop.

Newman: Ok, Dad. Even though I like my white walls just fine the way they are, I guess that I need a new set to speed race around the back yard.

Right, son.

Next, Dad points to my mouth and explains:
This is where your fuel goes. After going down the hatch and into the belly (power plant/engine), the Canidae that you consume as fuel is converted into the necessary horsepower needed to speed race around the back yard.

Now, don't get confused on this point. Although you are a dog, it's still called horsepower, not dog-power. Even our John Deere tractor is gauged by horsepower, not Deere-power.

A byproduct of your fuel conversion is excess gas, which is expelled through your exhaust system.

Would that be my NASSHOLE, Dad?

No, son. NASSHOLES are inconsiderate NASCAR fans!

Well, that's enough race terminology for the day, son. Let' just sit back and enjoy the show. Round and round we go!

What better way to spend Dad's Day than watching the second-most popular professional sport in terms of television ratings inside the United States? Do you know what the most popular one is?

In memory of my late sister BR, an avid NASCAR fan

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