Twas The Month Before Daytona

[blknight3]

Something Christmas for anyone that enjoys racing.

Merry Christmas Everyone!!!!!

'Twas the month before Daytona And all through the nation
NASCAR fans were unsettled Cuz there wasn't no racin'.
Garages were quiet Teams slept through the night
Dreaming of big checks That sponsors might write
The drivers were scattered In their private jet planes
Even those being sued Like poor Kasey Kahne.
When out on the track There arose such a row
Like eight DEI engines Fixin' to let go
Away to the speedway I flew like a dart
Crashin' and bangin' Just like an Earnhardt
When what to my Wondering ears did I hear
But a Car of Tomorrow With a wing on the rear
As the way-too-young driver Went by in a woosh
I knew in an instant It must be Kyle Busch
Louder than Stewart, As fast as John Force
I heard him cry out As he whipped through the course
"Move Tony! Move Michael! With your special race fuel
I'll whip every one of you Like a broken-down mule"
To the top of the turn! To the base of the wall!
Now get out of my way Before I run over you all!
So down the backstretch His Chevy did fly
Passing four Camrys In the blink of an eye
And then in an instant I heard in turn two
A wall being scraped And a flat tire too
As I caught my breath And turned toward the racket
There came ol' Kyle In his bright Kellogg's jacket
He was dressed all in logos From his cap to his shoes
He looked like a driver Who'd just blown a fuse
He cussed at his crew chief In words that were strange
And I saw him come in For a four-tire change
Obscenities flew Like a flock of wild birds
And the pavement was scorched With his four-letter words
His pit crew they hurried And wiped off his grill
They patched it together Like a moonshiner's still
With a flash of his eye And a turn of his wheel
He made a cloud of black smoke And a loud tire squeal
He flew from his stall And raced down pit road
As a feeling emerged That no good did this bode
The radio barked out A penalty new
Kyle was caught speeding And had to pass through
He came off the throttle And mashed on the brake
And his cheeks got all red As his fist he did shake
"No fair! No way! I was just doing thirty
That ruling by NASCAR Was ever so dirty!"
So he pulled off the speedway And back down pit lane
Went to his garage In a mood so profane
He stomped to his hauler And unzipped his suit
Said, "What do I care! I don't give a hoot"
But then in a minute He came back outside
Climbed into a golf cart And never broke stride
He made for his chopper Whose rotors were warming
Dodged TV cameras As reporters were swarming
And I heard him proclaim As he flew out of sight
"Merry Christmas to all! May your lug nuts stay tight!"
_________________
For every person with a spark of genius, there are a hundred with ignition trouble.