#Earnhardt Auto

[earnhardtauto]

Read all about the 2023 Buick Enclave on our Model Research Page. We have information about the trim levels, performance, safety features, and many more. Let Earnhardt Buick GMC help you with your car shopping experience.

[vintagenascar]

The program cover for the 1984 Wrangler Sanfor-Set 400 at Richmond Fairgrounds Raceway. The cover features Wrangler sponsored drivers Dale Earnhardt (right in photo, #3 car) and Ricky Rudd (left in photo, #15 car).

[formulaforza]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—01. all american girl —word count: 6.4k —warnings: none :) —a/n: this is queued so I'm sound asleep right now but trust when I wake... I will be throwing up about having posted this

It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and the kindergarteners at Robinson Elementary are getting picked up from the gymnasium and taken to their classroom to start their day. It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and their teacher, Chris Elliott, is running four minutes late to the first day of the U.S Grand Prix. Her fingers flatten down stray flyaways, working in tandem with the extra strength hairspray she found in the back of the Walgreens beauty aisle last night. Her makeup is strewn about in chaos atop the stark white marble countertops, a single folded piece of toilet paper in the trash can, remnants of her lipstick kissed onto the fibers. 

She played it safe on the outfit today, still hasn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what the dress code for this race is supposed to be. Her Dad has been no help–he can get away with wearing jeans and a short-sleeve button-up just about anywhere he goes. More is expected from her, though. Three days, three outfits, always walking the line between casual streetwear and Kentucky Derby without a fascinator. She settled for something painfully classic and American, figured a European sport would be eating up the concept of everything being bigger in Texas. Levi’s, a white tank top, and a beat up pair of cowboy boots should do a good enough job at letting anyone curious know she’s authentically American, without screaming out for attention. That’s the goal for the weekend; blend in and keep Dad company. 

Dad, who is not-so patiently tapping his foot against the floor, watching pre-race coverage of the Dixie Vodka 400 on his iPhone 7,  is a guest of honor for Ferrari this weekend. It was a classic Bill Elliott commitment, one he makes and then forgets about until he’s getting sent an email a month ago to remind him. One he makes when he forgets his son is racing the same weekend. That’s how Chris ended up here with him, instead of her Mom or instead of Chase or Chandler. They’re all in Florida for the Cup Series. Well–Chandler isn’t. Chandler’s at her hot-shot job in the big city living her life blissfully away from racing. 

She can count on a single hand the amount of times her dad has missed a Cup Series race in the years since his retirement. Even if he’s moved on from driving the track, racing is in Elliott blood. It comes easier to them than breathing does. Chris won’t be the first to admit it, but she's the NASCAR nepotism equivalent of a Baldwin baby. She’s no Kennedy, the first-families of NASCAR are closer to the Petty’s and the Earnhardt’s, but, you ask a NASCAR fan about the Elliott Clan and you’re sure to get an earful. Champion, Hall-of-Fame inductee father, supergenius transmission and engine mechanic uncles, and a superstar fan-favorite older brother, the Elliott family racing history spans generations of fans.

Never the Danica Patrick-type, Chris has always preferred to watch the races rather than compete in them, but she still grew up at the track and was always up for a trip to visit her dad at the auto-shop. 

“Mums,” her dad says, peeking his head around the corner into the hotel bathroom. It’s a stupid nickname, Mums, Chrysanthemum. She’d roll her eyes if it was anyone but Bill still calling her by it. “We gotta go, darlin’.” Chris nods at him in the mirror, flattens her hands along her thigh and tucks one final strand of her bang behind her ear, and then they’re finally leaving the hotel for the track. 

It’s a strange kind of first for Chris, in that it’s not really a first at all. She’s been to COTA before, multiple times. Hell, she watched in the garage when Chase won the inaugural Cup Series race here in May last season. She’s even been to the U.S Grand Prix before, back when it was still in Indianapolis, when Chris was too young to remember if it was big or if she was just little. She’s used to the crowds, spends almost every weekend with upwards of fifty-thousand people, but this? This is the kind of crowd she can’t fathom being among, and it’s only Friday. If it takes them an hour and a half to get through traffic on a practice day, she can only imagine what the next two mornings have in store for her. 

“No antics today,” Bill tells her in the car. “They’re not like us. Trust me, I know.”

Last time you went to one of these races, you were still a driver, she wants to tell him, but doesn’t. He doesn’t take well to the implication he’s an old man. Walking into the paddock with a yellow pass hung around her neck, FERRARI-GUEST-17 and a picture of the team logo popping up on the screens at the turnstiles, she’s beyond taken back by the pomp and circumstance of it all. She’s barely through the entrance and she’s already spotted half a dozen people who could buy her without it making a dent in their pockets. It’s nothing like walking around a NASCAR track. There isn’t a single Bud Light knight or backs sunburnt into American flags or t-shirts turned muscle tanks. It’s just… rich people. Lots and lots of rich people. 

In the Paddock Club tent, Bill manages to find a couple of his old buddies. Guys he raced with back in the day who’ve turned up for whatever with whoever this weekend. It’s unsurprising, stock car racing is nowhere near as exclusive a club as Formula One. They aren’t any of the guys Chris remembers being a part of her childhood, none of them pseudo-uncles in the way some other drivers were. You’re all grown up, they tell her, note her height and her features and one of them even asks if she’s in college yet. She plays along, pretends she remembers them fondly and that they haven’t been on the recipient list for the annual Elliott family Christmas newsletter for the past thirty or so years. His buddies are much more comfortable talking about Chase, anyways, about his racing and his fiancee and his little boy than they’ve ever been talking about Chris or Chandler. The concept of a quote-en-quote girl dad wasn’t such a thing in the nineties.

Chris makes small talk with one of the wives. They can’t be that far apart in age, she’s definitely of a different generation than her husband. Gross. Chris lets the woman lead the conversation; she talks about the polka dots on her skirt and Chris’ cowboy boots that are, apparently, perfectly authentic. 

They separate from the group of former NASCAR drivers and their child brides within the hour. Bill has to be in Ferrari hospitality by one o’clock for a special meeting. He’s still not sure what he did to get selected for this specific group of people who get to do a hot lap with one of the Ferrari drivers, but he isn’t about to ask any questions that might get him out of it. He sets off to hospitality and Chris sneaks out of the paddock and into the rest of the track. 

There’s only so much to see inside the paddock. Hospitality after hospitality after hospitality, just in different colors with different modern structures with pictures of different cars. She wants to experience the event, not just the rich people who can pay their way into the upper echelon of the pinnacle of motorsport. If she’s going to be on her own for an hour and a half, she might as well be fully and truly on her own. 

She ends up in the beer garden. More specifically, the bar tent. You can’t separate a NASCAR fan from the Natty Light. The pass around her neck gets her into the VIP area of the tent, which… feels like an antithesis of itself.  Her phone buzzes in her back pocket when she’s waiting on her bottle from the bartender. It’s her dad. 

Brad Pitt is here. Crazy. 

She makes quick acquaintances with a couple who looks about her age. She compliments the girl’s denim jacket and then she’s in. The DJ is playing country music with a techno backtrack at the other side of the tent and they all three spend a good fifteen minutes trying to decide if they love or hate the set. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” the guy says. 

“It’s definitely not the best, though,” Chris winces, spots a Ferrari pass hanging with the VIP one around the girlfriend’s neck. “Are you guys here with Ferrari?” She asks. 

“Oh, “ she says, looks down at the pass and fiddles with it for a moment. “Yeah, Will’s a golfer and they invited him for a tour and to do this golf event with ESPN.”

“Oh, that’s sick!” Chris nods. “Have you guys ever been here, or is this your first time?”

“We’ve come every year for…” Will starts, looks to his girlfriend for the rest of his sentence. 

“Four years,” she nods. “What about you?”

“This is my first time,” Chris explains, leaves out the technicalities because she barely cares about them, doesn’t expect a stranger to even half-care. “My dad’s here with Ferrari, and I’m here to babysit my dad.” She laughs. 

The woman nods, makes a quiet ah sound. Will asks for clarification. “You guys lose each other, or something?”

Chris nods. “Or something.”

Charles sees her before he hears her. She appears in his peripheral on the top floor of Ferrari Hospitality, moving swiftly through the groups of strangers with a confidence that makes you think she owns the place. He half-prepares to excuse himself from his current conversation–not that he’s understanding more than forty-percent of the words coming out of this guy’s mouth–to take a photo with the short brunette bee-lining it over to him. 

“Excu–”

“I think I saw Brad Pitt on my way here,” she says, and the man he’s been talking to for fifteen minutes laughs. Oh, he thinks, that’s mortifying. She’s not here to intrude on his conversation and ask for a picture. She’s here with this guy. 

“This is my Chris,” Bill says. 

“Hi,” Chris says. Chris. Chris. Chris is a woman. A woman extending her hand, thin and well manicured with a single ruby ring, for him to shake. “Chris.”

“Charles,” he says, hesitates. “You are not what I was expecting.” 

There wasn’t much he understood from Bill Elliott during their hot lap, not that Bill didn’t talk. Charles just didn’t have the focusing capabilities to drive the car in an entertaining way while also deciphering the thick southern drawl of the man sat in the passenger seat. It was thick, heavy, and sounded like maybe he’d smoked a pack a day for a few years. That, or he was straight-up making up words in a bit that only he was in on. One thing he did understand, though, was the kids’ names. I have three, he’d said, Chandler, Chase, and Chris. He’d assumed all boys. Chandler, Chase, and Christopher. Christian. Cristiano. The last thing he was expecting was a beautiful girl with a firm handshake. 

“You were expecting me?” She asks, and her voice is a million times easier to understand than her father’s. 

“No, no. He just,” He gestures absently to Bill. Chris doesn’t break eye contact. She has wonderful eyes. “I thought Chandler, Chase, and Chris are three brothers.”

“Oh,” She laughs like it’s not even close to the first time she’s had to follow behind her dad and correct the miscommunication, and a piece of her bangs falls loose from its tucked position behind her ear. She fixes it without thought. “Well, you’re one for three.” 

She asks Bill about the hot lap, asks if he had fun and he laughs. They’re very laugh-oriented people, he’s noticed. Laughy and almost intimidatingly good at holding eye contact. He’d always heard Americans had an issue with eye contact, and if that really is the case, these two practice their active-listening skills enough for the rest of the country. Their kindness is in their expressions, soft eyes and small smiles that keep you from feeling like an intrusion on the conversation. He notes all of his findings internally, categorizes them together as if he’s spent the last ten minutes looking at anyone but her. 

She’s horrendously his type. It’s painfully apparent with every passing moment. The hair and the face and the build and the smile. Just, God.

“Why didn’t you do one?” He asks, “A lap?”

“The need-for-speed bug skipped the women in my family, unfortunately.” She tucks her hair again. He wonders if she’s growing it out or if she always keeps it at such a length that it’s just too short to stay where she wants it to. 

“We could go slow,” he offers and she chuckles, closing her eyes long enough to roll them without him actually seeing them roll. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He’s never been good at flirting, always found it off-putting in the beginning, trying to walk the line between what one person finds fun and another person finds horribly uncomfortable. Once the dust settles, he can manage, but making those first few moves? He might as well be a deer in headlights. Semi-truck headlights. 

“I don’t know,” she says, drags out the vowel sounds and he’s oblivious to whether or not she can tell he’s only making this offer as a chance to spend more time with her. He’ll get an earful for it, no doubt, but if she agrees it’ll be worth it. Bill chimes in, eggs her on with a guilt trip. You should do it, don’t be a party-pooper. Charles wonders if Bill can tell he’s flirting with his daughter. Probably not, he’d bet. “Okay,” she says, and his stomach does a celebratory flip. Before he can say anything more, Mia is pulling him off somewhere. He hadn’t even seen her coming, but he fills her in on the walk.

“Domani c'è un'aggiunta al programma dei giri veloci.” There’s an addition to the hot laps schedule tomorrow, he says. Mia glares at him and he pretends not to notice, flashes her a toothy-grin as an unapologetic apology. 

When she’d agreed to do a hot lap with the gorgeous racing driver standing a foot away from her, she assumed it would be forgotten the moment he stepped away from the conversation. She never would have agreed to it if she actually thought it was going to happen. Chris was sorely mistaken though, when later that afternoon, a man dressed head-to-toe in Ferrari red finds her to gather her information. 1:10, he tells her through a thick Italian accent, be in hospitality at 1:10. 

It was wonderful, really. Perfect, fantastic, great, legendary. This is an amazing opportunity. She isn’t going to regret agreeing to this, no chance. Even for the queen of optimism, this one is hard to put a positive spin on. 

There is no underestimating just how much Chris hates going fast. She’s never liked it, spent the majority of her childhood getting carsick in a vehicle maxing out at forty miles an hour. Her sister and brother used to think she was faking it just so she could always ride shotgun. She’s not even allowed to drive the car if she’s with her dad or her brother because they can’t bear it. To her, a speed limit is just that, a limit. To everyone else, it’s a minimum. 

Her only hope is that she doesn’t vomit all over an expensive supercar at 1:10 tomorrow afternoon, or worse–the cute guy driving the car. 

In the meantime, she can distract herself with the Green Day performance and remind herself that only so much can happen in five minutes. Anyone can survive five minutes. 

– – –

They eat the continental breakfast at the hotel the next morning. Bill has pancakes and Chris has cereal because, as she’ll tell anyone, there’s just something about cereal from a plastic container. She’s also three coffees ahead of where she was this time the day before, all of her nerves personifying themselves as desperation for caffeine. She’s responding to a work email on her phone while Bill has a call with Chase. 

Somewhere on a race track in Florida, Chase is calling between practice and qualifying sessions. They talk every day during a race weekend–Bill and Chase–and it’s almost never about racing. Her dad might drop an occasional that’s not what I would’ve done or a well, that looked like fun, but that’s usually the end of race-talk. They used to fight like cats and dogs about driving when Chase was younger, so much so that Chris’ mom banned them from talking about racing inside the house for three straight years. The who of them are better now, now that Bill’s been able to let Chase find his own way and go through his own racing journey. 

“Your sister is doing a Hot Lap today,” Bill says, and Chris can hear Chase’s laughter from the muffled speaker. 

Bill and Chris are driven to the track on Saturday because traffic is so bad. It’s hot and windy and Chris has her window rolled down the entire drive, her fingers dancing through the dry air. She’s always loved the heat, the sun shining down on her skin, kissing her in a million different places all at the same time. She loves the heat, and the heat loves her. 

The morning flies by. They start the day with a tour of the Ferrari garage, where they’re introduced, or re-introduced, to their drivers. They end up with a couple other very important people hunched over Charles’ car while he explains how much pressure needs to be applied to the brake pedal for the car to actually brake. Bill eats the semantics up, cars and their mechanics run thick in his blood, braided deeply into his DNA. Chris, however, has always enjoyed the more delicate things in life; the pink hair bows and the dollar store makeup kits and spinning herself dizzy in a flowy summer dress. She never spent exorbitant amounts of time at Dad’s engine shop or Grandpa’s Ford Dealership, it just wasn’t in her lane of interests. She sips another coffee–her fifth of the day–and listens attentively to Charles talk, bites her smile at his wild gesticulations. He’d make a good kindergarten teacher, she thinks, with his huge personality. 

When the whole tour group is being shuffled out of the garage to be replaced by a new set of prying eyes, Charles makes a passing comment. See you later for the world’s slowest hot lap, he remarked, put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze as he moved past her. 

She doesn’t know why, but she’d convinced herself that it wouldn’t actually be him she would be doing the lap with. It was qualifying day, after all. Surely, he had about a million and one better things to be doing than driving a random girl around a track a few times. She figured it would be a driver, but not one of the drivers. 

After lunch, she makes her way back to Ferrari hospitality, to where she was told to be waiting at 1:10. She’s the only person who looks like they’re here on instruction. Nobody else is nervously picking at their cuticles or vibrating in place as a reaction to their seven coffees that morning.

She spent the night before grilling her dad about his experience, forcing him to give her a moment-by-moment breakdown of everything he remembered happening, from the safety briefing to the conversation afterwards. But, when it came time for Chris to actually do hers, there was no safety briefing warning her about the million different ways she could die. Instead, the same man who’d tracked her down the day before escorted her from the top floor of hospitality to the bottom, out the back into what she can best compare to an alleyway, and then to a red supercharged Ferrari. 

Charles is there, talking to what appears to be a personal photographer and another man dressed in Ferrari garb. She re-introduces herself for a third time in twenty four hours. “I know your name, Chris,” Charles says, smiles and shakes her hand anyway. She doesn’t like the way her brain reacts to him saying her name like it belongs on his lips. 

“Duh,” she laughs, “sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Right,” she nods. “Yeah, sorry.” Charles laughs out a sigh, cocks his head and smiles. Chris bites her tongue not to apologize again. It’s a reflex. She puffs out her laugh and shrugs. 

If she manages to make it out of these couple laps with her life and the contents of her stomach still intact, she’s sure to still look like a clown–a fact she realizes as she pulls the tight helmet over her head. She’s worn racing helmets a handful of times, but it’s not muscle memory to her in the way it is to him. It takes her a minute to tighten the chin strap just right and despite his genuine offer to help her, Chris turns him down and blindly works her fingers under her neck until it’s just right. 

“Why don’t you get a fun Hot Laps helmet?” She asks while she fights with the strap. 

Charles knocks on the side of his helmet with his knuckle. “Custom fit. Safety reasons.”

Chris knows, she was just messing with him. She nods like she never could’ve guessed that was the reason. “My safety doesn’t matter?” She comments, pulls the strap tight for the final time. 

“You think I’m going to crash?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I would never crash with Chris Elliott in the car.” There he goes again, saying her name all annoyingly French and nice and easy. 

“Whatever,” she says, turns away so he can’t see her squished cheeks flush pink against the polyester. He opens the passenger side door for her, knocks his knuckle on her helmet this time, and horribly mocks both her words and accent before shutting the door behind her. 

Chris has her seatbelt buckled before he can get around the front of the car and into his seat. Her leg bounces anxiously against the floor mat. Charles starts the car and moves to shift into drive, but stops short. “Are you scared?” he asks, and in a moment of vulnerable honesty, she nods. She’s more than scared. She’s terrified, and despite his brief attempt to reassure her that it’s going to be fun, her leg is still bouncing when they peel off from the group already awaiting his return. 

A hot lap, she’d come to learn in the last day or so, would be more accurately referred to as hot laps–plural, multiple, several. Three, to be exact. One out lap, one push lap, and one cool down lap. Three laps. Hot laps. They should really start referring to it as a plural. 

The best thing she can compare it to is a roller coaster. The turns share the feeling you get at the tipping point, right before your body thinks you’re free falling. Her stomach is left behind three turns back and it never really catches up to the car once they start. The straights are like that first hill, fast and crazy in a way that pulls from her lips screams she hears before she consciously chooses to release. It’s like a roller coaster, if the person sitting next to you is completely unaffected by the ride and spends the entire time trying to carry out a conversation with you between your screams and their giggles. It’s like a roller coaster, if the cart never leaves the ground. 

On the cool down lap, when they’re going at a speed that allows Chris to pick up her soul when they drive through turn four, he asks her if she’s single. It comes at her from left field. 

“Are you flirting with me?”

He laughs, takes a hand off the wheel and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes!”

“Oh,” she says softly. If he notices the surprise in her tone, he doesn’t mention it. “I am.” 

“Can I get your number?” She swears that his fingers are shakier than before as they hover over the paddle shift. They were sure-footed just minutes earlier, she’s sure of it. She’s sure of it, but there’s no way it’s a genuine observation. There’s no way she’s making him nervous. 

She laughs, because what on God’s green Earth is a European Formula One driver going to do with a small town American girl’s phone number? 

“I’m not abandoning my dad for a hookup,” she says, and he rolls his eyes, repeats the question. “Why do you want it?”

“Because, Chris Elliott,” she wants to scrape the way he says her name out of his voice box and pin it in a scrapbook. It’s like a tick, the way it burrows into her skin. Nobody should be allowed to make her name sound like that. “You are a very beautiful girl, and when a guy sees a beautiful girl, they act like an idiot and ask for her number.” 

“Oh, my God,” she giggles, shakes her head and looks out the window like it might ground her, or like it might reveal that she really is in some fever dream state and none of this is real. She’s not even in Texas, maybe. That’s how insane this whole conversation is to her. 

“Too cheesy?” He asks, grimaces. She shakes her head, holds her hand out for his phone. 

“Just cheesy enough.”

When they get back to where they started, someone asks Chris if she’d had a good time. She nods, flattens down the static-electricity charged flyaways on her head and tells them yes, even if she’ll be just a little bit nauseous for the rest of the day. It’s not a lie, either, she did have fun. She was scared out of her mind, but in a way that makes her happy she did it. 

They pose for a photo together in front of the car, the picture snapped by the only guy with a camera around his neck, the only one besides Chris not covered head to toe in Ferrari branding. When they pose, Charles’ arm wraps around her lower back and, almost like he remembers himself in the middle of the action, his hand doesn’t close around her side. Instead, it hovers just beyond her body, open and stiff and flat. How gentlemanly. “Good luck tomorrow,” she says.

He nods his thanks, “I hope I see you around this weekend,” he adds, and then they go their separate ways. Good thing, too, because she’s still blushing over it when she gets back to her dad in the Champion’s club. Bill is too distracted by the live feed on Chase’s qualifying laps on his tiny phone screen to notice Chris’ presence, much less the coloring of her cheeks. He qualifies third and they celebrate quietly with drinks from the bar and FP3 on the big screens. 

They stumble into more NASCAR old-timers while in the Champion’s Club and Chris spends the time fifth-wheeling their conversations about Chase and watching the second half of qualifying on one of the TVs. 

She doesn’t really understand the format of the weekend. In theory, she understands the basics, didn’t have to read Formula One for Dummies on the plane ride over, but the intricacies of it are beyond her. In NASCAR, drivers are split into two groups and then are only given, at max, two laps to set their qualifying times. It varies depending on the track that weekend, but it always hits some of the same points. From what she can gather from the low-volume televisions mounted on every surface around her, F1 is definitely different. 

They head back to the hotel directly after qualifying to ‘beat the traffic’ which is code for Chris is still nauseous and they’re both feeling a little too heat exhausted. They stop for dinner on the way back, at a barbeque place right by their hotel. Bill orders the chopped brisket with potato salad and Chris gets the pulled pork sandwich with a tomato zucchini salad. 

Chris has been really busy with work, with settling into the new routine with her new group of students, and Bill wants to hear all about it. She always struggles in September and October, feels inadequate every time the other teachers find their footing with their new class weeks before she does. It’s the first time alotta ‘em have been in a school, Bill reminds her and she shrugs it off, tries to find something more upbeat to talk about. 

Chris and Bill have really gotten close over the past couple years. Growing up, she and her sister Chandler were massive daddy’s girls, had him wrapped around their little fingers from the moment they came into the world. But, when Chase started to really take racing seriously, the girls lost a lot of their dad to their brother and spent the majority, if not all, of their time with their Mom. As a teenager, Chris did what all sixteen year old girls do and rebelled against any and every rule in the book. While Chandler was touring colleges and getting 1550s on her SAT and singing in the church choir, Chris had other plans. Whether it was stubbornly refusing to clean her half of the shared room with her big sister, ratting Chase out for coming home at 2am drunk, or sneaking out of the second-story window to go out with her all-too-old boyfriend, she tested all of the waters. It wasn’t until college, until she moved away to Athens and was out of the house for the first time in her life that she realized just how important family was to her. She’s been attempting to make up for lost time since. 

That night when she plugs her phone into the charger and shuts it off for the night, she realizes she’d been half expecting a late night text from Charles. It didn’t come, and disappointed isn’t the right word for the tiny little pit in her stomach because she wasn’t really expecting anything to come from typing her number into his contacts.  It’s not disappointment, it’s something closer to acceptance or rejection, maybe. It’s not like he would’ve been searching out anything but a hookup, anyways, and Chris made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t into that idea. 

She would never hear from him again, and that’s how it should be. The whole interaction turning into anything but a story she can tell in a couple months when she’s drunk would be entirely too complicated of an outcome. 

She doesn’t let herself think about it any longer, leaves her phone face down on the side table and tucks herself into bed. 

– – –

Traffic on race day is true-crime inducing. They’re driven, again, escorted and still spend an hour and a half in the backseat of an SUV. Bill and Chris watch from the VIP stands and Chris has never seen anything like this, especially not at COTA. Even Talladega and Daytona barely hold a candle to this spectacle. 

If she has one critique, it’s that F1 should really hire some B-List at best celebrity to scream drivers, start your engines! At the start of the race like they do in NASCAR. It would really add some flare, she thinks. 

She and Bill share Chris’ airpods, one in each of their ears listening to the NASCAR broadcast. Charles starts twelfth, for whatever reason. She can’t be bothered to look into it, knows it’ll probably be a penalty she doesn’t understand and she’ll be tumbling down a rabbit hole before she knows what’s happened to her. 

While it’s not Chase’s best race–he finishes fourteenth with a single sigh from Bill–Charles puts on a show, fights his tires all the way up into third. 

They watch the podium celebrations on the TV screens and nobody looks happy to be up there. They look miserable, almost, and she understands it to an extent. It’s hard to have energy after a race, she’s witnessed it first hand more times than she can count. It’s hard, especially at the end of the season. Burn-out is real, but still. They look bored. She didn’t know spraying champagne could look so tired. 

Bill grumpily flies them home to Georgia late Sunday night. He’d wanted to wait until Monday morning, after all the billionaires and their super-jets take off right after the race, but Chris refused to miss another day of work this early in the school year, not when she was already going to be missing time in December for her brother’s wedding. 

Bill’s been flying planes since before any of his kids were born. His most recent purchase is a Cessna Conquest II that he uses to fly the family around for short distances. In another gene that skipped the females in the family, Chandler, Chris, and their mom all prefer to be passengers. Chase, however, followed in Dad’s footsteps once more in becoming an avid aviation fan. 

By the time they take off, any thought Chris had of getting a text from Charles has faded far into obscurity. He’d probably gotten dozens of numbers from girls this weekend. He was probably at a club somewhere right now still pulling women. Women more his type, probably. He seems like he’d be more into the refined type, the girls without the ‘cheap’ accents who were all worldly and spoke seventeen languages fluently and had long legs that carried them down runways across Europe every other weekend. 

Little southern girls get texts from little southern boys, that’s how it goes. That's how it’s always gone, and Chris is beyond naive to think anything different for even a moment. 

She grades papers on the flight home. Purple pen, because she thinks that color is fun and red is too cruel to grade with. Puffy stickers for everyone, even the kids who aren’t anywhere near the right track because she doesn’t want anyone to feel less than just because they struggle a bit more. Chris has always been a firm believer that the student is never the problem. If someone isn’t learning what she’s teaching, she needs to adjust the way she teaches it to cater to their learning style. 

It’s her job to teach them, not their job to learn. 

Joris has been laughing at Charles from the hotel room armchair for fifteen minutes now, beyond entertained by his best friend’s restless pacing, providing absolutely zero aid to his current predicament. This act has been going on for some time now. Charles, pacing for five minutes before pulling out his phone and typing up an opening message to Chris. Each time, he starts to read it out to Joris and then stops himself short, deletes it, and paces for five more minutes. 

Hey, Chris. This is Ch–no, that’s stupid. 

Sorry it took me a minute to text–absolutely not. 

What’s up? It’s Charles, how–someone should just stop him from speaking to women all together. 

There’s half a dozen renditions before Joris breaks. “Mate? What is your problem?” He finally asks. “It’s just a girl.”

“I know,” Charles sighs, “I know.”

“Then why can’t you send her a text?”

“Because.” He doesn’t really know why he can’t land on a message, why everything he types sounds entirely too casual or formal or nothing at all like what he would say to another human being. This isn’t a problem that he’s used to having. It’s the in-person flirting that fucks him up, not the texts and DMs and comments. She was just… he doesn’t know what she was. She was just. End of sentence. 

It’s no help that he doesn’t know American texting culture, unfamiliar with how long he’s supposed to wait to send a message or what he’s supposed to say in the opening text. 

“Here,” Joris says, holds his hand out for the phone. “I’ve got the perfect text.”

“Don’t send it,” Charles warns, but passes the phone to his friend. 

“I… won’t,” Joris says slowly, struggling to multi-task. He doesn’t type for more than a few seconds and then hands the phone back to Charles, with the message already sent. Charles’ look of sheer panic is met with a smile and a chef’s kiss from Joris. 

She turns her phone off while Bill is shutting the plane engine down in the hangar. Because of his love of aviation, Bill had bought some land out in the woods a couple decades ago and turned it into the family’s private airstrip for their planes.  Elliott Field, they coined it, stored all their extra vehicles out on the property. She slips it into her back pocket as her and Bill disembark and lock up the place, and the entire time she can feel it vibrating, the notifications from the hour and a half flight catching up now that she’s on the ground again. 

It’s not until she’s in her car that she checks them, pulls her phone out to plug it into the aux and play some music for the drive back to her house. Right at the top of the dozens of notifications is a message from an unknown number with an unfamiliar area code. 

[one unread message] the notification reads. She unlocks her phone to check the message. 

She closes the messages app on her phone and opens up Spotify, shuffles her favorite playlist. She doesn’t reply to his text, doesn’t know if she wants to or even what she might say back. She’s sleepy, more than ready for bed after a long weekend in the sun, excited to be back with her students bright and early tomorrow morning. 

The text from the cute race car driver can wait for another day. An issue for tomorrow, maybe. 

masterlist next chapter>

[coimbrabertone]

Star Wars and Motorsports - A Surprisingly Intertwined History.

I actually had this blogpost planned out for a rainy day - I thought about maybe doing it for May 4th, 2025 as a Star Wars Day thingie - however, today, James Earl Jones passed away at the age of 93. I knew him as Darth Vader and Mufasa, but he played a lot of roles and provided a lot of iconic voices, others may know him from the Sandlot, Coming to America, or dozens of other roles over the years.

Rest in peace.

In his honor, I'd like to do my little part, so...a discussion of the long and intertwined history of Star Wars and motorsports.

The first relates to Darth Vader himself, as a dark and imposing figure, was associated with Dale Earnhardt in NASCAR. Yup, known as the Intimidator and as the Man in Black already for his iconic black and gray GM Goodwrench #3 Chevy, Dale Earnhardt was also nicknamed the Darth Vader of motorsports a few times in the 1980s and 1990s.

The black helmet and sunglasses played into that.

Somewhat more substantively, there is also the world of Star Wars sponsorships in racing, with Pepsi and Lucasfilm teaming up to sponsor Jeff Gordon at the 1999 CarQuest Auto Parts 400 Busch Series race at Charlotte Motor Speedway, promoting Episode I: The Phantom Menace. Gordon would suffer a mechanical failure...which is probably for the best because it had Jar-Jar on the left rear quarter panel.

Fast forward to the 2002 Coke 600, also at Charlotte, and Lucasfilm tried again, this time teaming up with Cheerios to sponsor John Andretti in the #43 car in the Cup series. This was the big leagues, and with them backing a midpack car, fifteenth was actually a respectable finish.

For Revenge of the Sith in 2005, the marketing campaign was back in force. First things first, there were four NASCARs that year, starting with both Yates Racing cars at the 2005 Subway Fresh 500 at Phoenix. Elliott Sadler drove the M&Ms #38 with a Dark Chocolate themed Dark Side paint scheme, while his teammate Dale Jarrett had a UPS/Milk Chocolate M&Ms Light Side car. The Dark Side car had Darth Vader, Boba Fett, and a Stormtrooper on it. The Light Side car had Anakin Skywalker, the green M&M with Princess Leia hair, and a C3PO M&M.

Pretty odd character choices for Revenge of the Sith but eh, it's all for fun. Anyway, Sadler finished 11th and Jarrett finished 23rd, so I guess the Dark Side won...which I suppose is appropriate, given the movie they're tying into.

So, at the very next race, Star Wars tried again. Teaming up with Jeff Gordon and Pepsi again, this time it was in the Cup Series, sponsoring the Hendrick Motorsports #24 at the Aaron's 499 at Talladega Superspeedway. This car, with Yoda on the hood, would go on to win the race in dominant fashion, leading 139 laps.

Jeff Gordon would also pose with Darth Vader and some stormtroopers ahead of the race, which seems like a conflict of interest given the Yoda car.

Fallen to the Dark Side, Jeff Gordon has.

Finally, Hendrick Motorsports got another Star Wars car, with Episode III sponsoring Kyle Busch's #5 at the amazingly named Chevy American Revolution 400 at Richmond. This Kellogg's car was Mustafar themed with a lava theme on a black base. It has Darth Vader and Mace Windu on it, which...neither is exactly a great fit for Mustafar, what with Windu being dead and Vader only gaining the iconic armor and red lightsaber because of the events of Mustafar.

Kyle finished fourth, another good result for Star Wars.

This wasn't all though, because at the 2005 Monaco Grand Prix in Formula One, Star Wars teamed up with Red Bull Racing to sponsor a car. Much like the Kyle Busch car, it was their regular livery with some orange-yellow Star Wars lettering and a lava/fire theme along the bottom.

Drivers David Coulthard and Vitantonio Liuzzi also got a Star Wars photo op to go with it, this time taking pictures with Darth Vader, two stormtroopers, Chewbacca, C3PO, and also George Lucas himself.

A few years later, at the 2008 Peak Antifreeze Indy Grand Prix at Sonoma, the third to last round of the 2008 Indycar Series, Lucasfilm and Blockbuster (lol) teamed up to sponsor Marco Andretti's #26 car. He would finish fourteenth on that occasion.

This was actually the second collaboration between Marco Andretti, Blockbuster, and Lucasfilm that year, as he actually drove an Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull car at the 2008 Indianapolis 500, finishing third.

More recently, at the 2023 NASCAR Championship Race at Phoenix, Star Wars and Columbia Sportswear teamed up to sponsor the 23XI cars. Bubba Wallace in the #23 ran an X-Wing car and even had Mark Hamill appear in the unveiling commercial, while Tyler Reddick in the #45 ran a TIE Fighter car.

Bubba Wallace finished 10th, and Tyler Reddick finished 22nd.

Two Light Side versus Dark Side races at Phoenix, the Dark Side drew first blood but then the Light Side won most recently. We're gonna need a tiebreaker.

So, that's what I got in terms of Star Wars sponsorships, but that's always been Star Wars going into motorsports. How about motorsports going into Star Wars?

Well, believe it or not, there is an example.

Podracing.

Yup, and not just in the "hey look, it's racing!" way, nope. At the 1998 Miller Lite 200 at Mid-Ohio, George Lucas and his crew recorded the sounds of the CART race to use as part of the sound mix for the podracing scenes in Episode I.

In fact - and unfortunately, I haven't seen the film so I can't confirm - I've seen the claim that the podracing sequence in Episode I mirrors the Monza race from the classic Formula One movie Grand Prix, which George Lucas is actually credited on as an assistant camera operator - which would lend some credence to the theory.

So yeah, I know I've kept this blog motorsports focused but I am a big Star Wars fan and have been for most of my life. To hear about James Earl Jones passing it's...it's just like...wow. It's unthinkable in a way. Obviously, he was getting older and all that, and there was that story a few years ago about him selling his voice rights to Disney, but like...to think that Darth Vader's voice actor is dead? That's crazy to me.

It's one of the biggest losses in recent media history, I think.

There will never be another voice quite that famous.

[annabumfriend35]

Dale Earnhardt Sr. killed in crash | February 18, 2001 | HISTORY

To you babydoll where's mom boots n jeans in nashville

[candiceaof6-blog]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Dale Earnhardt Intimidator NASCAR Jacket Black Size L Unisex.

[juanmecanico]

"¡EXCLUSIVA! Amazon Revela Documental Explosivo sobre Dale Earnhardt ¡No Querrás Perdértelo!" - ¡Hola, fanáticos de los autos! Acabo de leer algo emocionante en @RoadandTrack y pensé en compartirlo con ustedes. Resulta que Amazon está haciendo un documental sobre Dale Earnhardt. ¡Sí, leyeron bien! El ícono de la NASCAR. #NASCAR Por supuesto, Earnhardt es una LEYENDA. No sólo en la NASCAR, sino en el mundo del automovilismo en general. Este hombre hizo de todo en la pista, y su historia es profundamente conmovedora e inspiradora. Pero no hay que olvidar, Dale Earnhardt llevó a la pista más que solo una pasión por las carreras… Su impronta se hizo sentir en cada vuelta, en cada pista, en cada carrera. #Legend Earnhardt, fue, ante todo, un hombre competitivo. Y esa, queridos amigos, es una de sus características más memorables. Alguien puede ser un piloto increíble, pero si esa persona no posee un espíritu competitivo, difícilmente llegará a ser un campeón. El documental, titulado “Intimidator: The Last Great Race of Dale Earnhardt”, fue producido por la misma gente que hizo “The Last Dance” y “All or Nothing”. Así que, basándonos en esas dos series, podemos esperar que este documental será una pieza imperdible para cualquier aficionado a las carreras o los autos en general. Ahora, para establecer algo polémico aquí (¡Sé que también amas un buen debate!), ¿realmente creemos que Dale Earnhardt es el ÚLTIMO gran piloto de carreras? Justo en una era donde las habilidades de conducción de Lewis Hamilton han sido fenomenales y su importancia para Fórmula 1 es indiscutible. Sí, Earnhardt es una leyenda, pero ¿es esto despreciar a otros pilotos históricos y contemporáneos? Comenten sus opiniones, muchachos, estoy deseando conocerlas. Y hablemos de Amazon y su participación en este documental. Bien por Amazon por tomar este proyecto. ¿Estamos viendo el comienzo de Amazon como un contendiente serio en el mundo del cine documental? Espero que sí, porque si hacen un trabajo tan brillante como con la serie de The Grand Tour, estaremos en buenas manos. Termino comparando Dodge Viper y Chevy Corvette, dos coches que Dale Earnhardt amaba y se pregunta, ¿cuál crees que es mejor? ¿El animal bruto y visceral Viper o el refinado y versátil Corvette? Yo tengo mi opinion, pero me gustaría saber la tuya. Dale hoy una vuelta de llave a tu vehículo y rinde homenaje a este gigante de las carreras. #ViperVsCorvette Como siempre, ¡mantengan sus cinturones abrochados y sus motores rugiendo! ¡Hasta la próxima!

[rpmtrish]

THE JOHN MASSINGBERD MEMORIAL AWARD PRESENTED AT DRAG STRIP MEMORIES

Mount Hope, ONTARIO (April 14, 2024) – The John Massingberd Memorial Award has been presented by the Pro Modified Racing Association (PMRA) to a new, deserving individual, who represents the same commitment, dedication and passion that John Massingberd conveyed for the sport of auto racing. Massingberd, a long-time motorsports media personality, was instrumental in promoting Canadian motorsports until his passing in December of 2008, after a long and courageous battle with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease. This year’s award was presented on April 14, at the Drag Strip Memories show at the Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum in Mount Hope, Ontario to Erik Tomas. Erik caught the racing bug when his father took him to dirt tracks in the Niagara Region of Ontario, when he was seven years old and the sport has followed him everywhere since. While broadcasting news, sports and play-by-play hockey on Niagara radio stations CHSC, CKTB and CJRN in St. Catharines and Niagara Falls, “ET” started announcing the racing action at Merrittville Speedway, Ransomville Speedway and Cayuga Speedway through the 1970s. In the 1980s, Erik brought his broadcasting talents to the Toronto market, broadcasting news and sports for 680 CFTR (now 680 News) and CKFM/Mix 99.9 (now Virgin Radio 99.9).  He also had a stint as a play-by-play TV announcer for the NHL’s Toronto Maple Leafs on CHCH-TV and Global Television in the mid-1980s. Getting back to his auto racing roots while still working radio in Toronto, Erik took on the role of anchor, writer and co-producer for the Raceline Motorsport Television series on TSN, owned and produced by Bruce F. Mehlenbacher and the late John Massingberd’s Promark Motorsport International. Massingberd was inducted into the Canadian Drag Racing Hall of Fame posthumously in 2022 and was inducted into the Canadian Motorsport Hall of Fame posthumously in 2023. The Mehlenbacher family was inducted into the Canadian Motorsport Hall of Fame in 1998, and Bruce F. Mehlenbacher was inducted into the Canadian Drag Racing Hall of Fame in 2023. When the CART IndyCar Series came to the streets of Toronto, ET brought his track announcing experience to The Molson Indy from the first race in 1986, as track announcer. Erik’s auto racing passion turned into a full-time gig as anchor, producer, writer, and affiliate relations for the Raceline Radio Network, starting in 1992. Erik was Canada’s lone full-time auto racing broadcast journalist, and Raceline Radio remained Canada’s only nationally syndicated motorsport radio program until Erik retired from professional broadcasting in December 2023.  He dedicated 48 years to sports broadcasting and 31 years to the Raceline Radio Network. The Network comprised affiliates in Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver, Calgary, Halifax, Hamilton, and Niagara/Western New York State. Many affiliates aired Raceline Radio twice weekly, with an additional audience obtained through podcasts. Total weekly audiences exceeded 175,000 listeners.  2023 marked the 31st Anniversary of The Raceline Radio Network. During his career, Erik has interviewed some of the biggest and most influential stars in racing.  This includes Mario Andretti, Shirley Muldowney, John Force, Don Garlits, Rick Mears, Bobby Rahal, Tom Carnegie, Nigel Mansell, Al Unser Jr., Dale Earnhardt, Kenny Bernstein and Bob Jenkins. Raceline Radio has won numerous international motorsport journalism awards, with Erik at the helm.  Erik was a regular contributor to Inside Track Motorsport News. Erik Tomas was deservedly inducted into the Canadian Motorsport Hall of Fame in 2020. The John Massingberd Award honours a national ambassador of Canadian motorsport in all disciplines, through his keen insight and entrepreneurial creativity. In the late 1980s, John co-established Promark Motorsport International, which included Raceline Motorsport Television and SnowTrax Television with Bruce Mehlenbacher, two media ventures responsible for bringing Canadian motorsport to a greater audience and well-deserved prominence.  Along with coverage of drag racing, stock car racing, road racing, and tractor pulls with Promark Motorsport International and Raceline Television, he co-founded and co-anchored Raceline Radio in 1992. John was the executive producer of Canada’s first nationally syndicated motorsport radio program, the Raceline Radio Network, along with Erik Tomas.  Raceline Radio was Canada’s first and only nationally syndicated motorsport radio program that celebrated 31 years on the air in 2023 as Canada’s National Radio Motorsport Authority. All who knew John quickly recognized his larger-than-life stature. With his warm, friendly but firm handshake, quick wit and genuine charm, John had a fantastic ability to never be at a loss for words.  He pioneered his field, breaking new ground in radio and television coverage of Canadian motorsport. In keeping with the spirit of the Pro Modified Racing Association, it is appropriate and altogether fitting to recognize John Massingberd with this annual award. Past Recipients: Carl Spiering, Fred & Betsy Smith, R.W. (Bob) Slack, Vern Christy, John Waldie, Tim Miller, Bruce Biegler, Harvey Silverthorne and Rob Potter. #johnmassingberd #dragstripmemories #warplaneheritagemuseum #rpmmagazine #rpmmag #rpm25yrs Read the full article

[sportsufc24]

The Thrilling Legacy of Daytona 500: A Spectacle of Speed, Skill, and Glory

The Daytona 500 is not just a race; it's a testament to the American spirit of competition, adrenaline, and tradition. Held annually at the Daytona International Speedway in Daytona Beach, Florida, this iconic event marks the beginning of the NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) Cup Series season. With its rich history dating back to 1959, the Daytona 500 has evolved into a premier sporting spectacle, captivating millions of fans worldwide.

The Birth of a Legend: In the late 1950s, NASCAR founder Bill France Sr. envisioned a race that would attract the best drivers, showcase remarkable speed, and celebrate the essence of American auto racing. Thus, the Daytona 500 was born on February 22, 1959. Since then, it has grown into one of the most prestigious and anticipated events in motorsports.

The Daytona International Speedway: The venue itself is steeped in history and legend. The Daytona International Speedway, often dubbed as the "World Center of Racing," is a 2.5-mile tri-oval track that demands skill, strategy, and nerve from drivers. Its high-banked turns and long straightaways create an exhilarating challenge, pushing drivers and their machines to the limit.

The Greats and the Glory: Over the decades, the Daytona 500 has seen legends carve their names into racing history. Names like Richard Petty, Dale Earnhardt, Jeff Gordon, and more recently, Jimmie Johnson and Denny Hamlin, have all tasted victory at Daytona. These drivers didn't just win a race; they etched their legacy into the annals of motorsports, earning the respect and admiration of fans worldwide.

Unforgettable Moments: The Daytona 500 has produced countless unforgettable moments that have become ingrained in the collective memory of racing enthusiasts. From photo-finishes and dramatic crashes to underdog victories and emotional triumphs, each race brings its own unique storylines and excitement.

Beyond the Track: The impact of the Daytona 500 extends far beyond the confines of the racetrack. It's a cultural phenomenon that brings together fans from all walks of life, transcending geographical and generational boundaries. From tailgate parties to watch parties, the Daytona 500 is a celebration of camaraderie, passion, and community.

Innovation and Evolution: As technology advances and racing evolves, so does the Daytona 500. From safety improvements to rule changes and innovations in car design, the race continues to adapt while staying true to its roots. The introduction of stages and playoff formats in recent years has added new layers of excitement and strategy, keeping fans on the edge of their seats until the final lap.

Looking Ahead: As we look to the future, the Daytona 500 remains a beacon of excitement and anticipation. With each passing year, new stars emerge, new records are set, and the legacy of this iconic event continues to grow. Whether you're a die-hard fan or a casual observer, the Daytona 500 is a must-watch event that embodies the essence of American auto racing.

[thenascarblog]

Kyle Busch

Kyle Busch is a current Nascar driver that first started racing in the truck series in 2001 at IRP speedway. He most recently just won the Pala Casino 400 in the Nascar Cup Series race at Auto Club Speedway. According to Racing Reference (RacingReference.com) Kyle Busch now holds the record for most consecutive winning seasons with now 19 seasons in a row.

After Kyle Busch won his 61st Cup Serie race many people believe he is going to win upwards of 4 to 5 wins this season which he has not achieved since 2019. Fox Sports (FoxSports.com) said that they believe Kyle Busch is a true Championship contender that can really put up a fight. Some people are even saying "you should be scared", after Busch won the race at Auto Club Speedway on February 26. Although Busch won his first race with his new team of RCR, but you do have to remember there is still 34 more races this year and anything could from now until November when Nascar is crowning their new champion. If Kyle can win 16 more races until his retirement he has the chance to catch one of the greats, Dale Earnhardt. Currently Busch sits in 9th in the all time wins list for the Cup Series. Hopefully Busch is able to reach the great feat of tying Dale Earnhardt's 76 wins by the time his career comes to a close, but we will just have to wait and see.

[history-today]

Today In History:

A bit of February 18th history…

In 1546, Martin Luther, leader of the Protestant Reformation in Germany, died in Eisleben. (pictured)

In 1861, Jefferson Davis was sworn in as provisional president of the Confederate States of America in Montgomery, Alabama.

In 1913, Mexican President Francisco I. Madero and Vice President Jose Maria Pino Suarez were arrested during a military coup (both were shot to death on Feb. 22).

In 1930, photographic evidence of Pluto (now designated a “dwarf planet”) was discovered by Clyde W. Tombaugh at Lowell Observatory in Flagstaff, Arizona.

In 1943, Madame Chiang Kai-shek, wife of the Chinese leader, addressed members of the Senate and then the House, becoming the first Chinese national to address both houses of the U.S. Congress.

In 1970, the “Chicago Seven” defendants were found not guilty of conspiring to incite riots at the 1968 Democratic national convention; five were convicted of violating the Anti-Riot Act of 1968 (those convictions were later reversed).

In 1972, the California Supreme Court struck down the state’s death penalty.

In 1977, the space shuttle prototype Enterprise, sitting atop a Boeing 747, went on its debut “flight” above Edwards Air Force Base in California.

In 1983, 13 people were shot to death at a gambling club in Seattle’s Chinatown in what became known as the Wah Mee Massacre. (Two men were convicted of the killings and are serving life sentences; a third was found guilty of robbery and assault.)

In 1997, astronauts on the space shuttle Discovery completed their tune-up of the Hubble Space Telescope after 33 hours of spacewalking; the Hubble was then released using the shuttle’s crane.

In 2001, auto racing star Dale Earnhardt Sr. died in a crash at the Daytona 500; he was 49.

[earnhardtauto]

Have a sophisticated and connected driving experience with the 2023 GMC Sierra 1500. Stop by Earnhardt Buick GMC, the top rated Buick GMC dealer in the Phoenix East Valley.

[newswireml]

Today in History: FEB 18, Michelangelo dies at age 88#Today #History #FEB #Michelangelo #dies #age

Today in History Today is Saturday, Feb. 18, the 49th day of 2023. There are 316 days left in the year. Today’s Highlight in History: On Feb. 18, 2001, auto racing star Dale Earnhardt Sr. died in a crash at the Daytona 500; he was 49. On this date: In 1564, Michelangelo died in Rome at age 88. In 1885, Mark Twain’s “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” was published in the U.S. for the first time…

[cars-cause-why-not]

My add-on:

Let’s not forget that Strip Weathers is literally Richard Petty but with a name change. Heck Lynda was voiced by Petty’s real life wife and Cal was voiced by their son, Kyle Petty.

Heck, Doc and his racing gang are literally based off of real people from NASCAR

River Scott - Wendell Scott (first African-American driver)

Junior Moon - Junior Johnson (who provides the voice btw)

Louise Nash - Louise Smith (first female driver in NASCAR)

Smokey - Smokey Yunick (although not a driver himself, he was a crew chief and mechanic)

Hell, Doc himself is based off of Herb Thomas, NASCAR’s first two-time champion who drove the Hudson Hornet irl.

Let’s also not forget about the cameos by Mario Andretti and Michael Schumacher in the first film. Not to mention that in other language versions of the Cars movies, some of the WGP racers and other characters are voiced by famous auto-racers of that country.

In German, Max Schnell is voiced by Sebastian Vettel (Formula One driver). Can’t remember which version, but Strip is voiced by Niki Lauda, famous Austrian Formula One driver.

The Carsverse, in a way, is a parallel universe to our own where instead of humans, everyone is sentient cars. I mean, hell, Catholicism exists in the Carsverse, WWII exists in the Carsverse, it’s meant to be an alternate world to ours. So why wouldn’t versions of these people exist in this universe too?

And no, I’m in no way making light of Earnhardt’s death (nor am I making light of the death threats against Sterling Marlin). But to omit it just…doesn’t make sense.

I mean, it’s never directly referenced in any of the films or other media. Just more or less implied.

But also, I highly doubt that any of these people who had cameos in the films know that people are writing fanfiction for these movies. Hell, I doubt that real life NASCAR drivers know that there’s a literal NASCAR RPF section on AO3 and that people write fanfiction for them.

i know literally nobody asked but i need to talk about something i find very Odd with the cars fandom here on tumblr

and that is - your use of real life people in the cars universe.

darrell and bob are fine, theyre actually canon and important to the storyline (but its best to keep in mind that they have very specific and prominent real life counterparts which you should obviously be very conscious about when headcanoning and writing)

but where my issue comes in is how some of you treat dale jr’s cameo in cars as if it was gospel, and how it somehow means to you people that dale sr was not only in the cars universe - but also died in the cars universe.

i personally dont see junior in the cars universe, i think it was a silly little cameo and thats it. i dont think its appropriate to write about real life people.

especially, when Some of you (i wont name names), actually WRITE FANFICS ABOUT DALE SR’S DEATH. THAT IS WEIRD. i dont think you guys understand how strange that is, to be writing about a real mans tragic death for an animated movie that his SON made a CAMEO in. this seriously rubs me the wrong way, do you not SEE how strange that is??? a real life human being lost his life racing and some of you are using it as a chance to WRITE a FANFICTION about how it affected the “piston cup racers”.

there have been.. so many moments in the history of nascar that you could be writing about that dont involve a real human being getting killed, why is this specific one the one that so many of you fixate on? stop headcanoning real people. keep sr out of your headcanons because why are we all of a sudden so casual about putting random situations and experiences on real man that died 😭 that is such odd behaviour 😭

plus i dont think many of you realize the effects this had on not only his family, but his fellow racers — one racer and his entire family was quite literally sent DEATH THREATS for “killing” him. its a horrible situation that you should NOT be writing about.

[candiceaof6-blog]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Dale Earnhardt Intimidator NASCAR Jacket Black Size L Unisex.

[juanmecanico]

Overwatch 2 recibirá increíbles skins de mechas D.Va inspirados en el Porsche Macan EV. Increíble, los fanáticos de los automóviles y los videojuegos están recibiendo un crossover impresionante. Resulta que en La Overwatch League realizarán promociones especiales que incluirán skins impresionantes inspirados en la NASCAR para el mecha de D.Va. ¡Eso suena emocionante! #OverwatchNACAR Primero, echemos un vistazo a esos detalles: auto deportivo plateado con neumáticos gruesos, barras antivuelco afluentes, y sobre todo, ese aspecto futurista irresistible. Además, ese aspecto imponente de esa mezcla de colores blanco y rojo que nos recuerda a las legendarias actuaciones de Dale Earnhardt. Se nota evidente que los creadores han invertido su tiempo y esfuerzos de manera apreciable. Y hablemos de esos patrocinadores, es un detalle tan icónico en el mundo de la NASCAR, es como si los creadores supieran que esto atraería a personas como nosotros, que apreciamos tanto los detalles. A pesar de que no estemos al volante del auto, esta característica añade una pincelada de realismo al juego. El gran punto de venta de un coche no son sólo sus especificaciones técnicas, sino también cómo se ve, cómo te hace sentir cuando lo conduces... o en este caso, cómo te hace sentir cuando juegas con él. Y me atrevo a decir que este mecha ofrece una inmensurable adrenalina sólo con mirarlo. Con la inclusidad que busca Overwatch (como se muestra en la presentación de estos skins NASCAR inspirados), Overwatch ha mostrado una vez más por qué es un juego tan querido por muchos. Los diseñadores han logrado fusionar la velocidad, la intensidad y la pasión tanto de los jugadores de videojuegos como de los entusiastas del automovilismo. Por otro lado, hay que prestar atención a la jugabilidad. Con las actualizaciones y los diseños nuevos y emocionantes, puedes esperar que ya no sea un desafío conseguir un D.Va para jugar en tu enfrentamiento. Imagina a varios jugadores con este mechs NASCAR, el caos visual sería insuperable. En resumen, esto es un verdadero lujo para los jugadores y los fanáticos de los autos por igual. Los detalles, la estética que tiene un brillante guiño a la NASCAR, todo es bastante interesante y muestra el empeño que se ha puesto en hacer que Overwatch sea todavía más emocionante. No veo la hora de ver a muchos jugadores vistiendo su D.Va con estos skins NASCAR. Juega juegos, conduce rápido, disfruta de la vista. Ese es el lema que deberíamos tener todos los amantes de los autos. Y parece que Overwatch realmente lo comprendieron bien. Cuidar los pequeños detalles, esa es una de las cosas que nos gustan tanto de los coches y es genial ver algo similar aquí. Esto es más que un simple juego: es una experiencia, una pasión compartida, un sueño de infancia hecho realidad. Ahora, con todos los ojos puestos en Overwatch, no puedo esperar para ver qué nos depara el futuro. Un auto deportivo en un videojuego ya es emocionante, ¿quién sabe lo que vendrá después? Mientras tanto, vamos a disfrutar de esta increíble integración de la NASCAR en los videojuegos, porque definitivamente es un detalle que vale la pena celebrar. #OverwatchNASCAR #CochesYJuegos