Nascar Quotes

...all members of Congress should be required wear NASCAR uniforms. You know, the kind with the patches? That way we'd know who is sponsoring each of them. I think he was kidding; they'd never be able to do it but it's a great idea and would wake people up in this country.

You know what I mean. And by the way, you should slow down.” I sighed. “You’re kidding me. This is coasting. This is little old lady speed.” “NASCAR drivers would have heart attacks. Slow down before we get a ticket.” “Chicken.

The more annoyed Earl was, the more southern he sounded, and right about then, he sounded like he was ready to fry up some catfish and watch some NASCAR.

They were unironic enthusiasts for all the mass pleasures the culture offered: television, NASCAR, cruises, Disney World, sports, celebrity gossip, and local politics.

You’ll be okay driving home?” “Duh,” I feel miffed that he’d pat me like a child, but also weird and glowy on the inside in places I don’t even wanna think about. “I’m like a NASCAR driver. Minus the millions of dollars.” “Shame, really. Imagine how many more people you could annoy if you were a millionaire.” “At least ten whole people. And their grandmas.

I was clenching the steering wheel like a granny, but driving like I was trying out for NASCAR.

They were unironic enthusiasts for all the mass pleasures the culture offered: television, NASCAR, cruises, Disney World, sports, celebrity gossip, and local politics. Szabo often wished that he could be as well adjusted as Melinda's family, but he would have had to be medicated to pursue her list of pleasures.

On a fast news day, it was like we had swallowed all of NASCAR and were about to crash into the wall. Either way, it felt like something a dude named Randy was in charge of.

Golf baffles me. They says it’s a sport, and I have to take their word for it, but anything that involves having fun while standing up doesn’t interest me. That includes dancing. NASCAR I can understand. In fact, anything that involves sitting down automatically has my interest...

The amateur study of philosophy is like taking a few laps with a NASCAR driver. You’re not qualified to do it on your own, you have no business behind the wheel, but for a few laps or paragraphs, you’re right in there with ‘em, and when it’s all over, you’ve learned something. Or, as my local fire chief once said, you’ve simply exasperated the situation.

We broke something, I think it was traction…

they were being compelled by modern politics to rally under one flag as goose-stepping Nazi NASCAR storm troopers.

Congressmen should wear uniforms like NASCAR drivers to identify their corporate sponsors.

Don't get me wrong, I like NASCAR and shopping at Nordstrom's, but discipleship is intrinsic as a lifestyle." ~R. Alan Woods [2013]

We should hope for even less participation, not more. Ideally, politics would occupy only a small portion of the average person’s attention. Ideally, most people would fill their days with painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain, or perhaps football, NASCAR, tractor pulls, celebrity gossip, and trips to Applebee’s. Most people, ideally, would not worry about politics at all.3

If it wasn't for Prohibition, we wouldn't have NASCAR, and if it wasn't for NASCAR we wouldn't have Dale Earnhardt, and if we didn't have Dale Earnhardt, then our mamaws wouldn't have any plates on their walls.

Damn bicycles,” Leon complained. “It could be the zombie apocalypse and these sons-a-bitches would still be out here in their toddler-sized Lycra shorts. What’s that called, cos-play? It’s like going for a Sunday drive in a full NASCAR fire suit and helmet.

I’d always known I would be a parent someday, I’d never for one second imagined having a girl. By no means am I a cigar-chomping, NASCAR-watching, Sunday-afternoon-armchair-quarterback kind of guy, but what could I ever offer a daughter? How to tune a kick drum and catalog her Slayer bootlegs? I was at a loss. And then, as she had always done, my mother imparted a little bit of her well-earned wisdom that has since proven to be one of my life’s most indisputable truths: “The relationship between a father and daughter can be one of the most special relationships in any girl’s life.

If Daddy could see me now. I spent the morning with Rebecca at the Indianapolis Speedway, at an auto museum filled with Nascars and racing paraphernalia. Do you remember when we used to watch all five hundred laps with him, every year? I never understood what it was that made auto racing such a biggie for him—it's not like he ever tried the sport himself. He told me once when I was older that it was the absolute speed of it all. I liked to watch for crashes, like you. I liked the way there'd be a huge explosion on the track and billows of ebony smoke, and the other cars would just keep a straight course and head right for the spin, into this sort of black box, and they'd come out okay. I

In the same way that playing matchbox cars on the front lawn loses its attractiveness when we’re invited to spend the afternoon at a NASCAR race, sin loses its appeal as we allow ourselves to be re-enchanted time and again with the unsurpassable beauty of Jesus. Remember what we noted in chapter 1 about “the unsearchable riches of Christ” (Eph. 3:8).

Procedural Memory is knowledge of how to do things. How do you get dressed in the morning? How do you ride a bike? Once learned, procedural memories tend to remain solid as a rock. Performance does tend to fall off with age due to the natural slowing of reflexes, although as of this writing, seventy-six-year-old Morgan Shepherd is still competing as a NASCAR driver.

There would be no more hot dog-eating contests or NASCAR or picnics in the park or Cheetos or America's Funniest Home Videos or revving truck engines or books or children laughing or fetch with a stick or i{hone updates or shopping or electrical jobs or songs or genius inventions or drunken dancing or Fireball whiskey or snow globes or wedding vows or ugly ties or Christmas hugs or...families

His hands go to my waist—my waist! And they feel so right. I like this closeness. Maybe I like it too much. A guy has never been this close to me. Never. And I can’t believe it’s happening, even if it is to keep from being arrested. My heart beats frantically. Isaiah is hot and scary and hot. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be anywhere near a girl like me? It’s the adrenaline rush. That’s what it is. I like how he feels because I’m still experiencing the adrenaline rush from Isaiah’s NASCAR driving skills. His arm shifts, and I love how that movement causes his muscles to flex. Stop it, Rachel. It’s not real. Focus.

Why, oh why, did we make the Gospel into a competition instead of a joyous proclamation of this necessary but good process—of surrender into love? I think it is because the ego (the False Self) prefers win-lose over win-win, even strangely enough, when it ends up defining oneself as a loser. The ego will always choose trumped-up competition over any calm cooperation. We would sooner run a risky NASCAR race that only one, or a few, of us can win than allow God to win with everybody. It is almost the American way. Such a mind-set is of itself “hell.” It is nothing more than spiritual capitalism. God's big win is accurately called heaven. Heaven is God's victory celebration, not ours! And the banner over the eternal banquet table will say one thing: “Love is stronger than death.

From what I understand, the barn loft would be like a 5-star hotel to my redneck blood. And yes, I really do mean rednecks. Like, leaving your Christmas decorations up all year round and always driving like you're participating in NASCAR rednecks.

There was so much to do and see in his world – amusement parks, zoos, baseball and football games, television and movies, restaurants, plays, concerts, NASCAR races – that he had once found fulfilling, but now he viewed it all as a distraction

The battering ram took the door out no problem. The siren was as loud as Pet City’s but the burglars wore noise-suppression headphones like the pit crews at NASCAR. They didn’t block the sound out completely but at least your head didn’t explode. Isaiah was overanxious but it was an easier score. All the Virgin Remy extensions were on the same set of shelves and he’d replaced the trash bags with collapsible hampers. They were lightweight and stayed open by themselves and you could load them with two hands. “Four

Never had a feeling, for that bitch, only a hard cock rape. That is right.

Giants in Jeans Sonnet 36 Time and tide rule the coward, While the valiant makes their own time. Take it slow and be the flow, Leave the racing to the boneless slime. Those who say that competition is good, Are but primitives whose religion is dollar. A world founded on soulless competition, Will never be free from societal disorder. Have some regard for the worth of life, Dishonor it not by treating as NASCAR. Feel, think and behave as a human being, Not as a preprogrammed teleprompter. The rivers and birds fear no competition, Yet without them the world cannot function.

As my mother regained a bit of composure after hearing the news that she would have a granddaughter, I explained to her that, although I’d always known I would be a parent someday, I’d never for one second imagined having a girl. By no means am I a cigar-chomping, NASCAR-watching, Sunday-afternoon-armchair-quarterback kind of guy, but what could I ever offer a daughter? How to tune a kick drum and catalog her Slayer bootlegs? I was at a loss. And then, as she had always done, my mother imparted a little bit of her well-earned wisdom that has since proven to be one of my life’s most indisputable truths: “The relationship between a father and daughter can be one of the most special relationships in any girl’s life.” She knew this because of the relationship she had with her father, a military man of charm and wit who everyone loved dearly before his early passing when she was in her twenties. I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but from all that I’ve heard, he was a good man and indeed had that special connection to my mother. Though still terrified, I was slightly reassured. Maybe cataloging Slayer bootlegs together could be fun. Courtesy of Danny Clinch As the months flew by, Jordyn and I began to prepare for the new baby, readying her room, shopping for all the necessary gear, and eventually settling on the name Violet (after my mother’s mother, Violet Hanlon). I was given a library of books to study with subjects ranging from sleep training (which is a farce because ultimately they sleep-train you, making it impossible to sleep past six A.M. for the rest of your life) to swaddling (I’m bad enough at rolling joints; how could I successfully roll a child?) to how to change a diaper (something I may hold a land speed record in by this point). I was taking a crash course in fatherhood, or at least the logistical side of it.

Naskar not Nascar (The Sonnet) Naskar is an alter ego, Naskar is a calling, a madness bigger than sanity, not chained to one being. Even Abi is no match for Naskar, Abi will perish, not Naskar. Naskar is a chemical catastrophe, priming humans as kind thunder. Naskar is factory of humanitarians, imbued with wonders against malice. Muscle up your heart, heart up your brain, uncontaminated by leanings of prejudice. Nascar is a race, Naskar is a journey, voyage of sapiens ushering in humanity. Surpassing constraints of bigotry, Naskar is Manifest Humanity.

Go to a cultural center anywhere in the country, no matter where, and even if there are no Jews it’s the Maurice and Florence Rosenthal Center for Art of Wyoming, the Herman and Lillian Tannenbaum Historical Museum of NASCAR of Rural Arkansas. They love a plaque. If Jews have plaques they can die happy.

How hard can it be to follow five black SUVs?” Serge leaned over the steering wheel. “Except we’re in Miami.” “So?” “Miami drivers are a breed unto their own. Always distracted.” He uncapped a coffee thermos and chugged. “Quick on the gas and the horn. No separation between vehicles, every lane change a new adventure. The worst of both worlds: They race around as if they are really good, but they’re really bad, like if you taught a driver’s-ed class with NASCAR films.” He watched the first few droplets hit the windshield. “Oh, and worst of all, most of them have never seen snow.” “But it’s not snow,” said Felicia. “It’s rain. And just a tiny shower.” “That’s right.” Serge hit the wipers and took another slug from the thermos. “Rain is the last thing you want when you’re chasing someone in Miami. They drive shitty enough as it is, but on top of that, snow is a foreign concept, which means they never got the crash course in traction judgment for when pavement slickness turns less than ideal. And because of the land-sea temperature differential, Florida has regular afternoon rain showers. Nothing big, over in a jiff. But minutes later, all major intersections in Miami-Dade are clogged with debris from spectacular smash-ups. In Northern states, snow teaches drivers real fast about the Newtonian physics of large moving objects. I haven’t seen snow either, but I drink coffee, so the calculus of tire-grip ratio is intuitive to my body. It feels like mild electricity. Sometimes it’s pleasant, but mostly I’m ambivalent. Then you’re chasing someone in the rain through Miami, and your pursuit becomes this harrowing slalom through wrecked traffic like a disaster movie where everyone’s fleeing the city from an alien invasion, or a ridiculous change in weather that the scientist played by Dennis Quaid warned about but nobody paid attention.” Serge held the mouth of the thermos to his mouth. “Empty. Fuck it—

I used to play golf,” said Serge. “It’s a frightening game. Forget football or even NASCAR.” He whistled in awe. “Golf takes it to the brink.” “That bad?” “It’s the mental component. They try to hush it up, but the game can destroy the strongest men. Every year, dozens of ugly psychotic breaks. Frustration builds over a lifetime until a tee shot lands in the water of a sadistic island hole, and then a hedge-fund manager hurls all his clubs like tomahawks at the other guys in plaid knickers before stripping off all his clothes and making ‘snow angels’ in a sand trap, prompting a special unit from the pro shop to hustle him away through secret underground doors. Fortunately, I have the perfect emotional composition to excel at golf.

Here’s hoping NASCAR officials and teams decide to do some new and cool things rather than the old and slow things. I hope NASCAR gets kids everywhere excited about innovating in automotive design, so that we can go farther on less fuel or even no fuel—just electrons—so that car exhaust is cleaner or nonexistent, so that we can reduce greenhouse-gas emissions and make a better planet for all of us,

Republicans like Fox News and NASCAR and Democrats like MSNBC and Starbucks.” “Simple as that?” I asked, and he said, “Absolutely.

GOOD NEWS IN EVERY EDITION! “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” Mark 1:15 Let’s not forget what, exactly, the Gospel is. Here goes: Our sin has separated us from God, but Jesus’s death and resurrection can make things right between us. Our sins can be forgiven. This is good news, indeed! Especially for those of us keenly aware of our spiritual failings. (Don’t get me started!) The Gospel is the same for me up here in Alaska as it is for a warm retiree in Florida. There isn’t one Gospel for NASCAR fans, another for wine connoisseurs, another for hairstylists, and yet another for accountants. The Gospel is good news for Democrats and Republicans, for Lakers fans and Celtics fans. The good news really IS good! Repent for your sins, believe in the Lord, and trust in God’s goodness. SWEET FREEDOM IN Action Today, try to remember how good the “good news” really is. And remember that the Gospel is for everyone. The love and forgiveness of Christ knows no bounds.

You good?” “Yeah. Okay. Good.” “Now, I’m going to be right here to tell you what to do, and I’ll help you steer if you start running us off the road.” I revved the gas pedal and then placed her foot on it and let her do the same. I could tell she was trying not to bail off of my lap—her body was practically vibrating with nerves—but she didn’t. She stayed, listening intently. I gave her basic instructions, and then I helped her ease onto the road, going about five miles per hour. She didn’t move her hands from two and ten o’clock, and I had to tug at the wheel slightly to straighten us out. And then we picked up speed, just a bit. “How does that feel?” “Like falling,” she whispered, her body rigid, her arms locked on the wheel. “Relax. Falling is easier if you don’t fight it.” “And driving?” “That too. Everything is easier if you don’t fight it.” “What if someone sees us?” “Then I’ll tell you when to wave." She giggled and relaxed slightly against me. I kissed her temple where it rested against my cheek, and she was immediately stiff as a board once more. Shit. I hadn’t thought. I’d just reacted. “I would have patted you on the back, but your forehead was closer,” I drawled. “You’re doin’ it. You’re drivin’.” “How fast are we going?” she said breathlessly. I hoped it was fear and not that kiss. “Oh you’re flyin’, baby. Eight miles an hour. At this rate, we will reach Salt Lake in two days, my legs will be numb, and Henry will want a turn. Give it a little gas. Let’s see if we can push it up to ten.” She pressed her foot down suddenly and we shot forward with a lurch. “Whoa!” I cried, my arms shooting up to brace hers on the wheel. I saw Henry stir from the corner of my eye. “Danika Patrick is the first female NASCAR driver to ever win a NASCAR Sprint Cup Series pole,” he said woodenly, before slumping back down in his seat. I spared him a quick glance, only to see his eyes were closed once more. Millie obviously heard him and she hooted and pressed the gas pedal down a little harder. “Henry just compared you to Danika Patrick. And he obviously isn’t alarmed that you’re driving because he’s already asleep again.” “That’s because Henry knows I’m badass.” “Oh yeah. Badass, Silly Millie. ‘Goin’ ninety miles an hour down a dead-end street,’” I sang a little Bob Dylan, enjoying myself thoroughly.

Yep. We spread five out, shotgun, no huddle, throw fifty times a game. Call it the NASCAR offense 'cause we never slow down.

When we live life at the pace of a NASCAR race, sex is one of the first things that goes. Once again, if you want to improve your sex life as a couple, you need to examine your relationship outside the bedroom. What are you doing that is keeping you from sexual intimacy?

The pack beta went through women like a NASCAR driver went through tires.

There won’t even be a seat for you in NASCAR.” I don’t appreciate him insulting the chaotic art of turning left that is NASCAR,

Naskar not Nascar (The Sonnet) Naskar is an alter ego, Naskar is a calling, a madness bigger than sanity, not chained to one being. Even Abi is no match for Naskar, Abi will perish, not Naskar. Naskar is a chemical catastrophe, priming humans as kind thunder. Naskar is factory of humanitarians, imbued with wonders against malice. Muscle up your heart, heart up your brain, uncontaminated by leanings of prejudice. Nascar is a race, Naskar is a journey, voyage of sapiens ushering in humanity. Surpassing constraints of archaic bigotry, Naskar is Manifest Humanity.

Nascar is a race, Naskar is a journey.

Most of his fellow TRU deputies were white country boys of a type Carl knew well. The majority were ten to fifteen years older than he, and some were over fifty. In a town with high unemployment, men didn't give up jobs with benefits unless they were pushed out usually after an election. But despite the age and background of the men, there was an attitude of benign tolerance toward black officers in the unit. Prejudice still existed, but it was an amorphous thing, difficult to point at and impossible to prove, except in a few cases. Even the hardcore, Southern-rock NASCAR types accepted that civil rights reforms were here to stay, and they tried to make the best of it.

Indeed, Mike Pence at a Manhattan theater is a lot like Michelle Obama attending a NASCAR event in the Deep South. That actually happened in 2011. When the track announcer recognized her and Jill Biden at a race they attended to honor veterans, the crowd showered them with boos, too.

Not surprisingly, then, microtargeting data also suggests that Republicans are more apt to watch sports than Democrats are. All the most popular sports on television, such as college football, the PGA golf tour, NASCAR, the Olympic Games, and the NFL, include audiences that tilt Republican. Among the few sports that Democrats seem to prefer, the NBA stands out, while Democrats are also more likely than Republicans to watch niche sports such as tennis, soccer, and extreme sports.

... hockey is like NASCAR, not too many brown faces in the stands.

Por que você me proíbe de rezar sabendo que isso é ilegal?”, perguntei a ele quando ficamos amigos. “Poderia não ter feito isso, mas teriam me dado algum trabalho sujo.” Ele me contou também que ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ tinha dado a ordem de me impedir de praticar qualquer atividade religiosa. ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ disse ainda: “Vou para o inferno por ter proibido você de rezar”. ■■■■■■■■■■■ ficou felicíssimo quando recebeu ordens para me tratar bem. “Na verdade, gosto mais de estar aqui com você do que estar em casa”, disse ele com franqueza. Era um cara muito generoso; trazia-me bolinhos, filmes e jogos de Play Station 2. Antes de ir embora, deixou que eu escolhesse entre dois jogos, Madden 2004 e Nascar 2004. Escolhi Nascar 2004, que ainda tenho. Acima de tudo, ■■■■■■■■■■■■ proporcionava um bom entretenimento. Ele costumava exagerar e me contava todo tipo de coisa. Às vezes me dava informação demais, coisas que eu não queria nem devia saber. ■■■■■■■■■■■ era um viciado em jogos. Jogava videogames o tempo todo. Sou péssimo em videogames; não dou para isso. Sempre dizia aos carcereiros: “Os americanos não passam de bebês crescidos. Em meu país, não é adequado que uma pessoa da minha idade se sente diante de um console e perca tempo jogando videogames”. Com efeito, um dos castigos da civilização dos americanos é que eles são viciados em videogames.

The Dark Cloud Is the sadistic approach that evil has towards its survivors Is the way in which NASCAR crew members are dangerous like their drivers Is the cruel manner of speaking that players like to maintain Is the dominance and power of those who do bad things that they want to attain

I'm comfortable with making other drivers uncomfortable

Careful thought here will serve the Church for years to come. Churches often find themselves disconnecting their strategic plans from their grievances with church culture. Leaders see a particular problem, but we want to move past repentance right into obedience. Leadership like this only glorifies our own wisdom and righteousness. Appropriate corporate repentance magnifies the Lord of mercy in the church. Not only this, but members of our churches see what we see. When major unbiblical deviations go unaddressed, it only serves to undermine the membership’s view of the care, courage, or competency of the leadership. If we want to see something in culture change, we need to get specific. Exposition. This next stage of managing change will begin a circular process. In this stage, new identified elements of needed cultural change will be added to the existing healthy elements of culture being maintained and reinforced. The leadership team will find itself running around the process circle from exposition to illustration to incorporation to evaluation and a back again to exposition. It may take more laps than a NASCAR race, but culture will change over time. And the process must never end because the culture must be continually cultivated. Exposition is the step in the process that gives Christ-followers a tremendous confidence in the possible future for any church. While formation is always challenging, who better to understand than those the Lord is sanctifying daily? Every single day, we must come to our Bible expecting God to change us, renew us, and cause us to repent. It should be no different for the Church of God. And the means that God uses to shape individuals is the same means He will use to change a church’s culture. The teaching and preaching of God’s Word is our hope and God’s power for change. This step in culture change is so important. The Word of God is powerful to renew hearts and produce fruit among God’s people.

Journalists and political junkies often presume that everyone cares about politics all of the time. But the fourteen-per-cent number makes it seem more like a hobby or a subculture, something like the N.H.L. or Nascar—a deep obsession for some of members of the population but of limited interest to anyone else, unless something extreme happens.

It is now a three-leg and one and three-quarter-eared cat. The cat still watches NASCAR, drinks beer, and is the smartest one of the three.

Every night when I go to bed dream... of being a racecar driver.

Besides, every Southern gal worth her salt knows where she was the day Dale Earnhardt, one of NASCAR’s all-time greats, bought the farm. February 18, 2001. Know it like my own birthday.

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