'Twas the month before Daytona.... Options

[Rob Hood]

Got this from the Birmingham AL newspaper...


From the Birmingham News

• 'Twas the month before Daytona
'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!"