In reference to my fervent love of racing and cars, my dad always told me growing up that “You don’t want to be the person at a dinner party with only one thing to talk about.”
Racing and cars were all I talked about and all I cared about. But as much as I brushed it off at the time, I must admit he was right. I heeded his advice and now can talk fluently about many different racing series and NASCAR.
At least, I think that is the case, because that’s all anyone wants to talk to me about.
Whether I’m at a dinner party or a basement bar in Brooklyn, when the conversation lulls, the topic becomes racing. No matter how hard I try to shift the conversation, to no avail, I will end up answering, “So do you ever get dizzy going in circles for hours?”
And I am not complaining. This is to be expected, being one of possibly one who races and works in NASCAR and auto racing … and lives in the greater New York metropolitan area. This isn’t a topic many in the area are given a chance to broach, let alone converse with a living, breathing person about it.
And it shows, when the next most popular conversation pieces are, “What would happen if you went right?” “Do you pee in the car?” “How fast do you go?” “What’s the fastest you have gone?” “If an F1 car raced a NASCAR, who would win?”
“Is it even hard to drive in NASCAR? I drove my road car ‘X’ over the speed limit, and it wasn’t hard.”
Close your eyes for a second, and you could be excused for thinking you actually were in a 3rd-grade career day. Most of the time, I relish the opportunity to convince a potential new fan on the merits of auto racing, as if it’s instruction straight from the Bible to spread scripture.
Except I’m trying to spread the gospel of speed.
But there are times I would rather lop off one of my big toes. Usually, it involves a young man who is convinced that money is the only gospel in life. So he works 13 hours a day inside a cubicle on a high floor in Manhattan, living off antacid and ADHD pills and usually under the all-encompassing job description of “finance,” which is a direct byword for “insecure, Excel sheet drone.”
This guy will make horrible NASCAR joke after joke until I do what is advisable in any situation of this type: Knock him out. (Kidding. I walk away and buy myself a drink.)
But lately, a very intriguing question has been recurring: “How is NASCAR doing?”
And it’s spoken in the same reverential tones reserved for inquiring about an absent relative. As if I’ll respond, “Well, they got their latest checkup, and all is well there! They also recently lost their dog, but he was very old so it wasn’t terribly sad. They will love to know you asked about them. I’ll send your regards!”
The thing is, NASCAR is not a living being. It’s an organization of thousands. A traveling circus roaming the continental United States like a cast of gypsies all with different acts and goals. To cover everyone under one broad brush would be ill-advised at best.
But I know what is meant by those who ask. This type of person has read the articles. They’ve heard the rumblings and seen the TV ratings. Their cousin was a fan and no longer is. They had a connection to it that peaked in the heyday of 2005. And since then, they haven’t paid attention. They admit to being a bit naive. They want the God’s honest truth.
I want to give them the truth.
So I bring up all the reasons to be optimistic. I mention there is massive support on social media, that everything is cyclical, that autonomous cars are too far away to affect the sport. The Daytona 500 was sold out. There still are sponsors signing on for millions. But eventually they stop me and say, “Oh, OK, I just heard that…” and I reply, “I know what you’ve heard. It is what is.”
The reason they cut me off is they know I’m lying to them.
The truth is, I don’t know. No one knows. If someone did, then I hope they would use that type of power to cure cancer, or end global hunger. And add that you would have to identify what exactly are the underlying reasons, which seems an impossible task in itself.
Ask any number of people, whether fans or those working in the sport, “What are the biggest challenges facing NASCAR?” And you will receive exactly that many different answers.
So especially for someone such as myself who makes a living off of the sport, it would seem odd to be so ill-informed, to not have it all figured out. But not when you realize that in my line of work, you have the shelf-life of an avocado.
I love race cars. I love cars. I love auto racing in all shapes and forms. I’ve come to realize I don’t care if millions of others care or four others care. But I always will be excited by a manic finish such as we had at the Daytona 500 this year.
I always will feel a sense of euphoria from a whiff of racing fuel. The more I simply focus on my enjoyment level, and less on how many others also enjoy it, the more I actually enjoy it.
Therefore, I am going to start answering the question “How is NASCAR doing?” with “Great! Everything’s great.”
So then I can get back to letting the naive know that believe it or not, you do not get dizzy driving in circles.
