September 2

A User Guide to the Pretty Boys of NASCAR

Mario Andretti** and Richard Petty would roll over in their graves (if they were dead). Today’s crop of Nascar drivers hires publicists and employs stylists for their photo shoots. Their endorsements are not for synthetic motor oils, but for luxury brands such as TAG-Heuer watches. One of the newcomers is referred to in the industry as “the metrosexual” (see photo at left). What the hell has happened to NASCAR?

We can blame it on Jeff Gordon. Mr. Eyebrows never looked like a redneck, and he wasn’t from the south, yet he dared to scale the heights of NASCAR. He became rich, successful, popular and married a model. In 2008 it was revealed that his income from product endorsements topped $15 million. So how did male NASCAR fans react? Well, those who can’t even pronounce TAG Heuer* called him a faggot (many still do) and did their level best to perpetrate rumors that Gordon went with the boys. It’s a brutal world out there on the NASCAR circuit, the venue of choice for America’s hot-headed, beer-swigging rednecks.

Yet there’s a whole crop of current NASCAR drivers who look like primped and preened movie stars. Do inquiring minds want to know?

OK, glad you asked. Carl Edwards (born 1979) may have gotten his start racing pickup trucks, but he will take his shirt off at the drop of a hat. He has also been a cover model for Men’s Health and ESPN magazines
I present as evidence:

Kasey "Blue Eyes" Kahne (born 1980) hails from Washington State, not some podunk burb in North or South Carolina. He owns his own race team and was the NASCAR Nextel Cup Rookie of the Year in 2004.

Jamie McMurray (born 1976) impressed us in 2010, when he became one of only three drivers to win both the Daytona 500 and Brickyard 400 in the same year.

Martin Truex Jr. (born 1980) hails from New Jersey (take that, North Carolina!***). The Truex family is a virtual NASCAR dynasty. His father was a NASCAR driver, as is his younger brother Ryan. Here is Martin Jr. waving to his mother.

***All but a handfull of NASCAR teams are based in North Carolina, centered around Charlotte, although national headquarters are in Daytona Beach, FL.

But the poster boy for the gentrified NASCAR driver has to be Scott Speed (born 1983, and it's his real name). Like Jeff Gordon, Scott (that's his photo at top of this post, with his bleached hair tussled just so) was born in California. He plays with his appearance – sometimes he’s blond, sometimes not; sometimes he has facial hair, sometimes not – and he pays more for his sunglasses than you or I make in a week. He’s more likely to show up wearing Ermenegildo Zegna or Prada than a polyester sweater from J.C. Penney. It's enough to make NASCAR fans switch their allegiance to Monster Truck rallies.

Scott’s wife Amanda loves to tell the story of when they first met. “I was hired as his PR girl, and we started hanging out doing sponsor stuff. I thought he was my new best gay friend. I really did. We went shopping together, we got pedicures and manicures together. All my friends were like, ‘He’s so gay,’ and I thought it was so cool that I had a gay best friend.”  But as time went on Amanda began to suspect that Scott was not as gay as everyone thought.

Notice those ever-so-stylish blond highlights (above right) and the delight he takes in playing with his favorite stuffed toy, while shirtless, natch.
Two more pics at the end of this post.

In a 2009 issue of NASCAR Illustrated, there was an article about Mr. Speed, who had just left Formula 1 racing (got his butt fired) to enter the Nascar circuit. To say that NASCAR is intolerant of Formula 1 racing is understatement (the two are as incompatible as ice hockey and polo).
The article was titled:
The Metrosexual's Guide to NASCAR
and it was an over-the-top, sneering put-down of a newcomer who just didn’t fit NASCAR’s image of a chaw-spitting, crotch grabbing redneck. The blistering criticism delivered low blows by referring to Scott Speed as “Snot Speedo” and paraphrased the chant “We're here, we’re queer, get used to it” with “Scott Speed is here. Get used to it.” Then it got really ugly, mentioning that Speed paints his toenails (true), colors his hair (also true) and sleeps in a bedroom painted purple (true again). They didn't mention that he is given to clingy, tight pink shirts. But I’ll let you read it for yourself. Here’s the entire text (OK, so I tweaked it, but only a little):

10 REASONS YOU WON'T LIKE SCOTT SPEED (SNOT SPEEDO)
Painted Toenails. Women's shirts. F1 talent. Scott Speed is here. Get used to it.

1. He paints his toenails blue.
2. He is one of those "Formula 1" guys.
3. He doesn't talk like your favorite driver (he doesn't say "dumbass").
4. He wears the same shirt as your wife (the Speedo wears Prada; his ideal size is a women's large).
5. He wants to be a DJ.
6. His beer of choice is imported Stiegl.
7. He colors his hair. A lot.
8. He likes Kyle Busch.(Oh, shit, Kyle, watch out!!).
9. His bedroom is painted purple.
10. He is not obsessed with NASCAR.

Well, the label “metrosexual” stuck like glue. At a recent Nascar event, the chatter went like this:
“3rd car is one lap down. He’s got to get by the onion and the metrosexual.”
OK, I’ll translate for you:
the onion = Todd Bodine (he’s bald, get it?)
the metrosexual = Scott Speed (see above)

When interviewed before a race held on Halloween, an interviewer asked Scott what his favorite Halloween costume would be. His answer: a loofah sponge. (!) Suddenly fantastic images of  taking a shower with Scott Speed as my loofah sponge leaped before my eyes. Sorry, just couldn't help myself.

Before we leave, a couple more shots of Scott Speed.

*TAG Heuer, the Swiss luxury watch brand, is pronounced TAHK HOY-air. You're welcome. And in case this entire post went right over your head, you can at least come away with knowing that NASCAR stands for National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing. Now you can go back to practicing your oboe.

**For the record, I once rented a car and drove all the way from Venice across the northern end of the Adriatic past Trieste, through Slovenia and on down to Croatia to visit Motovun, the town where Mario Andretti was born. I kid you not. Mario lived there until he was eight years old, when the Istrian peninsula was ceded to Croatia and his parents fled to Lucca (you arty types will know that walled Italian city as the birthplace of Puccini). When the Andrettis lived in Motovun, the town had the Italian name Montona. These days Motovun is known for hosting an International Film Festival. In this aerial photo of the medieval village of Motovun (population 531), you can see that an aspiring race car driver could practice switchback curves on the road climbing up there. Highly recommended.

There is also a plaque that pays homage to Mario Andretti:
"Mario Andretti was born in this house on February 28, 1940. Formula 1 Champion of the World 1978" (No American has won a Formula One race since Andretti's victory at the 1978 Dutch Grand Prix; it must be noted that Andretti became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 1964, at the age of twenty-four).

But I digress. On to the boys and their tan lines.


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