NASCAR MISSED CONNECTIONS

As silly season kicks into high gear, the inside scoop isn’t in the garage; it’s on Craigslist. Drivers, owners and sponsors think they are posting anonymously to Craigslist’s Missed Connections, but we smoked them out.  Here are several choice examples pulled from the site. 

See if you can figure out which drivers have "Missed Connections."


Me, the balding guy with the mustache and the radar gun at the entrance to pit road.  I was trying to flag you down to talk, but you wouldn’t slow down.  I think you’re so cool with your cart racing, your supermodel wife and your Spanish accent.  I’m kind of a ladies man, too.  Maybe we could go out to a club and I could be your wingman?  I’ve got a pretty serious sunburn from sitting trackside every weekend; let’s pick a dark bar.



You, a liquor company with a penchant for purple.  You told me my hair looked great and that I was funny in Talladega Nights. I thought we had fun, but I never finished higher than 16th overall with you.  I feel like there was a real connection.  Let’s race all the way to number one (or at least 12th). Give me a call, my number was 26.
 

I saw you at the trophy presentation in the rain.  you said ‘good race’ and I was real nervous and said, ‘you too!’ (so stupid!).  I was gonna talk to you, but then all these reporters came over.  I don’t think I’m going to be in victory lane again this year so it’s kind of a bummer.  If you read this, call me … or email or whatever.  Email is better cause I kinda live with my folks (Aahhgggg! why did I write that?!?)


You, a group of the 12 best drivers competing for the championship.  Me, a guy in 14th place right now.  I think you’re so hot and I want to get with you.  But not just physically, I also want to get with you emotionally (because I’ve matured a lot in the last few weeks).  I promise if you let me in I won’t lift you over my head and smash you (although that was totally boss!)


We are like two ships passing in the night, only we collided with each other in broad daylight two weeks ago in Chicago.  I couldn’t stop to tell you where to shove your three championship trophies because I was going 180 mph.  The first time you ran into me to get my attention, I hit you back and I think you took it the wrong way.  I was just trying to say, "stay out of my damn way, you’ve won enough of these races."  I’ll see you at Pocono (in my rearview mirror.)

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