Let me be clear. Any race format that artificially moves entries from behind to plop them up front is a dumb one. I do not care if it is NASCAR’s All-Star Race or one that allows me to charge ahead of the Kentucky Derby field while wearing sneakers and a propeller hat. Dumb is as dumb does.
We begin with Monaco, tune into Indianapolis for the matinee, then spend the evening in Charlotte in our 600-mile feature. While we go in concerned about cars running into a house or into a harbor overseas, or find the wall and flipping down the track in Indiana, our biggest concern for the folks with fenders is that they might not be able to pass the leader in North Carolina.
