I like Paul Tracy. He is cool, and he is cool for more reasons than his nice first name.
Paul has been very active and forthcoming on the innerwebs lately, and his postings have been insightful and informative.
He seems to be mellowing a bit as he grows older.
Paul Tracy is fast becoming the wise elder statesman of real and shiny and quick IndyCar racing.
In the past…back in olden times…like in 2006, I may or may not have said some very mean and hurtful things about Paul Tracy.
As evidence of this fact, I cite the following rant I put on the intardnets a long time ago regarding the 2006 ChampCar race at Cleveland:
There were many chunks of carbon fiber and other racing machine parts flying around in the air on the first lap. Paul Tracy, who musta woke up mad this morning, tried to kill SeaBass and drove right over the top of his head! I think I told you guys before in my Indy 500 Pictorial thread that Paul Tracy and Seabass didn’t like each other much and that they would never get married, probably. Well, if today didn’t prove that, then I don’t know what will.
SeaBass got sent to the hospital for a cat scan, but he’s OK now, thankfully. I bet SeaBass is gonna try to kick Paul’s butt later on when he gets released from the hospital. If SeaBass can’t get the job done, then we should find somebody that can beat up Tracy, because Tracy is a dirty and mean driver who thinks he’s driving in NASCAR or at the Speed-Drome, or something.
Later on in the race, Paul Tracy punted noted Joe Walsh bass player, Nick Pastorelli, outta the way. Paul is like the Terminator of ChampCar, and he must be stopped.
Luckily, the racing gods caught up with Mr. Tracy for his earlier indiscretions. Tracy pranged the wall hard and was outta the race. Serves him right, the big dope!
Like Paul Tracy, I too am becoming more tolerant and accepting as my age advances.
It is for this reason that I would like to issue a formal apology for the above horrific statements I made about Paul Tracy.
When I stop and think about it, Paul Tracy and I are a lot alike in many ways.
He likes hot rods, and owns many of them.
I have a hot rod too.
We both have cameras and intardwebs access, and we use them both frequently to tell the world just what’s on our minds.
We are both married…to our respective wives…not to each other.
We both have children, we both drive for a living, and we both fret about our families’ security and well-being should we meet with a heinous fiery demise while working.
Additionally, we both take out huge supplemental insurance policies on ourselves, hoping our wives don’t hatch deadly plots against us so they can collect.
Anyhoo…I hope Paul Tracy is accepting of my apology and olive branch thingy I just offered.
In fact, if Paul Tracy has the time, I think I would like to do some kinda interview type thing with him sometime during the 2 weeks of May here at Indy.
My interview would be nothing like the one-on-one interviews Jack Arute has been doing recently.
Jack’s interviews do not look like a lot of fun to participate in.
Jack’s interviews are more akin to a Gestapo interrogation, or a precursor to a water boarding session.
Cheap metal folding chairs, a plain wooden table, and a darkened room illuminated by a single bare light bulb…not very inviting, and not exactly an environment conducive for an open and candid interview.
Personally speaking, if Jack Arute was interviewing me, I’d be more concerned about a bullet crashing through the back of my skull than I would about giving a thoughtful interview.
That’s why Paul Tracy should give some serious thought to submitting to an interview with me, because my interview would be much more laid back and groovy.
Paul would feel at ease, because I would make sure the atmosphere would be relaxing for him.
We would do this in the third turn infield grass, sitting on comfy lawn-chairs, in the shade of the opened hatch of my Paul Tracy Commemorative Beer Wagon.
I would have him autograph my car with a Sharpie first thing.
I would have suitable music playing in the background…like Triumph or Rush.
I would have a cooler of ice-cold beer…like maybe Labatts or Molson.
I wouldn’t have any food to offer him, because he’s on kind of a health kick now, and he probably has no interest in my normal track fare…baloney sammiches.
I would try real hard to not blow cigarette smoke in his face, but I would have a selection of fine cigars…like Backwoods Smokes…to offer him if he got real familiar later on.
I wouldn’t bring up 2002, because that’s been done to death and it’s boring now anyway, and I wouldn’t publish anything later Paul didn’t want published, because I’m sorta cool like that, and I know how to keep my mouth shut when I need to about real racin’ insider stuff.
Soon, Paul and I would start getting buzzed from the high-powered Canadian beer from Canadia, and I would turn up my car stereo really loud when a song we liked from The Jeff Healey Band came on my mP3 player.
Then, we would both perform a wild air-guitar concert unequaled in the annals of Indy 500 infield shenanigans history.
We would curse a lot too. Good naturedly, of course.
I like a good string of curse words, and I’m pretty sure Paul Tracy does also.
I think he and I would get along famously.
That’s what I think.
Anyways…at this point, Paul’s publicist/manager, who has been witnessing the above events unfold, would call an end to my interview with his meal-ticket.
Paul Tracy would politely and graciously excuse himself from the interview, thank me for my hospitality, and return to his high-pressure world of real Indy racing…confident of his upcoming success in the world’s greatest motor racing speed contest, and promising to replenish all the beer we drank.
Much to my delight, Paul would keep this promise.
He’s cool like that.
I bet that’s how the above scenario would all play out if it happened.
Paul Tracy’s people should contact my people.