High Octane Prayer and Trophy Women

I have to give NASCAR credit for its uniqueness. I personally can't watch it, like Golf or Baseball (post-season excluded). I need some right turns and 100 less laps. I'll watch all of the accidents on ESPN later. However, in the midst of a desk-jockey triathlon, I witnessed a major sporting even open with a prayer, and a pretty meaningful one at that. Next, the National Anthem was sung (really it was sung, not just an American Idol warm-up exercise) and they panned almost every driver in the race - I have no idea what race it was - and I don't care. What caught my attention after a while, was that every driver had some serious arm candy at his side. Yes, no one does gasoline, God and women like the south.

I could hear Rocky's trainer Mickey screaming "WOMEN WEAKEN LEGS!!!" True, but drivers (athletes-cough) don't have to do much running in a race. My old offensive line coach would ask the guy who comes in second place, "What's the matter with you? Are you in love?" For as manly as NASCAR seems to be, this female faux pas is strangely overlooked. I'm grateful to see a prayer before a game, but this trophy wife/girlfriend/escort thing doesn't work for me. I suppose one could argue that fast cars and fast women just go together. Like peanut butter and... well, you know.