My joyride with Kyle Busch
Kyle Busch wants to nail the gas.
I can feel it.
His leg is moving. He wants to stomp on the pedal.
Hard.
I'm sitting next to him as he pulls his Kellogg's Chevy away from the curb and followed his fellow NASCAR stars down 44th street to start NASCAR's Victory Lap, a 1.5 mile, generally slow-paced trip around the heart of Manhattan.
Then he does. The wheels chirp, fans scream, and we're heading down Broadway.
Kyle Busch, known in the NASCAR ranks as, well, kind of a maverick, has been chided for rough driving and being a hot head. So, one might say being in the car with Kyle Busch isn't the best place to be, especially without a helmet.
Less than a block away from this NASCAR promotional lap in Manhattan, part of the series' Champions Week events in New York, we're right on the rear of Matt Kenseth's bumper.
Like RIGHT on.
Matt Kenseth stops.
Kyle Busch creeps up on Matt Kenseth's Ford. And hits it.
It's a small tap, yet, pieces of body filler fly in the air. The back of Matt Kenseth's car is dented as if he backed into a telephone pole.
"We killed it," Kyle Busch says, with a fun, party-like laugh.
He's having fun.
And, who wouldn't. It wasn't really Kyle Busch's car, but rather one borrowed from the Richard Petty Driving Experience school in Charlotte.
Instantly, I'm reminded of a scene from "Days of Thunder" where two drivers, using rental cars, beat the living poop out of them while laughing up a storm.
That's exactly what Kyle Busch is doing.
Driving a race car slow, is difficult, even with the streets cleared.
"It's pretty hard," Kyle Busch says. "It's a pain in the a--."
He laughs again.
We both laugh.
I wish we had some beer.
He spins the tires again and the rear of the car slides towards an elderly fan who has walked out onto 42nd St. to raise a thumb.
She makes it out alive.
I'm still not sure about me.
A NASCAR insider estimated the crowd lining the streets at more than 100,000 Wednesday. Some of them, no doubt, were wondering who the schlub was with Kyle Busch.
Kyle Busch is laughing again. It's an infectious laugh. One that clearly show's he's having a good time - in a devilish way.
Just as we turn the corner to head up Madison Ave., a burley cop on the corner shouts for Kyle Busch to light the wheels up.
He spins his fingers as he says this.
Kyle Busch slows down.
Matt Kenseth's mangled Ford moves ahead, much further than any time before in the parade lap.
Kyle Busch stomps on the gas, while holding down the brakes. The sound of tires spinning fills the air. The engine noise is so loud you can't hear anyone speak.
Then the noise lowers to a simmer.
Smoke begins to creep out under the hood. There's also a foul smell. More smoke starts wafting into the cockpit.
I'm looking for flames.
Kyle Busch is fighting the shifter to get it into gear.
He's laughing. He's always laughing.
We're not moving.
"I killed it," he says. "The clutch is gone."
The NYPD motorcycle cops riding alongside us pass us.
Matt Kenseth is way ahead.
What's smoking, I ask?
"I don't know," Kyle Busch says.
He's waving an arm out the window, trying to get Tony Stewart to push us.
There's a thump. It's Tony Stewart's bumper. We're moving. Kyle Busch has it into gear, but the car sounds like crap.
"I killed it," he says, laughing again. "It's on its last legs."
Remember, it's not his car.
We turn onto 53rd St.
"Hey Kyle," yells a guy on the corner. A woman holding a NASCAR sign is stamping her feet and looks like she's going to cry - or go to the bathroom.
"There's a lot of people here," Kyle Busch says. "It's pretty good."
We're heading down Broadway. Again, we tap Matt Kenseth's bumper.
A motorcycle cop looks into the car.
"I don't think I can get a ticket," Kyle Busch says. "I hope not."
I'm just hoping we make it back at this point, ticket or not.
Another cop urges Kyle Busch to step on it.
"I will," Kyle Busch says.
How far do we have to go, Kyle Busch asks.
A block, I say.
He stops.
He mashes the gas.
The wheels come to life. The rear of the car slides to the right as 800 hp is forced to the drive train. The air is filled with the smell of burned rubber. I can see the fans waving through the cloud of smoke.
"That was better," Kyle Busch says.
He's laughing again.
The car stalls.
He laughs harder.
I worry we'll have to walk.
It takes a few times before the car refires and we head to the finish line.
Kyle Busch steers the car into a line behind the others. Matt Kenseth's dented bumper is staring us in the face.
He climbs out of the window and jumps on top of the car.
Kyle Busch is clearly having fun with this one - loads of fun.
"It was cool," Kyle Busch says when it's all over. "You got to have fun with it. You're in New York City, you're hanging out with the fans, hanging out with the drivers, you gotta have fun with that."
I wonder if we can go again.
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