Oiler
12-24-2022, 05:01 AM
T’was the night before Christmas and I lit up a Winston, not a crewman was working…not even in Shinnston.
The shock springs were all hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that the Bilstein man would be there.
The drivers were nestled all snug in their toters, with dreams of big money, more sponsors and motors.
And mama in her kerchief and Mark Richards in his cap, the 22 crew gave his square head a slap.
When out on the tech line there arose such a clatter, Ricky failed droop…now what’s the matter?
And away to the infield I flew like a flash, waiting for Winger to cause a big crash.
To the moon (Alice) on the haulers all parked on pit row, Mrs. Pierce burning t-shirts…she’s drunk and that’s low.
When what did my wondering eyes did appear, Coondog Cody no less…where will he be next year?
With their withered old driver, not lively or quick, watching Team Zero is making me sick.
More rapid than Rockets their drivers they came, Longhorn whistled and shouted and called them by name.
“Now Pearson, now B-Shepp, now Hoffman, and Pierce! On T-Mac, on Overton, and JD we’re fierce!
To the top of the earnings, to the top of the wall!
Keep running your Rockets, cuz we’re winning it all!”
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, those yo-yos from Hoosier and their spec tire goof.
As I tore up my tire bill and was turning aound, down the chimney Kevin Rumley came with a bound.
He was dressed for success and his t-shirt said NASA, this fella just knows how to make cars go fasta.
A bundle of shocks he had on his back, and not those Integras you buy at the track.
His eyes how they twinkled…he would try something daring, droop rule be dammed...he was far beyond caring.
Drunk race fans were staggering home in the dark, back home to bed at Madden's trailer park.
Suddenly more ruckus and roar filled the place. Nevermind, it’s just Lucas and their silly points chase.
Some think it will help but most think it’s funny, but Francis is smiling and counting his WoO money.
More drivers keep signing with WoO every day, especially with Shuman now out of the way.
But Lucas is getting a good bunch of cars in, at least they don’t have to tour with Brent Larson.
Josh Richards is finally calling it a night, Boom won’t be sad long…cuz he still has Busch Light.
And just as a dirt race can often seem violent, the dust quickly settled…and all went silent.
For we all lost a great friend, on that fateful fall day. And if you listen closely…we all know what he’d say.
“He ran high, wide and handsome…got loose, and then tight. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night…”
Dedicated to our beloved friend Rick Eshelman.
The shock springs were all hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that the Bilstein man would be there.
The drivers were nestled all snug in their toters, with dreams of big money, more sponsors and motors.
And mama in her kerchief and Mark Richards in his cap, the 22 crew gave his square head a slap.
When out on the tech line there arose such a clatter, Ricky failed droop…now what’s the matter?
And away to the infield I flew like a flash, waiting for Winger to cause a big crash.
To the moon (Alice) on the haulers all parked on pit row, Mrs. Pierce burning t-shirts…she’s drunk and that’s low.
When what did my wondering eyes did appear, Coondog Cody no less…where will he be next year?
With their withered old driver, not lively or quick, watching Team Zero is making me sick.
More rapid than Rockets their drivers they came, Longhorn whistled and shouted and called them by name.
“Now Pearson, now B-Shepp, now Hoffman, and Pierce! On T-Mac, on Overton, and JD we’re fierce!
To the top of the earnings, to the top of the wall!
Keep running your Rockets, cuz we’re winning it all!”
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, those yo-yos from Hoosier and their spec tire goof.
As I tore up my tire bill and was turning aound, down the chimney Kevin Rumley came with a bound.
He was dressed for success and his t-shirt said NASA, this fella just knows how to make cars go fasta.
A bundle of shocks he had on his back, and not those Integras you buy at the track.
His eyes how they twinkled…he would try something daring, droop rule be dammed...he was far beyond caring.
Drunk race fans were staggering home in the dark, back home to bed at Madden's trailer park.
Suddenly more ruckus and roar filled the place. Nevermind, it’s just Lucas and their silly points chase.
Some think it will help but most think it’s funny, but Francis is smiling and counting his WoO money.
More drivers keep signing with WoO every day, especially with Shuman now out of the way.
But Lucas is getting a good bunch of cars in, at least they don’t have to tour with Brent Larson.
Josh Richards is finally calling it a night, Boom won’t be sad long…cuz he still has Busch Light.
And just as a dirt race can often seem violent, the dust quickly settled…and all went silent.
For we all lost a great friend, on that fateful fall day. And if you listen closely…we all know what he’d say.
“He ran high, wide and handsome…got loose, and then tight. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night…”
Dedicated to our beloved friend Rick Eshelman.