#BackStretcher

[indicartshop]

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[isforever]

my striker writing playlist is.... literally just my dad's taste in music.

[feddy-34]

it's okay guys i know how to fix monaco

[stargarland]

today during my race i remembered i’m a tweaker at my core and absolutely bodied someone LMAO

[lifeisyoung4everyone]

PAPA SYLUS WITH HIS DAUGHTER

SYLUS WAKES UP TO YOU NOT IN BED WITH HIM. With a slight hunched tension on his back and spine, Sylus does a gruff and puff as he adjusts his silk black robe, to take off and come get you back to bed.

He turns to sit up properly on the bed, hands pressed firm on the mattress either side of his body to backstretch and to let his feet meet the floor. Yet funnily enough he places his feet down to be met with the most frigid cold floor (which grants him a distasteful expression); and he can’t feel for his slippers.

He treads to the kitchen with shivering numbness on the soles of his feet, but that irksome bother is quickly forgotten once he actually gets a glimpse of the scene in the kitchen from the doorframe.

Sylus’s face turns from disgruntled to wholesomely entertained to the sight of his little one sat perched sideways on the island stool facing her biggest teddy bear, whom was sporting her papa’s artisan-crafted suede slippers.

His smiley amusement only grows on his face as he meets your equally cheekily amused one, rumbly delighted chuckles fluttering out of him that you meet with your own giggles.

He approaches the pair of you and bows down to be close to eye-level with his little angel’s face.

“Can I have them back, sweetie?”

“Or is teddy’s feet too cold?” you brazenly chime in.

He can only meet your audacious smile with fake, light-hearted frustration (which to you is always a really bad act, since he can’t help snickering and the corners of his mouth turn upward), along with mock groans and crossed arms, all designed to make you laugh.

She’ll be the judge on who’s getting the slippers.

SYLUS WHO FINDS HIS LITTLE PRINCESS ASLEEP ON THE COUCH, limbs branched out comically whilst her stuffed animals stay splayed on the floor, presumably struck down by her little arms and legs (which move like cats on hot bricks when she’s asleep- a kicker for sure).

Papa Sylus begins on bending down and picking up her soft toys and placing them on the sofa with her. As he does, a few get lay down with cotton-filled flabby arms covering their beady eyes and having starfish legs, all in purpose to mimic the sleeping position of your daughter. The others get lined up around her like waiting for her to wake up and watch TV or play with them again (don’t worry- they’re placed a radius far enough so she won’t kick them down again, hopefully.)

Once done with his antics, Sylus turns from his view the of the couch and catches glimpse of you behind the glass sliding-door of the balcony.

Carefully and slowly sliding the door open and closed as to not make too much noise for your sleeping angel, he joins your leaning figure of elbows on the railing, watching the view outside the apartment.

He grabs your waist letting his arm and hand rest across the entirety of it, and kisses the top of your head.

“She’s fast asleep.”

[coimbrabertone]

Well, What the Hell Did You Expect?

It was inevitable.

Okay, that's not to say that we all woke up the day of the Richmond race and knew it was going to be these exact guys at this exact track, but like...don't tell me you didn't expect for something like this come Daytona. It's just how a "win and you're in" playoff format works, especially when you remove the top thirty in points requirement. That means you can be one of the worst drivers in Cup, nepotism baby who hasn't scored a top five in fifty races, but you have one race where you're at the front and can win your way into the playoffs.

In an instant, you go from thirty-second in points to guaranteed to finish at worst sixteenth.

In an instant, you off the back of one race, lock yourself in while guys like Chris Buescher and Ross Chastain that have run at the front in multiple races and have a much better chance of actually progressing in the playoffs, are knocked out. At this point, Buescher, Chastain, Bubba Wallace, Chase Briscoe, Kyle Busch, etc, etc, are gonna have to win one of Michigan, Daytona, or Darlington to make the playoffs.

That's less races than drivers.

So, let's talk about what happened.

Austin Dillon in the Bass Pro Shops Hunting Sale #3 Chevrolet for Richard Childress Racing worked his way into the lead at Richmond with three to go. Daniel Suarez in sixth is on fresh option tyres (because that's another thing, before all this nonsense, Richmond was actually a rather interesting race with two different tyre compounds, a soft option that was clearly faster than the hard prime, but degradation brought the prime runners back into contention) but he wasn't gaining quick enough.

Then Ricky Stenhouse had a wiggle going into turn one while Ryan Preece was trying to crowd him down through the corner. They touch, they spin - right in front of the #3 no less - and the caution comes out. Austin Dillon will have to defend his lead from at least one overtime green-white-checker restart.

The leaders pit ahead of the GWC.

Denny Hamlin is second in the #11 FedEx Rewards Toyota for Joe Gibbs Racing. He has the best pit selection of the three leaders.

Joey Logano is third in the #22 Shell/Pennzoil Ford for Team Penske.

Denny seems like he's going to have the advantage, but his pitstop was slow! Austin Dillon comes out first, then Joey Logano, and Denny Hamlin is third.

Austin chooses the bottom, Joey goes to the top, Denny follows Austin.

Green - the race restarts with two laps to go.

They restart, Joey pulls alongside immediately, the cars are fanning out behind so nobody's really getting a push, and Logano finds the grip on the top because he pulls ahead through turns one and two. On the backstretch, he clears.

Dillon tries to get back to him with the draft and through turns three and four but can't do it. By the time they cross the start-finish line, Joey has but at least a car length between them.

White - the flag means the start of the last lap, and whatever flag flies next - be it the checkered at the end of the lap, or a yellow or red before that - ends the race.

Dillon tries again on the backstretch, but Logano is clear. In turns three and four, it seems like Logano is going to win it...until Austin Dillon just doesn't brake? Like...at all?

Dillon piledrives into the corner, starts running up the track because he's too fast, and then hits Joey on the right edge of his rear bumper, and spins him out.

Joey is spinning, Austin is pulling the nose of his car down, and Denny Hamlin from third is going beneath the both of them to try and win this race.

And then the really obscene part happens.

Austin Dillon (with his spotter shouting "Wreck him!" no less) swerves left and hooks Denny's right rear. Denny hits the wall right side door first, the yellow comes out around this point. Tyler Reddick and Bubba Wallace are getting runs on Dillon, but one: Austin just holds them off to the line, two: because of the yellow flag coming out at some point after those Logano and Hamlin incidents, it didn't matter anyway.

Tyler Reddick bumps Austin Dillon on the cooldown lap just to show his displeasure.

As of right now, Austin Dillon is classified first, Hamlin second, the 23XI cars of Reddick and Wallace are third and fourth, and Ross Chastain is fifth. Joey Logano was classified as nineteenth.

How exactly NASCAR determined that finishing order is a mystery, but what isn't a mystery is why this happened.

Like I alluded to earlier, Austin Dillon was thirty-second going into this race. He hadn't scored a top five all season, he only has one good race a year, and at least half the fanbase sees him as a disgrace to the #3 car. Austin Dillon had no chance of making the playoffs on merit.

The only way he was going to make it was to win.

Richmond was the only opportunity he was going to get.

Logano and Denny were already locked into the playoffs, another win wouldn't mean much for them.

Does any of this excuse what he did? Absolutely not. Logano or Hamlin could've been hurt and the fact that they weren't is not an excuse.

But this is why Austin Dillon says "he did what he had to do" because this win if you're in format causes this type of shit. NASCAR literally made this exact scenario possible by removing the top thirty in points rule from playoff eligibility ahead of the 2023 season. So yeah, of course this was going to happen, because drivers are desperate for wins to begin with and this playoff system enables it.

I'm not even trying to be a boomer and say get rid of the playoffs, I understand that they're here to stay, but why on Earth would you remove the top thirty requirement? That was at least a rule that required a driver show some sort of competitive pace consistently in order to make the playoffs.

By removing that, NASCAR gives bad drives a blank check to do stupid and dangerous moves if they're even remotely in contention to win.

And you know what, in two weeks at Daytona, if the likes of Harrison Burton or John Hunter Nemechek (for example) are anywhere near the front of the field, they'll do this exact same thing. A win means a top sixteen finish in the championship for your team, nobody expects NASCAR to give serious consequences to this kind of stuff, and even if they suspended you, that doesn't seem to matter either.

Last year Chase Elliott got suspended for right hooking Denny Hamlin into the wall and NASCAR granted him a playoff waiver.

Fans can complain all they want, because when it comes to this stuff, NASCAR is Groundskeeper Willie.

Willie hears ya, Willie don't care. P.S: Oh, and for those fans saying Dale Earnhardt would've done the same thing in that #3 car? Well one: Dale wouldn't have been thirty-second in points and needing a win to begin with, and two: that doesn't justify it?

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Hot diggity dog! Wienermobiles put on riveting race in Wienie 500 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway

By DAVE SKRETTA, AP Sports WriterMay 23, 2025

INDIANAPOLIS (AP) — Give the Borg-Wiener Trophy at Indianapolis Motor Speedway to the Wienermobile affectionately known as Slaw Dog.

In a down-to-the-wire race among the six iconic Wienermobiles that serve as goodwill ambassadors for Oscar Mayer, the hot dog-on-wheels representing the Southeast proved to be the big dog on Carb Day ahead of Sunday's running of the Indianapolis 500.

It made a dramatic pass of the Wienermobile repping Chicago at the finish line to win the inaugural Wienie 500 on Friday.

The margin was about a half a bun.

“You are standing in a moment in hot dog history right now,” Sarah Oney, who was co-piloting the Wienermobile representing New York with Connor Wolff, told The Associated Press. “This is the first-ever time we have honestly had all six Wienermobiles together and especially at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.”

It was the definition of a wiener-take-all race, too: The driver and co-pilot of the No. 3 dog, who managed to roast the rest of the Wienermobiles on a cool, sunny afternoon, got to stick around for the 109th running of the Indianapolis 500.

The Wienermobiles have been around since 1936 as a promotional vehicle for Oscar Mayer — not to be confused with Louis Meyer, the first three-time winner of the Indy 500. They travel around the country, logging about 20,000 miles annually, though none were probably as important to the hotdoggers on board as the 5 miles they drove on Friday.

Oney and Wolff jumped into the lead when the green flag flew at the historic yard of bricks, and the six Wienermobiles slowly picked up speed until they reached about 65 mph. They were right in each other's grills down the backstretch, and swapped the lead among themselves several times until the second of two laps, when the No. 4 dog led the field out of Turn 2.

That's when smoke began pouring from its rear, and that dog was cooked.

The Wienermobile wearing No. 1 assumed the lead as the field headed onto the front stretch, and a crowd of nearly 80,000 fans who had just watched the final practice for the 109th running of the Indianapolis 500 was standing and cheering.

That's when the Wienermobile from the Southeast, which had doggedly hung around the lead for most of the race, made its big move. It passed the the Wienermobile repping Chicago just in time to relish in the sweet taste of victory.

It might have been the fastest Wieners have gone since Joey Chestnut's heyday on Coney Island.

“The Indy 500 marks the unofficial kickoff of summer and the start of hot dog season,” said Kelsey Rice, brand communications director at Chicago-based Oscar Mayer. “It’s only fitting that we bring a race of epic proportions to the Speedway and celebrate a timeless tradition: delicious meats and a little friendly competition to kick off a summer of wieners.”

[gym-x-plus]

Becoming comfortable in knowing how your body can move and what it can do >>> 💕✨

Prioritizing daily stretching has allowed me to learn ways in which my body can move. Practicing flexibility reconnects you to your body.

Let me teach you ✨

Why are my legs so brown and upper half so pale 😂🤣

©️Credit ig @katboesenberg_fit

@gymshark // KATB

#gymgirl #handstand #flexibility #flexible #backbend #backstretch #gymshark #gymtricks #gymnastics

[griffinequestrian]

On the backstretch

[duck7]

NASCAR Whelen Modified Tour 2023 ʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ¹⁹ Martinsville 🇺🇸

Point leader Ron Silk collected in backstretch crash.

[ghostchasersmagazine]

"The Challenger" from Speed Buggy Issue #4

Transcript under the cut:

Coming out of the turn, Speed Buggy was running second with just one lap to go in the World 200. The fastest cars in the world had dueled for 198 laps and now they were finishing the next to last lap. Just ahead, the official whipped the white flag down on Dude King who was two lengths ahead of Speed Buggy with Tinker at the wheel.

Now, Speed Buggy whipped past the offical and got the white flag indicating they were starting the last lap.

"C'mon Speed Buggy," Tinker yelled, hanging in behind Dude King's big black racer. "This is the lap that counts."

Around the first turn, closing in behind King's big, powerful car, Tinker was tailgating. Using King's car to break the wind, Tinker held position until the last turn.

"Can he do it, Mark?" Debbie screamed, jumping up and down in the pit area to get a better look at the two leaders coming around the last turn.

Mark grinned. "Don't worry. Tinker, Speed Buggy, and I planned it this way, Debbie!"

Out of the last turn, Tinker was already mashing on the gas pedal, picking up passing speed while he was still behind Dude King. Then, he whipped past the big, black car at the head of the stretch, puled up even with Dude King, then edged ahead.

"Watch it, Tinker!" Speed Buggy yelped in alarm as Dude Swerved his heavier race car at them.

Speed Buggy dodged, moving ahead, and at the finish line Speed Buggy was a half a length ahead. The crowd roared because Speed Buggy was well liked while Dude King's black car was hared nearly everywhere they raced.

The race judge whipped down the black and white checkered flag. The race was over! Speed Buggy had won!

At the finish line, after Speed Buggy had gone around one more time, Debbie kissed Speed Buggy on the hood and hugged Tinker. They were all happy as the offical presented the team with a check and a beautiful silver loving cup.

"That's terrific!" Speed Buggy griped. "You get a nice fat check and a loving cup. What do I get?"

Tinker laughed. "You'll get your oil changed, I'll give you a nice lubrication job, wash and wax your paint, then give you a long, cool drink of oil."

Speed Buggy winked. "Sounds great, Tinker. I was only kidding anyhow. I like racing. Especially against Dude King's big, black car."

The happy crowd left the race track. Tinker, Debbie, and Mark went to dinner. The race cars were left at the track as darkness fell.

There was silence for a long time, then finally a parked red racer made sure no drivers or mechanics were around.

"Nice race, Speed Buggy," the red car said. "If I couldn't win, I'm glad you beat the black car."

"Me too," a sleek white car added. "Dude King is a dirty driver."

Then the black car started its engine with a menacing roar.

"Knock it off, you creeps," King's car threatened. "I woulda beat Speed Buggy easy if Dude King didn't let Tinker outsmart him."

The red car snickered. "Speed Buggy could best you without Tinker's help." The other cars chimed in, agreeing. They loved needling the black race car.

"Oh, yeah?" the black car snarled. "I'll bet I can beat Speed Buggy right now!"

Speed Buggy scoffed. "No, you can't!"

The black car responded with a roar, so Speed Buggy started his engine. Both cars, with only the other cars watching, moved to the starting line. The red racer beeped his horn to start them and they were off!

Now, Speed Buggy knew what strategy the black car would use. He stayed right behind Speed Buggy and Speedy knew when the last lap came, the black racer would whip out and try to pass him in the stretch.

Speedy ran fast until the next to last lap. Then, as they went down the backstretch, Speed Buggy slowed down. Slower. Then even slower. And the black car roared and snarled threateningly, bumping Speedy but Speedy refused to be rushed.

Into the final turn.

Now, with the homestretch ahead, Speedy suddenly accelerated. He peeled out, his rear wheels whipping dust and gravel into the lights and grill of the black car right behind him.

Cough, cough, splut, the black car choked and was trying to see as Speed Buggy roared ahead to win easily by three lengths.

In the morning when Debbie, Mark, and Tinker arrived and said hello to Speedy, Speedy had such a smug look, Tinker asked him about it.

"You look as though you had a good rest, Speedy," Tinker said.

Speedy laughed. "I dreamed I won a big race without you to drive me," Speedy replied, "so just watch out. I may not need you!"

[emotionalmotionsicknessxx]

Chapter 20: Backstretch

Erik/Christine, Circus AU, Enemies to Lovers, Slowburn, 100k

"What –" Firmin said, finally clearing the last row of spectators.   Erik could imagine the surprise the old man felt at what he saw beyond the circle of onlookers. Not a freak, not a lowly stablehand, but a man in a black mask and silver cape, doffing his top hat to the oglers leaning on the fence. The manager would have never seen him this way; Erik relished the satisfaction that bloomed in his chest at Firmin’s dumbfounded expression. 

Read on Ao3 here

[tiny-buzz]

Enter the doors of the "Casino Regis."

**

“Now, crash course since you don’t have all day and neither do I, but I wish I did, especially with you folks: we’ve got slots throughout, table games along the west and south corridors, high rollers up in the half-mezzanine, and down the middle here — we call this the Promenade — we have some of our most sought-after, most-cutting edge experiences. Now, we paid a pretty penny for these babies, fully customized, no one has anything like this, not even the Chinese, and I gotta say, they were worth every cent.”

It’s his voice, of course. Directional audio, tracking you from the moment of entry, beams it into your skull, affecting the three small bones in your inner ear, the anvil, the stirrup, the hammer, and it’s like he’s over your shoulder, whispering, clapping you on the back. This great leap in auditory personalization is a boon for generating human connection at scale.

You glance to either side at the contraptions. They gleam under the pearlescence of the inlaid diodes above, energy efficient and uniquely customizable. Marvels, each of them irresistible, a gamblers dream. There’s a $100 pinball machine that stares back at you with his visage. There’s a roulette wheel with alien glyphs and colors you’ve never seen before. But here, the central game, a jewel: it is not specifically describes as such, but you understand it to be his favorite from his voice, even a showman like him can’t hide the glee in the vowels, is a simulation of a race track, a bubble dome, fifteen feet on either side, and inside are the stands in miniature, the whole scene: the bleachers, the topiary (in the shape of famous athletes), attendees, gardeners, officials, concessions that sell hot dogs (a famous summertime treat!), drinks alcoholic and non, and of course the track, dirt for contrast to the manicure green of the infield, good conditions today (the dome simulates, with great specificity, humidity, heat, wind, and rain, too), and there, at the edge of the scene and still the locus to which the eyes are drawn, the starting gate. A mechanical voice (feminine, flirtatious without meaning to be) announces that all is at the ready.

And they’re off: the gates explode open with the miniature horses, little rockets, thoroughbreds, each a different color or pattern, ranging from meaningfully representational of actual coats to fully fanciful, impossible, never to appear in nature, in violation of breeding standards (hey, it’s a game), each steed mechanical without being lifeless, each alive without being candid, and most crucially each jockied by a Regis. There’s #3 U.S. Navy Regis on the gray stallion, starting strong, #7 Millionaire Regis on the white and palomino, followed by #1 Notre Dame Regis on the checkerboard, and the rest of the pack in pursuit. The miniature fans throughout demonstrate their low-level decision making and plasticity as they cheer, scream, wave, beg, stand in rapt attention. Some have bet it all on this one, putting up their future like a reverse mortgage. For those in the VIP boxes, it’s just another race. They eat miniature gulf shrimp and some don’t even watch.

Around the clubhouse turn, #3 U.S. Navy Regis holds strong, with newcomer #9 Kelly Ripa Regis gaining, a length behind. But as they pull into the backstretch, #1 Notre Dame Regis pulls even with #9 Kelly Ripa Regis as #3 U.S. Navy Regis fades, with #2 Joey Bishop Sidekick Regis two lengths back, followed by #7 Millionaire Regis.

“Look at mes go, folks,” he says, a proud father, mostly into your left earbones. You swallow a mouthful of spit that you had forgotten to swallow, rapt.

The far turn is ruthless to the front runners, and out of it, homestretch, #7 Millionaire Regis holds a three length lead. But there, on the outside, comes #4 Mad About You Guest Appearance Regis on a horse the color of an IPA, screaming, his pupils pinpricks, shirtless, the number painted blood red on his well-muscled back. He is the apotheosis. He is the divine. He is two all-beef patties. Faster, faster, through the finish, and even a few lengths more.

The robust sound-chip simulates the roar of ecstasy: #4, then #7, then #2. The payout is considerable — the simulation had favored #3 U.S. Navy Regis. But that’s why they run the races, ain’t it?

“If you had put a sawbuck down on that trifecta,” his voice again, pointedly, playfully, “You’d be walking away with nearly three grand.” He pauses, and your ears beg for more. “Now, let’s talk about the shows, and the restaurants, because you’re gonna love them.”

Regis Weekend Has Been Extended, One Day, Through Wednesday, August 30.

[culturevulturette]

Los Alamitos Racecourse, Cypress, CA. A quarter horse track reconfigured to run thoroughbreds, it features an uphill climb on the backstretch, a slightly banked far turn, and the longest home stretch in the country. Tucked in between a Costco, homes, a strip mall and a business park, its days are numbered as its owner ages, but it's my local, and a place I will always love.

[fitfitnessx-store]

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[coimbrabertone]

Indycar Left Me Pleasantly Surprised, and That Makes me Happy.

The weekend started on a rather negative note for Indycar, with Penske Entertainment CEO, for reasons nobody can quite understand, deciding to pick a fight with Pato O'Ward. Pato, an extremely popular driver hailing from Monterrey, Mexico, has pushed hard for Indycar to race internationally, particularly in Latin America. In response, Mark Miles said that Pato would need to be more popular to make that happen, that he's not as big as Adrian Fernandez was, that he isn't on billboards. Mark Miles finished off on a note that Pato's popularity was growing, but the damage was done.

That, combined with Indycar trying to ease expectations by saying they expected just 15,000 fans per day at the Milwaukee doubleheader, really put me into a pessimistic mood on Saturday morning.

I figured that the race was going to be an easy win for Penske based on how the other short ovals - Iowa and Gateway - have gone. So the best I was expecting was that it would be Scott McLaughlin instead of Will Power or Josef Newgarden.

Then, on top of everything else, we found out that Milwaukee lost its lights at some point since the 2000s, so if the Saturday evening race went too long, we were gonna be at risk of getting called for darkness.

It wasn't looking good.

But then...the race started.

Immediately Santino Ferrucci and especially Conor Daly made audacious passes around the outside, making the uppermost groove work through turns one and two.

Then on the backstretch, it almost turned into a pack racing type deal, where if you had to check up on the backstretch, you immediately lost momentum and you were at risk of getting passed. It was pass or be passed, and that made any start or restart scenario chaotic in the most entertaining way possible.

It was already looking racier than expected, and that was before the two properly old school things kicked in. One: there was actually lapped traffic to contend with, Milwaukee's a short track and there are big speed differentials, so it's not an Iowa type scenario where the backmarkers are as fast as the leaders. And two: the speed differential got bigger because there was actual tyre wear all weekend.

Fresh tyres were worth a second a lap, so we got to see things like drivers pitting early to get massive undercuts, backmarkers on fresh tyres carving through the leaders to get their lap back, and massive closing rates when drivers had a tyre offset in their favor (more on that when we talk about race two).

And to top it all off, we got drama!

Marcus Ericsson and Josef Newgarden, who did battle at the Indianapolis 500 in 2023, came together in turn two. Marcus was trying to send it up the inside of Josef, tried to keep it in the middle groove, and Josef tried to hang it around the outside to get the better exit onto the backstretch. Marcus put a wheel onto the black stuff on the side, spun out, and hit Josef backwards first, knocking the both of them out of the race.

This launched the final phase of the race, with Will Power leading a group of cars from midfield on a longer strategy, whilst Pato O'Ward led the main group on the undercut strategy. Pato pit on lap 186, Power cycled to the lead, but almost as soon as he did, Colton Herta lost a tyre and brought out the caution.

Power and Conor Daly had to pit under caution, Pato cycled to the lead, and the race restarted with a battle into the sunset stint. Pato tried to break away, Power used the strength of his Team Penske car to push through traffic, while Conor Daly used his 'round the outside strategy to make up ground, these three would be the top three.

Power closed in to Pato O'Ward in lapped traffic at one point, but Pato was able to get through and win the Hy-Vee Milwaukee Mile 250 - Race One.

It was the perfect narrative, with Pato O'Ward's popularity being questioned in the morning, to see him come back and win from sixth? With the crowd erupting into cheers as he did so? It was perfect.

Because Pato is popular.

And despite all the negativity, when Indycar hits, it still hits.

Speaking of the crowd, it was also better than expected. Instead of the 15,000 that Penske Entertainment warned about, the ultimate crowd ended up being closer to 20,000.

That being said, with the race starting into the afternoon and getting to just about sunset - I think in the end, we got the race done twenty-five minutes ahead of the darkness call - there was a bit of a question mark over how the Sunday race in the heat of the day would be.

I was worried that the teams would figure out the pit cycle and we'd lose some of that chaos and some of that pace difference.

However, there was nothing to fear, because Sunday's race started out with chaos from the get-go.

First of all, we missed the initial start when championship leader Alex Palou failed to start with some sort of reliability issue. The championship got blown open at the penultimate race with none of us knowing whether or not Chip Ganassi Racing would manage to get him out again. They eventually did, with just a few more hiccups, and we got around to the proper start of the race, when we just got another dose of chaos!

The back of the field failed to bunch up for the start, so Indycar waved off the start. However, with the whole field anticipating a start and a lightboard flashing green even as the starter waved the yellow flag, we saw an incident.

Marcus Armstrong in third checked up and went to the middle, trying to avoid Josef Newgarden in first, but with his teammate Linus Lundqvist in third trying to get the jump, it would up being just the perfect angle for Lundqvist to spear Armstrong into Newgarden, wrecking against the inside wall.

And just like that, Josef Newgarden, the oval master, was out.

And attrition was back in force on Sunday, with Conor Daly, Nolan Siegel, Pato O'Ward, Linus Lundqvist, and Marcus Armstrong all retiring whilst Alex Palou scrapped for whatever points he could twenty-eight laps down.

Back up front, we saw the Penskes of Scott McLaughlin and Will Power jockeying for position whilst the other teams tried to get the jump on them. Alexander Rossi in the sole remaining Arrow McLaren did his best to replicate Pato's win, undercutting virtually every time, but more often than not, it seemed to drop him in heavy traffic, allowing Will Power and Scott McLaughlin to hold onto the lead.

Eventually, Scott got the jump on Will, and then Power blew the championship wide open again by spinning on a restart.

Power was able to continue, but he gave Palou a lifeline.

Meanwhile, Colton Herta and Scott Dixon changed strategies, saving a bit and trying to cut out a pitstop to make the track position play, succeeding and cycled around twelve seconds off the lead.

And Scott McLaughlin was flying, making up multiple seconds a lap, swallowing up Dixon and eventually, taking the lead off of Colton Herta. However, Alexander Rossi stopped later than McLaughlin and head even fresher tyres now, so he was the fastest of them all, having passed Dixon, and now starting work on Colton Herta for second. At the same time, Herta was stabilizing a bit, gaining every once in awhile as Scott struggled with traffic.

We had a race on our hands.

And then Sting Ray Robb brought out the caution, bringing the leaders into pitlane again. Nobody had fresh tyres at this point though, so they switched to whatever tyres they had access to. Here, Alexander Rossi's crew got the jump on Herta, cycling into second.

It was going to be Scott McLaughlin in first, Alexander Rossi second, Colton Herta third, and Scott Dixon fourth.

However, Alexander Rossi spun up the tyres on the start, used up all the life left in his tyres, and lost out on the restart. This bunched up Herta and Dixon, with Scott eventually moving into second, ahead of them both.

It was now going to be a battle of the Kiwi Scotts, and before the race was over, they caught lapped traffic again.

Dixon gained big, but McLaughlin just managed to hold him off.

McLaughlin won for Team Penske, another Penske win on a short oval, but the way it happened...nobody was gonna complain about that.

Two popular winners on two different races, but both were great.

I have to admit, I wasn't expecting Milwaukee to be this good.

As an Indycar fan, after like two straight years of underwhelming news, it feels so good to be pleasantly surprising by the series. It feels so good for a weekend to go better than expected.

And attendance was even better on the second day, at just over 20,000 for a total weekend attendance of right around 40,000. A whole ten thousand better than expected. Life's good.

Elsewhere, tyre pace differences seemed to be the theme of the weekend.

New tyres were king at Darlington with Chase Briscoe and Kyle Busch using them to battle for the win in the closing laps, with Briscoe just managing to pull off the win for the closing Stewart-Haas Racing team. He clinched a playoff spot, at the expense of Chris Buescher and Bubba Wallace who battled hard for the last spot on points, hoping and praying for a repeat winner up front.

At Monza, Charles Leclerc on worn tyres from a one stop just managed to hold off Oscar Piastri on fresh tyres. As much as I was disappointed in McLaren squandering a 1-2, I can't complain about seeing Leclerc win at Monza.

And in MotoGP, Marc Marquez was the only one who could master a tricky repaved MotorLand Aragon circuit, dominating both the sprint and the race. Meanwhile, in the race, we saw championship implications as Alex Marquez slipped wide in the marbles, swerved to rejoin the racing like, and wound up hooking the bike of championship leader Pecco Bagnaia.

This allowed Jorge Martin in second to snatch the championship lead, mere weeks after he lost it to Bagnaia.

Tyre wear makes for great racing, huh?

Shame that, most of the time, tyre manufacturers don't want to see their tyres wearing out and potentially blowing. It makes for a better spectacle, but it doesn't make for as good of a marketing piece for Goodyear...or Michelin...or Firestone...or Pirelli...or whoever your tyre manufacturer of choice is.