I can not believe that this site is worse than the last time I dropped in.....but it is. Same losers trying to post one sentence blogs that should be on an ass kissing fan page somewhere.

About 40 former Fox bloggers have a loose affiliation at blogspot. No BS, just respectful blogging and commenting. If you've been here for over 6 months, you know some of these talented writers. Check em out here....

lugnutsandfanaddicts.blogspot.com/

I like the looks of the new site. Very surprising that they did this without shooting themselves in the Plaxico. This is just a little test blog to see how it posts. I couldn't find a way to change fonts on this, maybe someone will tell me.

I'll be returning soon with this week's Right Sides Only.

This week's race finds us in Northern California at Infineon Speedway, also known as Sonoma, or Sears Point. So all you Japanese tourists at Alcatraz, all you wine snobs in Napa, and all you rednecks along the Russian River...look out, NASCAR fans are amongst you. Actually, you guys at the Russian River will probably be okay.

Several so-called ringers annually show up at the road courses to show the roundy-rounders how it's done. Has one ever won a race here? Uh, no. Scott Pruett finished third a few years back. That's the ringers best finish so far.

Yet every year desperate car owners keep putting these driving school employees in a stock car. This year finds P.J. Jones in the #04, a second entry for Robby Gordon. The #09 Dodge, usually started and parked by Bliss or Marlin, has Ron Fellows making the lefts...and rights this time. Afroman, Boris Said also makes his annual start in the #08.

In 2007 Juan Montoya won as a rookie from the 32nd starting spot. Last year Kyle Busch became the youngest winner (23) here after starting 30th. With all kinds of crazy pit strategy going on here, starting position doesn't seem as critical as some other tracks. This is also one of the few tracks where a car can make a green flag pit stop and not lose a lap.

Here a few drivers who you wouldn't normaly think of as road race aces, but their finishes aren't too bad. Ryan Newman has 5 top-10s in seven starts here. Clint Bowyer has two top-5s in his three races. Kurt Busch has 3 top-5s in 8 starts. Elliott Sadler has 10 starts and four top-10s. Greg Biffle has two top-5s in six starts.

81 year old Hershel McGriff will be coming out of retirement to race in Saturday's CWWS companion event at Infineon. McGriff has been racing longer than NASCAR has. He was the then Winston West Most Popular Driver for 12 years running from 1981-1992.

The old lefthander, Kenny Stabler will be the Grand Marshall and give the starting command for Sunday's Cup race. The Snake is beloved in the Bay Area as the greatest Raider QB ever. He now can be heard doing football games for Alabama along with long time NASCAR announcer Eli Gold.

Look for Stabler in the hospitality areas, probably hanging out by the refreshments in Robby Gordon's or Casey Mears' tents. If not there, check Kasey Kahne's or Kurt Busch's.

On Monday, radio shock jock, Bubba the Love Sponge, ingested the same meds as Jeremy Mayfield claimed to have taken before failing his drug test. Bubba's test showed positive for Meth, same as Mayfield's. Friday June 19, Bubba will do it again live on the radio. Catch Bubba on Sirius.

Only in Cali....3,000 sheep live on site, and 'mow' the grass at Infineon. They must be doing a hell of a job, because all I see around the track is dirt.

KL Valus' Nob Hill Mob will be at the track this weekend. In honor of their presence, Infineon has a free 'track walk' for fans after the race. Lug nuts will be placed around the track for fans to keep, included are specialy marked ones which can be redeemed for prizes, including a big screen TV. We can expect our gang of ringers to win, place, and show in that event.

As I turned onto my street I checked under the dash and pulled out my throwdown piece. I saw the Buick up ahead and I pulled up so that my passenger door was  two inches away from its driver side door, leaving no room for the driver to exit the silver sedan.

I powered down the window about a third of the way and recognized the surprised face in the Buick. Biggun!  Now I'm wondering if the .38 I had in my hand would even faze that big guy.

I yelled over, "You lookin' for me, Tiny?"

"Yeah, I got something for you."

"Just hand it through the window."

He tossed a familiar looking manila envelope onto my front seat. Damn! I snatched it up and rifled through it. Nine thousand, nine hundred bucks. All there!

Then Biggun told me, "I followed you out last night, just to make sure everything was okay..."

"Great job," I interrupted.

"Hey, I never saw the dude pop you until you were falling down. I stopped to check on you and he got away. That envelope fell out of your pocket. I figured that the cops didn't need to see it," he continued.

"Well, thanks for returning it."

"Don't thank me, thank the boss."

I had to ask, "Dale Jr?"

"The boss," was all he would say.

***                         

After leaving the bouncer I went inside my place to throw some stuff in a bag for my flight to Michigan. I called Victoria Lane while packing to give her an update. She seemed more concerned about Jr than my head injury. Nice!

I then returned the call from the unknown female. It was the waitress from Whisky River. Found out her name is Jennifer.  She also followed me out of the bar last night to make sure I was okay. Damn, for all those people to be looking out for me, my head sure hurts.

Finally, I called Cam Shaft and told him if he wanted his five Gs he better be at my place in the next three hours. He wasn't too thrilled when I told him I also needed a ride to the airport.

Shaft got to my place in record time. As I opened the door he laughed, "You gettin' on a plane with that on your head, Ahmed?"

"What?"                     

"You, gettin' on a plane, with that turban on your head. That's what."

"Oh. Maybe I'll take it off then."

Ten minutes later, after replacing the bandages with an Amp Racing cap, I was climbing into Shaft's Escalade for the trip to the airport through Friday afternoon rush hour traffic. The five thousand dollars made him a little happier.

***

After a rough flight through some thunder storms up to Michigan all I wanted was to lay my busted gourd down on a nice, clean pillow. Well, at the Shamrock Motel---- yeah, it's as classy as it sounds ---you get a not so nice, not so clean pillow.  So, I decided I needed a drink, or seven, to soothe my head and, hopefully, make me a little less picky about my room's linens.

I sauntered into Frothy's--- yeah, it's as classy as it sounds --- and decided to stick with beer tonight. I lucked into a barstool right beside the waitress station and ordered a Blue Moon. The bartender seemed like a friendly chap, said his name was CK and asked if I was in town for the races.

"Yeah, sort of," I let him know.

"Any driver in particular you're pulling for?" He asked.

"Not really. Dale Jr, kinda."

He chuckled, "Save your breath, Mister. He won't be visiting Vicky Lane anytime soon."

"How's that? I thought he had a decent shot here?"

He leaned over the bar and whispered, "It's all rigged, man. Just like the WWE.  NASCAR doesn't want Jr to see Miss Lane until later in the season, to raise interest in the race for the chase."

"Okay, Sparky, I think you've forgotten the number one rule of bartending....don't over use the product."

"Oh, I'm soberer than you, flatfoot. Want some proof?"

"What I really wanted was an orange slice in my Blue Moon Ale, not a lemon wedge, bro"

He continued on, "Sorry about that. Here's your proof. NASCAR has set up an unbelievable finish for Sunday's race. The top two cars run out of gas on the last lap. Two! And the old geezer Martin gets with Victoria Lane --- again. Still think that ain't rigged?"

"Okay buddy, there is no way NASCAR would think that people would buy that ridiculous ending."

CK leaned in again and said, "I have connections, just wait and see."

***

I was at the track on Saturday doing a little snooping when I saw Victoria Lane. What a classic American beauty. I finally caught her alone for a minute and told her about the wild conspiracy theory of NASCAR keeping her and Dale Jr apart. The way she just smiled and nodded her head seemed strange to me.

The next time I saw Victoria Lane was late Sunday afternoon. Martin was with her after the top two guys ran out of gas on the last lap, just like CK said would happen. The NASCAR guys were all over her so I couldn't get a word in. She finally turned and gave me a helpless look.

Why do dames think they can play Hanner with a pretty smile and a kind word?

 

  Previously...

  http://community.foxsports.com/blogs/Hanahan/2009/06/12/Mike_Hanner_Private_Eye_IV

http://community.foxsports.com/blogs/Hanahan/2009/06/09/Mike_Hanner_Private_Eye_III

http://community.foxsports.com/blogs/Hanahan/2009/06/02/Mike_Hanner_Private_Eye_II

http://community.foxsports.com/blogs/Hanahan/2009/05/17/Mike_Hanner_Private_Eye

Oh, my head. How much did I drink last night? Wait. I recognize that smell. Definitely a hospital. What happened? How did I get here?

I remember leaving Whiskey River, and walking through the parking lot. That's all, though. Now I'm lying on a paper sheeted gurney with a couple of rolls of gauze wrapped around my melon.

I remember meeting Victoria Lane earlier... wait! Where in the hell are the ten Gs!? In my coat. Where's my coat?

"Nurse!"                                   

Considering that it was 4 a.m., in an E.R., the nurse looked pretty decent. Not as hot as the chick that wears the nurse's outfit at Southern Belles, but pretty nice anyway.

"What is it, sir," she asked?       

"My coat, where is it?"

"It's right here on this chair, sir."

I tried to get up but I fell back on the gurney as it felt like a truck load of rocks had just been dumped on my head.

"Could you get it for me, please?"

She brought the coat to me. Looked at my bandages, and swiveled on out. I looked in the inside pockets, and suddenly my head didn't hurt at all. Now the truck load of rocks was on my chest.

The envelope full of Benjis was gone!

***

I heard the heels clicking down the hallway, and even in my condition, I recognized that quick stride.

"Well, if it isn't Mike Hanner. I was wondering if you were still alive. I mean, I'm used to you not calling me for weeks at a time, but it's been a few months now, Mike," she started right in.

"Hello, Chloe, " I moaned.

"You can't be bothered long enough to even leave me a message to let me know that you're okay. No, I get a call, from a cop, in the middle of the night, saying that you're in the emergency room," she continued. "What in the hell is wrong with you, Mike? Hell, what is wrong with me for putting up with your drinking, your cheating, your generally just being an asshole?"

"It's nice to see you too. Think you might be able to give me a ride home? Come on, Chloe, I miss you. Don't you miss me?"

"Oh, I'll give you a ride home, Hanner, but that's all I'll give you," she hissed.

I grabbed my coat, and tried to keep up with Chloe as she clicked down the hallway. It was a long, dark, silent ride until I noticed that she wasn't taking me to my place.

"We're going to your house," I asked?

"Of course, who else is going to take care of your sorry ass? One of your strippers? Those hoes don't want anything to do with you if you're not waving a fistful of money."

"Just because they're dancers doesn't mean they're hoes," I corrected her.

That earned me a look that could have melted more ice glaciers than any of Al Gore's wild theories.

***

I woke up the next day, in Chloe's guest bedroom. How nice, I thought as I got up and headed for the kitchen. Thirsty.

She heard Jenna barking at me and came in to see if I needed anything.

"I'm okay. I could use a ride back to Whiskey River to get my truck," I told her.

We piled in her Jag, with the dog, and started out. I knew she was thinking about how to give me the same talk I've heard from her five or six times before. The one where she's not getting any younger, I need to settle down, and get a real job. Yeah, that one.

So, I beat her to the draw, "I'm sorry, Babe. I'm involved with a case right now that's taking all my time. I promise when I get back from the race in Michigan, we'll sit down and discuss the future."

"Now you're running off to Michigan?"

"I have to. That's gonna be my best chance to crack this case. If it doesn't happen there, it may not happen for a long while," I told her.

She pulled up behind the El Camino, grabbed my hand and said, "Be careful, Mike."

I laughed and pointed at the turban of bandages on my head and said, "I always am."

Chloe was not amused.

***

I checked my messages on the drive home.

Message one... 10:20 a.m., Victoria Lane, "Mike, this is Victoria. I couldn't wait any longer, did you see Dale Jr last night? Is he okay? Please call me as soon as possible. Bye."

Message two... 11:48 a.m., unknown female, "Hey...you. Are you okay? I saw them carting you off last night, and I think I have some info for you. Call me, 867-5309."

Message three...12:33 p.m., Cam Shaft, "Yo, Hanner, where the hell are you? I just rode by your place, there's a dude in a Buick sitting out front like he's watching the place. Knowing you, it's probably just a jealous husband. I need those five biggies, dude. Those two vatos I contracted that job out to ain't as patient as I am, and they wanted to get theirs about a minute ago. Ya hurr?"

Damn, my head is killing me.

Part III...

http://community.foxsports.com/blogs/Hanahan/2009/06/09/Mike_Hanner_Private_Eye_III