You know how you knew that Homestead was an important race? Both Sprint Cup Smiley Girls were there. Not just the one, but the two! Beat still, my heart.

Despite their presence, which smacked of unbridled excitement and general eminence (bof'em, for crying out loud!), it was déjà vu all over again.

Yes, as prognosticated by many in the sport, and as with roughly 30 other races this year, Scott Speed totally nailed that first Lucky Dog of the race. It's not often that you get to see history - Speed started second - like that. I feel privileged to have witnessed it.

Actually, the race was entertaining, despite the simple truth that it was over before it began (though Dr. Punch sure tried his finest to convince us otherwise). I rather enjoyed the accordion rear-ender wreck on pit road. That was a sure sign that the driver's were already on break.

My buddy Chad did this one time, wrecking six cars in front of him, totaling his completely boss Chevrolet Citation. Chad is the same guy who once got pulled over for a DUI when he wasn't drunk. Chad worked in a coal mine on the graveyard shift, and on this particular morning, he forgot a change of clothes, fell asleep at the wheel on his way home (hence the stop), and had to perform his DUI tests in his boxers with carbon soot all over his face. The best part was that his mom, who was on her way to work, drove by as he was heel-toeing the line. (Hey, what's my son doing pulled over in his underwear with blackface on?)

So, yeah, that wreck was probably more entertaining for me than you.

Anyway, JPM and Stewart also put on a good show. JPM proved, without a shadow of a doubt, that he is an idiot. I'd rather be responsible for collecting Jeremy Mayfield's next urine test than be on Stewart's bad side. He owned a monkey once for God's sake. You know who owns monkeys? Crazy people, that's who. And crazy always trumps idiot. How do you think Obama got elected?

And Gordo? Fastest Pit Crew of the Year! Now that was fulfilling, you know, as a Gordon fan. And by fulfilling I mean that it made me want to throw something heavy, preferably with a large glass component, ideally with a cathode ray tube, off of a small roof onto large pavement (timeouts just aren't doing it for me anymore). It made me want to choke Letarte (which would require both a ladder and a belt, but I might be able to pull it off with the proper guise).

The fastest pit crew of the year? What? Was it based on a degree of difficulty scale? Because yeah, they did a great job if you factor in the fact that they had to perform a spring rubber and three wedge adjustments on every stop this year.

But either way, suck on that JJ. Call me when you have four Cup trophies AND a FPCY on the mantel, then we'll talk about the greatest of all time. Umkay?

Of course, despite his loss in the FPCY race, JJ deserves loads of credit. If there was ever any doubt that he is a tremendously skilled driver, he squelched it with his post-Cup victory lane burnout. Let's reset the scene: national television, victory lane after a historical fourth consecutive Cup, fans lining both sides of the lane, a flag in his left hand. So, low stakes. And what does he do? He gooses it all the way down the lane, smoking and spinning the tires. Carl Edwards needed a fence to stay off the fans. JJ did it one handed.

Finally, I cannot forget my neighbors, as they, too, always make for an entertaining race. My neighbors, you see, have "the dish." We live in the boonies, and my wife and I don't have a satellite, and so my neighbors kindly record every race and allow us to crash their living room weekly. For this reason, and many more, I love them.

But the real beauty of our neighborhood is that you'll never know what you'll get. Typically it's me chugging Budweiser while spitting incoherent invective Letarte's way. Sometimes it's Steve swilling Black Velvet and busting on Fords. And sometimes it's Pam downing red wine and wondering aloud why people back into parking spaces.

But this weekend, and fitting for fall and the season's finale, it was the constant drone of an industrial grinder. It was meat processing time, and in the background of this year's race, with a light snow falling outside and fire crackling in the fireplace, Bambi had lost to the man and was, literally, mincemeat.

For the competition, this was a fitting end to JJ's fourth straight title.