People who follow NASCAR may already know that Kurt Busch and his wife Eva have split, but I don’t watch that stupid redneck crap, so it’s news to me. So is the existence of Eva, who’s smoking hot. Bad news for Kurt, good news for us! Apparently, there’s an unspoken rule in NASCAR journalism that you don’t write about such things. Well, some hack blogger broke that rule yesterday and all hell broke loose.
In other sports, such a public figure’s divorce would be treated as a news story. If Busch was an NFL star, for example, this would have come out months ago.
Not in NASCAR, though. And the obvious question is: Why not?
I’m not sure, to be honest. After all, I’ve known about Busch’s marital problems, too – and didn’t ask him about it nor write about it until now. And I may have never addressed the topic had Busch not been so public with his new flame by bringing her onto pit road, where the whole NASCAR world – along with the TV cameras – can see what’s happening.
The best explanation I can give is, personally, I don’t have the stomach it takes to dig into someone’s relationship and write a story about it. Even as fans on Twitter questioned Eva Busch’s absence and the lack of a wedding ring on Kurt Busch’s finger throughout the last few months, I basically turned a blind eye to the story.
The end result: the two are history.
We care as much about that as we care about dudes driving in circles, though. Let’s try to surmise why this thing fell apart. While I can’t imagine Busch is a Rhodes Scholar, he was already a rich race car driver when he met Eva, who worked as a customer service rep in a bank at the time.
So, you know, there’s the fact that he picked out a yocal to marry. Or maybe their first date could tell us something. It was a blind date at a sports bar called Boardwalk Billy’s in Charlotte set up by Busch’s spotter, who told Eva he was a veterinarian. She found out who he really was when his face came on one of the televisions in the joint.
Here, you might surmise that she immediately saw dollar signs and he couldn’t resist the vag. Alternatively, he took her to a place where he’d obviously be recognized so her panties would fly off immediately.
Either way, someone seems awfully guilty of something in that scenario, beyond being a moron, that is.
Our guess is there was some combination of him not being able to resist her sweet, creamy thighs and her wanting a chunk of his fortune, which makes both parties guilty.
Ah, redneck love.