Matt Kenseth is such a big fan of the heavy metal band Metallica that he even named one of his cats after the group's drummer. Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s musical tastes run the gamut from Elvis to Ludacris. Denny Hamlin likes a guitar-heavy jam band from his hometown of Richmond, Va., called Mozley Rose. Clint Bowyer's favorite group is Aerosmith. Kyle Busch listens to Godsmack, an alternative metal band. Carl Edwards' record label, Back40, has helped launch the careers of rising rappers and hip-hop artists from his home state of Missouri. Even 50-year-old Mark Martin cranks up the AC/DC.

Five things about ...

The truth behind artist Sam Bass' reaction to the Busch smashing at Nashville.

• Complete story, click here
• Blog: A smashing success
• Victory Lane: Busch is a hit

And yet, if we were to hold fast to NASCAR stereotypes, you'd think they'd all be devotees of Porter Wagoner. Oh, sure, you have your country music lovers inside the Sprint Cup garage; Tony Stewart digs him some Diamond Rio, and Kasey Kahne likes Rascal Flatts. But Busch's guitar-slamming celebration Saturday night at Nashville Speedway, and the somewhat horrified reaction to it, exposed one of the great but little-discussed chasms within the stock-car community -- fans are a little bit country, and drivers are a little bit rock and roll.

Of course, those are sweeping generalities, and they don't always apply. But the more traditional members of the NASCAR fan base were raised with a series that, under the banner of former title sponsor R.J. Reynolds, was country-heavy to say the least. The kind of guitar you heard over track public-address systems on race weekends wasn't electric, but pedal steel. Like Bob's Country Bunker in the movie The Blues Brothers, you had both kinds of music -- country and western. Meanwhile, the pool of competitors keeps getting younger and more geographically diverse, and these kids don't exactly come up listening to Martina McBride.

Which brings us to Saturday night, when Busch celebrated his Nashville victory by trying to shatter the guitar trophy made by Gibson and painted by Sam Bass. Now, anyone who grew up on rock music in the 1970s and '80s knows that nothing completes a Who concert like a rousing rendition of Won't Get Fooled Again, followed by Pete Townshend smashing his guitar to bits. He'd slam the instrument into a tower of speakers, swing it like a baseball bat at the microphone stand, hold it over his head while the ovation built and pile-drive it into the stage. It became the most famous, and among the most imitated, finishing moves in all of rock and roll. A splintered Gibson that Townshend smashed during the 1969 Woodstock festival is even on tour -- by itself.

So when Busch smashed his Gibson in Victory Lane, yours truly was incredibly impressed that a 24-year-old driver would pay homage to a band that was well past its peak by the time he was even born. But evidently, a lot of NASCAR fans didn't grow up on rock and roll, have never seen footage of The Who in concert, and considered Busch's actions Saturday night as some form of vandalism.

Of course, they're conditioned to think this way. For one, the situation involves Busch, who can't get a break from the fan base even when he's providing a stark departure from the kind of stale, scripted Victory Lane celebration so many people complain about. And then there's the fact that NASCAR has for so long been so synonymous with country music -- and by this, we mean the sanitized, record-label-orchestrated, beautiful-people country music that's all but ruined the genre -- that a reference to anything else is virtually unrecognizable. It doesn't help that NASCAR races are too often broadcast not on local sports-talk affiliates, but on country music stations, which not only reinforces that stereotype but kills almost any chance the sport has of finding a crossover audience.

These days, things are a little more diversified than they used to be. Once Sprint replaced Winston as title sponsor of NASCAR's premier division, you began to hear a little more rock and roll at the race track. The wireless carrier even had the Red Hot Chili Peppers -- likely the biggest name to play a race track since Led Zeppelin headlined a 1969 pop festival at Atlanta Motor Speedway -- perform a few songs during a break in the 2006 All-Star exhibition. Rock acts are now regular entertainers at the postseason banquet. Walking through an infield today, it's not unusual to hear Sprint Vision play a guitar-bending clip from Rage Against the Machine's marvelously incendiary Bulls on Parade, something that never would have occurred a few years ago.

But old habits are hard to break. Scan the concert listings in any city during a race weekend, and you'll see almost wall-to-wall country. Once speculation over the future of the Sprint Cup banquet began to arise, e-mails started pouring in from fans who wanted to see the event in Charlotte, with someone like Brad Paisley as musical act. When Indianapolis Motor Speedway booked a band to play the day of the Allstate 400 at the Brickyard, officials chose -- somewhat predictably -- Charlie Daniels Band. Hey, nothing wrong with CBD. But let's try to step outside the box next time, or at least find someone who's had a hit more recently than 1982.

And yet, you can see why NASCAR and country music have become so closely aligned. They both sprung from the same region of the country, and have historically appealed to similar demographics. When 20th Century Fox made a movie involving NASCAR in 1982, producers cast in the lead role not an actor, but a country music singer, something that never would have happened had the film centered around the Indianapolis 500 or Formula One. And in all honesty, country music has a reputation for being safe, the kind of thing you can play in front of a large audience and not worry about offending anyone. Rock and roll, by its very nature, is loaded with political, sexual and societal overtones that make some folks uncomfortable. If you're a sport trying to appear family-friendly, which one do you choose?

So no wonder some people freaked out at Busch's Pete Townshend imitation on Saturday night. He pulled them out of their comfort zone, forcing them to take a glimpse at a more raucous brand of music that's more popular inside the garage area than they might think. Now it's time to take it to the next level. Next year's Nashville winner should lay the trophy guitar on the ground, kneel down beside it, douse it in lighter fluid and set it on fire -- just like Jimi Hendrix did at the end of the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967.

The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.