I AM A NASCAR FAN AND I CRY

Here's the thing. I didn't always watch NASCAR. 

 

What New York born and raised female did?

I'm trying to remember the exact chain of events, but suffice it to say it was a long convoluted windy road of people and events that finally forced me to watch my first race. And forced is the right word.  I went kicking and screaming. Racing? I don’t even like driving on the Long Island Expressway. Need for speed? My idea of bucking the system is driving 5 mph over the speed limit – unless it’s raining or there’s sun glare or it’s dusk or dawn or dark. I didn’t know a Dale Earnhardt from a Jimmie Johnson. Drafting? Three-wide? The car is loose? Boogity boogity boogity? And why didn’t they just say who was driving the #5, #20, #99?

It didn’t take long. By the final 20 laps I was mesmerized, cheering, hooked.

Now it’s a different story. Most women have February 14th marked on their wall calendar with a big red heart. My Valentine heart is smack over February 20^th. The Daytona 500. Heaven help my husband if he thinks I’m going out to a romantic dinner while the race is on.

The months between Homestead and Daytona are excruciatingly long. This year I got lucky. I got my hands on an advance copy of the new book “In the Blink of an Eye: Dale,  Daytona, and the Day that Changed Everything” by Michael Waltrip and Ellis Henican.

I wasn’t quite sure this was my kind of book. I’m not a Waltrip fanatic and I worried the story wouldn’t interest me. I was very wrong.

First of all, the book made me laugh. Alot. Then it made me cry. Alot.

In between the laughs and tears I read fabulously fun stories of growing up the kid brother of a real life race car driver (older sibling Darryl) and what it takes to get into the family business when the family is less than helpful. I felt like I was hearing the inside stories that no one is supposed to hear about other top drivers.

But, it was reading the story of  February 18, 2001 told  through the eyes of the man who won that Daytona 500 -- only to find out in Victory Lane about the death of his long time friend Dale Earnhardt just moments earlier-- that is heartbreaking, gut wrenching and makes this the most compelling story I’ve ever read of friendship, triumph and tragedy.

The crazy screenplay like circumstances of that day – a man who had lost 462 races in a row starts the season as the newest driver on his hero/good friend’s team.  The man calling the race for National TV is that driver's brother – his first time in the booth. The hero of this “movie” winds up in first place in a hard fought race being trailed by his boss and mentor, ‘The Intimidator’ himself. Rounding out the top three is Earnhardt’s son, Dale Jr. The accident on the last lap was both improbable and tragic. That our winner only learns of the accident while celebrating on Victory Lane - and then breaks down in tears - is truly the stuff of film…but this was real life.

I dare any NASCAR fan to read this book and not have the same visceral reaction that I did. I double dare any female NASCAR fan to read this without ruining her eye make-up and developing a crush on the man who drove the #15 at Daytona 2001 and will be behind the wheel of another #15 at the start to the 2011 season.

It’s been ten years since that awful day and there’s no better way to remember than by reading this book.