Something strange happened to me about three years ago. I developed the love of NASCAR. Yes, "roundy-round" as my friends refer to it. What precipitated this new found addiction is beyond me. Perhaps, it was the fact that both my husband and son participated in an event at Atlanta Motor Speedway one pleasant autumn Saturday. When I picked them both up, they were giggling like little 10 year old boys. The excitement of taking a lap in a stock car at 150 mph had them both just reeling. Riding in a souped up Mustang on a dirt track had them wanting to trade in their cars for this lovely lady. It was then, that I realized it was not just "roundy-round" but the conquest of man vs. machine at insane speeds around a track on a Sunday afternoon.
When the NASCAR season began that following February, I picked a driver based on very technical and statical information. The winner of Daytona in 2006 was the 48 car driven by Jimmie Johnson. It was that simple. He would be my driver. Besides, he was from El Cajon, California, the town my Dad lived in before he passed, it was a sign!
Now, I don't profess to know much about the sport yet, as I am still learning. But I know enough to say "the 48" car and not just 48. Why they use this vernacular, is beyond me but you can bet I won't embarass myself with other experts.
It just so happened that Jimmie Johnson won the cup in 2006 and 2007. I must admit this was beginner's luck on my part. So I have confessed my love of NASCAR to the world. Don't judge me! Afterall, I am in a crowd with 75 million fans.