We know more about cars than a lot of men.
We know what it means to be tight or loose. We know what a wedge adjustment, a track bar adjustment, or a spring rubber will do to a car. We know the differences in Daytona and Talladega, and we know the rich history of both. We know not only today’s drivers, but the drivers who made the sport what it is. Names like Buddy Baker, Fireball Roberts, and David Pearson mean just as much to us as the names of today’s “hot young drivers” like Dale Earnhardt, Jr., Kasey Kahne, and Jamie McMurray.
We know all the pit crew positions, and in many cases, can name the pit crew members of our favorite drivers’ teams. We know that people like Greg Zipadelli, Tony Eury, Jr., and Chad Knauss are as much a part of who crosses the finish line first as the drivers are.
We know our teams, too.
Ask one of us who drives for RCR, Gillette-Evernham, DEI, Rousch-Fenway, or Hendrick Motorsports, and odds are good that we can tell you.
We grew up watching races, going to races, learning early on that NASCAR racing really is a sport, and that the drivers and crewmen really are athletes. We learned that the preparation that goes into getting a racecar ready to go on Sunday afternoon usually starts before the season does.
We learned all the superstitions the old racers had, and the significance behind many of the racecar numbers. We know the history of the sport, and sometimes, we get a little sad that so much of it is about the money now. We wish for the days when Lowe's Motor Speedway was Charlotte Motor Speedway, when the July Daytona race was the Firecracker 400, not named for some soft drink, when the Coke 600 was the World 600, and when the Southern 500, well, when the Southern 500 still existed, before Darlington lost the race.
Our idea of a knight in shining armor is an athlete in a sponsor-covered firesuit, and when we ride off into the sunset we want to do so on 850 horses instead of one. And when sunset comes, it will always be accompanied by going “under the lights” on a Saturday night in Daytona, Bristol, or Charlotte.
All friends and significant others need to know that during race season, Sunday afternoons are never times to call or go out, at least not if you want us there, and don’t even try to get us to go out on a Saturday night if they’re racing under the lights. Especially not at Bristol or Daytona; that is unless you got tickets to one of these events, and want us to go along.
We cry when the sport loses one of its own, be it a legend like Dale Earnhardt, Lee Petty, Benny Parsons, or a newcomer with a promising future like Adam Petty or Kenny Irwin.
We’re not rednecks and we’re not hicks; we are not in it to look at "hot young drivers." We are passionately, unapologetically NASCAR girls.
Let’s go racin’, boys.
Note from the author: This was written a good while back, when all of this was still true, but now much of it is obsolete, especially team names. But I hope you all still get the point I was trying to make. Thanks so much for all the comments!