Writer profiles NASCAR's popularity in new book

Journalist Liz Clarke admits that back in 1991, she was as unlikely as anyone to cover or care about NASCAR. She had gone to Barnard College. She showed up at the track in a dress. About all she knew of racing was Bruce Springsteen once mentioned Junior Johnson in a song.

Fellow journalists would "laugh or snort as if I'd just delivered a punch line when I'd tell them I was covering NASCAR, and then stare with a look of pity or disdain, as if I'd been exiled to sports writing's most demeaning job," Clarke recounts in her entertaining new book, One Helluva Ride: How NASCAR Swept the Nation.

Liz Clarke shares her thoughts on NASCAR's growth and current state, what makes the sport and its athletes special

• Clarke's comments, click here

This is the story of "a once humble sport's remarkable coming of age." It's also the tale of a young sports writer's own journey to discover a sport she now cares about deeply.

Pondering 17 years covering NASCAR, Clarke writes, "I discovered an affinity for the sport, developed an affection for its personalities, grieved over the death of a half-dozen drivers, came to resent the rationalization that invariably followed, and more recently, settled on an arm's-length admiration for the business success it has achieved."

Early on, the young reporter quickly discovered that while the spectacle of NASCAR ("part circus, party county fair") is fascinating grist, the sport's allure and richness is found in the lives of the drivers, those often quirky personalities who are "earnest, driven, self-made and lacking the arrogance and entitlement that afflicted so many professional athletes."

Broad-brush NASCAR histories like Neal Thompson's Driving with the Devil, Peter Golenbrock's NASCAR Confidential and Joe Menzer's The Wildest Ride have all told the story of NASCAR's rise through the colorful personalities fans have fallen in love with.

Clarke adheres to the bromide "write what you know best." She dwells on the past two decades, sticking to modern-day personalities she's had the benefit of covering -- and getting to know personally -- as a sportswriter for USA Today, The Charlotte Observer, The Dallas Morning News and currently The Washington Post.

As a reporter, Clarke spent ample time with stalwarts Junior Johnson, Richard Petty, Dale Earnhardt and Jeff Gordon. In fact, she sketches the "passing of the torch" transitions of each era-defining star to the next as the framework for modern day NASCAR.

The author is at her best when describing the key players. Big Bill France "ruled his kingdom with the authority of a Mafia don and the imagination of Walt Disney." Dale Earnhardt was "a modern-day Samson in his open-faced helmet," who "fulfilled the fantasy of every wage earner who dreamed of telling his boss where he could shove it." For Tim Richmond, "every day was Christmas ... and every night was Saturday night."

Richard Petty is "equal parts Andy Griffith and Elvis Presley, instinctively modulating between the two depending on the circumstance. He was the folksy, friendly paternal Griffith when dealing with fans. But the moment he climbed in his racecar, he was Elvis."

Like the best drivers she covers, Clarke is in control and at the top of her game, particularly when musing about Miss Winston, who is gone today, but ever-present in Helluva Ride from the opening paragraph. There's Miss Winston, sobbing in Victory Lane when a sick Tim Richmond wins at Pocono. There she is again, next to Ryan Newman, "when the spray of champagne matted her pony tail and drenched her red racing suit."

As the years pass, Miss Winston changes costumes from hot pants to bell bottoms to form-fitting jumpsuits. She's "a special kind of girl," spunky yet poised, liberally sprinkling boundless goodwill each race weekend. As Clarke writes, "Some men were so awed that they couldn't look at Miss Winston directly as she picked up her black Sharpie pen and poured her syrupy southern voice all over them."

If One Helluva Ride begs for a sequel, it's Liz Clarke formerly of the Ivy League, now loose as Tim Richmond over the bump at Pocono, mashing the gas and flexing her ample writing chops for a full 200-plus page riff on the life and times of Miss Winston. Smokin'!