It's Bristol Motor Speedway, the 2002 version, and the place is going crazy. It's one of those hot August nights on which the race track's reputation was made, 500 miles of anger and frustration and emotion and vengeance. Elliott Sadler gets in an accident and punches the side of an ambulance. Ward Burton throws his shoe heat shields at Dale Earnhardt Jr. And as 100,000 flashbulbs pop, a rookie named Jimmie Johnson stands on the apron, waiting on the car of Robby Gordon to circle back around. When it does, he greets it with a single-finger salute.

“

... those experiences from when I was a kid, about being a good sportsman about things, are still in my head today and carry through. Some people think it's boring and vanilla, but those are the reasons why I act the way I do.

”

-- JIMMIE JOHNSON

"I didn't think anybody was watching, for some reason," Johnson says now.

Was that even the same person? These days, it's difficult to imagine the ultra-cool, completely unflappable, three-time defending Cup champion resorting to such a base tactic as flipping the bird. He can still be a fiery dude, as anyone who's ever listened to him over the radio during races can attest, but when he's outside the car and the public eye is on him, he's almost always the very picture of composure. A few days after that rare loss of self control seven years ago, he issued a mea culpa apologizing to his sponsors and his team. But deep down, he probably knew it was wrong all along.

Because that's the kind of thing that would get his bike taken away from him.

The cool demeanor, the unruffled personality, the ever-present poise -- they come from more than just being a child of laid-back Southern California. They come from having a father who didn't tolerate lapses in sportsmanship, and taught his son at an early age to not let anger get the best of him. Johnson even remembers his first lesson: he was a kid trying to move up from 60cc to 80cc motorcycles, and grew frustrated when the heavier bike fell over and he couldn't pick it back up.

"I was too small. So I kicked the bike because I was mad," recalled the NASCAR driver, who got his start in motorcycles and off-road vehicles. "My dad was watching and said, 'You don't kick your bike.' He put the bike in the trailer, and I didn't get to race the rest of the weekend for kicking my bike and not being a good sport about things. Those things stick with me today and help me keep my mouth shut and keep me out of trouble in most cases." (Continued)