In order to be accepted by Lauren Montez, you must past a smell test, more or less, the 12-year-old niece of Jamie McMurray has to sniff you to approve you.

"If she likes what she smells, then you're in," McMurray said. "I'm in. She liked what she smelled, which is good."

It's a peculiar yet endearing personality trait that warms a stranger's heart and humors her parents. But for every one eccentric, quirky trait comes at least 10 challenges and life-threatening issues. When she was a toddler, Lauren at times cried hysterically and would bite herself until she bled.

Lauren has severe autism.

Her mother, Trisha McMurray-Montez, has lived a life of organized chaos since Lauren was diagnosed 10 years ago. Trisha's days are consumed with research and coping techniques surrounding the neurological disorder. The last movie she saw in a theater was Saving Private Ryan and until her brother won the Daytona 500, she hadn't dined out at a restaurant with her family in seven years.

Jamie McMurray, plays rock-paper-scissors with nieces Lauren and Sophia.

Intensive therapy, preparing costly gluten-and-casein-free meals, year-long waiting lists to see prominent doctors, outrageous medical expenses, sensory integration and hyperbaric oxygen chambers -- all of these things Trisha handles like a champ. It's only when you ask about Lauren's future will she break down.

"When I actually allow myself to think about it, I think of her living in a special community built by parents of autistic children, but I try not to think about it because she can't live without me," Trisha said. "I can't have anything bad happen to me. I can't hand her off to someone else, I have to live forever."

This is the harsh reality that one in every 110 children in America faces and the population is only growing, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control (CDC). From 2002 to 2006 the autism population increased by 57 percent.

Meanwhile, scientists and doctors still don't have a known cause and certainly not a cure.

Responding to the call of the public health crisis is the NASCAR community. From family members watching the sport at home to higher ups in the broadcast booths, the community pulls considerable weight in the fight through foundations, race entitlements and awareness campaigns.

At the helm of the activism is Artie Kempner, director for NASCAR on FOX.

Shining the light

Kempner's son Ethan, 15, was diagnosed with autism more than a decade ago when parents had no real knowledge of the disorder. The average person's frame of reference for autism, which affects the brain's normal development of social and communication skills, was Rain Man, a movie that came out in the late '80s.

"We actually had to go look it up," explained driver Elliot Sadler, whose 11-year-old niece, Halie Dru Sadler, suffers from autism. "What does this mean? What is autism? We had to do a lot of digging because at that point in time we hadn't heard much about it."

Kempner was Sadler's first call.

“

Everyone is doing a better job of being involved and talking about the good work people are doing when they have an opportunity. For years, autism had been such a closeted community. It was a stigma for Hollywood types and instead of working together they would shelter their child from the outside world and because of that the community was under funded.

”

-- ARTIE KEPTNER

"Artie had been there done that, he really helped our family and got us going in the right direction," said Sadler, who shortly thereafter formed a charitable foundation to help increase awareness and help families deal with the ongoing struggles.

Sadler and his brother Hermie -- Halie's father and NASCAR analyst -- launched the foundation in 2000, shining a huge light on the cause within in the NASCAR community.

"Jamie and Elliot raised the profile of autism overall in the NASCAR garage," Kempner said. "That driver involvement really drove our guys and other media to recognize something was going on and then people's stories started coming to life."

Kempner, founding president of the Autism Society of Delaware (now Autism Delaware) and board member of Autism Speaks, helped to bring stories to life through FOX Sports Supports program -- his involvement led to bringing Autism Speaks and Dover International Speedway together to create the Autism Speaks 400 and his annual celebrity golf tournament.

"Without NASCAR, the autism community would not be where it is right now," Kempner said.

The sport, unlike any other, has created huge awareness that has directly led to sizeable donations in recent years.

"Everyone is doing a better job of being involved and talking about the good work people are doing when they have an opportunity," Kempner said. "For years, autism had been such a closeted community. It was a stigma for Hollywood types and instead of working together they would shelter their child from the outside world and because of that the community was under funded."

In NASCAR, support for autism now ranks among the sport's five largest charitable outlets: Victory Junction Gang Camp, NASCAR Foundation, Speediatrics, The Jeff Gordon Foundation and the Hendrick Marrow Program.

And that is largely because so many families are now affected by autism. Directly or indirectly, everyone knows someone who battles with autism. It affects 1 in 110 children and 1 in 70 are boys.

Parents' struggle

Trent Owens, a NASCAR crew chief for several years, was aware of the likelihood. He knew it could happen to his boy Gray, 3. That is why when Gray stopped babbling and started to regress at 12 months, he was tested immediately.

Early intervention has helped. Gray shows affection, but still is what parents of autistic children call a "runner."

"We can't put him down in a grocery store or anywhere, he will take off so it's like having a three year-old baby," Owens said. "But we are making progress and I know from working in the sport and within the garage that we have help and support if we need it. We're doing OK."

For K. Lee Davis, who works for ESPN, things at one point were not OK.

He is the father of two autistic children. Ruel, 8, is highly functioning and barely on the autism spectrum and William, 6, is moderate-to-severely autistic.

“

When I actually allow myself to think about it, I think of [Lauren] living in a special community built by parents of autistic children, but I try not to think about it because she can't live without me. I can't have anything bad happen to me. I can't hand her off to someone else, I have to live forever.

”

-- TRISHA MCMURRAY-MONTEZ

Like the aforementioned Lauren, Davis' son William has the endearing quirks and unique personality traits that so many autistic children display. He only eats Funyons, he loves water but hates Christmas. He'll crawl into your lap at random or be content to ignore you altogether.

Davis likens William's personality to that of a cat: "When he wants you around, he really wants you around, but when he doesn't want you around you better leave him alone."

And just like Lauren -- and the majority of children with autism -- for every one idiosyncratic characteristic that the uninformed person may find entertaining is a host of critical problems and life-threatening issues.

William loves to press his face up against walls and windows. He enjoys the sensation, Davis said, and it might be what led to William's accident that nearly cost him his life.

On Sept. 28 last year, William fell out of his third-floor bedroom window.

His parents don't know how it happened. Davis' wife was in the next room sorting laundry and Ruel was watching television. Although for William to be able to open the sliding window in his room was unthinkable. He doesn't have the motor skills.

"The funny thing about being the parent of a classically autistic child is you never know what they're thinking, you never really know what's in there, but Willie knows a heck of a lot more than we realize," Davis said.

That day, William suffered a traumatic brain injury on his right side and spent four months in various hospitals. A radical operation successful with wounded soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan was performed to save William's life otherwise the fall would have been fatal.

"I thought he was dead, I thought he was dead for the next two days," Davis explained. "He fell onto a concrete sidewalk."

The first few days in the hospital, Davis could barely recognize his young boy through the swelling around his face and began to worry about permanent brain damage.

"In the middle of one of those nights I made a deal with him. I told him, 'If you want to stay, stay but if you want to go, go.' I don't think he heard me but that is what I told him," Davis recalled.

He began to worry about his son's quality of life.

Then again, Davis and his wife worried about William's quality of life -- his life as an adult -- before the accident.

"We knew it would be a long shot for him to live on his own, and now it's just a longer shot. I don't know if he even has the motor skills to bag groceries," Davis said.

William has made a 95 percent recovery since the accident and life is business as usual for the family. Davis has returned to the race track for work and his wife tends to the boys at their home in Connecticut.

Meanwhile, the NASCAR community continues to help the cause in ways they can.

Autism awareness has spread throughout the NASCAR garage and is now a prominant mission in the sport.

Still much to do

Owens' race team, Braun Racing, and sponsor Dollar General has partnered with Autism Speaks and Davis continues to share his personal story with others further proving the dire need for more research and help for families trying to plan for their autistic child's future.

The Sadler brothers are researching the possibilities of creating a school for autistic children like the Faison School that Hailey Dru attended for three years that changed her from someone who would hide in a corner during social functions to someone who now wants to meet everyone in the room.

This month Kempner raised nearly a half million dollars for autism research through his annual celebrity golf outing and continues to disseminate the important message through NASCAR broadcasts.

McMurray-Montez continues to operate the Jamie McMurray Foundation that raises funds to help families afflicted with autism. She is a direct line of information for NASCAR fans whose children suffer from the disorder.

Her compassion, coupled with her brother's intense need to problem solve, has made the family's foundation a powerful catalyst for education inside the garage.

And if you ever have the great pleasure of meeting Lauren, or someone like her, don't be bewildered by their sensory needs. Autism, like her mother says, isn't a disability. Lauren is not disabled she just has different abilities.

"Instead of making autistic children and adults conform to society, let's let things slide." McMurray-Montez said. "Some things just have to slide."

If Lauren needs to smell you to approve you, then so be it.

More: Hermie and Elliott Sadler Foundation | Jamie McMurray Foundation