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Biography

Maybe I was 6 or 7 when I watched my first race and my dad asked, "Who you pulling for, son." At that time, Richard Petty was the Harlem Globetrotters and the rest were the Washington Generals. Bill Elliott won that day, and that's when I realized there's something to this racing thing.

I grew up in small-town Elizabethton, Tenn., where God and family trump everything, high school football rules and watching the Vols win on Saturday is close behind. So is NASCAR.

My first race was the 1992 Food City 500 at Bristol, when Alan Kulwicki dominated with me on the 17th row of concrete seats getting pelted with rubber bullets. He won the title that year and never made it back to my home track.

I left, too, when I went to the University of Tennessee and graduated with my bachelor's in sport management. No jobs were to be had, so I got my master's in journalism while interning in Tennessee's sports information department.

Without a job, I somehow convinced an intelligent and beautiful woman named Julie to marry me and move to Atlanta. She convinced me we needed a dog named Macy. And together, the three of us watch NASCAR and wear as much orange as we can possibly handle.