by Stephanie Stuart

Created on: June 30, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

It was July 2007. It was a hot, muggy, scorching Florida day. We would stand in that heat for the next 12-14 hours, with over 150,000 of our closest friends. The event itself wouldn't even begin until 7:30 that night. I didn't care... I was at Daytona.

Daytona. That one word encompasses so much. The birthplace of modern day stock-car racing. The home of NASCAR. The place where one of the sport's greatest tried and tried 20 times to finally win the biggest prize. The place where that same man would lose his life 3 short years later, on the last lap, while blocking for his son and best friend. The same place, that only six months later his son would become the ruler, winning an emotional race, and capturing the hearts of many fans who were left without a hero. It's a legend, it's magical, it's Daytona.

My first trip to this magical track was also my first live race. Watching racing on TV is nothing compared to actually being at the track. Luckily for us, the Busch race had rained out the night before (can't trust that Florida weather), and run on Saturday morning so ticket holders for the Saturday night race were admitted in for free. We didn't get there until almsot three quarteres of the way through the race, but you could feel the excitement as you drove down ISB (International Speedway Boulevard). We turned down the radio broadcast, and rolled down the windows, so we could hear the cars roaring by. Hearing that sound for the first time in person was something that I will never forget. Walking into the track, and smelling the rubber, and the fuel, and feeling the wind at your back as the cars rush by you at almost 200 mph is an indescribable feeling. I stopped at the start/finish line and just took it in. The sights, the sounds, the smells. I had to move on quickly, as the security folks won't let you stnad along the fence in case of a wreck, but I will never forget those first few moments. I searched hard for my favorite driver's car, and screamed as loud as I could as he whooshed past me. I called a good friend and racing fan and held my cell phone in the air as the pack drove by. As I walked the length of the frontstretch I thought about the history and the moments in time that have taken place. I consisdered myself lucky to be there, and then smiled for the rest of the day.

When I got a chance, I sat towards the end of the frontstretch, and just looked. I looked at the seats, which would fill to capacity that night. I looked at the infield, and the fans who

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