Your day is 16 hours long. He's been up for 24 straight working to go racing. You take a warm shower to help you wake up. He wakes up to a one gallon shower (usually cold) The thrill of hearing that engine roar keeps him up. You complain of a "headache", and call in sick. He's chilled to the bone, hasn't eaten all day, has the flu, and then races his heart out. Everyone knows a hangover or illness just makes you focus. You drink your Starbucks coffee on your way to work. He drives 15 hours to the next track drinking a coke to stay awake. And when he arrives is forced to park outside the track until 7:00am when the track workers will give him 30 secs to get his rig moving or he gets bumped out of line. You walk down the beach, staring at all the pretty girls. He walks back to the trailor after tearing up his car. You complain about how hot it is. He wears 30 pounds of gear in the middle of July and climbs in a 140 degree racecar. You go to the mall and get your hair cut and styled. He walks around with helmet hair, the last product in his hair probable was 10/40 w oil. You're angry because your shift had to work late. He has to travel 500 miles in the middle of the night with a torn up racecar just for 2 thousand dollars...if he wins. You criticize your local drivers and say they're nothing but dumbass rednecks. He puts his life on the line to entertain a crowd of 2,500 people. You hear the stories about fallen drivers and say they should have known better. He knows that the .001 of a sec it takes to beat to the next car, could be pushing it but is willing to risk it. You see the bright lights and lots of trailers when you go by. He sees the heartbreak, blood, sweat, and tears put into his sport, but still believes this race, it will be his day. You rush home to catch the next game on TV. He stops in some small town to wash the race car and trailer because he is proud of what he has accomplished and he wants everyone to see his car with the love he does. You sit there and judge him, saying the that its a waste of money to go do such a silly thing and call it a sport. But its not the money. It's the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. It's seeing the smile on his son's face even after having a horrible night, because no matter what his son still thinks he's the best. It's the fans that cheer for him durring driver introductions. It's a drivers life.