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Robbie Gordon used to jump out after the Indy 500 and catch a flight to Charlotte for one more race.

500 miles is great. 600 miles is better.

Driving 1,100 miles in a matter of hours? That's Memorial Day perfection. But sadly, because a very small number of people can't seem to grasp the big picture, no one will have the chance to see if they have what it takes to complete America's two most grueling races in a single day.
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Ryan McGee

The road to Darlington.

Travelling is a pain in the butt. Planes, rental cars, racetrack traffic, layovers, bad hotels, worse food … we all know the drill. But there is one trip each year that I don't mind. In fact, I love it. It's the winding country drive from my home in Charlotte to the Darlington Raceway. It's the drive I took last Saturday afternoon en route to and from the Southern 500.
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A vision of McGee's dream.

So, Mr. Motorsports Fan, you say want more old school in your modern day NASCAR, a little more yesterday in your Car of Tomorrow? And you, Mr. Trifecta Wheel, you say the only track you prefer to visit is the one that trades in horsepower for actual equine energy?

Well, now I have a solution that will make us all happy. Even if I can't get anyone to buy in. Not yet, anyway. Here it is: The Sprint Cup Series should race each year at Churchill Downs.
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So, Days of Thunder really was real!

And they walked away …

With all due respect to "Gentleman start your engines," these are the four most popular words in motorsports. Nothing is more horrifying than being at a race and witnessing a frightening fireball of a wreck when that feeling slaps you in the gut that says, "Oh man, I think he's dead … "
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Dr. Racy charges by the hour.

Feeling lost in the motorsports wilderness? Wondering why you can't seem to get your life together or figure out what spring rate to run this weekend at your local short track? Help is here my 5W30 covered brothers and sisters, because Dr. Racy Ryan, the Internet's only motorsports advice columnist, is back on the crankcase. A founding member of the Licensed Order Of Neurosis Experts Y'all (L.O.O.N.E.Y.), I am here to help you find more downforce for your emotional lives. Think of me as the love child of Dr. Joyce Brothers and Frank Cannonball Baker.
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There isn't a view in racing that can beat the peak of Rattlesnake Hill.

In 1997, the first morning of my first trip to the Phoenix International Raceway, I had a list of about 50 things I needed to do, from knocking out some interviews to making sure the ESPN TV reporter I was there to produce had enough hairspray.

But as soon as I could sneak away from my coworkers, I grabbed a track official and pointed to the craggy, rock-covered mountain that cast an early morning shadow over Turn 4.

"How do I get to the top of Rattlesnake Hill?"
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