Chapter One

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Watch out! Trouble on the backstretch!" The excited voice of Eddie Masencup, the spotter for our Interstate Batteries #18 car, crackled in my headset, piercing the din at the Homestead-Miami Speedway. Eddie's job was to warn our driver Bobby Labonte of impending traffic around him, and with race cars streaking by at nearly 150 miles per hour, Bobby needed the extra "eyes" Eddie provided. One small bump by another hurtling NASCAR missile could send Bobby's car careening out of control, crashing into another car, or worse yet, smashing into the thick concrete wall surrounding the race track.

Anyone associated with NASCAR knows the risks involved with racing high-speed stock cars on tracks not much wider than the roads in front of most American shopping malls. Four cars running behind Bobby smashed into one another like bumper cars at an amusement park-only these bumps were costly, dangerous, and anything but amusing to our race team.

As rescue crews hurried to the scene of the accident, I strained to see what was going on down in turn four, the last turn before the homestretch leading to the start-finish line. For a long moment, I couldn't tell whether Bobby had made it through the rising smoke and metal strewn across the track. Nor could I locate Tony Stewart, the driver of our #20 car, who had been leading the race. From where I was standing in the pits, it was difficult to see the entire race track. More than 75,000 race fans had jammed into the enormous grandstand to see the 2000 Pennzoil 400, and I craned my neck along with them, trying to catch a glimpse of o