CHARLOTTE, N.C. - Not sure you noticed, but Jimmie Johnson has won five of the past six races at Lowe's Motor Speedway. Another thing you might not have noticed is Johnson drives the Lowe's Chevrolet.
Is it low to ask why the Lowe's car dominates the Lowe's track?
I think you know what I'm suggesting.
"You could never fix a race because there's nothing you can do to a car that would give us that big of an advantage that we could beat everyone," says Nextel Cup driver Michael Waltrip. "It's so farfetched that I can't believe anybody could believe it could happen."
Oh yeah? Well, what if late in Sunday's Coca-Cola 600 somebody slips special tires, which at this track means tires softer than stone, onto Johnson's car?
Or what if somebody sneaks secret fuel with secret additives into Johnson's gas tank?
Or what if a guy with a trench coat and cigar and no last name entices the other drivers to take a dive? And since Home Depot driver Tony Stewart would chase the guy with no last name up the nearest fence, what if Matt Kenseth is given his share and Stewart's to take out the Home Depot driver?
What about that? Come on now, Jeff Burton, how many times have you been offered a few bucks to drive nice and slow?
"Never," he says with a laugh. "That I can assure you. That I can assure you."
Well, how do the rumors start? NASCAR fans would never spread a rumor unless they had a perfectly good reason.
"When somebody is doing better than somebody else you know they have to be cheating," says Burton. "Dale Earnhardt Jr. fans think no way could somebody be better than he is. So a lot of it is, `Oh my god, somebody's got to be doing something.'"
Could somebody be doing something?
"The chances of a race being fixed are pretty damn slim," says Burton. "It would take a large group of people conspiring together. I believe that a race being fixed is almost impossible."
Ha! Burton said almost impossible. Here's why. Here's what racing doesn't want you to know.
I believe that deep within the bowels of every race shop is a secret laboratory in which a pale, sun-adverse scientist and a short but trusty assistant named Igor invent secret stuff that will give their teams an advantage.
Should you wander into the laboratory, you'll know immediately where you are because it will be the one room in the entire shop that does not sell T-shirts.
Were Johnson's people the first to develop a magic formula? I'm not saying they were. And I'm not saying crew chief Chad Knaus would take advantage of it.
All I'm saying is watch the driver of the Lowe's Chevrolet at Lowe's Motor Speedway when day becomes night. It's almost as if there is one true groove, and only Johnson can see it.
Is it talent? Or has the groove been marked with mysterious symbols, and the only way to see the mysterious symbols is with special night-vision goggles?
Now, where can you find these night-vision goggles?
