Looking back over the years at some of the greatest Darlington races, a number of exciting finishes, grueling duels and spectacular wins stand out. The amazing finish between Ricky Craven and Kurt Busch, the battle between Jeff Gordon and Jeff Burton in 1997, Bill Elliott winning the Winston Million and earning the nickname ‘Million Dollar Bill’ all come to mind when thinking of great Darlington races. However, the race that sticks out the most for this writer was not the greatest race in the speedway’s fifty-nine year history, but to me, it was one I will never forget.

There are certain tracks on the NASCAR circuit that most fans wish to visit. Having been to Daytona and Bristol over the years growing up, Darlington was one track I had yet to see in person. That all changed in 2007 when this Hardcore Race Fan bought a ticket and set off on one of the most interesting race weekends of my life.

I had bought a pair of tickets for the 2007 Dodge Avenger 500 and had asked a close friend of mine to join me at the historic track. Less than an hour before we were scheduled to leave on the near two hour trip to the ‘Lady In Black,’ she kindly informed me she could not go. Not only did I now have an extra ticket, I was also out of a ride.

Thinking fast, I called my roommate and asked to borrow his car for the day. He agreed, but did so reluctantly, warning me the car might not make the trip. I assured him everything would be fine, it was less than 100 miles from Charlotte to Darlington.  I said my thanks and headed off to the race a little behind schedule.

Driving down highway 151 through South Carolina, I followed a tractor trailer down the two-lane road. A smell hit me that caused me to think, ‘Man, that truck is burning something up.’ Thinking nothing of it, I passed the 18-wheeler and set my sights on the track. As I drove past the sign telling me Darlington was only ten miles away, I could still smell the same odor and when I looked in my rearview mirror, much to my chagrin, there was now white smoke billowing from the back of my friend’s car.

Less than ten miles from the track, already behind schedule and now having car trouble, I felt my day could not get any worse. I pulled onto a dirt road to assess the situation and when I opened the door, at that very moment the skies opened up and it began to rain – just my luck.

I determined I could still make it the final nine miles to the speedway safely, so I put my hazard lights on and slowly made my way to the track. I coasted into a gas station across the street from the track and negotiated with the parking lot attendant, who after some convincing allowed me to park for free.

Frustrated, tired and down on my luck, I left the vehicle sitting there and made my way to the track – finally, I thought. Walking around, I discovered quite quickly it was going to be near impossible to get rid of my extra ticket. Chocking it up as a loss, I trudged my way through the mud and the mist to the frontstretch grandstands.

As I got to the grandstands, the skies had opened up and that mist turned to a heavy rain. Huddled with thousands of fellow Hardcore Race Fans under the shelter below the seats, it appeared the chances were slim of getting the race in that night.

Standing there, I met a man from Latin America. A brand new race fan, this gentleman decided to make this his first race after watching it on television. The new Hardcore Race Fan sported an older Rusty Wallace t-shirt and hat, which he had bought that day at a bargain table. He probably had no idea who Rusty Wallace was or the fact he no longer drove the car, but he knew he liked Miller Lite so he was going to pull for the No. 2.

Standing there talking with this new race fan, I – along with a number of other fans crowded together – could not help but notice a man intoxicated to the point of almost falling down. With his family trying to help him and keep him safe, the man lost control of himself much to the embarrassment of his family and the disgust of those around him. To put the icing on the cake, only moments later the track officials called the race – what a day.

As I made my way back to my friend’s broken down car, I was 100 miles from home, had an extra ticket in my pocket, no cash in my wallet and a cell phone with a dead battery. With no real choice and without hesitation, I simply leaned the driver’s seat back, put my hat over my eyes and called it a night.

I awoke the next morning to people bustling in and out of the gas station convenience store, stocking up on ice and beer in preparation for the day that lay ahead. As I exited the car to stretch from the cramped night of sleeping in the car I was immediately met by a parking lot attendant who demanded I pay $30 to park there. I kindly informed him of my situation and the deal I had made with his counterpart the day before, but this guy was having none of it. He demanded the money and threatened to tow the vehicle. After a few words, in which he told me to walk three miles to the ATM to get money, I told him I would check at the track if there was an ATM and that I expected my car to be there after the race.

With that, I walked towards the track, frustrated once again right off the bat and worrying about the fate of my good friend’s car. The day, while muddy, could not have been better. There was no rain in the area and it was a perfect day for racing. I made my way to my seat on the frontstretch and thought, ‘Finally.’

Clint Bowyer sat on the pole that day, with Greg Biffle to his outside. As the cars screamed off into the first turn, all my trials and tribulations from the previous day were simply forgotten; I was in Darlington and could not have been happier.

Denny Hamlin clearly had the most dominant car of the day, leading 179 of the 360 laps, but it was Jeff Gordon who was most impressive that day – more specifically, the Hendrick Motorsports engine shop. Battling with teammate Jimmie Johnson in the closing stages of the race, Gordon’s car began to overheat. With water and steam shooting out of the overflow like a geyser, it appeared Gordon’s day would end in the garage with a blown motor.

Amazingly, Gordon was somehow able to keep the engine under him and with steam pouring out of the overflow the four-time Cup Series champion earned his seventh win at Darlington after holding off Denny Hamlin by .978 seconds.

“I was positive the engine was going to let go,” Gordon told HardcoreRaceFans.com. “I never had driven a car that saw that kind of water temp, oil temp and now we have another gauge over the last several years that we’ve added the water pressure. The water pressure now is the new indication of when it’s going to explode and I think it was sixty pounds on my pressure gauge and I had never seen that number before. We made it and as soon as I pulled into Victory Lane the radiator exploded and the engine quit. That was pretty impressive.”

With my first race at Darlington under my belt, reality began to set in. Here I was with a car that needed towing, no cash and no cell phone. Thanks to the amazing services of AAA, I was able to hitch a tow back to Charlotte from a tow truck driver and his wife. Luckily, the issue with the car was nothing more than an overheated transmission spewing fluid onto the exhaust – much to my delight.

While this might not have been the greatest race I have ever seen, or the greatest in NASCAR history, this is one weekend I forever take a look back on and think, ‘Man, what an experience.’ When Hardcore Race Fans go to races, they go for more than just the race. It’s an experience – good, bad or ugly – it’s always an adventure. What can get us extremely frustrated and upset, seems to go away when surrounded by tens of thousands of fellow Hardcore Race Fans there to watch the same great event.

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