Just past midnight, in the wee hours of Friday morning, I started to doubt the wisdom of basing my entire existence on using nothing but NASCAR products. Bristol Motor Speedway is a long way from my house in St. Louis, and I was sick of driving, even though I was riding in style in a tricked-out 2005 Ford F-150 (official pickup truck). Making matters worse: I was 530 miles into a 500-mile trip.
I was lost.
I didn't have a map.
And my cell phone was dying.
As I ...