Johnson seems to have it all but wants eighth title
DAYTONA BEACH, Fla. — Jimmie Johnson might have had an easier time had his 6-yearold daughter asked for help with a school art project. Genevieve Johnson instead left her dad briefly bewildered with a messier question:
What does “famous” mean?
“At school, the kids are asking her, saying, ‘Your dad’s famous,’” Johnson said. “How do you answer that question?”
Let’s try.
Does your dad dress in a Lowe’s fire suit, slide into the No. 48 Chevrolet and race on national television every weekend? Does your dad have more than 2.3 million Twitter followers? Is he besieged by autograph seekers and asked to voice cartoons on the Disney Channel?
Yes, Genevieve, your father is famous.
But the more contemplative question is this: Is Johnson the greatest ever to drive a stock car? That answer is up for debate, though arguments for other contenders thin as Johnson continues to add to his championship collection.
Seven of them, if you’ve lost count.
An eighth would push Johnson past Dale Earnhardt Sr. and Richard Petty for most ever, leaving him alone as NASCAR’s greatest.
Outside his motorhome, Johnson scratched
his beard, tinged with a touch of gray, as he considered what an eighth title would mean. He had retreated to Aspen, Colo., over the winter, where the snow and ski-filled days made him want to grow his beard to roughly ZZ Top length. The King has his feathered cowboy hat. Maybe a wavy beard could become Johnson’s distinguishable feature.
What seemed cool in Aspen made him hot under the helmet at Daytona.
“I was really uncomfortable,” he said. “It just hits you the whole time.”
Beard aficionado Dale Earnhardt Jr., who shaved his own for a wedding, openly admired his teammate’s facial hair.
“If I’d known he was going to come so strong, I would have worked on mine a little more,” Junior said. “I certainly do envy what Jimmie’s got going on.”
Most also drivers envy his record run at NASCAR history.
Johnson’s shot at history hit him in 2010 when he won his fifth straight Cup title and talk about chasing eight intensified. He won his sixth in 2013, and his surprising seventh last year now makes an eighth championship seem more inevitable than a long shot.
With 80 career race wins and a pair of Daytona 500 victories, the 41-yearold Johnson won’t let the record define him.
Long before he fires up the Chevy, Johnson’s championship pursuit begins near dawn with a run. Johnson long ago traded his race helmet for a bicycle helmet during off hours at the track and put a twist on his Sunday finish line by running the occasional marathon before a race.
At Daytona, he biked 42 miles on Sunday morning hours before he pulled double duty and raced in the Clash at Daytona and qualified for the 500. He’s inspired and coached members of the NASCAR family — crew chiefs, fellow drivers — and helped whip them into shape before he whipped them on the track. Johnson’s days of scarfing hushpuppies and sipping sweet tea out by a roadside barbecue stand are long behind him. He’s still an adrenaline junkie in the offseason, though his fastest turns in the winter now come navigating the snowcapped slopes in Colorado.
With a wife, two daughters and enough race trophies to stuff a storage unit, the fitness freak has never been happier. Johnson even has won over some fans who had grown tired of the 48 dynasty built with team owner Rick Hendrick and crew chief Chad Knaus. Before the championship race at Homestead, Johnson was greeted by fans holding up seven fingers, not the one-finger salute he’d grown accustomed to receiving.
“I get the respect from being around a long time, now,” he said. “I think the age kind of does something.”