So you think I go crazy in the offseason when there's no NASCAR to cover, huh?

C'mon. Don't be ridiculous. I'm a cynical sportswriter.

It's just a coincidence that I've now watched Stroker Ace, that 1983 classic that starred such Shakespeareans as Burt Reynolds, Jim Nabors, Loni Anderson and Bubba Smith, not once but twice in the last week.

Or that I watched Le Mans, the Steve McQueen flick from 1971.

Or that I watched a flag-to-flag replay of a 1983 race at Rockingham, won by Richard Petty, on ESPN Classic.

Or that I recently entertained notions of building my first model car in about 15 years.

Or that I watched HBO's Jimmie Johnson 24/7 before 6 a.m. this morning.

Or that I wrote NASCAR officials an email asking what would happen if it rained on Feb. 6 (the Super Bowl is Feb 7).

Or that The History Channel's Madhouse has me looking at a possible weekend to go watch Modifieds run Bowman Gray Stadium.

Or that I recently daydreamed about a year in which I actually got along with NASCAR. (I probably shouldn't have mentioned that. My friends may have me committed.)

Or that someone asked me recently to pick the winner of the Daytona 500, and I didn't say the first name that popped into my head. I told her I'd have to get down there and come up with a hunch on-site.

No, don't be ridiculous. I'm not yearning for the beginning of another season.

It's all just coincidence. Or a subconscious trick I'm playing on myself.

Pretty soon I'll be taking up all my time at home paying bills, washing clothes and packing for the next road trip.

It's almost time to become a gypsy again and run away with the circus. I've been doing it so long I may not be fit for anything else.