Once again, Dear Readers, I wish to post my favorite Christmas story.

To borrow the title of an Elvis hit, my prospect was for a "Blue Christmas." Because of a personal situation, I faced the holiday alone in 1978.

Memories of NASCAR Awards weekends in New York come bubbling back as the stock car racing sanctioning body once again celebrates in the post-season, now at Las Vegas.

What is a "bear tale" doing on a website devoted to motorsports? The story involves three of the most colorful characters connected to NASCAR racing I've met since I started covering the sport in 1957 -- Buddy Baker, Buck Brigance and Crash Grant.

Who is NASCAR's greatest driver of all time? Is it Jimmie Johnson, who captured his sixth championship in eight years at the Florida track? Some immediately said so. ESPN quickly placed Johnson's profile "on the Mount Rushmore of racing."

I remember the tears of Benny Parsons…The fears of Darrell Waltrip and Dale Earnhardt…The unjust jeers of Bill Elliott.

Exactly a quarter-century now has raced by. Twenty-five years. It doesn’t seem possible. What happened on Nov. 6, 1988 in the desert of Arizona remains as clear for me and some other NASCAR followers as the bright sky that sparkled that day in The Valley of the Sun.

Junior Johnson was being threatened with great bodily harm that Sunday in 1961. No, not by a rival mountain moonshiner. But by the owner/sponsor of the Pontiac he was driving in the Virginia Sweepstakes 500 at Martinsville Speedway.