Somewhere in America, a racer will load his flawlessly prepared car into a brightly lit, freshly painted, cabinet lined, enclosed trailer, grab a beer from the refrigerator of his Kenworth conversion, settle onto the leather sofa and complain about the high cost of racing.

Somewhere else in America, a racer will load his battered race car onto a homemade trailer, pull some cold ones out of the cooler in the back of his pickup truck and talk about what a blast he just had.