It was my single greatest racing memory, and it took place at Martinsville Speedway in October 2001.

With Dale Jarrett glued to my rear bumper, stalking me, hoping for a window of opportunity to slide underneath and take control of the race, I entered Turn 1 for the final time.

It was no longer about being fast, but being wise. So I eased into the turn, encouraging Dale to my outside. He moved along my right-rear quarter panel as we navigated the middle of Turns 1 and 2.

On the exit, I barely gave him enough room between his right side and the wall; between his left side and my right, I gave him none. We made contact on the backstretch, and I entered Turn 3 with a more direct entry to avoid any rear-wheel hop, under heavy braking. As Iong as I entered square to him, I knew I could force him up the track a half lane, enough to enhance my exit and compromise his.

It couldn’t have gone any better. Just past the middle of Turns 3 and 4 I had rotated the Tide racing Ford, and I quickly released the steering to the right and accelerated with authority straight up off Turn 4, clearing Dale.

When I flashed under the checkered flag, time stood still — the only time in my life I experienced this.

It was my 174th Sprint Cup Series race. I woke up that morning winless as a Sprint Cup Series driver, and I ended the day void of that burden.

Every time I hear my grandfather clock chime, I’m reminded of that monumental day in Virginia.

As the years have gone by, I’ve recognized that race as my most important and valuable. Not because it was my first Cup win but because of the premium other drivers put on winning there.

To prove that point, I reached out to a few colleagues to get their take on the significance of capturing the grandfather clock (the traditional gift given to the Martinsville winner).

Dale Earnhardt Jr.: “Honestly, that’s the coolest trophy in our sport. There are bigger accomplishments in our sport, like a title or Daytona. … But a win at Martinsville’s a pure win. The driver brings a lot to the table.”

Brad Keselowski: “I would put winning Martinsville even with Darlington on my list. It’s an old-world NASCAR accomplishment. Something about it feels gritty and raw, like you’re connected to the roots of the sport when winning there.”

Matt Kenseth: “Winning Martinsville would mean more to me than any other track on the circuit.”

Jimmie Johnson: “Winning at Martinsville, beating my hero Jeff Gordon, among my coolest memories, accomplishments.”

Martinsville is the only track remaining on the Sprint Cup schedule that makes drivers remember how they got into the sport. We didn’t begin our careers at Talladega or Daytona.

Most of us were introduced to driving at a small track somewhere, with a setup similar to Martinsville. There’s no drafting, no aero push and more horsepower doesn’t necessarily mean more speed. It’s the purest, most authentic, seat-of-your-pants racing that exists today.

Early retirement party for Gordon

Jeff Gordon doesn’t need to win this year’s title for me to feel his final season was a complete success. I would, however, like to see him win a race.

It’s not that winning would change my view of his career, his contributions, his legacy.

It’s that winning would give him the ultimate going-away gift, the significance of one last Victory Lane interview, a celebration that satisfies being a 93-time winner in Cup. I believe it happens this week. The gift? Another grandfather clock.

Let’s call it an early retirement party, and the whole world is invited.

The Bottom Line

The days of NASCAR allowing Sprint Cup races to end under yellow should end, now!

Last week’s checkered flag being waved while cars paraded around the final four miles of Talladega serves as case in point. There isn’t a racetrack on the schedule that promotes the anticipation of final-lap drama more than the Talladega Superspeedway.

As a competitor, I can assure you that most every lap leading up to the final one is little more than rehearsal, repetition for the much anticipated final act. And it never happened?!

So we learn from it and move on, but move forward we must. My definition of progress is learning from disappointment.

Needless to say, many paying customers left the Alabama track displeased. The only thing I can think of that would leave a worse taste in fans’ mouths would be a repeat finish under caution at the championship-deciding finale in Miami.

This has been an intriguing Chase; let’s make sure we see the final act.