You think the primary purpose of wings is to PREVENT flight.
You take your helmet along when you go to buy new eyeglasses or check out cars.
You feel compelled, on a road trip, to beat your previous best time.
You are happiest when your street car's tires are worn to racing depth and the wear bars are showing.
When something falls off of your car, you wonder how much weight you just saved.
When you hear 'overcooked it', instead of food you think 'off the track'.
You change engine oil every other week.
You sometimes hear little noises from your passengers when you get on the throttle right after turning in.
You thoroughly enjoy showing the tailgater behind how to drive around a highway off-ramp.
Your racing budget is one of the big three -- mortgage, car payments/maintenance, dating.
Your email address refers to your race car rather than to you.
You walk proper lines through the grocery store.
You've been known to yell "It means 'check your mirrors' dammit!" at your television.
You've paid $4.00 a gallon for gas without complaining.
You buy new parts because you can't remember where you put the spares.
You bought a race car before buying a house.
You bought a race car before buying furniture for the new house.
You're looking for a tow vehicle and still haven't bought furniture!
You find that you need a new house because you've outgrown your garage and the neighbors are threatening violence if you park one more vehicle on the street or in the front yard.

The requirements you give your real estate agent are (in order of importance):
1) 8 car climate controlled garage with an attached shop.
2) Outside parking for 6 cars, a motorhome, a crew cab dualie, a 28'enclosed trailer and a 34' 5th wheel.
3) 3 phase 220V outlets in the garage for your welder. 4) A grease pit.
5) Convenient to a hazardous waste disposal site.
6) Deaf neighbors.
7) Across the street from a paint and body shop.
8) Some sort of house with a working toilet and shower on the property somewhere-or-hookups for the motorhome.

You measure all family acquisitions in terms of the number of race tires that could have been purchased.
You know that Orthodontic work is the equivalant of three sets of tires.
You sit in your race car in a dark garage and make car noises and shift and practice your heel and toe, while waiting for your motor to get back from the machine shop.
You look at the purchase of tools as a long term investment.
Your wife says, "If you buy another set of tires, I'm getting a new mink."
Your garage holds more cars than your house has bedrooms.
You have enough spare parts to build another car.
More than one race supply house recognizes your voice and greets you by name when you call.
You have car parts in your cubicle at work.
You think the last line of the Star Spangled Banner is: "Racers, start your engines!"
If you can't remember when you last worked on weekdays and rested on weekends.
You're registered for wedding gifts at Pegasus and Racer Wholesale.
Your Christmas list begins with "another set of BFG R1s and Pauter rods," and your 'significant other' knows what they are.
After your answer to "What did you do this weekend?" the next question is always: "And you do this for fun? Right?"
You have a separate drawer for 'garage clothes'.
The reading material in your bathroom consists of auto parts and racing supply catalogs, several books written by famous drivers, every book Carroll Smith has ever written.... and 400 car magazines, none of which have centerfolds.
People know you by your class letter, car number, and car color.
People know you by your "off"s". "Oh, you're the one got stuck in the mud at ButtonWillow last weekend!"
You talk to other cars on the road, calling them by the manufacturer's name.
Your first date involves asking her to crew for you.
Your criteria for selecting a significant other include auto repair skills. Air tools optional.
Your friends don't recognize you without a helmet and driver's suit.
Your family remembers your hair color as "grease".
You plan your wedding around the race schedule.
You astound the clerk at Sears by bringing in a snapped breaker bar every other week or so.
You remember the dates and details of every race you've ever been in, but can't remember your phone number.
Your family brings the couch into the garage so they can spend some time with you.
You complain when cars in front of you on highway off-ramps don't stay on the line, causing your exit speed to drop.
A neighbor asks if you have any oil, to which you query, "Synthetic or organic?" and they reply, "Vegetable or corn."
You give out Summit Racing's number when a friend asks for the best hardware store.
You refer to the corner down the street from your house as "Turn One."
You look at the fire hydrant at that corner and see an apex marker.
You enjoy driving in the rain on the way to work or school.
You always late apex the intersection and try to pass a few cars coming out.
Everywhere you go, you try to find the fastest line through the turn.
You always do a toe & heel downshift while whoever might be your passenger gives you a real funny look.
You can't stand anyone telling others how to drive. Of course, you are the best.
You can't stand understeer.
You always want to change something in your street car to make it handle better.
You will gladly pay up to $8 for a quart of engine oil.
You hate long distance driving, but you will gladly drive 800 miles to the race track.
You think that traction control and ABS are for those who can't drive.
You've ever tried to convince your wife you needed that flow bench to fix the air filter on her station wagon.
You save broken car parts as "momentos".
Your last several freeway forays included just brushing the curbs as you apexed the on ramps perfectly....
You've found your lawnmower runs pretty good on 108 octane gas (but doesn't particularly care for alcohol).
The local tire shop won't honor the tread life warranty on any car you have been within 50 yards of...
The shop manager at your local car dealer mutters "dear Lord" under his breath after he sees the size of your exhaust piping.
The local police and state Highway Patrol have a picture of your car taped to their dashboard.
You spend more time polishing your exhaust tip every day than you do bathing.
Instead of pictures in your wallet, you have timeslips.
You would choose a rollbar over air conditioning if it were an option.
You enjoy driving through wet, empty parking lots and using the emergency brake to kick the back end out.
White smoke coming out from under your tires is a common sight.
You consider the redline a "conservative suggestion" and the rev limiter "a fun limiter"
You spend more on insurance premiums than on food. Your idea of a good time is sitting around figuring out gear ratios and the ideal final drive ratio for given situations.
When someone refers to "The Good Book", you think of "The Auto Math Handbook"
When someone asks where you went to school, you reply, "Skip Barber".
You have racing shops programmed on on your speed dialer.
You own five cars and only one of them is street legal. You know the 1/4 mile times and skid pad numbers of your riding mower and want to improve them.
You've embarrassed your significant other at least once by insisting on wearing your full face helmet while driving.
You know the "racing line" of every turn in your daily commute, including your alternate routes, and practice hitting them every day.
You quote your street tire wear life in weeks rather than miles.
You regularly live test your rev limiter on that straight that's a little too long for 2nd but not worth going into 3rd for.
You've started looking for sponsors for your daily commute.
You've slalomed in a construction zone, and counted your penalty time in the rearview afterwards.
After you tell your wife where you'd like to go on your vacation she answers: "Why... is there a race there?"