We never woulda thunk it, as they say. Liz Clarke is a merry soul who walked the halls here at The N&O 20 or so years ago, covering higher education. Her own educational background was impressive. Barnard College. Graduate school. And her beat was a complicated and challenging one, what with dealing with university presidents and the various issues and personalities involved therein.

She left the paper in 1990 to join The Charlotte Observer sports department, covering that city's pursuit of a National Football League franchise. The plan was to return to news reporting after three years or so. But after Charlotte, it was on to Dallas, then to USA Today, then to The Washington Post to cover the Redskins.

Her first taste of NASCAR came in Charlotte. North Carolina being ground zero for stock car racing, that was natural. Now, all those years later comes "One Helluva Ride -- How NASCAR Swept the Nation," a new book in which Clarke, who was born in Raleigh and still counts many relatives in this area and all over North Carolina, delves into the culture of the sport. It's no longer the regional southern sport it used to be -- races are nationwide, and it is the top spectator sport in the United States.

That Clarke's career path took a different turn, so to speak, should perhaps not have been surprising. Her interests always have been adventurous.

Her NASCAR book is not a fan's tribute. It's more a state-of-the-sport analysis in some ways. NASCAR is not, after all, what it was in the beginning or even what it was 10 years ago. Eager to expand horizons, and audiences, it has looked to build a broader audience. The southern roots are still in place -- many drivers and support people remain in the Charlotte area, for example, but tracks such as legendary Rockingham in the Sandhills have fallen from the NASCAR circuit, and others have opened in more populous areas -- California, Chicago.

Teams backed by multimillion-dollar enterprises now dominate the sport, with hundreds of employees working to run perhaps three cars. Drivers no longer are good ol' boy stereotypes. (And Clarke notes the drivers have treated her and other women who cover the sport with a comfortable respect.) The element of danger remains, and today writers such as Clarke focus on safety issues, a focus that has brought some change to racing.

The drivers remain characters, and this, Clarke believes, brings the sport to life and always has. She respects those who laid the cornerstone: Junior Johnson, who learned to drive fast running moonshine through the North Carolina hills and today runs a virtual business empire. Richard Petty, of course. The King, with 200 victories. And then there was Dale Earnhardt, the Intimidator.

Earnhardt, who died on the last lap of the Daytona 500 in February of 2001, was known for his take-no-prisoners style of driving and became her closest contact in the racing world.

"To me," Clarke said, "the most important thing about Dale Earnhardt was why he raced the way he did -- some people thought he was evil -- but there was a reason. Dropping out of school after the eighth grade, having nothing, he had to claw his way up. He never lost that feeling. But he was an extraordinarily different person outside of the car. He was tenderhearted, and very bright. The part of the book I'm most proud of is trying to explain who he was."

Clarke is 47, and her work with The Post will take her to China this summer, as it has to other Olympics. She covers a variety of sports now, but was drawn to NASCAR "because you're just assaulted by the smells and the sounds and the noise and if you're a writer or trying to be a writer, there is no end to things to describe. And there are no pretenses to these people. It was and is a meritocracy. It's about showing up early and working hard. And it's a unique sport. In other contests you have a 50 percent chance of winning. In stock car races you have a one in 43 chance."

She still covers about six races a year, and still loves all of the sidelights to the races, in particular the conversations among drivers and crews. "The way the drivers talk...it's a real vernacular," she said. "It's plainspoken and direct and funny. It's a sport of storytellers."