As the thundering nitromethane powered cars of the National Hot Rod Association prepare to descend on Pacific Raceways, just a five minute drive from my office in downtown Covington, I am reflective on my own history with the Northwest Nationals.

This year will mark the 10th time I will cover the event. In late July 2004 I reluctantly left my home in Maple Valley on a steamy Saturday morning — it was in the 90s all weekend — to go see what this drag racing thing was all about.

See, I got a call the day before from some woman from the East Coast who worked in public relations for the sponsor of some funny car driver, a guy named Ron Capps who just last year would not only remember me but call me a wuss. But, I’ll come back to that.

This phone call was an invitation out to the track, interview the driver, his crew chief, all kinds of access to the whole operation during race weekend. I was all, “Eh, I don’t know. Let me ask my editor and I’ll let you know.” Then I talked to my editor and he suggested I write it from the perspective of someone who had no idea about motor sports. And that’s precisely what I did.

I spent about 45 minutes interviewing Capps in the trailer in his pit. I told him I knew nothing about his sport. So, he explained it to me. Then he suggested I go to the starting line during a nitro session to really get a feel for it. As I walked out, I bumped into the gentleman who handled PR for the team at races. He asked me how the interview went and what I planned to do next. I told him I was heading to the starting line to watch the race — it was qualifying, but, I didn’t know anything then — and he asked if I had earplugs. No. Did I need them? Oh, yes. So a pair was supplied and I meandered off to the stands to get as close as I could.

That day in mind-melting heat I experienced the visceral thrill of NHRA drag racing, the bone-rattling, organ-shaking feeling internally when a pair of 7,000 horsepower, nitro-fueled funny cars roar down the quarter mile drag strip while the smell of what is essentially jet fuel burns the nose and flecks of tire rubber stick to your clothes. I was hooked.

Since then the Northwest Nationals, which draws tens of thousands of spectators from all over the Northwestern U.S. and Canada, has been a favorite event to cover.

During the past couple years I accepted the invitation to go to the pre-race press conference at the Space Needle.

A year ago I was sitting at a table in a banquet room at the top of the famous Seattle icon, inhaling lunch and talking with another journalist about his camera setup when Capps sat down next to me. Before long I was disclosing the freakout I had last year when I got into the passenger seat of an instructional super gas car at Pacific Raceways.

And Capps, who has been drag racing professionally for close to 20 years, called me a wuss. I tweeted later about that moment and Capps responded that he just couldn’t resist.

As we talked I reminded him I interviewed him in 2004 and he remembered me. Or, more precisely, he remember I didn’t know a thing about the sport when I interviewed.

Yet, here I am, thinking about that moment and how conversations with him have bookended in a sense my experiences covering the NHRA Northwest Nationals. During the course of the past nine years I have interviewed many different drivers. And of all the professional sports people I have met — and that includes Andre Agassi, Tim Lincecum, Tony Stewart, Nate Burleson, just to name a few — during my journalism career, NHRA drivers are my favorite to interview. There is none of that sense of entitlement you encounter even with elite Division I athletes or marquee professional players. They are not cynical of you or your questions. They invite you into their sport with open arms. It is pretty fantastic.

I feel lucky I didn’t turn down the opportunity in 2004 to interview Capps or all the other opportunities to connect with the drivers, to go to the track, make new friends, share it with old friends and find a new passion.

It’s the perfect example of why we should all try to get out of our comfort zone once in a while.

But, that’s enough sentimental mush. I need to dig up some sunscreen and some ear plugs. There’s a race this weekend and I want to go get my bones rattled.