Now I can't speak for all racers (not that I could before), because I'm an odd driver who straps herself into her car for no reason at all and spends hours on end just looking at the dash board, playing with the transbrake button, and making sound effects that don't resemble a real race car at all. But winter sucks. No more races. No more speed. No more late nights spent with the racing family. And no more adrenaline for us junkies.

Because of this withdrawal, I become hostile. I tend to speed more on the street. I push typical boundaries just to get my fix. And when none of that works, I join my baby in hibernation.

Race cars are not like street cars. You can't park them in the driveway and hope they will last. They need special care before you put them to bed in their respective caves. In a process called winterization, our babies become like bears.

Now this process varies driver to driver. Different situations require different actions. For example, if your garage is heated, you don't need to worry about draining the water. If your garage isn't heated - like mine isn't - you're going to spend some time draining all of the water that was used to keep your motor cool. Why? Because water freezes in the winter and if that water is still in your engine, you're in for a horrible Christmas present.

Another thing most racers do during the winter is spend money. Christmas is a horrible time for a racer. They are gifting many loved ones, and if you were to rate the love based on how much money is spent, that race car is loved much, much more than any person. Our babies are expensive, and require constant love and affection. Even if something isn't broken, something needs a bit of TLC to ensure that it won't be broken come racing season.

While parking the cars may seem to be easier on parts, for whatever reason it never fails that come that first weekend out, something isn't working correctly. And if you've got the experience that my dad brings to the table, you either go through stuff during the winter, or you simply expect something to go wrong during the season.

Last season, time and money was tight and we parked the White Whale - I say with love and affection for my baby - and didn't touch her until it was time to prepare for the season. A rotten season might I add, because everything that could go wrong did go wrong. This year, even if I need to drive home every month, my baby is getting some attention.

If you're a car person, you know that each car has its own personality. Some are loud. Some very rarely speak. Some are kind. And then some are the most opinionated, outspoken, bitchiest beasts you will ever meet. That last one is my baby.

I love her. I miss her. And maybe it's because of these things that I know she's a bitchy teenager, even though she's older than I am. But the communication between us is rock solid. There isn't a time that I haven't talked to her, cursed at her, and begged her to just take me one more round. I've prayed with her, high-fived her, and celebrated with her. And in return, she lets me know when she isn't feeling good, tells me when I should take care of her, informs me that she's probably not going to cooperate with me for that particular weekend. But hey, at least she tells me.

Most believe that this communication between a car and driver comes with experience. I'm not one to disagree with that. There were times where I had no idea what was going on with my girl. She's made me cry from frustration far too many times to count. Like I said, she's a teenager; she doesn't always communicate in the same language as me.

But with time and dedication, you learn to speak a new language. I've dedicated what will be almost four years, this winter, to her. I've learned the ins and outs of what make her tick, what piss her off, and what to do when she just doesn't want to play. I've learned that she doesn't mean to be hateful; it's just in her nature to ruin a Saturday, but that Sunday saves your ass more times than you can count.

I hate winter because I miss the bond. I hate having to learn her language all over again. I feel like I'm letting her down that first weekend when we both stumble like newborn cubs. Winter is like stuffing your best friend into a cave for a couple months and telling them you'll come back when they're worth something again.

We certainly fight. But she's also been there for the ups and downs, for the learning processes, and the wins. She's held me tight and secure as I speed down the track. I've held her straight and true in the moments where people swear we are introducing the guard rail to our group.

As I said, I can't speak for all racers. Maybe, not all racers have a bond with their car such as I do. But the adrenaline isn't the only thing I'm missing when winter rolls around.