They said Jimmie Johnson was boring. Didn't like to put on a show.

They should have had my seat, inside the No. 48 car as smoke from burning tires and a burning engine poured in as we spun wildly in circles on the Vegas Strip. Actually, they could have had my seat, because one more doughnut spinning perilously close to the center median and I was about to see if there was an escape hatch on the car.

It was all great fun for the thousands of tourists and NASCAR faithful gathered to watch the best stock car driver in the world strut his stuff. Johnson seemed to be having a good time, too, though the smoke was so thick it was hard to tell.

Me? All I could think about how we almost ended up planted in the median planter.

"Guess we came a little close on that one," Johnson said, inspecting the trail of burned rubber he left on what had been a perfectly good stretch of asphalt.

The original idea seemed innocent enough. Ride with Johnson as he led a parade of 12 drivers on a victory lap past a faux New York skyline and the fantasy Roman empire of Caesars Palace, then back up the Strip before parking our rides in front of the giant, fake gold Lion at the entrance to the MGM Grand.

Yes, I had to sign a waiver releasing Johnson and NASCAR for any liability if something happened. But the guy is such a corporate clone, or so they told me, that he wasn't going to do anything that would have me reaching for the helmet he insisted I didn't need.

This being Vegas, the Wayner (Newton) was on hand to see us off, along with the obligatory pair of feathered showgirls. About the only thing missing were some Cirque du Soleil contortionists on top of the cars.

NASCAR crashed Sin City this week, and the only question the drivers had was what took so long? After 28 years in New York City, the racing league is holding its season-ending awards ceremony in a city where the sight of race cars thundering down the main drag is just another over-the-top spectacle.

By all accounts, it didn't take long for the drivers to discover the city's delights. It has, after all, been a very long season.

"We go to New York to celebrate," Vegas native Kurt Busch said Wednesday at a roast of Johnson. "We go to Vegas to party!"

There would be a lot of partying Thursday night, but first there was a parade. Johnson was out front, waving and giving the thumbs up to fans who lined the Strip waving signs and screaming out his name.

Boring? Hardly. Just coolly efficient at what he does, as evidenced by the way he has dominated his fellow drivers the past four years.