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When the Clampetts "loaded up the truck and moved to Beverly," they didn't stay that way. Elly Mae's daughter won a Rhodes Scholarship. Jethro's son is now on the board of Goldman Sachs. The Jed Clampett Scholarship is fully endowed at Stanford.

The Waltons have likely changed since the old man sat outside his "mart," chewing the fat and smoking a corn-cobbed pipe. The ones who followed him and married into the clan are now paying for fine-arts centers and the like.

Success has consequences, as a not-so-famous songwriter once described: Money is just another buzz / As addictive as any pill / It don't have to ruin your life / But if you make it fast enough / It probably will.

What do you do? No one's going to turn back the clock, board up the mansions and mothball the jets, at least not before he's old and worried about getting to heaven. He might give them away then.

Such is the case with NASCAR, a ruling body that grew from squalid roots to a vast, far-flung empire, all based on the time-tested notion that if the fans are happy, and the teams are making a little more money this year than last year, no one will notice that the real river of gold flows into the corporate pool.

Based on what I see others writing, I'm more worried than most about NASCAR's decline. Now that I watch from afar, I know what afar sees. At the track, I would be surrounded by those still excited to be there. In my hometown, I am surrounded by those who don't care anymore.

People here know that I spent two decades trying to perform the impossible task of chasing fast cars. They are at least mildly aware that I used to have something to do with NASCAR. They remember when I used to write about local sports, so a goodly number put two and two together and are fairly sure I wrote about NASCAR. So, when I see them at the grocery store or the trash dump, they say "hey, there" or ask "how's your mama?" and then ask, "Who won the race?"

"Kyle Busch."

"Man, I used to never miss one of them things. Now I don't hardly pay attention. Where was the race?"

"Indianapolis."

"I'll be dogged."

I'll be dogged, too. It seems like it's all I ever hear. Ten years ago, all I ever heard was, "hey, man, you know Tony Stewart?" and "tell the truth, Junior's cool, ain't he?" and "I'm gonna tell you who's got talent, that there Ryan Newman’s who."

The passion is on the wane, and there are about a hundred reasons and the real challenge is figuring out how important each of them is.

People who used to go to every weekend race now just go to the Cup race. People who used to go to the races now stay home and watch TV. People who used to watch on TV now go fishing. People who used to save up to pay $80, $90 for every single seat now say, "Heck with that. Baby, let's me and you take a cruise."

NASCAR is still big. It's not going away unless a lot more folks do. The fans have the power, and they have chopped the sport down to size. The empire had better pay attention to all its little trading posts.