Richard Petty was an absolute force in his era, especially during his prime years with Plymouth, where he dominated the sport with multiple championships, season win totals that will likely never be touched, and a level of consistency that defined NASCAR’s golden age. At a time when cars routinely pushed into the 200 mph range on massive superspeedways, Petty and the winged Plymouth Superbird became symbols of pure, unfiltered speed.

And in an era without digital telemetry or today’s strict aero regulations, Petty recently gave fans a rare firsthand look at what “fast” really meant back then.

220 mph in a Superbird at Talladega

Richard Petty has spent a lifetime answering questions about speed, danger, and how far a stock car could really go. Every once in a while, though, someone would ask the one question that makes even him pause. What is the fastest you have ever gone? In a fan Q and A, Petty did not dig through old timing sheets or lean on NASCAR’s record book. He simply told it straight from memory.

He said the fastest he ever felt was in the 1970 Plymouth Superbird at Talladega. “Probably somewhere close to 220 mph,” he guessed. Magazine articles and history books often say the winged cars topped out around 190 to 200 mph in race trim, but Petty was not talking about race trim. He was talking about the wild, wide-open test runs or maybe a draft with the right car trimmed out skinny. There were no restrictor plates and no rules package, just a big motor and a prayer.

What stuck with people was not just the number. It was how casual he made it sound. “You did not realize the difference between 190 and 200 and 210, 220,” he laughed. Once you are over 190, everything starts to feel the same until something goes wrong. Then, like he said, “The only time you really know you are going too fast is when you hit something.”

That is the old school mindset right there. Those guys did not have data screens telling them how close they were to the edge. They found the edge the hard way, and sometimes they went over it. The Superbird and its cousin, the Dodge Daytona, were so fast that NASCAR banned them after one season because tracks were not ready for cars exceeding 200 mph.

Petty lived it, felt it, and still talks about it like it was just another day at the office. He was also asked about his cousin and legendary crew chief Dale Inman. The answer was short and simple. Inman never drove the cars that fast. He built them, tuned them, and sent Petty out to scare himself. That was the deal.

At the end of the day, whether the needle really touched 220 or only reached 205, the story does not change. Richard Petty and that generation discovered the ceiling of a stock car the only way they knew how, by mashing the gas until the world blurred and the car shook.

The cars driven today are safer, slower, and more controlled because of the scars those drivers earned while figuring out what “too fast” felt like. It is funny how conversations about speed never really leave the Petty family; these days, Kyle Petty watches from the broadcast booth.

Kyle Petty doubts Hamlin’s next chance

After watching Denny Hamlin come up short again in the Championship 4 at Phoenix, Kyle offered a very honest take. He said Denny Hamlin will handle the loss. He is tough; he has done it before, but this one might stay with him forever. Six times, Hamlin has reached the final race with a shot at the title and walked away empty.

At 44 years old, with Chevrolet showing up strong late this season and heading into next year excited about new parts and new speed, Kyle thinks the math is getting tough.

The sport changes quickly now. Cars evolve, young drivers show up hungry, and suddenly a driver who has been knocking on the door year after year finds that door getting heavier. Kyle did not completely shut the book on Hamlin.

He pointed out that the man already has almost 60 wins, which is Hall of Fame material no matter what, but he also spoke aloud what many people have been thinking. This might have been Denny’s last true shot at a championship.

It is the same lesson Richard learned back when he was flying down Talladega at whatever 220 felt like. Windows open and close quickly in this sport. You either grab the moment when it is there, or you spend the rest of your life telling stories about how fast you almost were.