When I was a kid growing up in the '70s, Mario Andretti was a big, big star.

He was one of those old-fashioned stars, not quite like what you would think of today -- tall with chiseled features and a blinding smile, dashing from the paparazzi.

He wasn't very tall, and as far as I know he didn't travel with an entourage of body guards and underage Hollywood starlets.

Andretti was the kind of man who wasn't afraid of sweat, or to be seen with a grease smudge on the side of his face. In a career spanning five decades, he captured first in 111 races.

Andretti was true grit on the racetrack.

When I was a kid, if you sped down the street on your bike, tricycle or go-kart, the other kids called you "Mario Andretti," and it was a complement.

Andretti was born in Montona d'Istria, Italy, in 1940 (a place I've never been, can't pronounce and according to Wikipedia, is now known as Motovun, Croatia).

Andretti made a name for himself in several racing arenas including stock cars, sprint cars, midget cars and drag racing. But what really put him on the map was winning four IndyCar titles.

This was the classic '70s man from a time when long-haired bands and Burt Reynolds mustaches ruled. And so did racing.

My brother and I used to spend days setting up elaborate Matchbox tracks in the family room. On these twisted strips of yellow track, our die cast toy cars could do things no real driver could, like a 4-foot drop into the straightaway, into a tight right, followed by a loop-dee-loop, then straight over the coffee table and into the dog's water dish. My 1970 Dodge Charger was particularly good at this.

We felt like racing superstars back then.

Last weekend, the stars were out for the Grand-Am Rolex Sports Car Series, the season finale at Miller Motorsports Park. There was plenty of action all weekend -- fast cars and stars. And racing legend Mario Andretti available all weekend. He gave the starting command at Saturday's Sunchaser 1,000 -- a seven-and-a-half hour race. He was also on hand to sign autographs for fans and give interviews to the press.

"I love sports car racing, I always have," he said when asked if he would ever get behind the wheel (professionally) again.

Andretti has settled into legendary status -- and he wears it well. He said he was proud of his son and grandson, who also race. And he enjoys watching the children of his former competitors swap paint on the track.

Andretti is not afraid to speak out about the lack of financial compensation today's drivers get compared to other athletes. Amateur racers spend up to $10,000 a year to race their cars, while professional drivers spend up to $16 million per car, to race in each 10-month-long season.

"Champions are being paid the same now as the '70s," he said, adding that a driver's earning span is quite short -- just a few years.

Then again, not everyone can be Mario Andretti.

As I wandered around the paddock and garage area, watching all of the activity -- mostly cars being dismantled and reassembled -- I thought about all the races I had watched in a lifetime, and the drivers I had met during my career as a journalist. (Dale Earnhardt Jr. at NASCAR in Atlanta, Ga., in 2000 probably tops the list).

I also thought about how cool it would be to actually be Mario Andretti. And then, I ran into Patrick Dempsy.