Concord, N.C. ? It’s been almost five years since Jimmie Johnson finished lower than third at Lowe’s Motor Speedway, a streak spanning eight races – five of them victories at the track he calls “my house.”

“He’s so good here, it looks like it’s fixed,” car owner Rick Hendrick said Saturday.

All that success has irritated fans, who will undoubtedly boo Johnson if he finds his way to the winner’s circle in tonight’s Coca-Cola 600.

But the defending Nextel Cup champion is used to it, and doesn’t spend a minute fretting about his spot in the sport.

Johnson knows he’ll never be the most popular driver, or the sport’s biggest star. He gladly defers to Dale Earnhardt Jr., Jeff Gordon and Tony Stewart for those roles.

Known by many as the nicest guy in NASCAR, Johnson is content flying under the radar off the track – so long as he’s racking up the wins on it.

“I’ve never had that witty personality like Tony, you put him on the spot, wham, he’s got a response,” Johnson said. “Junior, he’s the same way. In a personal setting, he’s not as outgoing and he’s more reserved, but in the public persona, he’s God. And Jeff, he’s the veteran, with four championships he can say or do anything he wants.

“But me? I just go out there and try to do my best, do my job, and let the results speak for themselves. I have never been that ‘Rah-Rah, look at me’ kind of guy. I am just me.”

And who Johnson is has been wildly misinterpreted in the court of public opinion.

Perceived by many to be a spoiled California kid, Johnson has had to fight for acceptance from fans who want their heroes to be blue collar. They want their favorite driver to be just like them.

Because Johnson seemed to pop up out of nowhere – he was signed by Hendrick in 2001 after a nondescript Busch Series career – and had instant success with one of NASCAR’s super teams, many believe he’s had everything handed to him.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Johnson grew up in gritty El Cajon, Calif., where his father was a heavy equipment operator and his mother drove a school bus to make ends meet. For fun, the family loaded up an old van and headed into the desert to ride dirt bikes and camp around the fire.

Those early years convinced Johnson he wanted to be in racing, but without the means to fund his career, he had to figure out a way to market himself to investors.

“I needed to do all the things your parents tell you to do: Be on time, be well dressed, don’t say the wrong thing,” he said.

Johnson became a master in selling himself, and used his boy-next-door charm to move up the racing chain. But it was only 10 years ago he was at the Daytona 500, bunking on a couch in Ron Hornaday’s rented condo, showing up at any event he could in a desperate attempt to get a top NASCAR owner to notice him.

Now he knows he’ll never be accepted by everyone in NASCAR. And that’s OK with him.

“I am more comfortable than I can ever remember being at any other point in my career,” he said.