Monthly Archives: April 2012

Like a boat drifting through smoky fog, I remember my first NASCAR experience as if it were a beaming lighthouse.

Glued to my father, we sat on the couch in 2001 and watched TV. There I was, five-years-old, not really interested; I had no idea what they were talking about. The picture broke through some static, yet I still recollect it clearly.

A man sat on a chair, a wreath of flowers perched between him and another man. The first man had that newscaster voice, the one that your recaptured your attention after the commercials died out. Naturally, he brought me in, and I took in the scene as he questioned the second man. This man was in a nice suit, and his features were serious, quivering slightly as if he was holding emotions back.

When I poked Dad’s side and wondered who the serious man was, my father answered, “Jeff Gordon.” Quietly, I wanted to know who he was.

With that, it began.

Many people don’t remember simple events like watching a TV show from eleven years ago. I do. Mostly because it was a pivotal moment for me. Now, I analyze every thing from a different perspective.

NASCAR is more than a sport. Some don’t see that; they think of rednecks, beer, and turning left. Ridiculous.  Not everyone who enjoys racing is a redneck, hillbilly, or hick. I’ve met fans that come from business backgrounds, ones who wear ties and suits to work everyday. The ones who think of turning left are just silly. We turn right on occasion. (If the right turns aren’t planned, though, it’s a bad thing.)

Beer is the only exception. Way back, all the way back to the Prohibition, alcohol was deemed illegal. Americans ran dry and craved a fix. So, deep in the Appalachians, moonshine was created. Bootleggers then sold mason jars filled with ‘bootleg whiskey’ and ran them to customers. The police caught on, and a car chase would ensue. To better evade the law, the bootleggers would adjust their cars for speed and better handling. Soon, they decided to race each other, first for fun, later for profit. Alcohol still plays a part, yet only when beer logos are planted on the hoods of cars. I see it as a subtle tribute to the roots that made NASCAR possible.

It’s history that fuels these cars, and the history continues to be written. We don’t retire numbers for that purpose. A nostalgic feeling falls over everyone when they see the #3 NNS car or NCWTS truck roll onto the track. It brings back visions of Dale Earnhardt Sr. battling with Terry Labonte back at Bristol, rattling cages. A lot of fans aren’t okay with the famous number returning to the track, but Richard Childress knew it was okay with the most important person: Dale. The Intimidator would’ve wanted the story of the 3 to go on, and Childress chose his two grandsons to keep penning every detail.  The same goes for the #43; with so much history going along with it, the number still rests on the side of a Sprint Cup ride owned by, who else, Richard Petty. Young racers with notable last names, like Chase Elliott and Ryan Blaney, want to one-up their fathers’ achievements. When legacies are involved, things get icy; topping the greats, like the beloved Dale Earnhardt Sr., is complicated enough. The added pressure doesn’t aid you, especially if you’re Dale Earnhardt Jr.

There would be no history, however, if there was no hope.

Every legend or driver you hear about started their journey with hope and a need for speed. A need for speed may be natural, but hope is something you can lose easily. The road to success in the racing world is full of bumps and forks, known for jolting optimism loose. Only people with fierce determination rise to the top and live out their dreams.

Have you ever heard of a passive NASCAR driver? No? That’s what I thought.

Many drivers we idolize experienced a low point to their way to the top. Some considered giving up on their dreams and going for a more ‘stable’ occupation. They needed was one good run to catch the eye of the right person, and they were set for life. Obviously, they toughed it out, or we wouldn’t be watching them every weekend. What helped them get through it? Hope.

Looking back to that day in 2001, I had no idea what I was getting into, or why Dad sat down religiously every Sunday. Now, eleven years later, I’m sitting down with Dad to watch the race.

Call me a redneck, I don’t care. Say that all these drivers do is turn left, big whoop.

Never say NASCAR is just a sport, though. It’s built on sweet hope and cherished history.

And it means more to us than you can imagine.

Dust.

It’s what a dream becomes when someone or something crushes it, making it useless. Or, if played around with in the right way, it creates the perfect gateway for those dreams. Racing is built upon dreams and, many times, dust. With hard work and determination, the most talented rise to the highest ranks and compete against their idols. Mixed in with the dirt is sweat, faith, and determination, which is the formula for success.

This came to me Friday night, when I was at my local dirt track, Attica Raceway Park. Attica Ambush is a big event that draws a large crowd and huge names, such as Tony Stewart, Kasey Kahne, and Dale Blaney. The press went to them instantly, like moths to a flame. I have to admit, meeting stars like that was exciting, but that wasn’t the most impressive thing I witnessed.

Walking around while Sprints qualified for heat races, I saw teenagers my age in unmarked firesuits next to barely sponsored machines. Young men talked to their fathers, seeking advice. Other drivers stood together, talking. I overheard one wonder, “So, Tony Stewart’s here?” The hope in that one’s voice wasn’t lost on anyone. Every under-funded driver had the same dream that night; they wanted to stand out, catch the right person’s eye. The thing that made them different from one another was how badly they wanted to race, the win, a chance.

All they want is to leave a mark. Tire marks.

Almost like marks on a published piece or writing.

Inspiration hit me hard in the face during a caution in the feature event; their dreams weren’t any different than mine. They fantasized about being big shots and having NASCAR fans shout their names ever Sunday afternoon. My desire is to write articles that hundreds of people read and support. We long to become somebody, a name in a loved sport. There is something about achieving what seems impossible that’s alluring: it makes you want to work harder, work towards your goals. That spark was lit inside my soul during that race.

The racers’ willpower wasn’t the only enlightening thing that chilly night. Just the fact that big names go to small dirt tracks is incredible. Kahne and Stewart enjoy dirt tracking on their off-weekends, and it proves that they don’t stray far from their roots. It gives those young hopefuls new idols to gaze at with appreciation. To stay close to what made you famous shows humility, and many in the public eye don’t practice being humble enough. NASCAR is different; drivers are dedicated to the fans, staying late at signings to make sure everyone gets an autograph or picture. It’s a demeanor that influences the youngsters who want to hit it big. That’s what separates our sport from others. We find connections with certain drivers, make them relatable to us on a personal level. It’s all those aspects that add up to an idol, and becoming someone’s idol or motivation is something to look up to.

It all dwindled down as I left Attica. A father scrapes every fund dry so his son can chase down cars and checkered flags. A NASCAR driver comes to a dirt track and is reminded of his beginning. Desires are all around us, in beginning stages and finished products. Racing, in general, has to be one of the most inspirational sports around. Pushing yourself to the limit could secure a spot in NASCAR.

Because, this time, dreams aren’t crushed into dust. They’re built up from it.