Becoming One of Them Taylor Dougherty

Kicking rocks as I trudged down the windy path to my undesired destination, I heard my dad loading the obnoxious sounding cars onto the ramp. Every time I looked at the vehicle I was being forced to ride in, I couldn't help but be embarrassed. My dad’s side of the family were the biggest rednecks I had ever met. Not only did my grandmother have over twenty cats living in her house, but she also had about six cars parked in various spots of her lawn. It’s not that I didn’t like my family - I loved them. I just hated what they did every Friday night: I hated going to the racetrack.

After contemplating acting sick to get out of going, I finally accepted my inevitable fate and walked up the dusty steps of the piece of junk bus. Now this was not a normal bus; it was cut completely in half with the back end welded to the middle in a sloppy manner, it had a three car trailer, and it was jacked up on 45 inch tires. The worst part was, my family named it the “Swagger Wagon”. Not only was this bus loud and obnoxious, but it was also illegal to drive on the road, which was why we always took back roads to the races.

My father jumped up the stairs of the bus, hopped in the seat, and drove quickly out of the bumpy yard and headed towards...