Sunday nights back
home in Connecticut are nothing like Sunday nights in Almonastor, Louisiana.
The other night I learned that not too far outside of the New Orleans jazz
beats and drum lines, a different rumble occurs –a roar of a rumble created by
mechanical machines revving their engines at a starting line. Yes, I am talking
about drag racing. I have never been to such a thrilling weekly event. During
my time here, I have made some good friends who are from the area and are
willing to show me around. This past Sunday night my friend Chris drove me out
to a truck stop in Almonastor where cars gather before they race. There were
dozens of various brand-named vehicles with all sorts of turbo- nitro- boost
stuff. Everyone was super friendly and loved sharing information about their
cars. Eventually, everyone moved their cars to the straightaway down the road
to begin racing. Spectators who watched the races from inside their cars were
parked on either side of the road, all front wheels facing forward in a getaway
position in case the cops came. It was like a scene out of a Fast and Furious
movie, but rather casual for the audience and participants. It didn’t really
occur to me how serious the drivers took racing until I saw my very first drag
race. The cars came speeding by, shaking
the pavement beneath my feet and radiating the loudest sound waves in all of
Almonastor. My thought process the entire time was, “These people are wild -my
Dad would kill me if he knew where I was right now- Jesus, don’t let me witness
a deathly crash.” Each time a pair of cars raced, my heart beat picked up and
my jaw clenched. I found it frightening, but thrilling to watch. I can’t say I
will go back because of how dangerous and illegal it was, but it definitely was
a new experience.
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