Table of Contents



Carson Goes to the Race ...... 3

Daytona Speedway Brochure ...... 26

Final Lap ....... 28

NASCAR ....... 29

For the Win ...... 30

My Favorite Sport ...... 31

At the Speedway ...... 32

500 Miles ....... 33

References ...... 34

Carson Goes to the Race

I rolled down the car window to smell the salty, crisp air. I could hear the waves hitting the shore from a distance, harmonizing with the thumping of my heart. A frigid wind blew in through the window and mixed with the warmth of the heater. The cold air on my cheeks felt nice for a few seconds. Who would have guessed that Florida would get cold? My dad rolled my window back up.

“All these cars are probably trying to get to the speedway,” my dad sighed.

I nod. There are at least a thousand cars on the road, slowly inching forward.

This was the first time I was going to see a real-life NASCAR race. My dad and I watched it on TV every single year and I would always nag him to take me to see the race the next year. He would always say I would not be able to last the eight-hour-drive down to Daytona. But finally, the day has come. This was going to be the best thing to happen to me. My nine years of life had led up to this. I can just imagine the roar of the engines screaming past me. Cars zooming past one another. The crowd yelling and cheering.

I snapped out of my daydream as we turned onto the street where the speedway lies.  The streets were full of people.

There must be a million people here, I thought to myself. Well maybe not a million but it’s probably pretty darn close if you ask me.

Everyone was all moving in the same direction almost like a herd of cattle being brought into their pen. I wondered if any of these people were as excited as I was. IMPOSSIBLE I thought. I was definitely peaking in my existence as a fourth grader. I was unashamed and had no regrets. Our car drew closer to the speedway.

“C’mon Dad, hurry up! You are driving worse than Grandma!” I shouted.

“Hold your horses my little speedster, we are just trying to find a parking spot we are almost there.” said Dad. I was growing very impatient. There was no parking anywhere to be found. I knew we should have left earlier. If I had my license I would have driven up here yesterday and camped out but noooo I am only nine years old and we are not allowed to drive yet. I never hated the rules more than in this very moment. My eyes widened as we neared the speedway. I had never seen anything more mesmerizing in my life! It was everything I pictured and more. I felt like I was dreaming

“Somebody pinch me,” I whispered to myself. Finally I spotted a parking space.

“QUICK DAD, LEFT! LEFT! LEFT!” I screamed so loud I gave my dad a fright but oh boy did he slam on that gas as quick as he could to retrieve that solemn parking space.

“Yes, yes, YES!” I could no longer contain my excitement. I felt like a firecracker ready to go off at any moment. As soon as we parked, I jumped out of the car,

“WE ARE HERE.” I screamed.

“Get your rain jacket, Carson, you should always be prepared for a rainy day. Either way the race goes on!  Make sure you bring your hat too. Who knows you might even get Mickey Robby to sign it for ya!” my dad advised.

I imagined the feeling that would overwhelm me if my idol, Mickey Robby signed my hat. This was a driver I had admired for as long as I could remember. He had won the championship every year for the last three years; my eyes lit up every time he appeared on the tv. And today I could possibly see him in person?!

My dad and I sped through the parking lot, with myself leading the way. As i approached the speedway, I realized how unbelievably huge it was in person. I stared in awe of it from the outside, taking in all of the banners draped down the walls bearing faces of racers and their magnificent cars.

“Carson, wait up!” my dad yelled, but I only felt increasingly excited.

I beckoned him, “Hurry!”

He grinned and shook his head as he jogged to close the gap between us.

Smells began to fill my nose; the sweet sting of gasoline, burnt rubber, and all the food I couldn’t wait to try. We walked through the entrance and never had I felt so small. The rows upon rows of seats stretched for miles. I shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled out a lightly crumpled ticket. It read “7A”. I clutched onto it like it was the shiny Daytona 500 trophy itself.

“Dad! Our seats are in row 7!” I exclaimed. I grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, as if I knew where to go any more than he did. I couldn’t help it, I had never felt this excited in my whole entire life.

“Honey,” my dad said, “I think our seats are this way.” He pulled my hand in the opposite direction. As we walked to our seats, I observed all the different kinds of people I was seeing. Everyone varied in age, size, and any other aspect you could think of. But everyone was just as excited as I was! Guys triple my age had grins on their face from ear to ear, laughing raucously with their friends and family, ready for the race to begin. We spotted our seats and raced up.

When we got to Row 7 I plopped myself in the seat. I wasn’t going anywhere. I looked at my watch that covered my small wrist. The race was about to begin. We heard the rumble of the car engines start, and I swore it was so loud I could feel it in my stomach.

My dad handed me the ear plugs I knew I had to wear, which I had always argued that I didn’t need. But wow, when I heard those cars revving up, I knew I had to. The announcers projected their voices over the speakers, getting the crowd amped up. The race began and eyes were glued on the track.

As the race went on, my heart began to beat faster and harder. I was sure that my heart was going to jump right out of my chest.

“Dad, this is what I want to do when I grow up. You told me to do something that makes my heart beat and makes me feel ecstatic. This is it. Dad. I want to become a racer. Not just any racer. I want to be the best racer of all time. I WILL BE THE BEST RACER OF ALL TIME!” I exclaimed.

My dad did not hear me as he was in the middle of buying some snacks and soda from the peanut guy walking down the aisles.

“You? Become a racer? Little girl, I don’t think this is a little girl sport. You can’t compete with boys in something like this.” scoffed the peanut guy. I glared at him the strongest glare I could muster up. I looked at his name tag-- Jimbo Jones. What a stupid name. He had a grumpy face--slim lips and upturned nose--his full face was too big for his striped red peanut guy hat. The hat was basically sitting on top of his head.

“Well is that why you’re a peanut guy? Because that is such a “big boy” job? Huh? HUH?”I sassed back. My dad placed his hand on my shoulder as if he already knew that he would have to hold me back if Mr. Jimbo Jones here opened his mouth with yet another smart remark. Jimbo glowered. I could hear my dad and few other people around us chuckling in the background.

“Carson Knight. Wa - wa - wa You watch me!” I stuttered.  I’ll become the best racer of all time and win the Daytona 500 one day. Carson Knight, remember that Jimbo. You will rue this day!” I snapped back.    

He walked away. I went back to watching the race while snacking on my popcorn. Though the race went on, I could not seem to silence Jimbo’s comments that were replaying in my head.

You can't competeNot a girls sport hmm

With every lap that passed those words felt less like a dagger, and more like a motivational speech to me.        

The race came down to the final 10 laps. Everyone in the stands were up on their feet, desperately screaming for their favorites to get out in front. My dad lifted me up to stand on my seat so I could see above the crowd. And there he was: Mickey Robby. I spotted his bright blue car instantly, thanks to his poster hanging above my bed. How could I ever not recognize that shimmering, steel, blue, beauty?! He was neck in neck with Bucky Jones’ orange racer. I was never a fan of the color orange anyways and to top that off Bucky Jones’ was not so easy on the eyes.

The blue and orange cars looked as if they were taking turns being out in front. Back and forth, back and forth. I felt as if I was going cross-eyed with the amount of focus I was putting into staring at the battle. With five laps to go, Jones overcame Robby and took the lead.

“No!” I shouted. “Come on Mickey, you can do it!”

The race was down to the final lap and everyone went silent in anticipation. In reality the speedway was full of all sorts of noises but in that moment nothing else mattered to me and I had tuned everything out.  It looked like Jones would be the winner. My heart beated even faster and although I felt as though my body was racing as fast as the cars i was watching, I was frozen still with my eyes glued to the track. It was the final stretch and Jones was still slightly in the lead. I had to watch but at the same time I felt as though I couldn’t. My stomach was in knots and at this very moment I wished that I had made every 11:11 wish on letting Mickey Robby win this race. The final stretch was coming to a close when all of a sudden, to everyone’s surprise, Mickey Robby made his way back to the front and sped past Jones just in time to cross the finish line first.

The crowd went crazy! I finally snapped out of my own little world and rejoined the reality that I was in. I cheered so loud I knew I would definitely lose my voice the next day.

“He did it, Carson!” my dad said as he scooped me up into a hug. Then his face became twisted into a sort of smirk that only happens when he just can't hide a secret any longer. “I wanted to wait to tell you this. You know that ticket in your pocket is good for one more thing.”

I looked at him puzzled, “what are you talking about, you don’t m..” a lump formed in my throat “you don’t mean, like a VIP ticket. Do you?”

My father saw that I was struggling to hold back a joyful tear. “Yes, that’s actually EXACTLY what I mean. I must have called the radio station 100 times to finally win these tickets”. I felt as though my feet had left the ground, My father continued to ask me “how would you feel meeting your favorite racer? Pretty neat, right? Maybe even get an autograph”. The tear streamed down my face as I touched the brim of my cap. “Well let’s get in line so you can see the car and the racing team up close!”

When we made it to the meet and greet site, there were already 100 other people trying to get their pictures and I could barely see a thing. As the line inched forward I caught a glimpse of a man in a blue racing jacket holding a helmet under his arm. The cap that had taken place on top of his head resembled mine. I knew, without a doubt, that he was the person everyone was waiting to see.

20 steps away... I heard my heartbeat. 10 steps away I became lightheaded. 9 8 7 Was I tearing up? 6 5 4 Am I walking straight? Am I floating in air? 3. 2. 1. I froze. I wasn’t sure what kind of face I was making.

“You alright there?” asked Mickey Bobby. He smiled.

“Y..e...Yes.” I looked at him in awe. Was this real life? Maybe I’m dreaming. Wake up Carson. I pinched my thigh.

“OW.” I screamed. Yup. This is real life. I am standing in front of Mickey Bobby. Making direct eye contact. Smiling at ME.

“Hi my name is Carson and I am your biggest fan and I begged my dad that I wanted to come see you race since I was six and that’s like three years ago which means I am nine and that race was incredible and my eyes were glued to your car and now I’m meeting you and I can’t believe this is real and” I spewed out. Stop babbling Carson. What are you doing? My words came to a sudden halt and I made an awkward smile. I knew it was awkward because I could feel my cheeks shake.