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My first time was when I was 3 days old. I, of course, don't remember it but I also don't remember life before drag racing. My mother probably shouldn't have been driving 3 days after a C-section, but life was much different then.
My dad helped his friend, JR Sosh, for years and he then gave my dad a '67 Firebird. My father and I began building it when I was about 4. If he was in the basement I was too. The older I get the more thankful I am for the time spent with my dad and the knowledge of cars I now have.
Once the car was all together (if that is even possible) I was at the races every weekend. We had our share of blown engines and near misses but I loved every minute of it.
When I was younger I enjoyed telling my friends I was crew chief (really I was just the tire pressure girl, but same difference right?)
A few years ago my dad had to have knee replacement and he parked the car and it hasn't been down the track since. It's a little bittersweet having it sit in the garage and no one gets to see the beauty, but I can't imagine him selling it. I guess eventually we will have to, but for now we'll enjoy the times we can just go out and crank it up and show it off when we have guests.