Politics, life, music and other stuff from someone who doesn't know anything.
When I was a little boy my dad and a bunch of his buddies used to tinker around with old muscle cars. My dad had a '67 Plymouth Barracuda. I can remember many times, going out with him and the guys to race on remote country straightaways. Looking back, I realize that the passenger seat of an illegal street race was no place for a kid, but I thought it was fun at the time.
We called it drag racing, too. I have a distinct recollection of seeing guys drag racing more on nights when there was a race at Shaheen's. Usually this was on Saturday nights, but sometimes on Sunday afternoons. One strip was Sixth Street starting at South Grand to Cook. It was a scary scene.
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