LOCAL NOTIONS: Hook City visit stirs memories

By Rudy Coggins
Published in Sports on July 17, 2018 5:51 AM

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The short trip down Nahunta Road provided plenty of time for me to revisit one childhood memory that played out one Labor Day during my youth.

It was my last day of freedom since school started the next day.

Before the first rooster ever thought about crowing, dad attempted to rouse me and my late brother, Rocky, from a peaceful sleep.

We yawned.

We stretched.

We plopped back in bed.

Meanwhile, dad grabbed coolers packed full of sandwiches, ice, water and soda for our day-long trip and loaded them into the trunk of the car.

"Let's go boys!"

We wiped the sleep from our eyes as we put on our clothes.

We each kissed mom goodbye.

Next stop, Tarboro.

Dad pulled into the carport and seconds later, the side door opened.

Uncle Fuzzy and his son, Tim, had their own cooler full of "goodies" for the day.

They got into the car -- Uncle Fuzzy in the shotgun seat and Tim in the back with me and Rocky. Two peas in a pod, dad and Uncle Fuzzy talked about the weather, their gardens (a passion for both) and the day's race.

The youngest of the group, I tried to go back to sleep.

Constant teasing from Rocky and Tim kept me awake on the long ride south on I-95 to Darlington.

The Southern 500 awaited.

Once we got to the famed track known as "The Lady In Black," we helped dad lug the coolers to our seats in the stands. I always wore some of type of headgear to drown out the noise, which never seemed to bother neither Rocky nor Tim.

Of course, we all rooted for our favorite driver. Strangely enough, we all had a different car that we liked. But one thing was for sure, dad and Uncle Fuzzy always pulled for a Ford.

And like most of the NASCAR fans around us, we booed whoever the "bad guy" happened to be that season. The loudest cheers came when the "bad guy" got involved in a crash and had to retire from the race.

I honestly don't remember going home much because I'd either fall asleep in dad's arms during the race or "crash and burn" once I settled into the comfy back seat of the car.

Sweet dreams, no doubt.

I turned onto the dusty path.

"Are you from the newspaper?"

"Yes, ma'am, I am."

"Thank you for coming."

I found a parking spot, turned off the ignition and grabbed my bookbag.

As I walked toward the track, I couldn't help but enjoy the aroma of burgers and hotdogs sizzling on the grill. The scene reminded me of my trips to Darlington and how hungry I'd get as we walked to our seats.

Engines revved in the distance as the drivers made their way to the staging area.

I quickly hustled across the track and headed toward the tower.

After a quick introduction, I walked back outside and stood on the deck. A nice sunset slowly descended on Nahunta Dragway -- also known as "Hook City" to the locals and weekly competitors.

The loud engines and strong scent of burning rubber reminded me of Darlington, too.

The only difference?

These guys didn't duel on a traditional oval raceway. They battled on a 1/8-mile two-lane surface, instead. The drivers -- who come from all walks of life -- put on a good show that lasted into the wee hours of last Sunday morning due to extended "cool-down" periods after time trials and what seemed like endless rounds of elimination.

Unlike NASCAR over the last few years, parity undoubtedly played a part on this night.

Drivers who posted slow reaction times got the green light quicker and, on occasion, fended off the faster car at the finish line. There were quite a few surprises, I thought.

And had I been a betting man, I'd probably lost the farm.

As the night wore on, Steve Lucas, who blew up a motor in his 79 Chevy Malibu a month ago, eventually pulled off his second straight win and claimed the Modified E/T Triple Crown Challenge.

There was little fan fare over the victory.

Most of the crowd that lined the fence and sat on the guard rail had thinned out.

A couple of picture takers froze the celebratory moment in time with their iPhones.

I briefly talked with Lucas and then I headed off to my car.

I thought about dad and wondered if he would have enjoyed drag racing in person.

He'd probably say, like me, that he could do without the noise. And, also like me, he'd marvel at the different cars and trucks that attempted to tame Nahunta Dragway just like those old-time NASCAR drivers tried to do to "The Lady In Black."

Given the chance, he wouldn't miss it.

Neither would I.