What Happened to NASCAR? Why No One Cares About Appalachia’s Sport Anymore

I was ten-years-old wearing a Chevy t-shirt and Dale Earnhardt hat, laughing at my uncle who was a Rusty Wallace fan as the black number-three car nudged the number-two Miller car out of the way and speeded toward the checkered flag at a racetrack that could have been any number of places: Maybe North Wilkesboro, maybe Bristol, maybe even Martinsville.  Views: 389

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