VaDirt
Dirt Track Fanatic
OK, everyone knows (or should know) that there are a few things that should be at the race track. Green, for one. Peanuts for the other. Anyone have a story to share that brings any of these superstitions to lite? I've got one, and even though it was 30 years ago or so, it's still ingrained into my memory.
In 1975 or so, I was a young kid in California. The neighbors had just moved in, one with a 57 Ford street stock, one with a 39 Ford modified (more like an open wheel jalopy, but with bigger tires and a few high performance racing components; they were called "modified hardtops.") They moved in next door, and pretty much adopted me as their own (I would later move in after my dad moved away) and I was at every race with them. Since I was too young to get in the pits, I got to hang out in the stands with the other kids my age, and either watch the races, or goof off like kids do.
This night, I was watching. Bill, the one with the "modified hardtop" was racing hard, caught either a rut or a wheel, and went flying, one of the highest flips anyone could remember at the time (at least that's what my 12 year old mind knew.) After the car came to a rest, and Bill climbed out unharmed and the car was towed away, I looked down at my feet. OH NO! I was wearing my green sneakers. I spent the rest of the night with my feet under the seats, and tried my hardest to avoid everyone that night after the races, or at least to hide my shoes. I knew it was my fault. They told me green was bad luck!
To this day, I'm sure my green shoes were to blame for the flip, and I will not wear green to a race track, nor allow anyone with me to wear green. I finally told Bill a couple years ago about the green shoes (I never had before, and no one ever mentioned it) and he laughed it off, but it still doesn't erase the memory, or guilt, of that night.
In 1975 or so, I was a young kid in California. The neighbors had just moved in, one with a 57 Ford street stock, one with a 39 Ford modified (more like an open wheel jalopy, but with bigger tires and a few high performance racing components; they were called "modified hardtops.") They moved in next door, and pretty much adopted me as their own (I would later move in after my dad moved away) and I was at every race with them. Since I was too young to get in the pits, I got to hang out in the stands with the other kids my age, and either watch the races, or goof off like kids do.
This night, I was watching. Bill, the one with the "modified hardtop" was racing hard, caught either a rut or a wheel, and went flying, one of the highest flips anyone could remember at the time (at least that's what my 12 year old mind knew.) After the car came to a rest, and Bill climbed out unharmed and the car was towed away, I looked down at my feet. OH NO! I was wearing my green sneakers. I spent the rest of the night with my feet under the seats, and tried my hardest to avoid everyone that night after the races, or at least to hide my shoes. I knew it was my fault. They told me green was bad luck!
To this day, I'm sure my green shoes were to blame for the flip, and I will not wear green to a race track, nor allow anyone with me to wear green. I finally told Bill a couple years ago about the green shoes (I never had before, and no one ever mentioned it) and he laughed it off, but it still doesn't erase the memory, or guilt, of that night.
