#Awesome Bill from Dawsonville | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captainfreelance1 · 2 years

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Harold Henry Hazard was born March 9, 1900 in Mobile, Alabama. Coming from a poor family Harold or Hap as he was more commonly known, worked nights as a school janitor while concentrating on his studies by day; Hazard's hard work would pay off as he soon received an appointment to the United States Naval Academy. Hazard would graduate with a degree in mechanical engineering and was commissioned as an Ensign in 1921, he was soon assigned to the U.S. Navy Civil Engineer Corps were he would be posted to various ships and bases over the course of next six years. Hazard grow tired of the military life and resigned his commission leaving the Navy at the rank Lieutenant, he soon took a marketing executive job with the Packard Motor Car Company in Detroit , Michigan.

Hazard would work for Packard from 1927-1931 before being laid off due to the Great Depression, He would work various odd jobs over the next five years before moving to the United Kingdom. In 1936 Hazard arrived in Canterbury, Kent with hopes of starting a new business selling used farm equipment called Hazard Supply & Engineering, the company would do well for three years turning a small profit until the outbreak of the second world war in 1939.

After Britain declared war against Nazi Germany Hazard joined the Canterbury Home Guard eager to fight the supposed coming invasion, Hazard built a wide variety weapons out of worn out farm equipment he could not sell. Many of his fellow Home Guard volunteers thought him mad but welcomed his ingenuity nonetheless, Hap was ahead of his time with several of his ideas such a Mini Smoke Machine and a Hand Held Rocket launcher. He was often seen at Home Guard meetings wearing his Makeshift Suit of Armor, Hap took great pride in his contribution to British defense. When the United States enter the War Hazard rejoined the U.S. Navy and served as an aide to the Commander of Naval Forces in Europe Admiral Harold Stark; Hazard was disappointed not to have a frontline assignment but was proud to wear a U.S. Navy Uniform once again. After the war Hazard was discharged with the rank of Captain, he returned to Canterbury were he continued to run his business until his death from stomach cancer in 1983.

After seeing several posts with the #Influenceindiechallenge which was started by the folks at NRGComics, I decided to throw my own hat into the preverbal ring with listing off influences for my original character Hap Hazard.

Hap's physical appearance without his armor is modeled off that of famous NASCAR driver Bill Elliott, as you can see they both have curly red hair, blue eyes and both possess a tall slim build; However that's were similarities the end as Elliott is more down to earth then Hazard and has much more soft spoken personality; Awesome Bill from Dawsonville holds several records in NASCAR too numerous to mention here.

Two historical figures from the actual time period who played a small role in helping me create his backstory were British military engineer Percy "Hobo" Hobart and American architect C. Howard Crane; Major General Sir Percy Hobart came up with several ideas for specialized tanks, dubbed 'Hobart's Funnies' the vehicles which proved to play a key role in the D-Day landings; Hobo and Hap both served in the Home Guard before returning to full time military service, but his story shares more parallels with fellow American C. Howard Crane; He was the architect who designed both the Fox Theatre and the Olympia Stadium in Detroit, Michigan, Crane's Career was sadly effected by the Great Depression and he moved to London, England to find work; During World War 2 Crane served in the 1st American Squadron of the Home Guard, a unit made up of several Americans who lived in Britain at the time; Hazard's key different is that he's younger then both Crane and Hobart, nevertheless both men inspired me to create the character.

The United States Navy Civil Engineering Corps plays a key role building and maintaining several of Naval Bases, since their formation in 1867 during the 1920s and 1930 they played a key role in the Navy's Airship program; it is possible that Hazard worked in the constitution of at least one these Airships during his time in the Navy from 1921-1927; During World War 2 Admiral Ben Moreell modernized the Civil Engineering Corps by forming the Naval Construction Battalions or Seabees these units were mobilized to deal with a variety engineering tasks often during heavy combat; Hap would have tried to get a command assignment to one of these units, He was passed over likely due to being the Engineering Advisor to Admiral Stark's staff.

Mick Jagger's portrayal of real life 1870s Australian Outlaw Ned Kelly in titular 1970 film, Jagger gives strong subtle performance in the role considering he's normally a singer rather then a full time actor; Ned like Hap created his own suit of armor out of used Farmer equipment, thought his goals were much less heroic then Hazard's were.

Two fictional characters also inspired the creation of Hap Hazard were Tony Stark and Angus MacGyver, Tony Stark or Iron Man created his own suit of armor to escape his captive in Vietnam during his first appearance Tales of Suspense #39; Iron Man's armor he wore in his first appearance was not the slick red gold look we know today but rather a grey bulky utilitarian no thrills design, it was this version that gave me the idea for Hazard's own suit of armor; MacGyver is the titular character of the American action television series, MacGyver is secret agent who is well known for his scientific abilities; MacGyver like Hazard often uses improvised gadgets to get him out of tricky situations.

Finally the setting I was largely Influenced by the hit British television series Dad's Army which told story of a fictional Home Guard unit, the series was set during the early days of World War 2 and was partially based on co creator Jimmy Perry experiences in the Home Guard; I also used the 1964 film The Americanization of Emily were James Gardner played an aide to American Admiral on the eve of the Normandy Landings, the film was loosely based off a novel written by William Bradford Huie who also served as an Naval Officer during World War 2.

Well that's story behind my latest creation I hope didn't bore y'all too much hearing about it, this was a lot of work to write down but it was also a lot of fun thanks for reading.

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slowturning · 7 years

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@millerflintstone your Bill Elliott post reminded me of this.

Todd Snider - Bill Elliott Story

#todd snider #awesome bill from dawsonville

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hockeynascarfan91258 · 3 years

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Chapter 8

Eden and Chase headed back to Dawsonville after Chase did his media and such. It was almost Chase's 25th birthday and Eden was planning a huge surprise for him. Chase loved backyard barbecues at home so that's what they were doing. She knew how much he loved Eric Church so she was having him perform there. She invited his family and close friends.

Finally the day was here it was Chase's birthday. Eden woke up before he did. She put on his shirt and headed down to make him breakfast. A little bit later she takes it upstairs.

"Something smells so good." Chase says sitting up.

"Breakfast in bed for the birthday boy." Eden says.

"Hmm can I have what's under my shirt?" Chase asks.

"Hmm maybe if your a good boy and eat all of your breakfast." Eden says kissing him.

"Okay." Chase says.

Eden had made all of his favorites including Honey Nut Cheerios. They ate together and then Chase set the trays aside. He pulls her into his lap.

"Chase." Eden moans feeling the tip of his hard on rubbing her entrance.

"No underwear baby and so wet for me?" Chase says.

"Always wet for you." Eden moans.

"Good ." Chase says as he pushes up into her.

Every inch of skin was touching as they moved together.

"God baby." Eden moans as Chase kisses her neck sucking on it.

"Mmm." Chase moans deep in his throat.

They move together kissing and touching any skin they could.

"Chase oh god." Eden calls out as she cums hard.

Her orgasm rushes through her.

"Eden baby." Chase moans as he cums inside her.

They ride it out. They end up going at it a few more times before laying in the bed wrapped around each other.

"Happy birthday baby." Eden says kissing his chest.

"Thank you baby. Best way to celebrate wrapped up with you." Chase says.

"You would think as much sex we have been having these babies would come." Eden says.

"I know but I guess they are just stubborn like their daddy and their mama." Chase says.

"True fact." Eden says laughing.

"We better get up. I have to head out with my dad and Ryan." Chase says.

"Yes to do boy things. Why I head to your moms to help plan your birthday dinner." Eden says.

"Yeah I know. I am so happy you will finally get to meet Brittany and Starr." Chase says.

"I have met them before." Eden says.

"Yes but as my best friend princess not as my wife and mother of my unborn kids." Chase says.

"True." Eden says.

They both get up and get dressed. Chase heads out with his dad, Ryan and a few other guy friends. Eden got dressed and headed to his parents house. Eden walks in.

"Surprise!" Cindy says.

Brittany, Starr, Amy Earnhardt, Abigail Kahne, Samantha Busch, Chandra Johnson, Ingrid Gordon, Emily Johnson, Shannon Gustafson and a lot of other wives in the racing circle were there.

"What is this?" Eden asks.

"A little baby shower for you lil Chase and Casey. Then we will clean up and turn it into a backyard barbecue for Chase's birthday." Starr says.

"Yes welcome to the family Eden. I always knew that you and my brother would end up together." Brittany says.

"Thanks guys." Eden says hugging them both.

"Yes welcome to the family." Cindy replies joining the hug.

They they usher Eden to her chair. They make her a plate of food and then everyone gets a plate as well.

They chat as they eat. They then play a few games before opening gifts. They really spoiled the heck out of the twins. They then clean up from the baby shower and decorate and get ready for Chases party. Eric would he there soon as would Chase and the boys. They were in the kitchen helping the caterers get set up.

"Oh god." Eden says clutching her stomach.

"What's wrong?" Cindy asks.

"My water just broke." Eden says.

"Oh no." Starr says.

"It's okay guys I'm going to get Abigail she is an OB doctor and can help." Brittany says.

"Okay we will take Eden into the living room and get her comfortable." Cindy says.

With the help of Starr and Cindy Eden made it into the living room and they got her laying down on the couch. A few minutes later Brittany returns with Abigail.

"Guys can you go get blankets and some other things." Abigail says.

She gave them each a list of things to get.

"Eden I am going to slide off your under wear and do an exam to see how far along you are okay?" Abigail says.

"Okay." Eden says.

She then screams out as a contraction hits her. Abigail quickly takes the underwear off and does the exam.

"Okay Eden looks like it's show time you are 10 cm's." Abigail says.

"Oh god." Eden says as another contraction hits her.

Cindy, Starr and Brittany come back with the stuff. They then each take their spot beside Eden. They coach her through birth. A few minutes later Eden brings a healthy baby Boy into the world. They didn't have much time before she then delivered her little girl followed by the placenta. Brittany and Starr get her cleaned up. Abigail and Cindy got the babies cleaned up and Eden was able to hold them.

"I can't believe they are here." Eden says kissing their heads.

"They both look just like Chase when he was born." Cindy says.

"So precious." Brittany and Starr says.

Eden was relieved to hear Cindy say that but she knew without a doubt they were Chases but now it was confirmed. They got the babies laying in their little number 9 race car carrier.

"I need help getting dressed." Eden says.

"For?" Cindy says.

"Chases birthday party." Eden says.

"We are still having it? Aren't you tired?" Starr asks.

"Yeah shouldn't you go to the hospital?" Brittany asks.

"The babies are fine no need for a hospital. Just take them to see their pediatrician soon for follow up." Abigail says.

"In that case let's get ready to celebrate the birthday boy." Eden says.

Cindy and Brittany help her get into her dress and her shoes. They then take her down and she attempts to feed the twins for the first time. She does well and they both latch on. Once they finish eating she changed them and out then into their new outfits. She then takes them out into the backyard. The rest of the guests pass the twins around. Finally it was almost time for Chase to come. Eden took the twins back. Chase walks through the gate with the rest of the guys.

"Surprise!" Everyone says.

"For me?" Chase asks.

"Of course for you! Happy birthday son!" Cindy says hugging him.

"Thanks mom." Chase says returning the hug.

"Happy birthday ace." Bill says.

"Thanks dad." Chase says.

He goes through the line until he reaches Eden who was holding the twins.

"Happy birthday daddy." Eden says.

"Oh my god you had them?" Chase asks shocked.

He sits down beside her.

"I did baby. With the help of your sisters, your mom and Abigail." Eden replies.

She hands him their daughter. She looked just like he did when he was a baby so there was no doubt he was their father as his son was also a spitting image of him when he was a baby.

"She's beautiful just like her mama." Chase says kissing her head.

He then leans over and then kisses his son followed by Eden.

"I love you Clyde. Meet your daughter Casey Leeann Elliott." Eden says.

"Oh baby you named her after Casey." Chase says.

"Figured you would like to honor him and I did too." Eden says.

"I love it, and I love you so much." Chase says.

"And this is your son William Clyde Elliott the third." Eden says.

Chase just smiled.

"Best birthday gifts I will ever receive." Chase says.

They mingle around the crowd. The had pulled pork barbecue, ribs, barbecue chicken, baked beans, macaroni and cheese, chili and cornbread. Chase opened his gifts from Eden and friends and family and then they had watermelon and cake. It was awesome.

Finally the night wound down. Cindy was holding the twins getting all the snuggles she could. Eden leads Chase over to the make shift stage.

"I have a huge surprise for you Baby." Eden says.

"Even bigger then you having the twins?" Chase asks.

"Well no but it is still a huge surprise." Eden says.

That was when Eric Church walked out onto the stage.

"Oh my god." Chase says.

"Happy birthday Clyde." Eden says.

Eric starts to play. He played his biggest hits including Talladega, hell of a view, Srpingsteen, Smoke a lil Smoke, drink in my hand and many more. Everyone was having a hell of a time. The alcohol was provided by Dale Jr and whiskey river. To end the show he had a special dedication.

"Okay Chase and Eden I want you to take the center of the dance floor." Eric says.

Chase and Eden come front and center. Chase pulls her close to him and Eden wraps her arms around him laying her head on his chest.

"Okay now this song is for you from Eden with lots of love. Happy birthday." Eric says.

He then starts to play Love your love the most.

"I love sleeping in on Saturdays

And I love college football games

I love not acting my age

And good barbecue

Yeah I'm a fan of Faulkner books

And anything my mama cooks

Small mouth bass have got me hooked

On Sunday afternoon

Yes I love good cold beer

And mustard on my fries

I love a good loud honky tonk

That rocks on Friday night

And hell yes I love my truck

But I want you to know

Honey I love your love the most

Man I love how Redman tastes

And damn I love my Nascar race

Any song sung by George Strait

Is country at it's best

Yes I love good cold beer

And mustard on my fries

I love a good loud honky tonk

That rocks on Friday nights

And hell yes I love my truck

But I want you to know

Honey I love your love the most

I love

Yeah I love scuffed up cowboy boots

And broken tore up jeans

A four wheel drive, eight point bucks

And rocky road ice cream

And hell yes I love my dog

And Jack D in my coke

But honey I love your love

Yeah I love your love

I love your love the most

I love your love the most" Chase sings with Eric as they sway back and forth.

Finally everyone starts to leave. Eden and Chase head home with Fletch and the twins and everything they had from the baby shower and his birthday.

"I will get it in the house later." Chase says.

"Okay baby. I am tired too." Eden says.

"I bet you are baby." Chase says.

They then take the babies into the house and get them fed, changed and settled into their nursery. Fletch made himself at home in the center.

"Guess he's going to protect his siblings." Eden says.

"Yup big brother on duty." Chase says.

He flips on the baby monitor and him and Eden head into their room. They get changed for bed and then climb in. Eden snuggled against Chase and he held her tight.

"Good night baby I love you." Eden says.

"Goodnight baby I love you too. Thanks for the best birthday ever baby. Lil Chase and Casey are the best gifts ever." Chase says kissing her head.

They snuggle together falling asleep.

******************************

Chase and Eden were up off and on throughout the night taken care of the twins. Chase had taken the last wake up since they just needed to be changed.

Eden woke up a little bit later finding Chase laying beside her with Casey snuggled up on his chest. It warmed her heart. Eden got up without waking either of them. She slips on her bedroom slippers and her robe and heads down to the kitchen. It was Thanksgiving day and they would be going to Bill and Cindys later for dinner. Eden was making a few dishes to take with them. She makes her corn casserole, green bean casserole and her famous pecan pie. She ended up making three one she could leave home because she knew Chase loved it. Once everything was in the oven she started to make breakfast. That was when she felt arms snake around her waist.

"I love seeing you barefoot in my kitchen." Chase says kissing her neck.

He was still wet from the shower.

"Only thing is I'm not pregnant anymore." Eden says.

"For now baby." Chase says.

"You are going to knock me up again once the six weeks are up aren't you?" Eden asks.

"Damn I have to wait six weeks?" Chase says.

"Well six weeks before we can have vaginal intercourse but there are other ways." Eden says.

"Yes there are thank god. And to answer your question, yes I plan on knocking you up as soon as I can." Chase says.

"Figured as much." Eden says turning to face him.

She runs her hands on the sides of his face. Chase leans into the touch. He was wearing just a towel.

"I love you Eden so much. I am so thankful for you. You are my best friend and my soul mate, mother to my babies and love of my life." Chase says kissing her.

"I am thankful for you too Chase my real life Superman, my hero, soulmate, best friend and father to my babies and most importantly love of my life." Eden says before kissing back.

"Come back to bed baby." Chase says.

"I have to make sure the food is out of the oven. Not trying to burn down your house." Eden says.

"Our house baby. Everything I own is yours baby including my heart." Chase says.

"Aww." Eden replies planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Chase pulls her closer to him. He was unbelievably hard. Eden rubs her thigh against him.

"God don't tease baby." Chase moans.

That was when the timers went off.

"Let me grab the stuff out of the oven and I will take care of you." Eden says.

Chase nods his head and then helps her get the stuff out of the oven. They put the two casseroles in the fridge. And they cover the three pies and put them off to the side. Eden shut the oven down. Chase comes up behind her picking her up throwing her over his shoulder.

"Back to bed we go." Chase says patting her butt.

"Clyyddeee!" Eden squeals.

Chase grabs the ice bin out of the freezer and then heads up to their room. He sits Eden down on the bed. Eden kneels up in front of Chase. She kisses his stomach.

"Eden baby." Chase moans.

She takes the towel off throwing it. She flicks her tongue out licking the tip of his cock. She then sucks the tip sucking away the pre cum.

"God baby please." Chase begs.

Eden licks a circle around the tip then down the under side of his cock before taking him totally in her mouth. She slowly works him in and out little by little.

"God baby that's it suck my cock baby." Chase moans grabbing her hair.

He runs his fingers through it as he pushes her head further on him. He starts to thrust a little fucking her mouth. Eden hallows her cheeks. She switched it up between her mouth and her hands. But the whole time her smile never left her face and her eyes never left Chase's.

"God Eden do you know how hot it is to watch you suck my cock." Chase moans.

"Mm hmm." Eden moans against him sending vibrations through him.

"God baby gonna cum." Chase says.

Eden gently plays with his balls as she nods her head. She takes him all the way into her mouth running her tongue up and down his shaft.

"Oh fuck Eden." Chase groans as he cums hard right down her throat.

Eden swallows down every drop. She then slowly works him out of her mouth licking him clean. She then kisses up his stomach and chest to his neck. She sucks leaving marks. Finally she kisses his jaw to his lips. She drops a bit of cum into his mouth letting him taste himself as she explored his mouth with her tongue.

Chase breaks away.

"Whats wrong!?" Eden asks worried.

"Nothing baby. That was amazing baby." Chase says kissing her head.

He then lays her back on the bed.

"Remember baby no vaginal intercourse." Eden says.

"I know baby. But I'm going to worship your body and make you cum using my mouth." Chase says.

"God please baby, I am so turned on and need release." Eden begs.

"Do you trust me?" Chase asks.

"With my life." Eden says.

"Good." Chase says.

He picks up a piece of ice putting it in his mouth. He then kisses her lips letting her suck it out. He gets another piece and moves along her jaw , down her jawline to her neck down to her chest. He gets another piece running it across one breast and around one nipple before heading to the other one repeating the process.

"Chase." Eden moans.

Chase grabbed another piece of ice. He then kisses down her stomach the hip line. He continued down to her slit.

"Oh god baby." Eden moans putting her fingers in his hair pushing him down onto her further.

"Mmhmm." Chase moans against her.

He pushes his tongue inside her and starts to lick and suck and twist it around. He was eating her like a man starved. They never broke eye contact and he had a huge smile on his face. It was such a turn on.

"God Clyde baby that's right eat my pussy so good baby." Eden purrs out.

Chase added a finger inside her stretching her gently. He bends his finger inside her hitting her g spot as he sucks on her clit. That was it.

"Clyde oh god Clyde." Eden calls out as she cums hard orgasm rushing trough her.

Chase kept going letting her ride it out. He licks her clean. He then kisses her body following his ice in reverse. He finally reached her mouth. He drops a little of her cum onto her mouth letting her taste herself off his tongue as he devoured her mouth.

"God that was amazing." Chase says.

"It was baby. It's always good with you." Eden says.

"I am glad." Chase says kissing her head.

"Now we should get up and get ready." Chase says.

"Can we go get the twins and snuggle and watch the parade first?" Eden asks.

"Yeah baby that would be perfect baby." Chase says kissing her head.

Chase goes and gets the twins carrying them into the room. He hands Lil Chase to Eden. He then sits down with Casey. They were both still sleeping.

"They are so precious and beautiful and I can't believe they are here." Eden says as she lays back with Baby Chase on her chest.

"I know right Daytona was a great night, won the biggest race of the season, got to make love to my princess for the first time and these two were conceived." Chase says snuggling closer to Eden with Casey laying on his chest.

"Best decision I ever made. I don't know why it took me so long." Eden says.

"I don't know either but you were worth the wait. I would wait as long as it took." Chase says kissing her.

"I love you Clyde." Eden says.

"I love you more." Chase says.

Chase turns the parade on and they lay there watching it. It was a little different without the people in attendance but it was still amazing to watch. It finally got to Santa Claus.

"Wow Christmas will be here so soon. I haven't done any shopping." Eden says.

"We can shop this weekend catch the deals from Black Friday and Cyber Monday." Chase says.

"True." Eden says.

"I have a little surprise for you baby." Chase says.

"Okay?" Eden says.

"After Thanksgiving is over we are going to pack and head to Aspen." Chase says.

"Really baby?" Eden says getting excited.

"Yes I bought us a log cabin cottage out there." Chase says.

"I love it. Will the family come out there for Christmas?" Eden asks.

"Yes and New Years. When I will marry you in front of family and a few close friends." Chase replies.

"A New Years wedding. I love it." Eden says.

"Yes when I kiss you at midnight it will be as my wife." Chase says.

"I'm your wife now." Eden says laughing.

"I know but you know what I mean." Chase says.

"I do." Eden says.

They finish watching the parade. Then then get up and take care of the babies. They then get ready to go to Cindy and Bills.

"Pack a bag baby cus we are staying over tonight. I will probably be to drunk to drive a and you will have wine." Chase says.

"Okay baby." Eden says.

She grabs a overnight bag and packs a change of clothes for her and Chase. She then packs the diaper bag for the twins with a few outfits and diapers. She made sure she had her pumping machine and the pack and play.

She then gets dressed it a black red and white plaid dress. She comes out and sees Chase had put on a red white and black plaid shirt a jeans.

"We are twinning baby." Eden says.

"Yes we are and didn't even plan it." Chade says kissing her head.

Chase takes the stuff out to the truck. Eden takes the babies downstairs in their carrier. She then grabs the food having it ready. Chase takes the babies out and buckled them in. Eden puts the food in the back and then goes and gets Fletcher. Chase gets in with them.

"We will be able to take the two puppies home with us." Chase says.

"Aww okay." Eden says.

"Ready to go?" Chase asks.

"Yes baby." Eden says.

Chase pulls out to the drive and heads towards his parents house. A little bit later they arrive and he pulls into the drive. Eden gets out with Fletch. Chase gets out and grabs the twins.

"I'll come back as grab the food and the bags." Chase says.

"Okay baby." Eden replies.

They head into the house. Eden gets the twins settled into their swing. Chase went and got the bags and food. He comes in and hands the food to Eden before taking their bags down to his childhood room. Eden heads into the kitchen. Cindy, Starr and Brittany were already in there.

"Hey guys." Eden says.

"Yay you are here." Starr says

"I will take the casseroles and pies and put them aside." Brittany says.

"Okay where do you need me?" Eden asks.

They work together and get all the food made and set the table so they could eat. Everyone gathered in the dinning room.

"Man this food looks so good. You girls out did yourselves." Bill says.

"Yes it looks so good." Chase replies locking eyes with Eden.

"Well let's sit down and eat." Cindy says.

"Yes I am hungry." Starr replies.

"I am too." Brittany says.

Everyone sits down. Eden was sitting across from Chase.

"Before we dig into this amazing food. We always sing we gather together." Bill says.

"Eden honey you always had a pretty voice, why don't you lead us off." Cindy says.

"We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing; He chastens and hastens His will to make known; The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing; Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own." Eden sings.

Everyone sang with her. They then dig in. Eden takes her foot and starts to run it up Chase's leg going up to his thigh. Chase starts to cough.

"Chase honey are you okay?" Cindy asks.

"Yeah just something stuck in my throat." Chase says.

He glares at Eden as he took a sip of his beer. Eden flashes him a smirk. She knew what she was doing. She hand her foot wedged between his legs rubbing his cock. She felt him growing harder. She was loving it. Somehow Chase made it through dinner and desert. He got roped into dishes and clean up. Eden went and took care of the babies before laying them down in their play pen in Chase's room in the basement. She heads up stairs finding Chase in the kitchen drying. She grabs a dish towel.

"Need some help there stud?" Eden asks smacking his butt with the towel.

"Yes the faster we get done the faster we can go to bed." Chase replies looking at her with love and a whole lot of lust in his eyes.

"I am not tired Clyde." Eden says.

"Who said anything about sleep." Chase replies kissing her.

"Oh would you too get a dang room." Bill says.

"Sorry dad." Eden says.

Bill smiled hearing her call him that. With the help of Eden they got the dishes down pretty fast. They head to the living room. Chase and his dad share a few more beers and Eden and the girls had wine.

"Okay it is getting late so Eden and I are going to turn in." Chase says.

"Are you guys both sleeping down in your old room in the basement?" Cindy asks.

"Yes Mom I mean we are married and have twins together so its a known fact we sleep together." Chase replies.

"None of that in our house." Bill says.

"None I promise besides I can't I just had twins remember." Eden says.

They laugh and bid each other goodnight. Chase takes Eden's hand and leads her down the basement. He had a key to lock the door and keep everyone out. Fletcher and Daisy were down there with the puppies but that was okay.

"God I have never been in your room before." Eden says.

"I know baby." Chase says pulling her to him.

"God it sucks we can't have sex, sex." Eden says.

"I know because I want nothing better then to fuck the hell out of you in my bed like I dreamt about so many nights as a teenager." Chase says.

"Hmm William Clyde Elliot Jr did you jerk off thinking of me?" Eden asks.

"God yes many many times. Wishing it was your mouth or god your pussy around my cock making me cum." Chase groans.

"And here I thought you were a Georgia Peach." Eden says shocked.

But in reality it was such a turn on hearing him talking about how he masturbated to the thought of her.

"I am but damn I wanted you for so long." Chase says.

"Well I will let you in on a little secret there Clyde. My first dildo was just as big as you are and I used it pretending it was you. I called it my Battery Operated Chase. I never acted on it because I didn't want to loose our friendship. But then in Daytona I just realized that." Eden says.

"God baby." Chase moans kissing her.

Eden pushes him back onto his bed to where he was sitting. She climbs into his lap kissing him.

"God baby I have an idea. Do you trust me?" Eden asks.

"With all I am baby." Chase says.

"Good." Eden says.

She unbuttons his shirt in a hurry. She then takes it off throwing it. She then runs her fingers down his chest to his jeans. She undoes them and frees his rock hard cock.

"God baby please." Chase begs.

"I am getting there baby. " Eden says kissing him.

He Chase kisses back. His hands roam down Eden's body slipping up under her dress. Eden runs her fingers down his chest playing with his nipples.

"Oh god Eden." Chase moans.

Eden takes his mouth with hers so he didn't let everyone know what was going on down there. Chase rips her panties running his finger along her slit feeling how wet she was. They were in a serious make out session. Eden starts to grind her hips against his thigh.

"Oh Clyde damn I wish it was your cock inside me. But this will have to do." Eden moans.

"God baby." Chase groans.

"Go head baby touch yourself. Let me see how you would make yourself cum." Eden says.

"God really?" Chase says.

"Yes really baby. I wanna watch you get yourself off as I ride your thigh." Eden says kissing his neck.

"God okay." Chase groans.

She looks down watching as Chase wraps his hand around his cock and starts to pump it.

"God that's it baby. Pretend it is my mouth baby." Eden purrs in his ear never taking her eyes off him.

Chase closes his eyes breath hitching as he starts to stroke himself. Eden moved harder against his thigh.

"God Eden your mouth, I love fucking it." Chase moans stroking harder.

"That's it baby." Eden says.

"God baby that's it suck my dick. Just like that. God I just want to bottom out balls deep inside your sweet pussy baby." Chase moans.

"God Chase I want that too." Eden moans.

"Oh fuck Eden." Chase calls out as he cums hard splattering it against his stomach.

"Clyde baby. "Eden moans as she cums all over his thigh.

They sit there breatheless riding the high from their orgasm.

"God that was just wow." Chase says.

"Better then your fantasies?" Eden asks.

"Yes baby much better." Chase says.

Eden gets up and drops to her knees.

"Can't let all that cum go to waist now can we." Eden says looking up locking eyes with Chase as she licks the cum off his stomach.

Chase kisses her as he picks her up off the ground. He leads her towards the bathroom shredding the remainder of their clothes as they did. They end up in the shower Eden gave Chase a blow job and then Chase returned the favor by eating her out. Finally they showered and headed to bed after cleaning up. The babies woke up and they take care of them. They then climb into bed and snuggle under the covers until they fall asleep.

#chase elliott #fanfiction

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whipplefilter · 6 years

Note

A small fic of Chase racelott coming back home to Dawsonville?

This is a little bit talking head-y, so bear with me. But I thought it would be interesting if the way the Next Gens like Chase or Ryan perceived Cruz at the Florida 500–confident, dominant, and ready to win on her first night out–was different than the way she initially perceived herself. And if maybe the Next Gens themselves don’t feel anywhere near as bulletproof and racer-destined as Cruz imagined them to be.

“McQueen was late again,” Chase informs his grandfather. He’s not really sure why he says it, except that he was also late just now, and his grandfather has always cared about that sort of thing, and Chase has always been a little bit afraid of him. “Missed qualifying and everything. Guess he was tearing down Appalachia or something, I don’t really know.”

He and Laney had snickered about it before the race—just a little bit. The way two race cars might if, for instance, they were new to the game and they knew they needed to make some friends. And there’s no bonding activity like the misfortune of others. After the race, McQueen and the Ramirez girl solidly the center of attention, neither Chase nor Laney had known quite what their next step ought to be.

Make friends with Ramirez, probably, but the thing about being new to the Piston Cup was you sorta had a blank check to do what you would. Storm was going to win, because he had the most experience; as near as Chase could tell his job right now was to force all the veterans out—then they’d really go racing. Until then, Storm would win. And win. And win. And Chase would wait.

Then, of course, Ramirez. It’s exciting and she’s friendly and Chase likes her. Up until he realizes that she won: She won her first race, she’s not Storm, and suddenly the heat is on. And so Chase realizes that the honeymoon is over. From here on out, every race he doesn’t win will only make the question loom bolder, brighter, and ruder: What about you?

When will Chase get his win?

And Chase doesn’t know the answer to that. One look at Laney after the 500, after the glow and spectacle wears off and the fireworks are only paper husks on the ground and all the cheering fans turn to sluggish brake lights on the freeway, and Chase knows he’s not sure either.

So they share a laugh—a memory of the last moment before their lives got a whole lot scarier.

“Remember that time—“ Chase begins.

Laney swallows hard. “T minus nine and McQueen’s off in the forest somewhere,” Laney continues the thought. Though the reminiscence is from only that morning, it feels like a lifetime ago. It was a lot easier to be confident when you didn’t have to beat anyone.

When Chase realizes how counterintuitive that sounds—how much an insult to the Cup it must be, for a racer like him to not be racing for the win—real terror shudders through his drivetrain. What if this was all a big mistake? Storm clearly had it all together, and the Ramirez girl too. She’d wanted to win right off the bat; she’d seemed so confident; she’d been hustling for her shot there whole life. Lightning McQueen picked her.

By contrast, Chase was just born this way. Mere months ago, a racing family met him at the factory, and now here he is. He doesn’t really know why. And he’d wasted all that time rushing in circles, turning left, not thinking about any of it, and then Ramirez comes and suddenly he needs his answers.

He asks his hauler to take the long way home to Dawsonville.

And now here he is, afraid to tell his grandfather he’s sorry he’s late.

“You don’t know nothing, do you, son?” his grandfather drawls.

His grandfather is, frankly, disturbingly on point.

“I just—“

“What you think we did, the whole lot of us, in the Georgia hills?” asks his grandfather. The frown he’d been wearing since the moment Chase rolled up had budged only enough to let his words slither out. Chase can’t imagine that expression might translate to “I’m so pleased to see you, my talented and wonderful offspring.”

“I—“

“Junior, River, all them had their runs up north, and we had ours,” Chase’s grandfather continues. “They’d stop on by for fuel whenever we’d all head down to Florida for the beach runs. Sometimes we’d trade goods—but of course, Dawsonville’s has always been better.”

“I don’t really—“ Chase confesses, mildly panicked.

“Moonshine,” his grandfather deadpans.

“Oh!”

“You’re of moonshiner stock. Racing stock. You know what that means?”

For all the day’s existential panic, Chase brightens at this line of inquiry considerably. It seems pretty clear to him. His family’s got history. He’s one of them. Ergo, “I’m a race—“

“Not a damn thing, ‘less you decide it does,” his grandfather finishes. “If it worked like that, we’d all still be wheelbarrows.”

Chase wonders, dazedly, if you can be fired from your family. He wonders if he’ll be fired from the Racelotts before or after he’s fired from Vitoline.

Ever perceptive, Chase’s grandfather seems to glean his train of thought. He says, “I ain’t saying you’ll never be like Awesome Bill. I’m just saying it’s you who gotta decide what you’re gonna chase.”

“I don’t know,” Chase confesses. “The world is… so big, and like, and I’m—“

“So start small,” says his grandfather. When Chase, unmoving, says nothing, stays waiting for the dispensation of some sage wisdom, his grandfather rolls his eyes. “Work backwards,” he says. “Go ask McQueen if what he learned in the hills was worth it. Go find your answers.”

Chase ponders this for a moment. “So, uh. Do you think I’ll maybe… find them… by next Sunday?”

At last, Chase’s grandfather softens. It’s like he finally sees something in Chase he doesn’t mind looking at.

He says, “Not if you make a habit of being late.”

Chase chuckles. “Yes, sir.”

#chase racelott #piston cup cutes #cars 3 #pixar cars #cars fandom #asks #sir racelott #whipple words

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officefurnituregibraltar · 4 years

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Top Chase Elliott Nascar cup series champion 2020 signature shirt

Bill was before I got into watching NASCAR but what’s not to like about Chase Elliott Nascar cup series champion 2020 signature shirt!! Hope he has a great 2021 season. Like father like son..awesome Bill from Dawsonville.. Now we need a catchy name for Chase. Not surprised in the least. If Chase does this long enough he’ll retire someday with stats like Jeff Gordon. Go Chase go! That’s funny,…

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v-eight-lover · 7 years

Photo

Awesome Bill from Dawsonville! Love that '87 Coors Melling T-bird, that darned old Ford could really go...

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celtfather · 8 years

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Instrumental Celtic Music #290

Instrumental Celtic music is one of the driving forces of Celtic culture. Enjoy Celtic tunes from Andrew Finn Magill, Runa, Bill Troxler, Battlefield Band, Wolf & Clover, Myddle Earth, Vicki Swan, Oisin McAuley, Jed Marum, Crepuscule, Cady Finlayson and Vita Tanga, Sons of Malarkey, Susana Seivane, NUA. Shownotes at celticmusicpodcast.com/290/

Listen. Like. Share. Then download 34 Celtic MP3s for Free! Subscribe to the Celtic Music Magazine. This is our free newsletter and your guide to the latest Celtic music and podcast news. Remember to support the artists who support this podcast: buy their CDs, download their MP3s, see their shows, and drop them an email to let them know you heard them on the Irish and Celtic Music Podcast.

Today's show is brought to you by Celtic Invasion of Brittany

Standing stones are pretty awesome and inspiring to see. But imagine 3000 of them, together... and you, able to make a daily sojourn among the stones. This June, you can see the Carnac Stones up close and personal, just a 20 minute walk from where we are staying in the coastal village of Carnac in Northwest France. You have until February 15, 2017 to reserve your spot on the next Celtic Invasion Vacation. Enjoy the culture, history and legends on a timeless adventure with a small group of 6-8 invaders. Join the invasion at celticinvasion.com

Notes:

* Helping you celebrate Celtic culture through music.

* 3-Hour Celtic Instrumental Show #204 and the Celtic Instrumentals #103

* TradConnect is accepting your votes for Album of the Year. I see several artists who've been featured on our podcast on that list, including: Andrew Finn Magill, Caladh Nua, Crepuscule, Innisfall, Jennifer Licko, NUA, Runa, Socks in the Frying Pan, We Banjo 3.

We have some outstanding artists on this show, and I really would love to support them for their generosity to this podcast. So do me a favor and go vote. Now I should point out that you do need to be a member of TradConnect and membership is free. But this will do wonders for our awesome musicians and our community.

* I want to send out a big thanks to the patrons of the podcast. Your generous pledge of as little as $1 per episode pays for the production of this podcast as well as my time in producing the show. You will enjoy a personal podcast feed where you can listen to the show before regular subscribers, occasional extended editions of the show, and my deepest thanks. When we hit a milestone, you get a 2-hour special. We are just $25 away from 2-hours of Scottish music. And of course, next week, we have a 2-hour retrospective coming your way. Thanks to our newest patrons: Tony, Mark Muller, Michael Bromund, Terri Stinnett-Herczeg. Become a patron today!

* I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK: What are you doing today while listening to the podcast? You can send a written comment along with a picture of what you're doing while listening, or from one of your trips to one of the Celtic nations. Call 678-CELT-POD to leave a voicemail message. That's 678-235-8763.

Here's a voicemaili from Sarah.

John Gimler in Indiana left a voicemail as well.

Voice: James from Indiana

I got a text from Dawsonville, GA. They wrote: "Listening to podcast #287 & prepping Triceratops bones"

From Neah Bay, WA: "Making Christmas cookies listening to your podcast"

Allan Marcotte emailed a Christmas picture: "I enclose a picture of the star for the top of my tree and it is special. This is the same star that topped the Christmas trees that I grew up with back in the 60's and 70's. For years my younger sister had it but did not use it. A few years back I asked for it. Well this year for Christmas, I found that she had sent it to me. Talk about a wonderful surprise and a flood of memories. I want to wish you and your family a most Merry Christmas and joyous New Year"

This Week in Celtic Music

0:43 "The Green Fields of Glentown / The Old Dudeen / McFadden's Handsome Daughter" by Andrew Finn Magill from Roots

5:37 "The Hunter Set" by Runa from Current Affairs

11:27 "Irish Wind" by Bill Troxler from 12 Degrees of Separation

16:00 "The Canongate Twitch / Steamboat To Detroit / Twenty Pounds of Gin / Break Yer Bass Drone" by Battlefield Band from The Producer's Choice

20:18 "Sí Bheag Sí Mhor" by Wolf & Clover from Single

23:39 CELTIC PODCAST NEWS

25:06 "Cliffs of Moher" by Myddle Earth from Celtic Jigs & Reels

27:55 "Fikavalsen" by Vicki Swan & Jonny Dyer from Single

30:47 "Quebec Reels" by Oisín McAuley from Far From The Hills Of Donegal

34:29 "Calla's Waltz" by Jed Marum from Calla's Waltz

39:34 CELTIC FEEDBACK

42:20 "Mrs Stewart of Grandtully Set" by Crepuscule from Horizon

47:32 "All Set for St. Pat's" by Cady Finlayson and Vita Tanga from Electric Green

50:38 "Fiona's Chicken & Waffles" by Sons of Malarkey from Gulls Lads

52:11 "Foliada do Quinteiro" by Susana Seivane from Os Sonos que Volven

58:24 "Wide Open" by NUA from FLOW

VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20. It's easier than ever to do. Just list the show number, and the name of one or two bands. That's it. You can vote once for each episode help me create next year's Best Celtic music of 2016 episode.

The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast was produced by Marc Gunn, The Celtfather. To subscribe, go to iTunes or to our website where you can become a Patron of the Podcast for as little as $1 per episode. You can post feedback in the shownotes at celticmusicpodcast.com.

Check out this episode!

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alonzohwurth · 6 years

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The Pass In The Grass My…..The Best Ever All-Star Race

30 years later, it’s still entertaining. It’s a case where the event lives up to the hype. It shouldn’t be a surprise. The 80s and 90s were a golden age for NASCAR. Dale Earnhardt, Bill Elliott, Terry Labonte, and Geoff Bodine were genuine stars, setting the stage to make the 1987 running of the all-star race an instant classic.

Bill “Awesome Bill from Dawsonville” Elliott was the resident speed merchant of the era. Until the restrictor plates came along, he was tooling along at ridiculous speeds exceeding 210 miles per hour. He was easily the most popular driver of his era; the original Dale Jr. What was not to like? Elliott came from a humble beginning to the top of the NASCAR heap, going on to win 44 races during his illustrious career and a championship.

You would think Bill Elliott and Dale Earnhardt would be boon companions. He was another southern boy who had to claw to gain a toe hold in the sport. It didn’t play put that way, and the 1987 Winston Star race was a big part of it.

The accompanying video (click here) gives you Elliott’s perspective on the day. When Elliott’s nine car moved down on Earnhardt, the three ended up in the grass. Imagine a pig on ice skates. That’s a race car in the grass. It was no pass- as has been said many times. What it was almost superhuman car control. The pass in the grass sounds good, but it was no pass.

Later, the two ended up side by side. Earnhardt got into Elliott causing him to cut a tire. At race’s end, The Intimidator made victory lane by holding off Labonte. Elliott had to settle for 14th.

To say Bill Elliott was a bit upset would be understating things. Both Bodine and Elliott got into Earnhardt on the cool down lap. One story even had it that Elliott took all his Wrangler jeans (Dale’s sponsor at the time) and threw them out. To hear Earnhardt tell it, the two talked and made up. Things never were good between the seven-time champ and Bodine. Some people just never get along.

I’ve always said the Earnhardt could never outrun is past. He continued to race all the way into the last days of his career like he was in danger of losing his ride. He had nothing to worry about, but he didn’t race that way. While all the mind games and on-track aggression may have been unnecessary, let it be known a part of Earnhardt’s secret was he wanted it more.

Put another way, Dale Earnhardt refused to lose.

The post The Pass In The Grass My…..The Best Ever All-Star Race appeared first on NASCAR.

from Cars & Auto RSS Feed http://www.allleftturns.com/pass-grass-best-ever-star-race/

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junker-town · 7 years

Text

Can NASCAR save itself when Dale Earnhardt Jr. is gone?

BASS PRO SHOPS NRA NIGHT RACE, SATURDAY — 6:51:55 P.M., 40 MINUTES UNTIL LAP 1/500

The DJ keeps playing the wrong music.

The Bass Pro Shops NRA Night Race at Bristol Motor Speedway is the one NASCAR event a year where drivers can choose the song that accompanies their pre-race introductions. “Lights Come On” by Jason Aldean booms across through the bleachers, but it’s not right. “X Gon’ Give It To Ya” by DMX (which an official press release will later call “Gon Give It To Ya,” by X) is supposed to be playing as driver Matt DiBenedetto walks the red carpet. He's visibly annoyed.

The sound system in the infield where I’m standing is messed up, but someone fixes it just in time for the opening bars of Birdman and Lil Wayne’s “Stuntin’ Like My Daddy” to rush out of the stadium’s giant speakers.

Cash money still a company And b[censored version] I’m the boss And I be stuntin’ like my daddy, stuntin’ like my daddy... I'm the young stunna, stuntin' like my daddy...

The crowd erupts as Dale Earnhardt Jr. bursts through the curtains with the stadium’s nickname splashed across them: THE LAST GREAT COLOSSEUM. Fans’ primal screams and shouts of “JUNIOR!” and “DALE!” drown out the music.

NASCAR’s favorite son says something muddled into the microphone, then raises it above his head, triumphant. He hasn’t been racing well this season, but fans don’t seem to mind. They’re just happy Dale Jr. is still here. For now, at least; he’s retiring at the end of this season.

The stands whoop and holler louder and louder as the 14-time most popular driver climbs into the bed of a Chevy truck, the chariot awaiting him at the end of the red carpet. He holds onto the cab like it’s reins of steel and glides down the straightaway to his Chevy, the high tech, aerodynamic race car he’ll soon drive around the track.

Kyle Busch, the best and most hated driver in the sport right now, walks out to boos a few drivers later. Fans flip him off, but he has his two-year-old son Brexton with him, and the kid repeatedly pretends to fall as he holds his dad’s hand. The crowd softens at the sight of the goofy toddler and some cheering breaks through the jeers.

Busch bends down, and Brexton screams what sounds like “Fuck yeah!” into the mic. At a press conference later, Busch will say he told his son to yell, “Truck yeah.” Reporters in the media center will be skeptical.

The intros end. No other driver gets a response even close to what the fans gave Dale Jr.

Photo by Brian Lawdermilk/Getty Images

VOLUNTEER PARKWAY, BRISTOL, TENNESSEE — 9:02:39, FRIDAY MORNING

It’s the morning before the Bristol Bass Pro Shops NRA Night Race, and I’m speeding.

I’m not not pretending I’m a race car driver, but I’m mostly worried I’ll be late for Chase Elliott’s 9:15 a.m. press conference. The Friday night race won’t start until 7 p.m., but the day begins early for reporters, who used to have to arrive at the track twelve hours ahead of time to beat the terrible traffic. Attendance has fallen so much that there’s hardly anyone on the road right now and won’t be until this afternoon, but no one’s thought to change the schedule.

Bristol straddles Virginia and Tennessee. During prohibition, bootleggers ran moonshine across the state line. They’d pack potent, highly flammable, homemade booze in the trunks of their Fords and Chevys and outrun state troopers, tearing around the sharp corners of country roads. They’d also race each other, which is eventually how NASCAR was born. Moonshine used to be the predominant illegal substance in the region, but these days it’s painkillers and fentanyl. Several of the talk stations I switch between as I approach the stadium are discussing the opioid crisis.

The deep green Tennessee hills are breathtaking. They rise straight up, walls of trees for miles. Taller mountains behind them fade into lighter greens and blues. Horse farms and dilapidated houses dot the countryside behind the auto body shops, car dealerships, Jiffy Lubes, and O’Reilly Auto Parts stores that line the road. The sky is bright and clear.

And then I round a corner, and there it is. Bristol Motor Speedway.

The stadium’s walls are as vertical as the hills, but they’re made of metal instead of earth, plastered with corporations’ neon signs rather than trees and underbrush. Logos of Food City, Bass Pro Shops, the NRA, and other sponsors, as well as the faces of famous drivers — Richard Petty, Dale Earnhardt Sr. — adorn banners wrapped around the building’s many steel spines. One sign says OUR ROOTS ARE IN RACING. Another says THANK YOU DALE JR. RVs fill the hills behind the stadium and the Earnhardt Campground beside it.

The colossal structure is unnatural, arresting, incongruous with the landscape. It appears almost alien; beings besides humans might have put it here. I’m so distracted by the sight of the thing that I almost miss my turn. I pull a sharp left and channel my inner bootlegger, speeding up as I round a corner before pulling into the lot next to the stadium. The campgrounds sprawl up the hill beside it, and the RVs parked there make up a village, a temporary neighborhood on wheels. Confederate flags fly from at least four of the trailers’ roofs. They flap gently in the light breeze.

BASS PRO SHOPS NRA NIGHT RACE — 7:26:44 P.M., 5 MINUTES UNTIL LAP 1/500

After the driver intros, I walk through the concrete tunnel that takes me underneath the steeply banked track to the main concourse. Black-and-white photos of Dale Sr. are plastered onto the cinder block walls. There’s also a picture of Dale Jr. posing with a broom in front of the Bristol trophy in 2004. It was the first time anyone had swept the weekend. Junior won the Busch series race (now called the Xfinity series) that Friday, then won the Nextel Cup series (now the Monster Energy Cup Series) on Saturday night.

Bristol Communications Department

“It’s Bristol, baby!” he yelled into the microphone when asked immediately after why the win was so special. Those words are now set in plastic in the form of a huge statue in the fan zone outside the stadium’s gates.

I make my way into the stands, which have mostly filled up along the straightaways but are still half-empty around the turns. Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” is playing as I slide into an empty row of bleachers. Everyone’s standing as though it were the national anthem.

‘Cause I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free!

All of a sudden I hear a voice in my ear scream, “ARE YOU PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN?”

I whip around to find a guy wearing a DRUNK LIVES MATTER tee-shirt bending down so that his face is level with mine, about three inches away. He’s holding a big black flag that has both the NASCAR and Monster Energy logos splashed across it. I recoil and don’t say anything.

He responds to my silence with, “You should be.” Then he drapes the flag around my shoulders and puts his hand on my back.

“Stop it, what are you doing?” I say, swatting the flag and his hand away and jumping back so quickly that I almost fall over onto three shirtless, middle-aged men in front of me. Flag Guy stares directly into my eyes. He shakes the NASCAR logo in my face.

“You just got baptized by the greatest thing this country has,” he says.

Randy Sartin-USA TODAY Sports

BRISTOL MOTOR SPEEDWAY — 11:45:58, FRIDAY MORNING

I’m standing on the asphalt of the infield, sweating in the thick Tennessee heat, watching a pit crew guy screw lug nuts onto a tire. He’s working on the No. 3 car, which is owned by Richard Childress Racing. Austin Dillon will drive it in tomorrow’s race. This strikes me as somewhat heretical. You wouldn’t give Babe Ruth’s No. 3 to another Yankee. How can anyone run No. 3 after Dale Sr.?

I made it in time for Chase Elliott’s press conference this morning, but shouldn’t have bothered racing to get there. The 21-year-old son of NASCAR legend Bill Elliott (A.K.A Awesome Bill from Dawsonville) just offered platitudes about trying hard — he’s been running well this season but he hasn’t won a race yet. The most interesting thing he said was that he wants to watch the upcoming solar eclipse from an airplane.

I passed Chase in the pits a few minutes ago and asked him if I could ask him a few questions. He told me I have to go through his PR guy or he’ll get in trouble. He's a smart kid who knows better than to offend anyone — an easy thing to do in the age of the internet — and put his sponsorships or public perception at risk. He keeps it vanilla.

“No, I mean, it’s frustrating every week. I don’t know how to quantify frustration. I don’t know how to measure it. None of it’s good. We want to be competitive, we want to compete, we want to have a good last season.” — Dale Earnhardt Jr.

The infield smells like gasoline and cigarettes. The entire place could go up in flames at any moment and I wouldn’t be surprised. Huge, eighteen-wheeled haulers that bring the cars around the country during the 38-weekend season are parked in a perfectly straight line, a life-sized toy box. These trucks are basically RVs with hydraulic lifts that put race cars in compartments above the living area when drivers aren’t racing them or practicing, which a few are currently doing. They zoom around the track between tune-ups.

The pit crew guy finishes adjusting the screws on the tire. He tells me that the drills he used fifteen years ago were the same ones I could buy at an auto parts store. So were the cars’ brakes, exhaust pipes. But now, racing teams make everything in-house, test cars in wind-tunnels, and calibrate them within an inch of their steel lives. All of this means that it now costs $40 million to run one car for one season. In 1994, brakes cost $3,500 at the Daytona 500. Now, they cost $38,000. NASCAR knows the high costs are unsustainable, and everyone — from drivers to team owners — wants to bring them down. But that’s easier said than done; once it gets going, technological progress is hard to stop.

John David Mercer-USA TODAY Sports

I walk up to the No. 3 car. This thing used to be the common thread between mere mortals and racing gods, but automotive sales are plummeting as more Americans stay in cities. Not that a sedan you’d drive off a lot has much in common with the one I’m staring at now, anyways. This machine resembles something a UFO would pilot more than it looks like the Camry I’ve rented. I stoop down to peer into the metal exoskeleton. The most substantial thing inside, besides the 900 horsepower engine under the hood, is the HANS device, a safety measure that looks like a neck brace with extra padding. Dale Sr. refused to wear his and died after colliding head-on with a retaining wall during the last lap of the Daytona 500 in 2001. That October, NASCAR made head restraints mandatory.

Ads for DOW Chemical splash the car’s black sides. R.J. Reynolds, a tobacco company, was the first Cup sponsor in 1971. The company managed to hang on through the decades as Big Tobacco was dying, but gave up the sponsorship in 2003. Nextel picked up the rights, then merged with Sprint, renaming the races once again in 2008. Sprint abruptly dropped the sport late last year. NASCAR had to scramble. Eventually Monster Energy stepped in.

After Chase’s press conference I asked Tad Geschickter, who co-owns the team JTG/Daugherty Racing with his wife Jodi, what he loves about NASCAR. I expected him to say something about the roar of the engines or the thrill of speed.

But he said this:

“For me, there’s no other sport that can provide the value for corporate america that this can. NASCAR fans say, ‘My team can’t run without this sponsor, so I’m going to buy their product because I love the sport.’ That turns into huge business results. And that’s what keeps corporate America coming back.”

A sport that started because guys had to rebel against The Man in order to get drunk has become a vehicle — a very, very expensive vehicle — to make The Man even richer.

I leave the infield, descend into the tunnel, pop up into the concourse, and walk out into the bleachers. I climb up to the very top row, marveling at this massive crater in the middle of the Tennessee country.

No one else is up here except for one old guy with white hair and leathery, tan skin. He’s wearing a Dale Jr. tank and drinking a beer wrapped in an ancient koozie with Dale Sr.’s No. 3 on it. A cooler beneath him is packed with ice and ten more beers.

Charlotte Wilder

The cars practicing are so loud that he has to lean in very close to hear me when I ask him his name. He reeks of booze, and says his name five times before I give up and take out my phone, asking him to type it for me. His fingers are too shaky for the touch screen of my iPhone, so he takes out his flip phone and slowly types out D-A-L-E.

“Just like Dale Sr.” he mouths. “And Junior.”

I yell into his ear, asking if he’ll miss Dale Jr. when he retires. He nods.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he mouths.

Dale isn’t the only one who feels lost when he thinks about a future without Dale Jr., and NASCAR knows it. Right now, the hope is that those fans will transfer their allegiance to another driver, perhaps one like Chase Elliott, who also comes from racing royalty.

The problem is, there aren’t many compelling reasons to do so.

BASS PRO SHOPS NRA NIGHT RACE — 7:31:01 P.M., SATURDAY, LAP 1/500

“Drivers, start your engines!”

The sound of 40 cars starting up at once rumbles from the pits. It echoes outside the walls and across the hills, a deafening heartbeat inside the stadium’s metallic rib cage. I understand now why one of this place’s nicknames is “Thunder Valley” — the sound climbs to 140 decibels, the same as an aircraft carrier in full swing. Fans put in earplugs or don noise-blocking headphones. They adjust their radio scanners to track their favorite drivers. No one talks to each other because they can’t. It’s the opposite of a silent rave.

The drivers circle around the track, shaking their wheels from side to side to create friction and warm up the tires faster, which helps them stick better to the smooth concrete. The cars are more animals than machines. They’ve subsumed the drivers inside and become sentient.

The green flag drops and they’re off.

It’s a beautiful, hypnotizing dance set to the sounds of a chainsaw slicing through aluminum. Awesome in the literal sense. The vibrations buzz through the bleachers and into my feet, my legs, up into my spine. When you watch a race on television, you can’t feel the rumbles, you can’t hear the fullness of the roars. You can’t smell this noxious mix of cigarette smoke, burning rubber, spilled beer, and gasoline fumes.

But now, witnessing a race in person for the first time, I get it. I can’t look away.

On the 88th lap, fans stand up and cheer to honor Dale Jr. as he whizzes by. Two guys a few rows down stay standing, each raising three fingers to the sky, an homage to the original, and only true, No. 3.

Dale Sr. isn't dead. He's more alive than most people who walk the earth.

And, although it was an almost impossible order, the son has managed to win over the crowd that still worships the father. Dale Jr. has become nearly as beloved as the sport’s most beloved driver of all time. He’s filled his dad’s shoes better than anyone could have imagined.

What remains to be seen is whether there’s any driver in the sport today who can even come close to filling his.

Randy Sartin-USA TODAY Sports

BRISTOL MOTOR SPEEDWAY — 3:11:15, FRIDAY AFTERNOON

Matt DiBenedetto is sitting in the media center Friday afternoon before qualifying rounds, which will determine the order drivers start in tomorrow night. He had a bad first practice, but he’s feeling better after the laps he just ran.

Cars and money matter more than talent now. You can be the most gifted driver in the world and it doesn't matter if you don’t have the cash. This bothers 26-year-old DiBenedetto to no end. Not only does he have the technical ability to succeed in this sport, he has the personality. He’s beloved by his fan base for his funny tweets, a hashtag dedicated to his love of burritos (#DiBuritto), and his honesty on Reddit and Snapchat. His following isn’t huge; he has about 50k followers on Twitter, peanuts compared to Chase Elliott’s 700,000, or Danica Patrick’s millions. Still, his fans are so engaged that he almost got voted into the All-Star race.

“But yeah, I could send one tweet and ruin my entire career,” he jokes, tapping his phone, which sits on the table in front of us. I tell him I could too, and we both laugh, fall silent, then shudder before continuing our conversation.

In a sport where viewers’ loyalty centers on individual drivers, a guy like DiBenedetto, or Darrell “Bubba” Wallace Jr. (who wasn’t racing at Bristol because he currently doesn’t have a sponsor), or Ryan Blaney, or Landon Cassill, could be instrumental to bringing in new, younger fans — if they could win. Most of the other personalities just aren’t that interesting. Kyle Busch puts on a show, but fans hate him. This works when you’ve got Dale Jr. to play the hero to Busch’s villain. But what’s a heel without a face?

Times have changed drastically since the days when guys lit Winstons and threw punches at each other in the pits after a race. It wasn’t just the drivers, either. If you believe the stories, one time Lee Petty’s wife Elizabeth — mom to Richard — got in on a fight and walloped the driver Tiny Lund (who weighed 270 pounds, easily) in the back of the head with her pocketbook. Legend has it she was packing a .45.

Now, drivers look more like Goldman Sachs interns than the mechanic who’d fix your car if you pulled into one of the auto body shops off the main drag in Bristol.

DiBenedetto, however, looks like a normal dude from Grass Valley, California because he is one. He got bit by the speed bug as a kid (he doesn’t know why, neither of his parents were into racing) and grew up pushing go-karts around dirt tracks. His parents moved the family to South Carolina to pursue his racing career, but stopped paying for his cars when he was 16 because they couldn’t afford it. He’s hung on to the sport by a thread in the ten years since, hopping from team to team, getting in cars thanks to his sheer talent and a lot of luck.

Photo by Jonathan Ferrey/Getty Images

Matt DiBenedetto

Dale Sr. didn’t come from money, either. But he could use spec parts to throw a car together and muscle his way to wins. You can’t do that anymore. DiBenedetto knows he needs more sponsors, but he can’t get them, because he isn’t winning. And he isn’t winning because he doesn’t have the best car. And he can’t get in the best car because he doesn't have sponsors, because he isn't winning.

It’s a Catch-22.

“So that’s where the hard part is,” DiBenedetto tells me. “If you have the same skill set in baseball, being that determined and that exceptionally good at what you do, you can legit make it. Racing is not that way. If I had a 30 million dollar sponsor behind me, I could drive a racecar well. I know I could be on a top team.”

Racing is made up of dynasties. Bill France Sr., who founded the sport in 1948, passed the business down to his son Bill Jr., who passed it down to his son Brian, the current CEO. Then you’ve got the drivers: Earnhardts, Allisons, Walltrips, Elliotts. NASCAR seems to think a last name can make up for a lack of charm. They’re going with what they know and with what’s worked before. You can almost imagine the marketing meeting: Dale Sr. and Dale Jr. worked out, and people loved Bill Elliott, so let’s push his son Chase.

But you can’t teach charisma. NASCAR got lucky once: one of the biggest stars to ever drive a car had a son with a great personality who was gifted at connecting with fans. And even then, it took Dale Jr. a while to be loved for who he is rather than who his father was.

DiBenedetto wasn’t born with a silver wheel in his hands or a last name that’s etched into the walls at Bristol, but he can entertain on and off the track. Perhaps NASCAR will wise up and realize this could actually be key to his — and the sport’s — future success.

Later this afternoon, DiBenedetto will totally botch his qualifying rounds and will have to start the race tomorrow 34th out of 40 cars. This will suck, and he’ll be pissed about it. He’ll release an honest video on Twitter telling his fans he’s sorry, and that he’s as upset as they are. He’ll delete it a few days later.

Tomorrow morning, sitting in front of his hauler, DiBenedetto will tell me that his lousy starting position could actually be a good thing. If the front of the pack wrecks out — which they often do at short tracks like Bristol — he’ll be able to scoot by them and have a real shot. But the CEO of the construction company that sponsors DiBenedetto will be sitting nearby as the driver says this to me, and it will seem very much like DiBenedetto is trying to will the chance of a win into existence.

There won’t be one.

BASS PRO SHOPS NRA NIGHT RACE, SATURDAY — 9:25:32 P.M., LAP 272/500

The sun goes down and the fluorescent lights come on, glinting off the hoods of the racecars, adding an artificial glow to the cars’ dizzying circles.

After a brief stint in the top ten, things aren’t looking good for Dale Jr. He’s fallen back to 21st as we enter the third and final stage of the race. Busch, Kyle Larson, Elliott, and Erik Jones (all of whom are in their 20s, except Busch, who’s 32) battle for the top spots, but by lap 361, Busch is in first again. DiBenedetto managed to crawl his way up a few spots, but he’s stuck firmly in 29th.

There are very few wrecks.

“This race is terrible!” a reporter says, too loudly, in the press box.

One of my southern colleagues father’s used to say that “Racing at Bristol is a damn fistfight in a soup bowl.” But it isn’t anymore. The speedway used to be a one-groove track, which meant cars had to physically touch each other — called a bump-and-run — if one was going to break out of the single-file line. In 2007, owner Bruton Smith resurfaced and modified the track to create more space and allow drivers to race side-by-side with plenty of room to pass.

Fans hated it.

They wanted the old, rough-and-tumble, wreck-heavy style of racing back. After only half of the stadium’s 160,000 seats sold in 2012, Smith tried to narrow the track again by grinding the upper groove down, but drivers complained that all it did was make things slippery (“It’s terrible,” Busch declared). This race is more tetherball game than fistfight.

Busch pulls away. Dale is 22nd and falling. DiBenedetto is back in 30th. There’s a flurry of excitement over the radio as it looks like there’s a prayer Erik Jones can catch Busch. For a few moments, as they battle it out, the race is thrilling. I get a taste of what the sport used to be, and I’m struck by a sense of loss. I miss something I never knew.

Fans who did know the sport in its wild, lawless form miss it even more. But that doesn’t mean they’ve stuck around.

Randy Sartin-USA TODAY Sports

EARNHARDT CAMPGROUND — 2:45:01, SATURDAY AFTERNOON

Cindy Lee sells unofficial NASCAR merchandise from a tent in the Earnhardt Campground outside the stadium’s gates. Most of the gear for sale is dedicated to the Dales, but there are also glow-in-the-dark Bristol shirts, photos of Danica Patrick in a bikini, and beer koozies. There are also shirts that say “If you can read this, the bitch fell off,” above a caricature of Donald Trump pushing a sexualized Hillary Clinton off a motorcycle.

Lee stopped watching the races after Dale Sr. died and NASCAR changed everything about the sport in the years since. It’s almost entirely different now; there are three stages to a race rather than one long slog, the system of awarding points isn’t the same as it used to be, and there are now playoffs in addition to the regular Cup Series championship (as well as other, more in-the-weeds alterations). It would be like taking the NFL, making each touchdown worth 9 points, resetting the score at halftime, and tacking on a five-game postseason after the Super Bowl.

“You never could get a ticket unless you knew someone who had season tickets who was selling one. Now you can get ‘em off street corners. Food City has ‘em for sale.” — Cindy Lee, t-shirt vendor

NASCAR also got cocky. In its heyday in the 1990s and through 2005 or so, top brass thought their sport was invincible. They tried to appeal to a broader national audience, forgetting that they were built on the backs of die-hard fans who bought season tickets to regional tracks. Executives messed with races, adding new ones in Las Vegas and moving old staples off the schedule (the beloved North Wilkesboro Speedway lost both its dates) and added races in *gasp* Chicago, Kansas City, Dallas, and Southern California, leading many fans to believe that NASCAR was abandoning its Southeast roots. They even tried to build a track outside New York City, in Staten Island. But that and many of the sports’ other plans flamed out after the recession, when the states that many fans come from — Florida, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, and California — were hit the hardest by the economic crash.

The sport also adopted more safety measures and reconfigured some tracks to make them less dangerous.

Lee isn’t jazzed about any of this.

“With all the equipment they’ve got ‘em wearing now, it’s not like racing anymore, it’s about money. It’s sports, it’s not racing,” Lee says, standing by a display of toy cars. “If they hit each other, it used to be, well, fine. It was racing. That’s the way it was. Now they wanna penalize ‘em. They don’t let ‘em go out and race and have fun.”

She pauses, looks around the campground.

“Bristol used to be sold out, and it hasn’t been in years,” she continues. “You never could get a ticket unless you knew someone who had season tickets who was selling one. Now you can get ‘em off street corners. Food City has ‘em for sale. I went last night to walk around the campground. There’s only one-third of the vendors here from three years ago.”

Charlotte Wilder

Lee is right. Races at Bristol, which once sold out 55 consecutive races, always have empty seats now. Between the ticket prices, transportation, and lodging, it can cost families thousands of dollars to go to a race. The sport is struggling a bit on TV, too: ratings for seven of the eight races Fox broadcast in the first half of the season were down from 2015. The sport is okay financially until 2024, because it’s locked into billion-dollar broadcast deals with Fox and NBC Sports, but after that…well, who knows.

A man who doesn’t want me to use his name in this article is browsing the racks of Cindy’s booth with his grandson named Diesel. The guy, I’ll call him Jim, works at a paper mill in the south that used to be employee-owned until a global corporation bought them out last year. He’s here for the first time in five years because Diesel wants to see a race. All of Jim’s friends, who used to have season tickets, gave theirs up when cars ceased to look anything like the ones they drove and the drivers they loved retired or died.

But there’s another reason Jim stopped coming.

“I’m mad at Earnhardt and Johnson for calling for taking down the confederate flag,” he says. “I don’t like it. It’s the same as these people calling for tearing down these monuments. It’s just part of history. And it’s mostly white people who want to tear these down. I don’t get it.”

He's referring to Dale Jr. and Jimmie Johnson, who supported removing the confederate flag from the South Carolina State House after white supremacist Dylann Roof murdered nine people at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston in 2015. Dale Jr. also spoke out against Trump’s immigration ban back in January. He most recently tweeted “Hatred, bigotry, & racism should have no place in this great country. Spread love,” after the white supremacist and Nazi rally in Charlottesville, where a white supremacist killed a woman, Heather Heyer, with his car when he deliberately backed into the crowd.

“It’s sad and frustrating to see what happened,” Dale Jr said at his Thursday press conference. “And you feel sort of somewhat responsible to speak on it.”

Dale Jr.’s statements didn’t come across that brave to me when I first heard them. They seemed more like human decency than anything bold or divisive. But as I stand here talking to Jim among the multiple RVs flying confederate flags, it's somewhat impressive Dale Jr. said anything at all.

“Look,” Jim says. “I got black friends. But we gotta separate race — just like church and state — from what we love. We gotta keep race out of racing.”

Before I can ask him exactly what he means by “keep race out of racing,” he tells me he and Diesel have to go find something to eat, and he walks away.

Diesel follows, unwrapping the toy car Jim bought him, a replica of Kyle Busch’s Toyota. Busch is Diesel’s favorite driver, even though Jim only likes drivers who race Fords. The majority of fans will hate it if Busch wins tonight, and it honestly doesn’t seem like any outcome would make Jim happy. But maybe, if Diesel gets to see Busch take home the trophy, the trip will have been worth it.

BASS PRO SHOPS NRA NIGHT RACE — 10:44:98, LAP 500/500

The checkered flag falls. Busch wins, sweeping the weekend for the second time in his career.

Dale Jr. comes in 23rd.

He pulls into the pits, where none of the drivers are fighting each other, and climbs out of the car. He’s pale after sweating out 10-15 pounds of liquid over the course of three and a half hours. Shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips, he stares at the Chevy that let him down. His crew chief pops the hood and they both look at the engine.

“This race track can be a lot of fun, or it can be very difficult,” Dale Jr. says to me and two other reporters. “I use to drive — gosh...”

He trails off, rubs his temples.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he finally continues, exasperated. “We were quick for 20 laps. We passed five cars. Then we just dropped like a rock.”

Charlotte Wilder

One reporter tells Dale Jr. it’s the most frustrated he’s seen him all season.

“No, I mean, it’s frustrating every week,” Dale Jr. says. “I don’t know how to quantify frustration. I don’t know how to measure it. None of it’s good. We want to be competitive, we want to compete, we want to have a good last season. I don’t want to be out there just packing it in. It’s a lot of work to run 23rd, I’ll say that.”

Busch drives his Toyota up victory lane and climbs out onto the roof. Someone hands him a broom and he sweeps the top of his car, mimicking — intentionally or not — the picture of Dale Jr. that hangs in the walls of the tunnel. The crowd boos and flips him off. He plugs his ears and stares them down, taunting them from the jumbotron as confetti falls.

Dale Jr. looks up at the huge screens. He grimaces as he watches Busch celebrate, as though someone's about to reset a bone he's broken. Squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, he shakes his head and walks away alone, disappearing into the maze of haulers.

12:46:23, BRISTOL MOTOR SPEEDWAY, SUNDAY MORNING

The pit crews have packed up the cars and the haulers are starting to leave. Race trash — beer cans, cigarette butts, water bottles, energy drinks, stray ear plugs, bits of confetti — litters the pits and the stands.

The stadium smells like a campfire, and the Bass Pro Shops NRA Night Race logo (a fish with bat wings, which look suspiciously like the butts of rifles) flips around and around on the jumbotron. The track has cooled off, and my shoes no longer stick to the concrete as I walk up to the concourse. I can’t figure out what feels so strange, but then I realize Thunder Valley is quiet for the first time all weekend.

The storm is over. Bristol sits empty, straddling state lines and decades, the past and the present. The future is anyone’s guess.

The drivers left long ago, but fans still wait outside while the trucks roll out. They cheer as each one exits the gates. The haulers honk in acknowledgement, each blast loud and guttural, leftover noise. I get into my rental car. Right before I close the door, I hear much louder screams and cheers float up from the stadium’s entrance.

Dale Jr.’s truck, with the Nationwide logo and No. 88 splashed across the sides, emerges. It makes its way down the drive, honking the whole time. The remaining fans don’t stop cheering until it’s out of sight.

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