Race Day at Hodges
It has continued to astound and comfort me tremendously throughout my life that the same redneck-ass institutions of my rural youth – tractor/truck pulls, dirt track racing, demolition derbies, etc. – continue in places such as these, virtually exempt from the tumult of global change. The last time I was in the bleachers, “premium handsets” meant flip phones and many of the junker entries would be considered viable restoration projects, today.
Personally, there is nothing more existentially easing than stumbling upon this bit of car culture now and then, though it always brings up a nagging question: what the hell am I doing in this office? Thank you, Missouri. I’m sorry I talked all that shit in high school. It’s good to be home.
