The Virginian

1965 was a pivotal year for me, I attended drag races with my dad for a few years and, like most young kids my age, was in love with the colorful gassers of the era. I also got my first transistor radio that year, a York as I recall. On one trip to Thompson Drag Raceway something new appeared on the track. Funny looking cars with moved up wheelbases and injectors sticking through the hood - there were four of them doing something called a match race. One of the crew was putting down resin while another crew member guided each car into position to do a burnout over the resin. I was hooked. All of a sudden Drag Racing had become a show, and listening to the Beatles and the Beach Boys on my new transistor radio became secondary to listening for the exciting new commercials that began with the three words - Sunday Sunday Sunday, that announced the upcoming events at the areas drag strips.

Read the rest of this article in ISSUE 36: Lance Owens' Rosebud