If you know me at all, you know I’m a gearhead. I like cars. Working on them, reading about them, gawking at them. And while I haven’t always been interested in their inner workings, I think I’ve always appreciated a beautiful automobile. And my first obsession was with the Chevrolet Bel Air. I guess it was those bodacious tailfins and all the glittering chrome. While my sister and I were spending the week at my grandparents’ house one summer, my mom gave my bedroom a makeover that included a glossy blue ceiling fan like in a ‘50s diner and wallpaper running along the top of the wall with ‘55, ‘56, and ‘57 Chevy Bel Airs.
A “gasser” sits outside the drag strip, waiting for the next race. Nikon N2000 on Kodak Ektar 100.
A driver focuses on the “Christmas tree”, the light starting the race. Nikon N2000 on Kodak Ektar 100.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who was obsessed with these space-age grocery-getters, because every year in Bowling Green, fans of the Bel Air come out of the woodwork to see their vintage favorites rip down the drag strip at Beech Bend Raceway and line the grounds with their cheery-colored sheetmetal. This emergence from woodwork is called the Tri-Five Nationals. Like a blooming’ eejit, I missed the event last year due to a brain fart regarding which weekend it took place. But this year, not even a thunderstorm scared me away. After a quick, sodden stop for barbecue in White House, Tennessee waiting for the storm to blow over, my friend Alex and I headed north to the raceway, a Mecca for rednecks who love loud cars going fast in a straight line. What could be more American?
Two Chevies face off. iPhone 13 Pro.
Drivers and officials between races. Nikon N2000 on Kodak Ektar 100.
Beech Bend is a strange place: part waterpark, part amusement park, part haven for petrol-burners. The grandstands look as though they were slapped together in the 1960s, and then every ensuing year were glanced over and declared “good enough” with a grunt from the proprietors. The boujee seats have the same sort of chairs my elementary school auditorium had, while the other grandstands had humble wooden bleachers so open-air that they could swallow small children.
We wandering with grins plastered on our faces through the aisles of the restored Chevrolets sitting on the lawn outside the drag strip. I snapped pictures on my old Nikon film camera as we went. Eventually, we plopped ourselves down on a splintery plank in the peasant grandstands under the cover of a humble tin roof, watching cars more than twice my age burn rubber and go faster than they had any business to. I crammed a couple of Walgreens earplugs in my ears to prevent the hearing aid industry from making an extra buck off of me. Drag cars are loud.
Sleeping beauty. Nikon N2000 on Kodak Ektar 100.
Reflections in the water. Nikon N2000 on Kodak Ektar 100.
We sat there watching cars blaze down Beech Bend’s quarter-mile track until I ran out of film. Only I didn’t run out film. I got to the end of my roll, and for some strange reason the camera kept shooting. It was then that I realized that all the awesome shots I had taken were on an imaginary roll. Desperate to capture a few good shots on film, I quickly loaded the camera with a real roll of film and got busy trying to recreate all the shots I’d taken out on the lawn outside. (Bloomin’ eejit)
Camera woes aside, the Tri-Five Nationals didn’t disappoint, and the year of waiting was worth it. My love for those cars hasn’t disappeared. Now if only I had an extra $80,000 lying around to buy one and fulfill a childhood dream. Ah well. I can always buy the wallpaper.
A parade of Bel Airs. Nikon N2000 on Kodak Ektar 100.
Trailer queen. iPhone 13 Pro.