1959

It's the weekend of the 70th annual Daytona 500, my first ever! The race is expensive, so I had to wait a while before being able to go. I'm a PR for NASCAR, which means I get to go to all the races for free.

I've genuinely been into NASCAR's past recently, especially since I found out I'd be attending THE Daytona 500. With it being the 70th year and the oldest race they wanted to do something special. They brought out every winning car from the previous years, including the first that Lee Petty had won in.

"Come on. Come on. Come on," I say excitedly, pulling Ty along with me. Ty is a very good friend of mine who so happens to be the Xfinity driver I'm PR for.

I've known him for about nine years, but we didn't become friends until I moved to North Carolina. He's kinda short, standing at only 5'9 at 26. He has blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He has a baby face which makes him look younger than he is.

I'm pretty much the complete opposite of him, in appearance that is. I'm fairly tall, standing at 5'10 at 24. I have dark brown hair with hazel eyes. Also I've been told that I look at least two years older than I am, that's also why older guys tended to like me when I was younger.

"Slow down Anna," he chuckles. He pulls my arm back in an attempt to stop or slow me down but fails to.

"Sorry, I'm just so excited to see these cars in person," I beam. "Did you know, Lee Petty won the inaugural Daytona 500? It actually wasn't called the Daytona 500 then, but you get what I mean."

"Yes Anna, I know," he sighs. Forgot to mention, he's the grandson of one of the best team owners in all of NASCAR.

"Oh right, you're the grandson of Joe Gibbs. You must know a lot about NASCAR and its history," I say, disappointment laced in my words.

"I didn't mean to bring you down," he says, stopping me. He tries to get me to look at him, but I refuse and resume dragging him with me.

"It's fine, I just really want to go see the cars," I say. We finally get to the cars and I admire them all. Then I run up to Lee Petty's car and gently place my hand on it.

"She's a beaut isn't she?" one of the workers asks. I look at the white car with the number 42 painted on the side in bright orange.

"Most definitely," I reply with a smile. I look down the line of cars to see Ty looking back at me. My smile grows wider which causes him to smile back.

"The old cars are always the best," he states, drawing my attention away from Ty. I take a quick look back seeing the frown now etched upon his face.

"Yeah, do you mind if I sit in it? I'm official NASCAR personnel," I say, flashing my credentials in his direction.

"Of course, have at it," he grins opening the door for me. I slide in, taking in the look of the interior. I place my hands on the steering wheel in the same place Petty would've put his. I shut my eyes to really take in the experience, that's when something weird happens.

￭￭￭

I open my eyes and my senses are just completely overwhelmed. My eyes are met by cars of various colors flying past me. My ears are met by the raging roar of engines going up to 200 miles per hour. My nose is met by the smell of tires and gas that is being burned. My hands are met by the feel of the steering wheel beneath my glove enclosed hands.

What is going on?!

"Pick up your speed, you're losing precious ground Angela," a voice booms in my ears. I'm left to assume, given the situation, that the voice is either my crew chief or spotter.