CHESNEE, SOUTH CAROLINA

She shot their only plow mule.
She worked in the fields.
She rode motorcycles.
She had four kids.
She always wore black when she drove a race car.
Her real name was Wavie.

I was only five but I remember. She won a TV once in a race but someone stole it out of our car before we went home. No one locked car doors then. I am not even sure if cars had door locks then. I remember being in the stands with my sister and the men and boys coming straight to the tracks from the fields. It was common to see tractors and loads of hay parked with the cars. Races started late because everyone farmed and had to make use of daylight. The few women and children who were there were family members of the drivers. Even at five, I knew this was a place I would never run into my Sunday School teacher. Most of the young boys in the community would come from the hayfields with no shirts... old straw hats...barefooted… and smelling like they had been in the field all day! It was always sweltering hot and very dusty. I can still remember the smells of the track- body odor, gasoline, dry red dirt, wet red mud, burnt oil, hot dogs, and popcorn.

I know there was a concession stand of some sort because it was the only time I remember getting to drink Coke from a small bottle! I remember how cold it was as opposed to how hot and sticky it was in the stands. My brother always tried to talk me into sharing my drink with him. He could swallow a whole Coke and leave me with nothing. I made the mistake of sharing with him just once! I also remember being there and being told we couldn’t afford anything from the stand. We drank water from a thermos from home.

Between races, the old water truck would make laps around the track to settle the red dust. There was always wreckers on the infield waiting to pull cars back onto the track out of the kudzu on the far side of the track. Most of the time, the race didn't stop. The drivers just dodged the wrecker and kept going. Everyone wore some sort of glasses to keep the red dust out of their eyes. Dark glasses at night added to the mystery and excitement.

I remember Mama wrecking one time on the far side of the track. Everyone in the stands got quiet and stood up. We watched the wrecker pulling the car back up the bank. She waved and kept racing.

I remember my sister talking about another girl and saying she was just showing off because she had on a white shirt and white shorts. Everyone knew it was stupid to wear good clothes to the track. Most of the young girls wore rolled up jeans, sandals, and printed or plaid sleeveless shirts.

The noise was unbelievable... no one talked until the race ended. The louder the roar- the better. Even if the car was slow, people talked about how good it sounded. When the race was about to start, the cars would rev the engines and everyone cheered. It seemed like forever before the green flag was waved. The stands vibrated and as the race intensified, so did the vibration. Add that to the jumping and screaming of the fans and I was always afraid the stands would fall.

The track was narrow and the stands were close to the track. There wasn’t a fence or wall between the track and stands. The infield was always full of car owners, mechanics, stand-by drivers and onlookers. If you didn't like being in the stands, you could just run across the track to the infield anytime... even during the race. I remember running across one time and falling in the wet, red mud. I was terrified that a race car would run over me! Mama was mad at me for running across and made me run back to the stands. I was sure she must have wanted me to get hit because I could really see the cars coming toward me when she sent me back across. They got louder and louder with each step I ran. That time I didn't fall!

The Wall Brothers let her drive for them in the "Powder Puff" Derbies. I think she would have preferred to compete against the men. She was fearless on the track and always liked swapping paint. It wasn't racing unless someone had a wreck or ran someone off the tracks. And if she couldn't win, she was not above taking out the leader just for fun.

The races I remember were always on Saturday night and it took a long time for me to figure out how my Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Mary Louise Garner, could always know I had been to the races the night before. Of course, I knew she was smart but I never remembered seeing her at a race. Do you think the red dust she washed off my face and hands at church could have been the clue? Or it could have been the smell of gasoline and dirt. It was always too late for a bath after coming home from the races.