“I live my life a quarter mile at a time.”

“I live my life a quarter mile at a time.”

Dom Toretto, The Fast and the Furious

I’m all about living life to the fullest and stepping out of my comfort zone to enjoy new experiences. So, even though a car show is the last place I would ever expect to find myself, that’s exactly where I was.

To start, I know nothing about cars. Less than nothing. I can put my car in drive to get from point A to point B and that’s it. Me at a car show, race, rally, all of the above is actually laughable. But, like I said, I’m always up to try new things so when I got invited to join a rally through the White Mountains I hardly hesitated.

To clarify, I wasn’t invited to join more so an invitation was extended to me courteous of Samantha and her new Honda Civic Type R. (look at all the car knowledge)

My favorite part of the day was the ‘meet up’, it was in the first level of a mall parking garage and even I felt the excitement when we arrived. I felt like I was an extra on The Fast and the Furious seeing the 15 or so cars that were already there and hearing the rev of every new engine pulling into the lot.

I can describe the cars by color – the matte black one, the iridescent orange one, the backwards one from Japan – but then there was a Lamborghini and of course I knew what that one was.

My second favorite part of the day was when the rally began. Can you imagine 50 race cars, each probably worth my college tuition, starting their engine in an enclosed parking garage? I was starting to understand the hype of these things.

These meet ups aren’t just for people with nice cars. It brings people with mutual interests together, even people who on paper would seemingly never be friends. You have the photographers, car junkies, drivers, families, and even the people like me who were just along for the ride.

Anyone can come and no one is here to judge. It’s about the love of cars and the feeling of being part of a group.”

The group that you get to be part of for the entire drive. Through every toll each car “paid it forward” if there was someone else behind them. There was a group message on Facebook so no one got too far behind and we could be alerted if there were cops around. And twice, the entire group stopped at gas stations so people could fill up.

It’s like a family, even if you’re only recognized by what car you drive – which was the case more often than not.

Almost four hours in, after racing a Lambo and a Maserati, and driving down Kancamagus Highway, the excitement began to wear off. I still can’t tell you what kind of cars were there or how fast we were actually going, and I admit I slept in the backseat the entire ride home, but I lived to tell another tale.

Would I do it again? Probably.

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