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Answers
My fifth-grade teacher was Mrs. Neese in Abingdon, Va. Her husband worked for NASCAR as a pit row inspector during the races. I was a huge NASCAR fan, so I thought her husband hung the moon. We would often discuss racing in her class while others were working on homework. I had been to several races at this point but only a few. For some reason, I liked to pretend that my family often followed NASCAR around to various cities. But we didn’t have a “family” to do anything. My mom was single and raising three kids. We were just scraping by financially. Still, I liked to tell Mrs. Neese every Monday all about our adventures at the races over the weekend. She would just nod her head and smile. It wasn’t until a driver was killed at Michigan Speedway during practice that her demeanor changed. I told her that I was there when it happened and that it was “the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” She started turning red and asked to speak with me in the hallway. I’ve never seen somebody so angry. She told me that she knew I’d been lying and that it was unacceptable to fabricate stories like that. I never lied to her again.