Let’s Talk About That Time I Got Chased Out Of A Car Show
This isn’t supposed to happen in Northwest New Jersey.
I talk about a lot of topics as a content creator, but the truth is that most of them tend to be about dating, food, sexuality, celebrity gossip, or economics. I don’t always talk about my hobbies, oddly enough.
A little-known fact about me is that I love cars. More specifically, I adore vintage cars, lowriders, and heavily modded “rice rockets.” I love the feats of engineering they are, not to mention the amazing looks of a good sports car.
I can tell you what JDM means, the classy thing Studebaker did with their last Avanti, and why I love Shelby Cobras. So, car shows? Totally a vibe I dig.
I went to a car show with my husband in Northwest NJ.
In order to understand why this story happened, you have to understand a little thing about my husband: he's not white. He’s half Italian, half Puerto Rican (primarily Taino/Native). He does not look white.
So, we went together. I was dressed in short shorts and a long tee featuring one of my many appreciated anime-style illustrations, he was dressed more like a 50s greaser. We went in, bought our tickets, and started looking at all the vintage cars.