Good morrow my fellow mis-shifted assholes. Sit tight, I’ve got a load to drop.

Since working in NASCAR and living in NC for a year or so, I’ve picked up many things. But this isn’t a post about aero knowledge or some NDA violating data, not even about picking up an accent or the pleasures of driving in the Appleasian mountains. No no. This is about the 10-4 epidemic. A cry for help even.

10-4?

Where the hell do I even start with this? I can’t stop using the damn phrase. It comes out naturally at this point and has become like the go to my brain uses when “ok” seems to dull.

I don’t know how it got into the sport, maybe some trucker drove cup cars in the 50’s and used a cb radio for driver coms. Or maybe spotter found it funny. I know I did for a bit. And now it won’t f u c k i n g leave me. 10-4?

And it doesn’t stop there right? Because now I’ve passed down the phrase like a certain respiratory virus in a Golden Corral during allergy season. So whatever “10-4 withdrawal” I would’ve had upon returning to the mundane life of a Daytona beach college student has been shattered by my friends who’ve caught the 10-4 bug too. I can’t escape it!

And it’s not like people haven’t tried to stop it. One friend, disillusioned with the phrase repeats “9-8 Central” as some sort of vocal version of Mutually Assured Destruction (because a sizable part of all of us dies upon hearing that) in the hopes that such a stupid phrase would shut us up. (It’ll take a lot more to force it outta our sub-conscience now). However, the people who now use “10-4” out number those who try to end it.

Hell, it even shows up in texts and emails amongst friends.

There is no escaping I guess. Only left to embrace it. 10-4?

Something something 5 stages of grief IDK…