May 21, 2025: The second clay shattered mid-air with a clean snap, same as the first; followed closely by a chorus of laughter and the sound of a shell hitting the wood floor of Richard Childress’ five-stand.
To my left is Childress himself, the founder and owner of the legendary NASCAR team Richard Childress Racing (RCR). He’s leaned against a post with his shotgun slung over his shoulder, just as he’s held it a thousand times before, smiling as he admires Lee Greenwood’s perfect pair of shots. Greenwood chuckles, happy but not at all surprised by his marksmanship.
Just past Greenwood stands Austin Dillon, the current driver of the legendary No. 3 car. Dillon has spent much of his time in the stand relaxing, enjoying a break from his preparation for the upcoming weekend’s Coke 600.
Now, however, Dillon’s eyes harden behind his sunglasses as he prepares for his turn in our upcoming round of Annie Oakley, a clay shooting game where shooters are eliminated when they miss a target and the shooter to their right gets the chance to shoot the same missed target. The shooters fire in sequence: if a shooter hits the target after a miss, the shooter who missed is "out" of the round. The goal is to be the last shooter standing.
Then there’s me on the right, having found out just over a week earlier that I’d be standing here on this property, feeling a mixture of immense privilege and a need to keep my composure in the presence of four pillars of what makes America great: Childress, who has lived the American dream, going from selling peanuts at his local raceway to owning one of the most prominent racing organizations in NASCAR history; Greenwood, whose song, “God Bless the USA,” is known word-for-word across the nation; Dillon, who grinded his way up from Bandoleros to winning at Daytona; and Winchester Ammunition, the last major American-made ammo manufacturer.
I’d come to North Carolina thinking I understood the gravity of what I’d be getting into. However, after leaving, I realized it was even bigger than I could have imagined: It was a chance to see patriotism celebrated and embraced in a major sport, an opportunity to work with and experience the rich history of one of the most, if not the most, patriotic sports in our country.
But before the five-stand, before the Patriot Award ceremony, and before the No. 3 car’s patriotic paint job was revealed in all its glory, it started with a simple phone call and a question.
“Can you be in North Carolina in a week?”
The Opportunity of a Lifetime
There I stood in West Point, Mississippi, faced with the question of a lifetime. I answered it without hesitation, blurting out a yes before my boss on the other end of the line could hardly get the words out. It was an easy decision for obvious reasons. It’s a trip to the home of RCR, where I’d get the chance to work with an incredible American-made ammunition company. Hearing that, I was already sold. The funny part is, I was all-in from the start and had no idea just how great it would turn out to be.
By the time my plane landed in Greensboro a short week later, the early summer heat was already thick, promising a long, lively night. As I wound my way down the twisty highways of North Carolina to my hotel, I began to shed my nervousness and get excited.
Tonight was set to be a fun event — the unveiling of the No. 3 car’s paint job for the upcoming weekend’s Coke 600, along with a Patriot Award Dinner to honor our wounded veterans. With the smell of patriotism and racing in the air, I pressed the gas a little harder as I sped toward my destination.
Patriot Award Dinner
A few hours later, I met with reps from Winchester in the hotel lobby and we piled into the rental car to head to the evening’s event. We exchanged pleasant conversation, talking about shooting, hunting, and what we expected from the night.
No one had a clear idea of what it would look like, but as we entered the gates guarding Childress Vineyards, we saw private helicopters landing to deposit their VIP passengers, including the who’s who of patriotic celebrities, and got a pretty good idea of what we were in store for. We got in line to receive our passes, and Seth, one of Winchester’s reps, whispered to me, “That’s Joey Jones.”
I suddenly realized I was completely out of my element, both in terms of my attire (a button-down shirt I found at Marshalls paired with khakis and loafers I grabbed from the Dillard’s sale rack) and my experience.
However, what I didn’t expect was that people with this political and financial influence would be so down to earth. After getting acquainted with some of RCR’s people, we began to mingle. The crowd that initially seemed so intimidating became comfortable, and I settled in, feeling far more at ease.
The New No. 3 Car
After maybe 30 minutes of enjoying the music and chatting, everyone crowded around to get a look at the unveiling of the new-look No. 3 car for the weekend’s race. Austin Dillon shared what getting to drive the car meant to him and emphasized the importance of appreciating the veterans who allow him to race each weekend.
“Getting to see some of the young men and women that are serving our country, they are the reason we get to do what we love on the weekend: drive racecars,” Dillon said. “I’ll never forget that.”
This explanation shows that even though RCR is focused on winning races, they want to make an intentional effort to remember those who give them the chance to compete. If their words don’t show that enough, the car’s paint job does.
The strong focus on America clearly shows what RCR is all about. But digging deeper, it becomes even more apparent.
For those who don’t know, the driver’s side windshield of each car usually displays the driver’s name. However, for the Coke 600, Dillon’s name was replaced with that of U.S. Army SSgt. Sean Gregory Landrus, who died on January 29, 2004, from injuries sustained when a roadside bomb hit his convoy during Operation Iraqi Freedom. This was the first example of many that weekend of RCR’s values.
On the Main Stage
After the unveiling, we made our way to the indoor event space for speeches and performances with one key focus: gathering support for the veterans who have sacrificed so much to keep us safe.
The people who took the stage emphasized patriotic, American values, including Lt. Gov. Pamela Evette, Jones, Chris Janson, and Tate Stevens. Jones drew on his military experience to inspire the crowd. Evette brought her political acumen to the stage, while Janson and Stevens captivated the audience with their music. Despite this impressive lineup, the most powerful speeches came from the veterans themselves.
One such example is Spc. J.P. Lane, who decided he would join the U.S. Military after watching the Twin Towers fall when he was in eighth grade. He stayed true to this decision and was deployed as an Army combat engineer to Afghanistan in 2010, where he was responsible for locating and disabling improvised explosive devices (IEDs).
Lane’s convoy struck a 200-pound IED while clearing a path through one of the country's most dangerous areas. Lane suffered the loss of both legs, a traumatic brain injury, a broken pelvis, multiple spinal injuries, and severe damage to his internal organs.
Lane received devastating news from doctors upon waking up from a 6-week coma — he would never walk again, even with prosthetics, and he would never talk properly either.
However, Lane had survived, and he would go on to defy everyone’s expectations. That night, he walked on stage and spoke to the crowd, sharing how the Helping a Hero (HAH) organization changed his life by building him a home adapted to his needs, allowing him to be a beacon of hope and a voice for the veterans who desperately need one.
HAH’s mission is to empower severely wounded veterans who served in the Global War on Terror by partnering with the veteran “to build a specially adapted home designed to restore his/her independence.”
As the night went on, including the excitement of a live auction supporting HHAH and Lee Greenwood’s performance of "God Bless the USA," Lane’s story stuck with me long after I left. It reminded me of what the evening was truly about: recognizing that his ordeal is one of many, and that supporting our veterans must go beyond empty words on social media — it requires action.
Under the Hood — RCR Facility Tour
After a night of honoring heroes, the trip changed gears as we headed to RCR for an inside look at their facility and what makes a racing team tick.
Stepping into RCR’s cutting-edge facility, you immediately feel the weight of NASCAR history. This place is home to one of the sport’s most dominant eras, and that energy is palpable. You might expect the demeanor of the people inside to match that intimidating aura, but instead, I was greeted warmly and treated like a friend by everyone. It’s a building full of good people committed to good racing, from top to bottom.
The tour took me through every inch of the facility, showcasing the various technologies they use to fine-tune their cars and offering a glimpse into just how extensive and complicated the process of preparing a car for race weekend really is.
After finishing the tour, we loaded back into the rental for the next part of the day, the reason why I was there with Winchester in the first place: to shoot some of the finest ammunition in the industry.
Ammo and Blank
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given his well-known reputation as an avid hunter and conservationist, but the five-stand wasn’t just any local range: it was right down the hill from Childress’ house.
A big sign of RCR’s down-to-earth nature came at lunch. Some might opt to order catering trays from Chipotle or Chick-fil-A, but not RCR. Instead, we were served some of North Carolina’s finest barbecue from Black Powder Smokehouse, which was good enough to give me, someone raised on Memphis barbecue and only Memphis barbecue, an identity crisis.
Childress arrived just as we sat down to eat, with a special guest in tow. In a stroke of luck, Childress had invited Lee Greenwood to join us, so we got the opportunity to enjoy the company of Greenwood and his wife, Kimberly.
It was quickly obvious why Greenwood is such a beloved figure. He and his wife acted as if I were an old friend, quickly getting to know me and chatting about life. Austin arrived soon after, rushing in from training for the upcoming race on a simulator at the facility.
The equipment we used for the shooting experience was outstanding. While this might be expected from a company that’s been in business for 159 years, it was still remarkably impressive.
We quickly familiarized ourselves with each of the three shotgun models Winchester provided, including the 12-gauge Winchester SX4, the 12-gauge Browning Citori 825, and the 28-gauge Browning Citori 725 (both Winchester and Browning are owned by FN Herstal), plus a healthy amount of Winchester AA shotgun shells. I’ve always preferred a semi-auto to an over-under, so the SX4 was ultimately my choice. It treated me well in our game of Annie Oakley, which Dillon ultimately won convincingly.
Then, it was time for us to head over to the rifle range and test out some of Winchester’s rifle ammunition, including their new .21 Sharp rimfire cartridge, the next evolution of their famous .22 LR. We got to try a couple of Winchester rifles, including the Winchester Wildcat and the Winchester Xpert. Each one offered the accuracy and reliability to showcase the performance of our ammo, and even on a windy outdoor range, managed to cut through the wind at the 100-yard mark.
Then it was time for the exciting part: Winchester brought a Ballistic gel block to analyze and compare the terminal effects of the .21 Sharp vs. the .22LR. As shown below, the experiment highlighted the .21 Sharp's proficiency. The new round offering great expansion, penetration, and stopping power — even next to the beloved .22 LR.
The Takeaway
I went into it excited for the chance to meet some of the greats of the racing world, to shoot the best ammo money can buy, and to be near American icons. I realized, however, that wasn’t what I left most grateful for. Instead, it was about seeing how patriotism isn’t just words on a pre-prepped media sheet; it's lived every single day.
It’s the core value at RCR and Winchester, one they don’t shy away from but embrace. They understand what our veterans allowed them the opportunity to do — for Childress, build a racing empire that started at his local racetrack, selling peanuts and popcorn to buy a racecar; for Winchester, the last major American-made ammunition company; and for Dillon, who grinded his way from Bandoleros to becoming a 6-time NASCAR Cup Series winner.
I landed in North Carolina as a writer just hoping to keep up, but left as someone deeply moved by the pride, generosity, and unapologetic commitment to their values on display.
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