Chapter 2

It was one hellofa race. Since the race was on Saturday after the other tracks were closed for the winter, attendance was tremendous. There were, 49 Street Stocks. Street Stocks are generally steel bodied American cars with a 358 cubic inch push rod V8 engine. The interior is stripped, holes in the firewall and the front of the trunk are filled, there’s a fuel cell and certain modifications are allowed. Most of them looked like a car just off a 1980’s showroom floor.

The 30 Super Late Models were allowed a great deal of leeway. Fiber bodies, glass or carbon, rubber moulded bumpers and rear clips. Some took the engine limitations to extreme but short track precludes massive cubic inches ... you can go too fast to stop.

The 25 Limited Late Models had sealed Crate engines from different manufacturers, but all were limited to 358 cubic inches. There were old NASCAR bodies and frames or re-welded Monte Carlo frames and magnetic steel bodies. The Limited Lates put on the best show ... they were very equally matched.

25 4 cylinders Mini Stocks were generally Pintos, although there were a few diehard GM powered cars and a few rear-wheel drive Datsun’s. Strictly four cylinder rear wheel cars.

There were enough Modified Mini cars to make a show but the Mini Stocks far out-numbered them.

There were maybe 60 front wheel drives. Front wheel drive is just that ... front wheel only. Stripped interior, racing seats ... or stock bucket ... roll cage and at least 4 point harness. If you used the stock tank there had to be a steel rub plate of at least 1/4 inch thickness. No four wheel steering or four wheel drive. No Six Cylinders.

There were so many front wheel drives that they started three abreast.

Every class had to wear fire-suits and a racing legal helmet.

So ... I’m getting ready to watch and the boss said, “Go take pictures.”

My bride took pictures and I took names and cities. After the carnage, Peggy, the boss, said, “Make us a webpage, how much?”

And I said...”Hell, I don’t know. I’ve never done it for money.”

“Two hundred bucks?”

Sure ... you bet.

I had no idea.

One hundred and 29 drivers pages with a face and car linked to a Results Page for each class. We didn’t do the front wheel drive stocks. Fortunately, it was the only race that season.

The next season ... holy shit!

Front page with links to the Rules per Class, Results, Drivers, Concession menu, Tire prices, Fuel price, Directions from all directions, a map, parking, Circus style nailer for each race ... and I sang the National Anthem ... unless somebody volunteered.

The next season, we were ready. Karen had downloaded Open Office and we had a points spread sheet. But I still didn’t know how to drive.

The third season I had a decent tax return and bought a racecar ... if one could call an Escort GT that had spent more racetime time on its top than it’s wheels ... and it was cheap. Three hundred and five dollars. Google Maps got us there ... North Carolina ... another turn onto the dirt road address.

We had borrowed a car dolly to get it home. Uh ... can you say Adventure? Flat tire. Broken wheel studs.

I have a 10 ton Porta Power. Came in handy pushing the body back in a reasonable resemblance of stock ... four times. That car spent a lot of time on its top.

I didn’t have a clue how to drive a race car ... and I never finished on the lead lap.

Opie Barndt took me aside and said...”Out to the wall on straights Down to the bottom through the turns. You can carry more speed that way.”

It worked ... until I got a knock in the engine. And that was the name of that tune.