Chapter 27

The rest of the season went pretty well, considering everything. The temporary track turned out to work just fine, and we had some good times there. Most little tracks close up in early to mid September, because the weather isn't quite as nice, but after talking it over with the racers we decided to press on and let weather make up our minds for us. We had one really nasty weekend along in late September that I figured would bring the season to the end, but it turned nice the following week and stayed nice, and with a lot of other tracks closed down we had over a hundred cars out the following weekend. Diane was just about run ragged in the concession stand, and pressed a couple other women into service to help out. I think there was a groove worn into the road into town for all the running back and forth that was needed to keep food in stock. It was far and away the best weekend of the year for not having anything special planned.

Well, one thing special did happen. On the rainout weekend I went back over the record of finishes and worked out a points system, which was something I hadn't bothered to do before. After the Economy Stock A-Main was held, the winner stopped his car in front of the bleachers like normal to get his picture taken and the normal little trophy awarded. This time, though, I had a nice, big trophy prepared and handed it to him, announcing that he was the first winner of the Don Boies Economy Stock Championship. I thought it was especially appropriate that the guy I handed the trophy to was Phil Sharp, who had been best buddies with Don back in high school, and who had suffered through some of the bad days with him back in the early sixties.

We managed to get another couple weekends in along in October before the weather got too iffy to carry on. Although the season hadn't gone anything like we'd planned and there had been a big upset in the middle of it, when Arlene and I added up all the figures on the kitchen table afterward we realized that it had come off much better than we'd had any right to hope. "You know," she said. "We might have something here."

By that time, the new track up the hill was taking shape. It was more than just some stakes roughly driven into the ground by eye; I'd had a surveyor come out to set out some grade stakes a little more accurately, and by now the grading work was pretty well done. It was taking longer than we had hoped, mostly because the excavator was also doing other work, mostly on the new General Hardware plant, which was slowly taking shape back up the road. The concrete footings for our new grandstand had been poured, and the new seating benches and footboards were on order. There was a lot to do yet and the weather was closing in on us, so it wasn't clear in my mind if we were going to be ready for the big opening day I had planned.

Winter closed in hard on us in November, and brought work out there to a halt. It was frustrating to look out the kitchen window and see everything half done, but I didn't have much choice but to be happy for what we had gotten done and I guess like it. I'd hoped to have the paving done before winter set in but the weather prevented that. As it turned out, it was a blessing in disguise – having the winter to settle the ground made the track surface a lot more stable than it would have been otherwise.

One morning Zack and I were sitting down at the Chicago Inn, having coffee and just talking about things that needed to be done. "You know," he said, "It's sort of a shame that we have to close the temporary track. I think we're going to lose something if we give up the casual Sunday racing. I mean, you're planning on running the paved track on Saturday nights, with admission charged on the front gate. But I don't think it would cut your car count down to have casual dirt racing on Sundays the way we've done it this year. I mean, it's not like it's going to cost much more, and you'll be pulling in a different crowd, anyway."

We sat there and talked it around for a while, and by the time we were done with that discussion the "temporary track" had become the "little track." I didn't think that Arlene would go for it, since the dust and dirt from the little track were obviously going to be an issue, but I was a little surprised when she approved. "As long as we're doing it, we might as well do it all the way," was about all she said. I pretty much agreed with her on that.

I won't go into all the headaches and promoting I had to do over the winter to build up business for the new track. Dirt track racers and pavement racers are not exactly the same thing, and some don't cross over, but at least this way we had something for everyone.

I set the opening date for the track as the third Saturday in May, which might have been a little late, but I wouldn't have wanted to make it any sooner. We were working on it right up till the last minute, too, mostly on the new concession stand, which had become a requirement when we decided to keep running Sundays at the little track. Frank was down several times over the course of the winter, helping to get things set up, and along in March or so we were sitting around the kitchen table going over one thing and another, when he made a suggestion. "You know," he said, "It strikes me that something really special could be done for the opening. How about if we get the MMSA guys down here, and you and Arlene could make the first official race on the new track in the 2 and 66 cars. It'd be like the last race of the MMSA."

"I don't know," I said. "Neither of us have raced for years, and those cars really aren't built to race anymore. Those are stock engines after all, and even now they're barely broken in."

"Yeah, but this would make it a little special," Frank protested. "I was always a little peeved at the way the MMSA went out on a sour note. This would be a good way to put a capper on it on a high note. Besides, if anyone deserves to run the first race on the new track, it's you two."

"Well, yeah," Arlene conceded. "You might have a point."

"Besides," Frank said. "It'd be a chance to tie the old with the new. You could make up posters like the old days – MMSA Midget racing at Bradford Speedway on Saturday night. It might even be a little like the old days."

"It'd be better if we had twelve cars," I agreed. "But I think you might be right. After all, the MMSA was most of what got all of us where we are today."

So, opening day rolled around. It could have been warmer, but it wasn't a bad evening for that time in May. I'd pulled out some stops, and we had several things going on besides the racing, so we had a real good crowd that just about filled the new grandstands. I managed to get the school band out to put on a show, we had some thrill stunts and other attractions like them. There would be fireworks after the show, and that ought to be pretty good, I thought. The new track looked pretty spiffy, with fresh paint all over the place. There were some places where the grass hadn't grown in yet, but those were details that had to work out in their own time. There were flags flying around the track. Vivian again sang the national anthem, this time with the band to back her up.

As Vivian sang, the 2 and 66 cars sat at the start-finish line, with Arlene and me standing beside them. We'd agreed that we weren't going to push the cars too hard, but do a lot of passing each other for the sake of making it look thrilling for the crowd. Frank made a big deal of it; after we got into the cars and got strapped in, he announced over the PA, "Lady and gentleman, start your engines." We each pushed starter buttons, and for the last time ever, MMSA midgets roared to life for a race. Of course we couldn't hear him over the roar of the V8-60s, but as we did some warm-up laps, Frank gave the crowd a thumbnail history of the MMSA and our parts in it, and told how these two cars happened to be the last survivors of what had once been a thrilling show that had toured the Midwest, bringing enjoyment to a lot of people.

We'd rarely run the MMSA cars on pavement in the old days – there hadn't been much pavement to run on in the places where we went – but over the past few days I'd spent some time tuning on them so they'd run pavement a little better. After a few laps, Pepper, who was the honorary flagman, gave us the green and white for one to go.