Back in the,heck I dont know how long ago it was but it was a long time ago,maybe in 1950 but I can remember playing out by the shop where dad kept his car in. On the side there was an old car,what kind I cant remember but it was something dad wanted for parts,but it was my race car. I drove many a race in that car because it did have a seat in it so it was right down my alley. I was even woke up a time or two after dreaming a little to long and falling asleep by mom.
Every once in a while I would break out of car racing and grab my trusty trike I had stored out there and run a few races with it. I had the back tires notched so when I threw it into a corner it wold really throw dirt . Man I loved that trike,especially when the neighbor hood guys would come around, thats when we would really get down to racing,Sand lot kids style. We wouldn't go far I remember because there were boundary's applied to each of us and if they were broken it was more than boundary's that were worn on your rear. We would race down the road and through the ditch and over to the next yard where the winner was always declared.
Only thing that broke our routine up was when dad would open the shop and work on his car or roll it out for someone else to pull theirs in for whatever reason. Thats when we kids got to wash it and wash it we did. We rubbed it from that bolt that stuck out on the front bumper to the bend in the rear bumper that always seemed to have dirt stuck in it from the week before. The special treat was the ones that got selected to get inside and clean,just think you were setting in a real live race car.yup it had one seat and a can behind the driver we were told not to mess with,after looking at photos of dads old cars it was his gas tank. Also there was a battery there and if you happened to rub up against it while in there next week that spot would be ragged in your jeans.
On Fridays it was special treat time because it was fired up and took out on the short road we lived on to test and tune ,I guess that was what they were doing because it would fly down the road then stop and everyone would try to get onto the motor it seemed to touch something or turn something. after that the other car that was always there would get the same treatment. But for some reason it always seemed like dads car was louder so maybe louder is faster.
After the loading of stuff up the cars were hooked to the back of dads pickup and everyone piled in for the trip to the track. The two cars went together to the track and always parked side beside too. I remember mom telling us kids that if we strayed out of this little compound we were in deep trouble. I didnt care because I could see better from the top of dads truck anyway. You know come to think of it he had the shiniest truck top there thanks to my bottom side.
It was always dusty at the track and on the way home was also a special treat,the river was only a mile or two from the track and we all bailed off into that shallow spot for some good old time river fun and a little washing to go along with it also.
Then the next stop most times were at a local ice cream parlor where they made the best Hot Dogs you ever ate,I can still taste those giant wieners stuffed into a bun with mustard and onions and always a slice of pickle on the side,yum yum. If things went good at the track,as most often they did,we got a special drink. a big ole Nugrape soft drink,man that grape drink was out of this world.
Back at the house everyone helped unload the truck and race car because it was a major player in our lifestyle. Afterwards mom and dad would go out under the shade trees and set in the swings or lay in the hammock while I hurried and reran the race at least 4 times in my car out by the shop.
To grow up in a racing family was a gift from god that todays kids can only dream of. They go and have to stay out in the infield or worse set in the stands and never get to experience the true love of racing . Oh and the side trips that only "Dirt Track Racing" can offer. Just think of going swimming after the race in the local creek or river down by the road. Never would that happen today or stopping at the ice cream or hot dog shop for a big old juicy Hot Dog piled with onions and mustard and that awesome pickle,Im talking of something that happened 55 years ago and can still taste that today.No air conditioning but the thrill of hanging your hand out the window and feeling the wind. Todays kids set in that seat with widows rolled up tight with a hand held game stuck in their face. Us older racing kids led a life that others today can only dream about after they read it in a story or a senior citizen tells of their experience back in the day. .
Today I have my grand kids around me because my 2 kids live on each side of the house so when the car cranks up in the shop out back I have all the help I need and then some to get ready to go racing. Only one of the boys show a real interest in racing but thats alright there are about five others on the street here thats in love with the old car so students I have. Its harder at the track too because of restrictions but we try to park where if they have to stay in the infield we are up against the fence for them.
Going to a race track today you will see a change in the wind. If you try Nascar it will break you unless you are kin to a millionaire. Your local short track,or at least the ones around home here are trying to survive this drought in the economy without raising prices out of site. The way of the dollar today has sure changed from when I grew up, Dad and mom could take a dollar and make it into $14.92 it seemd like, and oh yeah my dad was a heck of a man,he just couldnt carry groceries like I can. You see I can carry over $100.00 into the house at one time where as I remember him struggling to carry $15.00 worth of groceries in in about three trips.
Another of my recollections of the way it was back when Racing was Real
Wow Johnny, It is amazing that a similar story was being played out just over 10 years later in North Carolina. The race car was kept in an out building behind my grandfather's gas station & garage. It was located next to the highway on a dead end road a little over 3/4 mile in length and our house was only about a 1/4 mile from the shop. On Saturday afternoon my brother and I would hear the race car head down the road. We would run to the front yard and wave and cheer as that '37 Ford coach roared past and out of site. We could hear Dad turn around at the end of the road and head back past us toward the shop. If the motor had stumbled or sputtered at all there would be a pause while back at the shop, then the silence would be broken as the car came back toward us sounding much cleaner and crisper. Once the car was right there were quite a few occasions that Dad would make one more trip and stop on the road in front of the house. Keith and I would climb through the right side window and hold fast to the roll bar for a ride to the end of the road and back. We would laugh and hollar but could not hear each other over the roar of the engine. I can still see Dad sawing on the steering wheel and then standing on the brakes at the end of the road (no disc brakes then), a 3 point turn and back through the gear box as the old pavement could be seen rushing by through the holes in the floor pan. Back at the house I would help little brother out of the car and we would run back inside to get ready to leave for the track.There were many adventures on the way to the track, one time the race car came loose while being flat towed, another time the trailer took out a mail box and another time the trailer came loose from the pickup. Dirt tracks were hot and dusty so I also remember stopping for ice cream (soft serve, a real treat) on the way home if the racing did not run to long and that red ring around the tub when we got home.A couple of years later I learned a lesson about life when I asked were the elbow grease was that Dad had told me to use on the tires while washing a '57 Chevy late model. It was hard then but I can laugh at myself easily now.You are right Johnny, growing up in a racing family is a gift from God. A gift that I am very thankful for. We have never met in person but I feel like we are part of the same family, a racing family and the Racers Reunion family.
Dennis,this proves that at you and I grew up in an era that the later generations can only dream of. Learning of the old way ,and the proper use of elbow grease, is something that can only be relished by late bloomers. Those days out by the shops of our dads will go down in history as our YOUNGER YEARS. Recreating those days is impossible. I have a coupe in my back yard that I am striving to build to those specifications that were used back then. Its hard because most of what was bolted or welded to those cars were built by those great fabricators of our upbringing. Our dads were special in the sense that they had this blueprint or schematic in their head and it was different from others but so close in so many ways. The front end on dads car was so unique I dont know if it will ever be duplicated. I am so glad to hear of another sole that got a taste of racing ---our way!!!! Post some old photos of your dads car back then,that would interesting to see. Here is another one of Dad and his car----------------------------------Memories
Johnny your story brings back so many memories, as my brother and I traveled with my fathers race car and crew 4 times a week in the racing season back in the 1950's and early 1960's.Racing was so much fun back then and I will always appreciate the fact that my father allowed us to be a part of that great experience.