The Diamond Hill Boys
The Diamond Hill GangTwo older fellows were setting on the porch one afternoon talking over important things when a boy of maybe ten or twelve went running by as fast as he could considering he was carrying a bent up wagon axle and wheels. One gentleman turned to the other and said one day them wild kids gonna get hurt up bad playing with them dang wagons they keep repairing to go sailing off that hill into the sand pit,the other said don't think so because they having problems about halfway down with the turns they got in that there track they carved out.well night time came and about five kids came up the road a laughing and betting who was gonna beat who tomorrow on the track,about that time one kid that was black said he was gonna skunk all them next time they raced. A tall bushy headed said only if you pass me will you be champ.Both guys on the porch laughed at the comments the kids were making going home for the night. this is in the fifty's after the war and America is brimming with opportunity's and there is talk of sending a man to the moon,imagine that!Well the Diamond Hill Boys drifted off as their parents moved to better jobs in other parts of the south,and the hill was taken over by mother nature.Fast forward to the sixty's when every guy almost had a car and everybody's was faster than someday.Well only place to prove that was on the track and in the south we had an abundance of them,long,short,or in between.Almost every service station had an old hotrod setting around advertising their wares and a lot of back yards were lite up with late night tedious work being performed for the weekends race.Remember the Diamond Hill boys? Well they got into auto racing too,some had a little shop out back and some worked in a real garage down town or up on some chicken farm. Even the black kid was out there every weekend slugging away with his old clunker. As time travels on each carves a nitch out in the sport that suits him and his finances,and they progress on running on faster and bigger tracks.As luck would have it they kept meeting up at different tracks where some won some lost, they even helped each other because all were not equal in equipt,but if one needed it someone supplied it,even the black guy was in their circle.Bump time on up the hill a little and most are older now and a little wiser too.Finances have become satisfactory for most and their paths start crossing again.One day they are out on a boat fishing,they are down to four players now ,and fish aren't biting but the radio is playing and the race is advertised. The talk turns to the old gig,cars and racing. So that night at the motel restaurant a new deal is drawn out on a napkin.They gonna go racing again,sounds good but you know they haven't been behind the wheel of a car in a few years.One jumps up and said we did it when we were young lets do it again,lets build us a race track that older cars can race on.The black guy jumps up and says heck we can call it the vintage racing group.You know that has a ring to it and all agree.They form a group, name it appropriately,and start hunting land. As luck has it they buy an old race track from out of the fifty s and there you go,the Diamond Boys are back playing in the dirt,but they stir up interest from the general public and others want to come play. Well now this calls for some thinking . Well today this bunch of play boys have a group that has grown to unthought of size,and the way it looks it is not through with its growth but the initial group is holding on to the original dream of vintage racing and to preserve the memories of what is slowly drifting away each and every time one of our senior members and drivers move on to the great track in the sky.Now lady's and gentlemen this a yarn I have spun out of my memories of the past and what will happen in the future if we don't capture and preserve the knowledge that is leaving us every day.God bless us all and always remember you can always relive your--" Memories"-- every day.See you in turn Four
There was this young boy in the Piedmont sands of Georgia who's family was so darn poor the Friday/Saturday night events at the local track were far and few between. The only exceptions to attend were when his best friends Dad decided he wanted to have an evening of dirt and dust and decided to take his son and his son's close friend. This friend's Dad was a cop so he simply drove up to the gate, flashed his badge and in the three went.Other times races were actually viewed from trees and when the largest racing complex in the world was being constructed just a few miles away begging after begging was always presented to his parents for a simple trip past that place of glory. Hours were spent reading magazines at the local store, unable to purchase, and at the Library uptown and so came the stories of far away places and drivers never to be met."I will do that one day and one day I will meet these men of speed!"Family, work, kids and moves about the country set in and little time is left for speed. Gone 27 years from home and burned our on corporate America the speed demons return to his brain. He retires from a six figure income and builds a machine of speed and pens the following story:http://www.thevintageracer.com/articles/racing_history.htm Good Racing to all!
You sir are a great spinster of the truth in which you are a part of.That is a great piece you wrote about your little horse.What I did was a spur of the moment thought setting out back by myself after got back sunday. I took a little of what I heard there and a little from my memory and what came together was a fictional but a real scene from back in the day. You can actually put names to all the players if you are truly a racing nut like I am and maybe you. Maybe I will continue with the saga as time goes on and more memories envade my mind in between my desire to make one more lap with the Lady.-----------------memories