Earl Baltes waited patiently, greeting people and posing for photographs. A crowd of people had gathered at Eldora Speedway, out near the highway close to a grove of trees, glancing at the sky and hoping the rain would hold off for just a few minutes longer.
There were old friends and family, longtime track employees, race fans and several politicians, including state senators,  representatives and officials from Darke and nearby counties. The politicos worked the crowd, shaking hands and saying hello, while Baltes simply smiled and waited.
This was his day of days, when the man who built Eldora Speedway in 1954 would step forward for his highest honor. This was the ceremony in which Ohio Hwy. 118, from Ansonia to the south to St. Henry to the north, would be officially christened “Earl Baltes Highway.”
It isn’t everyday they name a road after you, you know.
Baltes looked at the big green highway signs and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. There were speeches, platitudes and jokes. “He’ll be setting up the toll booths soon,” they said. And, “Earl, now you’re responsible for fixing all the potholes this spring!”
Baltes just grinned, glancing now and then at Berneice, with whom he has shared his life, his work and his dreams. When you honor Earl, you honor Berneice; it’s a package deal — always has been and always will be.
Soon the ceremonies were wrapping up, and people began to filter away. Earl and Berneice stayed and chatted with various fans and friends, while just over the hill, the current track staff (Tony Stewart purchased the track in late 2004, in case you’ve been away) was trying to iron out the race surface after a late-afternoon rainstorm swept through.
In 1954, this was just another cornfield. Today, it’s considered hallowed ground by any race fan.
How do you do that? How do you take a cornfield and make it hallowed ground? How does a simple Ohio farm boy who enjoyed playing the saxophone become one of the most successful and respected promoters of all time?
There is no simple answer, except to note that Baltes was gifted with both a promotional flair and a monumental capacity for hard work. Through 50 years of sweat and swearing, he carved out a legend at this site that will likely last through generations to come, both in reality and in legend.
As all this is happening, traffic continues to roll past on Hwy. 118, some turning in to come to the races, others riding on past, glancing at the scene and wondering what kind of activity is happening here tonight.
When Earl built the track, the road was more narrow, traversed by slower cars built only in America, filled with fresh war veterans and tiny baby-boomer children. The world of 2007 is different in nearly every way, but Baltes is essentially unchanged, the same earthy, friendly, ambitious, outgoing character as always.
He passed his 86th birthday back in April, right about the time he suffered a broken hip in a fall. But the rugged old salt has fought his way back and is again smiling and shaking hands and telling off-color jokes.
During the ceremony, his son Terry asked him what could possibly be next after the great thrill of having the highway named in his honor. Earl simply shook his head, smiled and offered a serious answer.
“The only thing left to do now,” he said, “is just live a little longer.”
Great answer. He’s soared to the sun and left an indelible mark on the entire sport. Now he can sit back and watch the cars roll past on the highway. His highway.