Seems like almost every weekend I’m reminded of why I became a late-model racing fan. Take the Fourth of July for example.
Ms. Wyoming and I were discussing where to spend our racing dollars. I chose a 100-lap pavement race, she wanted to attend an area dirt track where I’ve seen many a lackluster event.
Now, dirt late models are my thing, but that track she chose, I just wasn’t sure about it.
It’s rare that I let Ms. Wyoming pick where we go racing. When I met her eight years ago, she didn’t know Richard Petty from Tom Petty. But on that night, I just went along with her idea, kept my mouth shut and was very pleasantly surprised.
I’m talking about the unpredictable nature of the sport. That’s one of the big reasons we go to the races, isn’t it? You never know who’s going to show up or what’s going to happen.
The next weekend, I was talking to a fan in the parking lot of a popular Ohio track. It was a good-paying race that night with some fairly heavy hitters in the pits. He picked a couple of guys he thought might win. I picked a couple more.
We then agreed that’s why we were there in the first place, because you never know until the flag waves (I think we were both wrong in all our picks, by the way).
A couple of days after that, I sat at my desk reading a race report, wishing I could’ve seen the described events unfold. It happened in sweet home Alabama, where the skies are so blue. A place called Tuscumbia.
The report said Freddy Smith had won his first Lucas Oil Late Model Dirt Series race down there in Tuscumbia at North Alabama Speedway.
Freddy Smith. The Southern Gentleman. A Hall of Fame driver. An almost 800-time visitor to victory lanes at tracks all over the country. A bona fide dirt late-model legend.
The skies up here over the farm turned a little brighter blue as I read.
It had been a while since Smith had captured any big wins. The report said more than three years.
I was in attendance for both of Smith’s Dream victories and most of his five Dirt Track World Championship wins. He’s now over 60 years old and racing on a limited budget compared to many other traveling drivers. I’m still thrilled when he’s driving in a race that I’m attending.
I finished reading the news of his latest triumph, knowing again why we go racing every weekend.
As I write this piece, it’s the middle of the week. I know my race plans for the weekend and I can pretty much name the drivers who will be racing. Hell, I can just about pick the winner.
But there will be a surprise or two in the pits come qualifying time, and even winners have to lose sometimes.
Soon, the late-summer, big-dollar dirt late-model season will be upon us. Everybody will have their favorites for Cedar Lake, Florence, Batesville, Eldora and so on. But not everybody will be right.
Will Brian Birkhofer or Brady Smith win Cedar Lake? Will Bloomquist really dominate Florence and Eldora? What about Moyer? Can he win at home in Batesville? Who knows?
When my dad used to take me racing as a child, I can remember standing on the top row of the bleachers, not being able to keep my eyes off the roadway leading into the track, just waiting to see the next hauler pull into the pit area.
It’s still one of my favorite things to do.
We love the speed, noise and competition of a racing event. Throw in a little drama here, a couple surprises there — that’s what makes racing fun.
That’s why we do what we do.