nipping at my heels
jesus, as soon as i stood up from my chair it started. actually, about ten seconds later. sharp pain, quarter sized, in the back-right of my po' head. like a little pygmi with a spear, dancing to the beats of my heart. bitchin and moanin from those inconsequential ones never helps. so i took a double dosage of excedrine tension headache... acetominophin and caffeine never hurt anyone did they? well, if i die, yall will know.
i felt like i needed to write tonight but nothing is weighing heavily on my mind. so yall will get some thoughts from the night past. i spent all of last evening out with my dad at the wake county motor speedway. you know, friday night racing. we missed the turn at first because the sign was overshadowed by what appeared to be an abandoned and rusty repair shop/used car lot. it probably wasnt abandoned, just a lot of shit lying around, you know. through that, though, the dirt road opens up into, well, old grandstands on the left and a lot of cars kind of lined up in a big field on the right. so i found a row and parked the volvo. this is all just context information though, the cars are the stars, however hokey and cliche that sounds.
after paying the seemingly expensive twenty four dollars for our two heads, we went on out and stood between the grandstands for a minute. the legends cars were doing qualifying laps... you dont know unless youve been the violence these little cars embody. maybe they arent that dangerous but picture '20's gangster mice with uncorked headers heading around corners at ungodly seeming speeds and you have an idea. they ran the (what im guessing is a) half-mile track in the mid 14's but it felt so much faster because they are so fucking small. if i ever go country speedway racing, i will be driving a legends car. or maybe a stock four. i havent decided.
we made our way down to the left somewhat violating the "please stay ten feet away from the fence" sign - the grandstands start about fifteen feet from the fence which is on the wall, on the track... yeah, its that close - and up into the grandstands to the right a couple rows up. we ended up with a good view of turns three and four (although you could see the whole track) and were sitting right at the exit of four, where it becomes the front stretch.
if you have ever been to a coliseum monster truck show then you might have an idea of how loud these things are. these are race cars, not street legal. im betting my life they dont run cats or any of that restrictive shit. the headers on most of the stock fours, mod fours, and super stocks (v-8's) exited out of the rear right rocker panel, a foot or so in front of the right rear wheel. instead of paint, theres a metal square welded in with the exhaust cutouts in the middle for the pipe to exit. all around, the metal is stained with sut in a nasty, burnt sort of way. but the sounds, oh the sounds were incredible. each engine sounded different. well, there wasnt so much a different between the stock and mod fours but lord, they were wonderful. the fours were the more violent of the engines, it seemed they were being asked to do a lot more than the bigger eights. the fours ran, say, 2350 cc (155 ci) whereas the eights were limited to 358 ci. (5860 cc) - the same as the nascar homologation requirements. this is as far as i know anyway. the fours were beasts, though. especially with the opened exhausts, its just a racket. such a violent noise, not just the blap and retort of the engine but a touch of metal clanging. i pictured the valvetrain making so much noise in its jarring motion that it came out the exhaust. scary.
the bigger eights felt like they were under a bit less stress, and had an easier time with it. of course, no one can really claim an uncorked v-8 is quiet, but less agressive than the smaller ones. of course, theres nothing like an idling eight in a stock car. jesus, you can feel the power. and when the driver jabbed the throttle in the grid before a race, it moves with a quickness that doesnt betray its displacement at all. just growls. animals.
the racing was intense and wonderful. most memorable were the last two, the fifty lap super stock race and the twenty five lap stock four. in the beginning of the super stock, a guy got spun out coming out of turn two, hit the wall, and in the process of coming down the track, rolled onto his roof. thankfully, he rolled right back down on his tires and thanks in large part to the safety equipment on the cars, was unhurt. but it was fucking awesome to see. people got spun all night, it was just what happened. whenever it did, a caution was called and yellow christmas lights hung over the track in about eight places lit up while jerry the flag man waved the yellow. the track's so small it scared me that some cars might not slow down in time to miss hitting the wrecked ones... and they did (slow down that is). since is it such a small track, there was some good racing going on, as you couldnt just pass some guy in one lap. for ten or fifteen laps you could watch a guy get closer and closer to the fender of the guy in front of him, taking the low side of the track while the other guy went high, inches apart. usually the guy who went low had the handling package while the other one had the horsepower. the apex on the high part of the turn opens quicker and more gently so while the lower guy, who can afford to stay at the bottom, gains ground by covering less distance, the guy on top can hit the throttle and accelerate out and down the front sooner. so it would usually even out, with the guy in second inching closer every time. they touched, they had to, a couple times and nothing happened. then, for about four laps, the two rode around the track side-by-side... brilliant. finally, the high guy took his turn too high and the low man was able to fully pull around him. dammit boy.
the stock four race was more exciting. dad and i were pulling for a white pinto with "sarah" written on the back. we figured it was the guy's daughter or wife but we referred to that car as 'her' anyway. she was damn good, too. the purple apple insurance car out of cary started first and led most of the race. sarah started near the back but just fucking drove around most of the cars in front of her to get up to round third place. about halfway through the race (and its only 25 laps) sarah got spun trying to pass the leader. you could see in coming. she was close enough in on his fender that they touched coming out of turn two... sometimes the leader spins, this time it was the chaser. so they called a caution and all, not too much damage done really. sarah started out at the back of the pack and they did the typical running restart (there are many complexities to a restart, which i wont get into right now... but most of them deal with getting off cleanly and slickly from the car behind you - and there are strategies to that - and pleasing jerry the flag man...). sarah, it seemed, had the most horsepower of the bunch, so as soon as they restarted (going into turn three), sarah would leap to the outside of the track and drive around a car or two before the straight. that was how good she was. within a couple laps, she had gained a good seven spots and was sitting around seventh or eigth place. whenever a caution was called, she would jump the man in front of her. with about five to go, and under caution, sarah was in fourth and i told my dad that with a couple more of them, she would have the lead. well, on that restart, she leapt around the third place car around turn three and almost got completely around him going around turn four but they got together and it sent sarah spinning. its a slow motion train wreck, when something like that happens coming off a caution because all the cars are bunched together anyway. sarah went straight into the wall right in front of us, not thirty feet away, and, as soon as she did, someone from near the back of the pack who couldnt get out of the way cause sarah was in his line managed to smack her in the side and rip off her entire front left fender and front fascia. damn. this was fucking cool, and right in front of us. the crowd cheered... everyone was all right. sarah went off, of course, and didnt finish. the apple car, which had run well but had spun a little earlier, fought its way back up to second or third. a blue 22 won the race with NIT2WINIT on its rear bumper.
well damn, we left after that but it was amazing really. a night out in the boonies with my redneck brothers and sisters of wake county. i am not done either. this is something to repeat. all you up north may not understand quite the allure of local redneck racing but let me tell you. its a lot more than turning left.
well, i was going to post a picture of the big super stock boys in turns three and four below but blogger's being a little bitch about it. there are plenty of bad pictures posted on the webshots page and i have been writing for eighty minutes. thank you and goodnight.
i felt like i needed to write tonight but nothing is weighing heavily on my mind. so yall will get some thoughts from the night past. i spent all of last evening out with my dad at the wake county motor speedway. you know, friday night racing. we missed the turn at first because the sign was overshadowed by what appeared to be an abandoned and rusty repair shop/used car lot. it probably wasnt abandoned, just a lot of shit lying around, you know. through that, though, the dirt road opens up into, well, old grandstands on the left and a lot of cars kind of lined up in a big field on the right. so i found a row and parked the volvo. this is all just context information though, the cars are the stars, however hokey and cliche that sounds.
after paying the seemingly expensive twenty four dollars for our two heads, we went on out and stood between the grandstands for a minute. the legends cars were doing qualifying laps... you dont know unless youve been the violence these little cars embody. maybe they arent that dangerous but picture '20's gangster mice with uncorked headers heading around corners at ungodly seeming speeds and you have an idea. they ran the (what im guessing is a) half-mile track in the mid 14's but it felt so much faster because they are so fucking small. if i ever go country speedway racing, i will be driving a legends car. or maybe a stock four. i havent decided.
we made our way down to the left somewhat violating the "please stay ten feet away from the fence" sign - the grandstands start about fifteen feet from the fence which is on the wall, on the track... yeah, its that close - and up into the grandstands to the right a couple rows up. we ended up with a good view of turns three and four (although you could see the whole track) and were sitting right at the exit of four, where it becomes the front stretch.
if you have ever been to a coliseum monster truck show then you might have an idea of how loud these things are. these are race cars, not street legal. im betting my life they dont run cats or any of that restrictive shit. the headers on most of the stock fours, mod fours, and super stocks (v-8's) exited out of the rear right rocker panel, a foot or so in front of the right rear wheel. instead of paint, theres a metal square welded in with the exhaust cutouts in the middle for the pipe to exit. all around, the metal is stained with sut in a nasty, burnt sort of way. but the sounds, oh the sounds were incredible. each engine sounded different. well, there wasnt so much a different between the stock and mod fours but lord, they were wonderful. the fours were the more violent of the engines, it seemed they were being asked to do a lot more than the bigger eights. the fours ran, say, 2350 cc (155 ci) whereas the eights were limited to 358 ci. (5860 cc) - the same as the nascar homologation requirements. this is as far as i know anyway. the fours were beasts, though. especially with the opened exhausts, its just a racket. such a violent noise, not just the blap and retort of the engine but a touch of metal clanging. i pictured the valvetrain making so much noise in its jarring motion that it came out the exhaust. scary.
the bigger eights felt like they were under a bit less stress, and had an easier time with it. of course, no one can really claim an uncorked v-8 is quiet, but less agressive than the smaller ones. of course, theres nothing like an idling eight in a stock car. jesus, you can feel the power. and when the driver jabbed the throttle in the grid before a race, it moves with a quickness that doesnt betray its displacement at all. just growls. animals.
the racing was intense and wonderful. most memorable were the last two, the fifty lap super stock race and the twenty five lap stock four. in the beginning of the super stock, a guy got spun out coming out of turn two, hit the wall, and in the process of coming down the track, rolled onto his roof. thankfully, he rolled right back down on his tires and thanks in large part to the safety equipment on the cars, was unhurt. but it was fucking awesome to see. people got spun all night, it was just what happened. whenever it did, a caution was called and yellow christmas lights hung over the track in about eight places lit up while jerry the flag man waved the yellow. the track's so small it scared me that some cars might not slow down in time to miss hitting the wrecked ones... and they did (slow down that is). since is it such a small track, there was some good racing going on, as you couldnt just pass some guy in one lap. for ten or fifteen laps you could watch a guy get closer and closer to the fender of the guy in front of him, taking the low side of the track while the other guy went high, inches apart. usually the guy who went low had the handling package while the other one had the horsepower. the apex on the high part of the turn opens quicker and more gently so while the lower guy, who can afford to stay at the bottom, gains ground by covering less distance, the guy on top can hit the throttle and accelerate out and down the front sooner. so it would usually even out, with the guy in second inching closer every time. they touched, they had to, a couple times and nothing happened. then, for about four laps, the two rode around the track side-by-side... brilliant. finally, the high guy took his turn too high and the low man was able to fully pull around him. dammit boy.
the stock four race was more exciting. dad and i were pulling for a white pinto with "sarah" written on the back. we figured it was the guy's daughter or wife but we referred to that car as 'her' anyway. she was damn good, too. the purple apple insurance car out of cary started first and led most of the race. sarah started near the back but just fucking drove around most of the cars in front of her to get up to round third place. about halfway through the race (and its only 25 laps) sarah got spun trying to pass the leader. you could see in coming. she was close enough in on his fender that they touched coming out of turn two... sometimes the leader spins, this time it was the chaser. so they called a caution and all, not too much damage done really. sarah started out at the back of the pack and they did the typical running restart (there are many complexities to a restart, which i wont get into right now... but most of them deal with getting off cleanly and slickly from the car behind you - and there are strategies to that - and pleasing jerry the flag man...). sarah, it seemed, had the most horsepower of the bunch, so as soon as they restarted (going into turn three), sarah would leap to the outside of the track and drive around a car or two before the straight. that was how good she was. within a couple laps, she had gained a good seven spots and was sitting around seventh or eigth place. whenever a caution was called, she would jump the man in front of her. with about five to go, and under caution, sarah was in fourth and i told my dad that with a couple more of them, she would have the lead. well, on that restart, she leapt around the third place car around turn three and almost got completely around him going around turn four but they got together and it sent sarah spinning. its a slow motion train wreck, when something like that happens coming off a caution because all the cars are bunched together anyway. sarah went straight into the wall right in front of us, not thirty feet away, and, as soon as she did, someone from near the back of the pack who couldnt get out of the way cause sarah was in his line managed to smack her in the side and rip off her entire front left fender and front fascia. damn. this was fucking cool, and right in front of us. the crowd cheered... everyone was all right. sarah went off, of course, and didnt finish. the apple car, which had run well but had spun a little earlier, fought its way back up to second or third. a blue 22 won the race with NIT2WINIT on its rear bumper.
well damn, we left after that but it was amazing really. a night out in the boonies with my redneck brothers and sisters of wake county. i am not done either. this is something to repeat. all you up north may not understand quite the allure of local redneck racing but let me tell you. its a lot more than turning left.
well, i was going to post a picture of the big super stock boys in turns three and four below but blogger's being a little bitch about it. there are plenty of bad pictures posted on the webshots page and i have been writing for eighty minutes. thank you and goodnight.
posted by sunshine at 11:08 PM
3 Comments:
I can hear the racing from WCMS from my house on Friday nights. :D
There's something remarkably special about the atmosphere there. I'll never forget a few years ago when I went there, sitting in the stands when a very, very attractive girl a row or two down kept looking up at me. "Hot damn!" I thought. Then she looked up and smiled and she had, no kidding, 3 teeth that I could see. That's the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.
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Hah! I can believe it... back years ago when I was a little kid we lived down by Lake Wheeler and could hear the speedway... sometimes you can hear it camping out at Optimist Farms too.
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