Summer of Smith Racing
I’m currently in an 87 Chevy heading west on the turnpike
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the race track, anticipation was building. We had arrived at the hallowed grounds of speed, the track buzzing with the energy of both seasoned competitors and eager newcomers. With the thrum of high-performance engines in the air, our mission was clear: it was time to unleash Mike's sportsman on the unforgiving racetrack.
After circling the parking lot in search of the perfect spot for our racing rig, we finally found our sweet spot. As we carefully unloaded the sportsman and ATV from the trailer, the excitement in the air was palpable. It was time to get down to business.
The first order of business was to strip away the bodywork and fit the air filter onto the trusty engine. Now, this engine wasn't anything extravagant; Mike and his Dad had pieced it together in Julie's garage. In a world where some engines were worth more than entire cars, Mike's modest powerhouse was a testament to his grit and determination.
Gathering around, we watched as Mike headed off to the driver's meeting, where he delivered the news, "We're starting 5th in the stacked heat." The competition was fierce, with all the drivers gunning for the track championship sharing the same heat. The challenge was clear, and the stakes were high.
Our class was the fourth to hit the track today, which gave us a valuable opportunity to observe how it was evolving and make the necessary setup adjustments. We had some front axle repairs to make, courtesy of a minor collision from the previous week.
Starting fifth and finishing fifth in the heat race was a solid way to kick off the night. What mattered most was that Mike's ride remained intact this time. As fate would have it, he would also begin the feature race from the fifth position.
As we observed other classes complete their consolations and features, the track took on an intense, jet-black hue we'd never seen before. More adjustments were made, and then it was time to send Mike into the fray.
Lap by lap, the field of 31 cars painted a vivid and frenetic picture on the canvas of the racetrack. Without the leaderboard, it would have been nearly impossible to discern who occupied the coveted podium positions. With bated breath, we watched from behind the catch fence at turn 1, knowing that only the checkered flag would put an end to our collective anxiety.
In a nail-biting display of skill and determination, Mike managed to hold onto his fifth-place position, marking his best finish ever. The smiles on our faces matched the euphoria in our hearts as we celebrated a season's culmination on a high note. It was time to pack up, brushing away what felt like an inch of dirt from our bodies, and hit the road home.
The journey back along the turnpike was a lengthy one. While I typically found solace in a quick nap during these rides, today, I found myself occupying the front bench. As I engaged in conversation with Papa Smith about the race, reminiscing about past triumphs and discussing future aspirations, I couldn't help but reflect on the season that had flown by.
This season marked Mike's inaugural campaign with the sportsman, and the progress he had made exceeded our wildest expectations. Although he had also raced his superstock and half midget, the sportsman had been the focal point of his efforts.
In a summer marked by upheaval and uncertainty, dirt racing had stood as a beacon of normalcy, and Mike's invitation had rescued me from the clutches of boredom and monotony. Becoming a vital part of the team was a privilege I cherished, and I looked ahead with anticipation to the race weekends that awaited us in the future. As the headlights cut through the darkness, I couldn't help but smile at the thought of the next season, with its promises of speed, camaraderie, and the thrill of the track.
