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End of an Error - er - Era
Saturday Feb 09, 2008 11:07:00 PM
It has long been established that NASCAR sprouted its gilded wings from the dank back woods of the deep south, with the smell of fine corn whiskey trailing in the fumes of spent gasoline. The only problem is that the established roots of true stock car racing is one of those ugly skeletons that most fine upstanding citizens like to keep hidden behind the never used snow skies up on a shelf in the closet no one is ever allowed to open.
One can (and has several times ) trace the lineage of racing stock cars back to the whiskey tripping that went on lawlessly through the early parts of the last century.
Make no mistake, somewhere along the lines, someone in thier best intentions decided that home brewed alcohol of any kind was a crime against nature. But as the best of todays bible thumping Christians will tell you, the road to hell is paved with good intentions...
At this point in our ability to create history as we go, the right to drink adult beverages is legal as is brewing beer in micro breweries, sometimes in our homes. Uncle Sam still looks down on those using fermented kernals of corn, mostly because they are probably not getting thier cut on the profits.
The soulful act of transporting hundreds of gallons of 'Moon shine" on a clandestine night run down Thunder Road has given way to other nefarious schemes to be sure. Agents of the ATF still search for illegal stills deep in the woods, but word of Bootleggers being chased hasn't really had the attention of the general public like the televised chases of DUI John Q Public in the south.
What has the publics awarness in the south is that of NASCAR. Billed as the fastest growing sport in the world, brightly colored machines of questionable lineage squirt across milliions of televisions sets accross the nation and around the world. The Chevy's, Fords and Chryslers battle it out every weekend, circling tracks at some of the most mind numbing venues ever.
Its hard to pinpoint any track in particular because the names of the venues continue to change just as soon as the advertising contract runs out. What was last year known as a track named for an electronics company is now known by a pharmacutical company. Just as confusing is the number of colors and sponsors splashed across any one race car.
Its not like the origins of the sport, when racers had two toned paint jobs, and the name of someones garage hand painted on the door and roof. Just as likely, Race tracks themselves held a mistque about them. Lakewood, Daytonna Beach and Road Course, and others of the early years brought out fans just because of the stories of the new sport, and the danger involved with individual tracks.
Flash forward to our anticeptically clean, family friendly Sunday afternoon race series, and a clean race expected by all. Race drivers that have clean records with the law, and no funny business in the family from which they come from. Every single one will step in front of a camera, and be sure to thank all the fine folks who helped get them where they are now just as long as the company name is somewhere on the car.
And speaking of the car itself... When did stock car racing mean 'specially purpose built machines meant only for racing? Ever try to buy one of them race cars down at the local Dodge dealer? If they have one, Its on display because of a Nextel Series event is in town. You can have one for roughly the price of an Italian exotic. Even then it may be a season or two old, and made out of colored duct tape and bondo.
So where did the real stock car race die?
When did it become not ok to have a crimminal record, and still have fans of your driving talents?
Many arguments have been made over the years, and some still rage today. But the most common agreement is Big Bill France is responsible for the whole thing. He managed to rid "his" sport of the lawless whiskey trippers and other sorted lawbreakers. Inturn, the money that was being made by the races was phenomenal. Besides, the establishment of the day had no use for the crimminal element that birthed the modern car race. The France family took the world by storm in bringing the sanctity of NASCAR to the masses. A sport that appeals to every one.
Everyone that is aware of stock car racing today can name a favorite driver, and the number of his car. As of this past week (Feb 5th 2008) The number one favorite is Dale Earnhardt Jr, car Number 88.
Every one has or had a favorite.
Years after NASCAR was actually formed, Bill France SR. was asked on several occasions to name the top ten drivers of all time. As the years went along, the names would change, but a driver named Lloyd Seay always appeard on France's lists. The thing was, Seay was never a true NASCAR driver. He was a Ridgerunner from Dawsonville (some say the birth place of NASCAR) who found he had a knack for racing. Seay was killed in a shooting years before France was able to actually form NASCAR.
There is a duality that is hard to explain, but Bill France SR knew he needed the skillfull hands of ridgerunners to create the frenzied anticpation fans were known for in those early years. France drove in race seasons himself, and hated to lose to the Georgia boys, but he admired thier skills. He saw how thier personalities drew crowds. He probably knew it was a matter of time before other talented boys would take thier places and by then, he could slowly close that closet door forever.
Lloyd Seay was one of those rare being that instictivly knew racing at its very heart. It was a shame to lose a rsing star in a sport still in its infancy. Its pleasant to know that the head of the France family held him and others like him in high reguard because of thier driving talents.
Just as much, it is still a shame not to give more of a tribute to the pioneers of such an incredible event as NASCAR today. Illegal Moonshine aside, getting into a sedan and revving the engine at a stoplight brings about a raw feeling of power and freedon that isn't tangible. Gunning the engine a little on mountain passes isn't for the faint of heart, but brings a little smile to the speeder in everyone who truly enjoys thier car.
Even the most law abiding citizen occasionally rises above the speed limit late at night. Even before drivers panic because of the law that isn't there, there is a moment of savoring that little indiscretion. We arn't running from the law with Whiskey strapped into the back. But I wonder how many who read this have one time or another thought what would it be like to actually go for it? Or run full top down a wooded path from the law and be victorious?
So when was the end of the era, and the begining of the modern Stock Car race?
To answer this question, or at least come up with some probables, try researching the sport along avenues of historical context leading up to the inception of NASCAR. A good vien of research will actually take you back to the structural beginings of our country, perhaps even earlier. At the very least, you will find yourself immersed in the deep woods of the south, smelling the sour mash of fermenting corn.
The first tracks wern't roundy rounds, but rutted dirt paths winding thier ways through rough terrain.
The charactor Doc from Disney/Pixar's "Cars" is probably the closest many of you have come to the early years of NASCAR. Marshall Teague actually drove the real Fabulous Hudson Hornet depicted in "Cars" But to explain the type of journey you would take to research the motor sports history, as Doc said to Lightning Mcqueen
"....you have to turn right to go left..."
Until next time,
Go play guitar Hero
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