Racing into history
By
Jeffrey Fazio
DriveTime Columnist
When
you race nearly every weekend, it’s easy for events to blend into
each other. The uniqueness of each experience gets somewhat lost just
like some vibrancy is lost once you start mixing different paints.
Individually, each hue might jump out at you, but days later, after
being blended with other pigments, the exclusivity disappears.
On
the other hand, sometimes an event is so unparalleled that it leaves a
stroke so vivid that not even the test of time will dull that precious
memory. Those are the races that become the cherished stories of the
future. When we racers slow down enough to reminiscence of days gone
by, they are the first memories to awaken.
If
we are lucky enough, we’ll be aware of those races as they are
happening and our minds can snap endless mental images like a
photographer with infinite film. Two weekends ago, I was that
fortunate and for that I am sincerely grateful.
Over
the weekend of July 7, 8 and 9, I participated in the 100th
Anniversary of the Giant’s Despair Hillclimb in Laurel Run, Luzerne
County. This was by far one of the most special events I have been
part of. The overall course record for this hill has been held by the
likes of Carol Shelby and Roger Penske, just to name a few.
This
competition is the oldest automobile race in America that still takes
place. It pre-dates the Indianapolis 500 by five years. Needless to
say, it was an honor to participate in this historic event.
The
Pennsylvania Hillclimb Association hosted an awesome weekend of
racing. It was apparent that the officials, workers and volunteers
gave this event everything they had. The local community also rallied
behind this venue in a big way and made everyone — workers and
racers alike — know how great it was.
Like
many others, I headed up to the event on Thursday, July 6, to set up
camp. At this particular event there is a fairly sizeable pit area to
park the race cars. This space is surrounded by a wooded area that has
numerous inroads for vehicle entry to stake a claim for camping. With
the amount of rain that had fallen the previous week, it would be fair
to say that a few of the racers genuinely became entrenched in their
spots.
Friday
morning was used to take care of the formalities of the event which
included registration of the drivers and technical inspections of
their cars. Friday afternoon featured practice runs followed by an
evening of socializing.
I’m
generally an early riser and Saturday morning was no different. Just
after 6 a.m., I climbed out of my tent for my first stretch of the
day. Through the morning mist, I could see that the woods were crowded
with tents, flags and campers. My mind, probably influenced by the
recently passed July Fourth holiday, perceived the scene as a
Revolutionary War encampment.
Beyond
the woods besieged by tents lay the clearing where the battle was
going to take place later in the day. The stillness of the morning air
offered no foreshadowing of the inevitable noise of the fray that
would take place in just a few hours.
As
I marched toward the clearing, the metaphoric comparison between the
scenes continued as I noted that there was a place for the ambulances
to park which would be, if needed, our triage area. There was also, of
course, a line of latrines. After all, where did you think I was going
at six in the morning?
Just
as I was about to emerge from the forest, I happened upon Gen. George
Washington. He stood before me cleaning out his musket in anticipation
of the forthcoming fight. I could not believe my eyes. Surely it could
not be, and of course, it wasn’t. In reality it was Morg Wilson, a
fellow competitor and early-riser, wiping down his beautiful Beach
Mark 5 race car.
As
the pits awakened around me I was struck with a personal, selfish
desire. I wanted to be the first car off the line for this historic
event. I wanted to lead the charge into battle. In the grand scheme of
things, this was a rather trivial thing to desire and it’s not like
anyone really recalls who raced first. However, it was just another
mental snapshot that I could include in the scrapbook of my mind and
that made it worthwhile.
The
weekend proved to be a huge success as the crowd was fortunate enough
to witness Darryl Danko break the hill record in Bobby Rahal’s 1990
Indy car. I’ve seen a lot of amazing things in the world of racing,
but witnessing an Indy car take off on a public road in northeast
Pennsylvania to outrun a long-held hillclimb record surely takes the
cake. It was just another image for my cerebral photo album.
It
would be all too easy to go on with the many other marvelous things I
witnessed that weekend, but for now I am going to hold onto those
memories. I genuinely appreciate these times and look forward to the
day, in the distant future, that I can share these racing stories with
my nephew.
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