In the 1955, my Grandmother purchased a house
near the Broadway racetrack. On Friday and Saturday nights you could
see the bright lights from the track and see the long line of cars
turning onto the little dirt road that led to the track. You could
hear the racetrack announcer over the din of the cars from her back
porch. Clearly this was a very big and exciting event going on in my
own backyard, or my Grandmother's backyard anyway. I wanted to go, I
needed to see this big event for myself! After some discussion, my
parents agreed to take me. This was probably because my Daddy was a
fan of racing.
One Saturday night, my Mother, Daddy and I walked
to the track because it was just a quarter mile or so from the house.
The track lights gleamed in the distance and we walked past cars
lined up at the gate. We found seats in the wooden bleachers and
waited for the race to begin. This was a dirt racetrack, with local
drivers handing older cars that they had modified in their own garage
or backyard with the help of their friends. The noise was much louder
at the track. The dust choked my throat and made made eyes itch, but
I didn't care because I felt safe sitting between my parents. When
there was a wreck, the men would push the broken car off the track.
All the men scurrying around to move the car off the track before the
cars came around again was the most exciting part of the race.
Broadway Racetrack
Although it was very loud and I had really wanted
to go, it had been a long day and a long walk to the track. I fell
asleep before the race was over. My Daddy must have carried me back
to our car because I woke up in my own bed at home. This was my only
trip to the racetrack because my Grandmother became sick a short time
later, but one trip was enough. When I remember it, my first
thoughts are not of my trip to the races, but are of seeing the
bright lights and hearing the buzzing sounds of the cars from my
Grandmother's porch.