True Love, True Passion, True Fans…What we all seem to share - By: D.S. Miller aka - Cincy Race Fan -

Posted Jody Shannon on April 8th, 2008 | Filed under Articles, D.S. Miller

Five years old. I walked out from under a tunnel of bleachers at Queen City Speedway in Cincinnati, Ohio, the sun was shining as bright as I’ve ever seen it, the low rumble of engines filled the air. The air held the brilliant mix of odors, delicious to my tender nostrils. A flash of colors blasted my eyes as my dad looked down at me. I was speechless. I stared down near the scales and was in awe of the bright orange car staged to qualify. A sleek nose, streamlined driver’s compartment, a huge silver “DODGE” sprawled across the quarter panel and a spoiler that was like nothing I’d ever seen. I was hooked.

My dad handed me a program. I looked for the driver’s list and immediately tried to figure out who was in that #1 car. I pointed down at that work of art and toward the list of drivers…five cars had the number one. I asked my dad, “How could five guys being driving one car?” He said…let’s wait and see, they will probably announce them all soon enough. I was hooked.

Turns out, that number one was driven on that night by Bruce Gould. Turns out, he’s a legend. Turns out, Queen City was the former Tri-County Speedway when it was dirt for many years. We watched the races. Dad wrote the times down for me as I soaked in every beautiful moment. He’d ask for the car number, I eagerly listened and gave it quickly. He asked for the driver’s name, I had that as well. Then I listened and gave the times. After they all posted a time we talked about what line was working the best and which cars we thought would be good during the races. I was hooked.

The night was full of great side by side racing, the smell of rubber, smoke and oil were unforgettable. My dad got us hot dogs, pop corn and a drink. I’d never had a hot dog with mustard and relish on it and I really never knew that my dad liked them that way. They were tasty. I was hooked.

The night ended and we walked around the track, met some drivers, a few signed my program, a few gave me pictures of the car they drove. I still have them hanging in my basement. I was amazed. And yes, I was hooked.

That’s been more than thirty years ago at this point. I went to many races with my dad at Queen City. Many hot dogs, many programs in my basement in a special place, many memories. We still remember tiny details like who drove what car numbers, what happened in certain races and whatever else we can use to stir up a racing conversation. For the last several years it’s like clockwork: World 100 is his Father’s Day present, the North / South 100 is his birthday present. He loves it every year…as do I. We are both hooked.

Dad spent thirty nine years at one company, they closed. His hours have been so goofy that he hasn’t been able to go to too many weekly shows. I’ve been a teacher for more than thirteen years and have loved every minute of it. We’ve both been through a rough two years. At the worst of it all, I called him and asked him if he could go the races with me, he heard the pain in my voice and without a second’s hesitation. He said “What time are hot laps?” We talked, ate hot dogs and made some more memories.

I have a five year old son. I’ve taken him to the races several times since he was three or so. He sits by his daddy, gives me the car numbers, wears his ear muffs, picks who he wants to win based on the number, he loves the number 7, so if it’s 7, 17, 77, or even 07 …he’s going there first. Yellow and blue take priority. We go down for dinner, two hot dogs. Mustard and relish of course. He’s hooked.

We are race fans because racing is a joy for every one of our senses. It links generations. It makes total strangers the best of friends simply by having a fan sit next to you. Discussions about drivers, races you’ve been to, races you should go to, things that happened last week, things that happened fifty years ago. What an amazing sport. The sights, a kaleidoscope of colors, the thunderous sounds of engines and tires squealing during a spin, the taste of dust, oil dry and mud, and hot dogs with pop, the breeze and slapping wind on your face as they take the green, the smell of oil and smoke as an engine lets go…the pit in your stomach as your guy goes from fifteenth to second and the white flag is flying. A soap opera, a prize winning novel written right before your eyes, a new story every week, played out live, right before your eyes.

Race fans are a class act. They stick together. They love the sport, they’ll help you out if you need it. After all, we’re all hooked on the magic of racing. This section will be as alive as our sport is, I’ll tell it like it is. It will be opinions, it will be questions, it will be interactive, it will be real. The blog will contain several recurring features. Race updates from a fan’s point of view. Nuggets of news. Many questions that I have , questions I hope someone can answer. I’ll incorporate answers into the columns. I’d love to say I’ll be at a race every week, but this year I’m sure that won’t happen. I’m changing jobs, thus going to many meetings and training sessions out of town. I’ll do the best I can to make entries as often as I can. Thanks to Jody for the invitation to work with him and his team of extremely knowledgeable race fans. Here’s to a great season.

Here’s to the start of another great season of racing