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The Rest of the Storey; the Bandit-VRA Grand Slam of Bakersfield
Just like Paul Harvey the famed radio personality (no relation to the chassis guy) used to say "Now you know what the news is… now you're going to hear the rest of the storey." Mr. Harvey's words ring in my head. What I saw Saturday night was a familiar old tale. It was a family tale. A family reunion of sorts, one where the clan gets together about four times a year, each reunion is held at differing turf, but all similar to the entire clan.
All family is invited and included but not all participate for differing reasons. Some cannot make the trip because of other commitments; some because of circumstances and some because of fear, some say the fear of being inadequate. But forty-one hearty souls took up the challenge. Each one supported by their own. The entirety watched by interested and engrossed fanatics who waved their colors and splashed their beverages in enthusiastic delight and waved their corn dogs in salutary revelry.
Like large families and gatherings we have two main sides to the same family. One group living to the north and one that primarily resides in the south. Even though they may be different, they have a large common trait; they have a passion for the white lightning of methanol and slinging clay on hot Saturday nights. It is that common factor that brings these two sides together for regular reunions. The common bond is contrasted by a somewhat friendly and familial rivalry. There are some who float between the two factions while the majorities remain tied to their own familial bonds.
The northern group boasts holding the original reunion title while the southern family claims the last two of the three past "chameenships". No it's not horseshoes or softball or sack racing. On the line is many various clan members in the serious business of sprint car racing. A sport would be a severe understatement. It is a way of life for these family operations. Each and every one of these mini families take their racing serious and take pride in their unique artisanship.
All have an individual style and talent. Although the sport has been around for decades, it remains fresh with many shapes, sizes and perspectives. And like families every where every individual has their personality and flavor. They are an essential ingredient to the many tasty dishes served to this smorgasbord of racing supremacy.
At the north there is the Bandit clan, to the south, there is the VRA clan, ministered to by caring and patriarchal papa Cliff. He is leading the entire wing-less sprint car clan's get-together while trying to ensure a good and fair time by all (how successful is that in any family?) and keep the reunion a successful one. Sometime there is grumbling from the family about the rules and format to the game but the games are played out according to the rules and procedures none-the-less.
A pill draw put each participant where they ought to be, regardless of their size, strength or sheer speed. Each one is placed into one of five random groups where they have ten turns of the course to race into the top three from which ever position they randomly drew for. Those in the back had to work that much harder to earn their passage on while those in the front had to move with alacrity to hold and earn their spots. The top performers fought, used their unique abilities to bump, bang, cajole sometimes dodge their way to a spot that earned a position to the big family finale'. In the interest of being sporting, the remainder had to privilege of a last chance to qualify for the big family finale'.
In a somewhat mystical and magical way, the last chance races are divided into two and lined up by the finishing order of the five random group races. They were each given fifteen turns of the course with the swiftest this time given the advantage in these last chance races. Even with the advantage there are those who cannot fully take advantage of the advantage and are over taken by those determined chargers starting to the rear. In the end, the strongest and swiftest all earn their way in to the big family finale', while approximately half of the clan are left to watch with jaws agape.
The big family finale' is formed in the same magical and mystical way of the last chance chance's with some turned around and inverted by six just to keep it all in good sport. Twenty-three were given thirty turns of the course this time to find and figure a way to the head of the meet. All were determined to out run and out last every other; willing to elbow, bang and bump their neighbor to end up at the front. Every jaw clenched, every breath deliberately inhaled, held and exhaled without nary a fogged lens. As clay caked their shields and obstructed their vision, the wind generated by their ferocity, like eagles with invisible wings, drove the torn off lenses high into the well lit warm Bakersfield sky. Some slipped, some fell and another tumbled through the event. Some fell injured by the way side. Through the thirty turns, each rumbled and roared, sliding and slipping on the slick Bakersfield footing.
In the end the fleetest afoot came from afar back to claim the title to this reunion followed closely by familiar if not disappointed clan-mates. Each was disappointed in the fact that although they raced their very best it was not the result that was striven for so earnestly. The fleetest and fastest on this warm Bakersfield family finale' was the winner of the last get-together hosted in Hanford. The one in black who is dominating so many northern clan events. But in all equality the overall is split with an approximate equality in mix in both the top ten and top twenty finishers between the northern Bandits and the southern VRA'ers. The determination of all members including the one victorious left on the Bakersfield clay polished to a high reflective sheen. Those witnessing the meet were left thrilled and thoroughly entertained. The fee to witness such a meeting well spent and the free souvenir turf in each cup savored with joy as the fanatics emptied their seats to make their way to their favorites or their way home.
The papa ran a great reunion and the clan resolved to meet in nearby Santa Maria on July 26th for the Grand Slam of Santa Maria for a cool coastal clash of the clan before the Ventura finals. Each determined to be the victor the next time and perhaps they will be joined by some more able to face the challenge laid down by the dominant one, to over come the obstacles and hold to the course.
To what a great honor it is to be part of this great event. There are so many stories of these family members that I am going to write my take on events tomorrow. You know who won, where people placed but there were great efforts made by about every member of our clan. I suppose that is the rest of the storey. I am proud of my northern Bandit family that is for sure, but I am also very proud of my southern kin and my friendships there too. All of you are absolutely awesome. Everyone races hard. To me, there are too many great drives, and with racing too many disappointed drivers who wouldn't walk a crossed the street to finish second. But there are many who love to compete even though they know they need help to be victorious, those are my kindred. I remember those who are the fleetest today had to start with smaller steps in their beginning.
I guess what I have to say to this family is I have an immense love and respect for who you are and what you all provide for each and every one of us who have this meth and clay addiction going on. It was a great family fix. Thank-you.
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