September, 19th 1955

4:24pm, Watkins Glen Road Race

ASCC Championship, 2000cc Class’

Watkins Glen in upstate New York held one of the fastest and most dangerous road races in North America. The original circuit was 6.6 miles long, and had four different types of road surfaces as it wound its way through New York farmland, making it a real challenge. After a series of fatal crashes though, the race moved location in 1953. It was now held just south in Dix New York, and the new track was 4.1 miles long, extremely fast, and most importantly was entirely paved. The 1955 race weekend held five different events, ranging from a 130 mile long Endurance race for the over 2000cc “big bore” class, to a 5 lap sprint for the under 2000cc “small bore'' class. Jack Martin had decided on the sprint race.

Rolling his Porsche 550 through the pits, he saw Stephanie McClaire looking over her AC Ace. When their eyes met she smiled and got back to work, last race they were teammates, today they would be rivals. So goes the life of an amateur race car driver. Charles Schmidt was also here, working on his number 72 MG. Another attendee, although not driving, was Jackie “Hotshot” Shepherd. It was somewhat surprising, as he had been shot in the leg at a race in Ohio, and was still wearing a cast. He wouldn’t tell anybody about what happened, but Newspapers mentioned that a battle on the track had spilled out into the parking lot. Now he sat in McClaire’s pits in a folding chair, apparently helping where he could.

Bob Lewis and Steve Jones had taken part in the Endurance race earlier that morning in their Aston Martin. They had named their all black racing outfit “The Panthers” after the powerful black cat, and had painted their roadster black with white stripes to signify equality among mankind. They had finished a respectable 9th of 45 cars, after a bad crash ended the race early. Now the 2000cc class were taking their places on the grid, waving to the crowd as the announcer introduced them.

“Starting in 3rd position, in the number 7 Porsche 550, “The Hollywood Hero”, Jack Martin!” The crowd applauded but Jack hung and shook his head, he hated his nickname. “The Hollywood Hero”, came from the fact his father once was an actor. He was sent to an early grave when Jack was a boy in an on set accident, and after the insurance money dried up his mother dumped him with her Grandmother on his dad’s side of the family and disappeared. She had raised him since he was 5, remortgaging her home, to help pay for his schooling and later his car. Now he raced to pay her back, using most of his winnings to take care of her in her old age.

Martin wheeled his car into position onto the grid. Ahead of him, a triumph and another AC Ace like McClaire’s but blue sat on the grid. Beside him was Schmidt, and behind him was McClaire. Looking up to the sky, clouds rolled in overhead meaning it threatened to rain. If it did, he might as well head home now. After her performance at Seafair, McClaire had gotten the nickname “The Goddess of the Dark Clouds”, a well deserved title considering her lap record in the rain. It was the only one of its kind, and McClaire had been all over the states bragging about the feat on the radio.

Climbing into his car, he settled down into his office. During the off month, he installed shoulder seat belts like the Ace had. Even though he didn’t get to use them at Seafair, he could see the advantage over the lap belt his car came with. Looking over at Schmidt, whose car didn’t have one at all, he couldn’t fathom how he hung on in the turns. In his mirror, McClaire was lacing up something else. The rules demanded leather shoes for fire protection, so in an effort to look fashionable behind the wheel McClaire always wore these brown lace up boots that made her popular amongst the boys. A group of assumedly single young men in the crowd gathered and gawked at the fence as she sat on the hood of her car to tie them. Noticing, she passed them a wink and waved.

“Lord, she’s going to be more popular than me!” Schmidt joked as he too starred in the mirror. Just then an old air raid siren sounded, it was the two minute warning. Everyone jumped, except McClaire who looked annoyed. She hopped off her car, and walked around to get in, but not before blowing a kiss to her newly formed fan club. One of the boys fainted and McClaire laughed.. A man walked down the middle of the grid with a sign that read “Start Engines'' and so the drivers cranked their machines over and into life. All 18 cars fired at the same time, and every animal in the area bolted for cover. This would be a “Grand Prix'' style start. The cars sat on the grid running until a starter fired a pistol into the air. If you moved before then, you would be disqualified. Every driver had a different technique to get off the line quickly, most tailored to their cars. Schmidt had a manual handbrake in the form of a rear wheel chock on a big lever. Pressing it forward, he could put the car in gear and roll forward onto the chock and hold it there with the throttle. McClaire had her right foot on the brake and the gas like she was downshifting, left foot on the clutch, and hand on the shifter. Martin had the car in gear but his foot on the clutch and his hand on the handbrake.

All the drivers revved their engines, the starter raised his arm and with a bang the race started! All the cars set off in a cloud of smoke. Martin got his Porsche rolling but the car popped out of gear. McClaire rear ended him and he jammed the car back in gear as the top 2 and Schmidt powered away with a better start. Schmidt’s car still had the modification from Seafair, and it kept up with the two more modern cars as they hustled to the first corner. This was a right hand turn, followed by two obtuse left handers that effectively made a chicane around a field acting as a parking lot. Then a second, shorter straightaway leads to turn four, another right hand turn. Now nearly two miles of straight road awaited them, with only minor, gentle humps in the road. The blue ace took the lead here, with the triumph following just behind and Schmidt in the MG. Behind, McClaire overtook Martin as they chased after the lead pack of three.

Turn five, six, and seven, known as “The Gauntlet”, consisted of another right hand corner that then zig zagged right and then left. A grandstand had been built on the exit of the corner, and hundreds of race fans crowded close to the road for a look at the exotic machinery. Missing a downshift, the 2nd place Triumph entered the corner backwards, its rear wheels trailing smoke. The car spun off the course and stopped in a field, as the blue Ace cut through the sea of people. Schmidt followed just behind, he noticed a kid holding a sign, “Go 72 Go” and waved as he went past. McClaire’s car barked loudly as she downshifted into the turn, and with a little slide, she powered down the straightaway into 3rd. Martin tried to follow, but the rear end of his car stepped out passing over a puddle of oil. Sliding towards the crowd, he stood on the throttle and spun his car around to the inside of the track.

“Son of a bitch!” He said to himself shaking his head, today just wasn’t his day. Schmidt meanwhile was sizing up the blue Ace, he pulled to the inside just before the last corner and stood on the anchors. His competitor had no recourse, and the Supercharged MG took the lead as they came onto lap 2. McClaire was now chasing her imitator, out of the third corner she managed to get alongside him.

“Nice car!” She called to the other pilot at over 100 MPH. Grinning smugly under her mask, she added on. “Pity you don’t know how to drive it.” As if to prove her point, she outbraked the blue Ace into the fourth corner, and powered onto the back straight after Schmidt.

Martin was back in 10th position now, he had struggled to get his car refired, but was now battling his way through the pack. An unknown MG laid ahead, the driver seeming inexperienced as he slowed down way too much for the corners. Martin passed him before coming onto the back stretch in his bid to make up time. Meanwhile in the pits, Jackie Shepherd watched the race in his chair, listening to the sounds of sports engines echo through the countryside. It was relaxing, not having to look over his shoulder all the time. But the habit was hard to break, and he startled himself seeing Bob Lewis suddenly behind him. Last time they had met, Lewis beat the shit out of him. Okay, Shepherd hit him first, but still.

“Hey Hotshot...” Lewis said awkwardly.

“The hell you want John Henry?” Shepherd shot back, but it was hard to sound intimidating crumpled on the floor in front of a 6’6” boxer.

“Calm down kid, I got ya something.” Lewis held out a small white envelope. Shepherd took it and opened it. It was a get well soon card signed by Lewis and his whole team.

“Shit man, I thought you hated me after Put-in-Bay.” Shepherd said surprised.

“No, you hit me, so I hit you back. You should pick on someone in your weight class next time.” Lewis said, offering his hand. Shepherd took it, and the two men laughed together as Lewis lifted Shepherd back into his seat. As the cars came past to start the 3rd lap, Schmidt still led, but not by much. McClaire was right behind, headlights on, hounding him. It was experience vs youth, and the crowd was loving it! Martin was back up to 7th crossing the line, he knew winning was out of reach now, but all the big sports car talents in the world were at this race. Maybe a good recovery drive would peak one of their interests? It was a long shot, especially with the show going on up front. McClaire wound the wheel out as they passed through the 3rd turn. The MG was quick in a straight line, but she was better on the brakes. Schmidt knew this, and guarded the inside like his life depended on it. Through turn four and out onto the back straight, McClaire pondered what she could do to sneak past. Schmidt was a smart old dog, maybe it was time to show him a new trick?

Heading for The Gauntlet, McClaire examined the area. It was the best chance to pass, as Schmidt would be distracted by the crowds, being the showman at heart he always was. To the left of the track entering the corner was a large metal grandstand. It terminated at the corner of a T intersection, the road to the left blocked off. Ahead was the field the Triumph had ended up in, and as they rounded the corner, a grandstand and crowd sat to the left side of the track along with a light pole and a flagman, who marked the apex of the corner. But on the right, there was a hillside held up by a not tall, maybe 3ft, stone retaining wall. McClaire made a mental note, and the race continued onto the fourth lap. Coming back around again, she looked and saw a dirt driveway heading up the hillside to a farmhouse. An idea popped into her head, an idea so good and so ballsy, it would put her in the driving hall of fame…
(To Be Continued)