Twisted metal at the Lebanon Valley Speedway

By Seth Brown

Summer was at its end, and the school buses in front of me were regarded with curiosity by the assembled throng of children. Some of the buses opened their doors, some put out their flashing stop signs, but not one passenger boarded a bus. A few drivers got out to chat with each other, eventually returning to their respective buses. Soon they began driving, much faster than one should drive in a school district. Side by side by side, the dozen buses zoomed along until one of them suddenly rolled over into the barriers.

The crowd cheered; it was exactly what they had wanted.

The Lebanon Valley Speedway was holding its annual "Eve of Destruction," an event that goes far beyond the usual car races one might expect to see there. It was my own good fortune that I had attended that night; I had originally shown up two days before, but that evening's events had been rained out. A few disappointed men in baseball caps stood outside the clubhouse with beer in hand, the dirt track transformed into mud, rain spattering down upon the open metal bleachers.

Thankfully, the weather was pleasant on the "Eve of Destruction." I arrived a little early, and immediately realized that in spite of my usual demure T-shirt and jeans, I stuck out like a sore thumb. My clothes were well-worn, but somehow not enough to blend in with the faded flannel and more faded T-shirts that most of the audience wore. Even their cars were faded, and many looked as if they had sustained a hit or two. A few women had hair big enough that it could probably sustain ahit or two as well.

I made my way through the rows of concession stands, which only took one-dollar bills, and purchased myself a piece of fried dough. Then I walked up into the bleachers, and looked down upon the large dirt track. The track was long and ovular, banked so the outside was higher than the inside, especially around the turns. A row of Jersey barriers, some emblazoned with advertisements for establishments like "Beer Belly Bob's" separated the track from the inner dirt area, with a few breaks for lanes to allow cars to enter and exit the track.

Before the races, a motorcycle drove around the track as the announcer thrilled to each wheelie. A second announcer eventually came on, and they combined banter and hype in a style reminiscent of professional wrestling announcers from the WWF. Finally, the slow-moving pace car with its siren lights came onto the track, trailed by the eight cars competing in the pure stock competition. They did one lap around the track at moderate speed, and as the pace car entered the lane to the inner dirt area, the judge dropped a green flag and the other cars all sped up.

The first race was fairly uninteresting. Though it was entertaining to watch the cars skid around every turn, the car that began in the lead could not be passed, and won the race uncontested. The modified stock race was a bit more interesting -- a car which began in front illegally changed lanes too early, and the judge stopped the race with a yellow flag to send it to the back of the line. Once the race restarted, the sent-back car slowly worked its way through the pack, managing to reach second place by the time the race ended. Other cars jockeyed for position, occasionally crashing into a wall or bursting into a trail of smoke. Bits of car were dropped here and there around the track, and an orange car with the number 01 made an appearance, driven by two men claiming to be the Duke brothers.

The announcers had an unconvincing chat with them, causing the children to cheer and the adults to go buy more beer and pizza. The country song "Good Old Boys" was played over the loudspeaker system, for the first of many times that evening. It would play after every appearance of the Duke Brothers, and the audience seemed to like it. There were also intermittent announcements for upcoming events targeted to the Speedway demographic, like pig-racing at the county fair. Still, the tourists and their families seemed to be enjoying the show, regardless of whether they liked the racing or the kitsch. It was as entertaining as one might expect from a typical evening of racing.

However, this wasno typical evening. The first "Eve of Destruction" event was the rollover competition. Cars waited their turn to drive over a small ramp with their right front wheel and try to roll over as much as possible. I guess I hadn't fully digested what that meant until the first car drove up over the ramp and rolled over one full time, gaining himself five points as he eventually landed right-side up. This event created instant crashes, which is fantastic because most people (whether they admit it or not) watch a car race in the hopes that someone will crash or flip over.

"What does it take," an announcer asked the judge, "to officiate rollovers?" The judge replied, "Stay out of the way." It certainly seemed like good advice, as one car flipped over multiple times in the air and continued to roll on the ground until it landed in front of us upside down, with a crushed trunk and one tire flattened against the bottom of the car. The driver then got out and gave two big thumbs up to the crowd before his car was cleared out of the way to make way for the next contestant.

Other cars with various sayings painted on their hood, like "out of control" and "get out of the way" took their turns to fly over the ramp; one even put on his left turn signal on before rolling over. The cars that could still propel themselves after the first round took another turn at the ramp, and then a third for the few remaining after that. But even totaling three rounds, the cars that stayed whole could not match the points of the cars that spectacularly demolished themselves in the first round.

Spectacular demolition was certainly the theme of the evening. A man named "Captain Explosion" soaked himself in gasoline, then stepped into a car which had not only been soaked in gasoline, but rigged with three explosive charges. The car exploded, and as it burst into flames, a flaming man exited the wreckage to be extinguished by his crew.

The kids in the crowd loved it. The bleachers were divided into a central section, presumably populated largely by those with season tickets, and two side sections for "family seating," which means that alcohol was not supposed to be allowed. Apparently they were serious, as Speedway Security asked various people (including the fellows directly behind us) to move to a different section since they had beer cans. Thus our section had the usual befuddled father trying to keep his sons from hitting each other and complaining about who got the good seat, while in the center section one could see rows of faded flannel and baseball caps.

A few more typical car races ensued, interspersed with appearances by the Hazard County Sheriff car, the Dukes, and more playing of "Good Old Boys." There were two cannonball runs, and a 20-lap pure stock car race which ended up being quite exciting. The second-runner challenged the leader by driving right alongside him on every lap, but could not pass him on the turns. Finally, just three laps before the end, he managed to skid around the inside of the turn fast enough to gain the lead.

Then it was time for more mayhem. The paper bag race featured two people in each car, a driver and a navigator. Each driver had a paper bag over his head, and had to drive based on the instructions of the navigator. While it was not quite as fast as the other races, there were collisions during the pace lap, throughout the race, and long after the stop lights that the driver couldn't see came out to signal the race's end.

Following this was the highly-anticipated school bus race, where a dozen buses, packed three wide and four long, lumbered their way across the track, attempting to push each other out of the way. Their paint jobs boasted various sponsors, some of which seemed more appropriate than others (The black demolitions company bus I understood, the Amish-made products bus had me slightly befuddled), and after a few laps, one of the buses rolled over.

After many minutes, the track crew gave up on trying to right the bus, and managed to drag it away. Another few buses crashed out or overheated before the race ended, but no more rolled over. Watching those familiar red lights at the rear of the bus come on as they braked around the banked turns was amusing. This was followed by the trailer-pull race, which stopped 15 seconds after it started when a trailer full of tires jackknifed, causing the car to barrel roll five times landing upside down against the barrier while tires were strewn about the track. Once the race restarted, various other trailers soon exploded or fell off, but the rest of the cars managed to keep their trailers attached and finish the race.

A man named "Crash" Moreau drove through a gasoline-soaked mobile home which exploded, simply because he could. His windshield was gone, replaced with a large chunk of mobile home. With the still-flaming remains of the mobile home in the background, cars lined up for the demolition derby. This was pure, wanton destruction as 20 cars slammed into each other repeatedly crushing trunks, fronts, and axles until the tires couldn't touch the ground or rotate. Three working tires was more than sufficient to continue fighting, but soon only a few cars could move while bent and twisted chunks of metal were strewn all over the track.

And as if this somehow wasn't enough, for the grand finale of the evening we saw the Green Mamba in action. The Green Mamba is a car that uses a jet engine. No, seriously. It had come out once before to go back and forth on the track, surprisingly slowly for a jet engine (although it was deafeningly loud, and we could feel the heat of the flames in the crowd). Now, it stood proudly in the middle of the inner dirt area, directly in front of another car. It turned on its engine, and the flames blasted the other car, creating a geyser of sparks that words cannot adequately describe. The shower of sparks continued to shoot into the air and land all over the inner area and far track, as the Green Mamba's engine proceeded to melt the other car.

After viewing this meltdown, I left feeling very satisfied with the evening's events.

Races occur at the Speedway almost every Saturday from April through September, in addition to various special events on weekdays. For more information about the Lebanon Valley Speedway, call (518)-794-9965 or (518)-794-9606, or visit their Web site at www.lebanonvalley.com.