The 2025 USA Month of Money blog ….

        RIP Adam

“Dedicated to the memory of the late Adam Hopf.”

Updated on August 27th to the very end. All 50 days are now “in the can” as they say.     

The continuity of this blog was always going to be affected by a lack of sleep, an abundance of racing, no rain, thousands of kilometres and above all, way too much fun.

I was pleasantly surprised that I actually got the Blog to halfway through the tour before all the above caught up with me. 

Now that we are back home in Oz, I have been able to catch up on the missing month and the stories below carry some incredible memories of our 2025 Month of Money tour.

More photos will be added in due course.  

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On June 25th the first nine of 23 tour members will step out of a Qantas jet onto American soil in Dallas, Texas. For all but one, it’s their first time in the land of sprintcar heaven.

After a layover to get acquainted with hamburgers and fries in the food court of the massive airport, it’s off to Harrisburg the capital of Pennsylvania. It’s here that they can finally put their head down for a long awaited sleep in a bed. Racing starts Friday at Williams Grove for Round 1 of Pennsylvania sprintweek.  After that it never stops …..

On July 13th these early settlers will greet another eight arriving in Cleveland, Ohio to make it 17 on tour.  In fact they get right into it the very next night at Fremont Speedway when the High Limit roadshow re-runs a rained-out race from May 14th. Then its Attica for the Brad Doty followed by four super-fast nights of the King Royal at Eldora. Not a bad first six nights huh?

In Indianapolis on July 23rd, we become 19 and in St Louis on August 1st we reach our maximum size of 23.  The Knoxville Nationals are closing fast for all these people.

Tune back into this blog after June 25th to read all about our adventures on the open roads of the United States of America.  49 days, 11 states, 37 races and near enough 16,000 kms.

PS:   We will add some photos when we can, but upon our return home we will brighten up the blog with the best that an iPhone 16 can capture.

The magnificent Ray Skillman collection in Greenwood, Indianapolis. We’ll be there on July 28th.

Prelude: June 18th to 24th, 2025

In the early days of Global Speedway Tours, I used to accompany the group over from Australia and host them right from the start. It wasn’t easy because I always had my fingers crossed behind my back hoping like hell that everything I had arranged would happen like clockwork.

But in time (pun intended) I discovered that clocks can always stop and tell you the wrong time. Similarly, things that were meant to happen in the land of the USA often went astray if you didn’t keep winding people up to do what they said they would do.

Hence, I started going as the advance party to ensure what should happen, actually does happen. This year though, I thought an even earlier start to do some pre-season training with Stubb would be a good idea. I didn’t consider the consequences though because he was as eager to see me as I was to see him.

Hence you can imagine what went down …..

For three nights in a row we went to the final rounds of Ohio Sprintweek and I was able to get in some early training in matching drivers to car numbers, learning new paint / wrap schemes, meeting old and new friends of Stubb whilst simultaneously cataloguing names and faces for next time, (like Kings Royal for example) and of course rehearsing my skills in the copious consumption of large quantities of Busch Light.  (Light in fat stuff, not alcohol.)

At Chillicothe (Atomic Speedway) on the third night, the funniest thing that I reckon I have ever seen Stubb get involved in unfolded right before my eyes. It’s worth re-counting so you can pick on him when next you meet.

We had saved our two measly seats in the bleachers on arrival, then returned to the parking lot to have a couple with the people in the car that pulled in next to us. As you do.  Upon returning to the seats the crowd had grown somewhat and people had encroached on our territory, but not uncomfortably so. However it meant that Stubb was closer to this elderly gentleman (he was about five years younger than Stubb and I) than perhaps he would have liked.

It was inevitable that Stubb would start a conversation with him, and all went swimmingly until the younger old guy (YOG) asked Stubb what his favourite track was. (Note that an earlier discussion had revealed that each lived in Ohio.) Stubb answered as you would have expected him to.  “Eldora”, he replied. YOG didn’t respond quickly and clearly something was wrong. He stuttered a little and after a small delay, he whispered, “I’ve never heard of Eldora. Whereabouts is it?”    

Well, it’s not often that Stubb is dumbfounded and can’t immediately fire back with an answer.  But tonight was the night. Stubb could not speak. He thought everybody in the world knew where Eldora was. Especially a guy from Ohio sitting in another Ohio track that was hosting a major sprintcar race. You’d sort of kinda figure he was a fan. But apparently not. Forever and a day Stubb and I will remember that exchange and already we have relived it more times than quotes from The Castle.

Day 1 – Wednesday June 25th

For me the day started in Pittsburgh because that’s where I spent the night after driving from Stubb’s house in Van Buren, near Findlay, Ohio.  (Just northeast of Eldora.)  It took two goes to get the right vehicle for our ground transport. In the early days we used Chevrolet vans which started life as cargo haulers, but then GM put seats in them and called them a passenger van. They were powerful, considering they had a 6.6 litre V8 driving the back wheels. But the bumps for the passengers outweighed the power it had.

So, we swapped to Fords who designed their passenger vans as a passenger van. But now the go is (would you believe) Mercedes Sprinters. So that’s what we’ve got …. for the same price as a Ford. It’s jet black and as frequent GST traveller Shayne Andrews (but he’s not on this tour) says, “when you step out, do you have to be wearing a suit and have an earpiece embedded into your aural hole.”  Not quite Shayne, but Mercedes certainly put a lot of room in it.

Tonight will be the test of that extra room, when we pack it up with luggage for the first time at Harrisburg Airport around 2.15am. Yes, despite the best laid plans of the tour leader, the weather still remains a major player in creating uncertainty in flying around the US.  Storms at the place of lift off, or landing, will always cause delays and tonight is no exception.  They (being Sue, Andrew, Danny, Darryl, Barry, Rodney, Lynette and Ray) are all currently at Dallas Airport’s Terminal A testing the Tapas Bar adjacent to Gate 38. They leave at 9.57pm Texas time which is in about 40 minutes from now as I write.

The black maria will head out to MDT (Harrisburg) at 1.15am ready to meet them on arrival at 2.05am. I feel vindicated a little because having anticipated some sort of delay as usual, their tour started a day earlier than last year.  Hence, they have an extra day of recovery. So welcome drinks in the parking lot may still occur around 3.00am .….

I will report on that tomorrow.

Day 2 – Thursday June 26th

Usually at this time of morning (1.40am) we are just returning home from the track!  But tonight, it was setting out for the airport to pick up eight, who by now must be very weary travellers. Well things didn’t go quite as planned.  Streetlights aren’t considered a major item in the USA, particularly on the Interstates. Driving north on I-83 on a moonless night was bad enough, but having to read countless electronic roadside signs every 150 metres or so didn’t help. Their purpose in life was to tell drivers there was construction ahead and that traffic will stop, resulting in long delays.

I slowed, as most vehicles did to adjust to the conditions, but some were oblivious to it. Racing past me at 70 mph in virtually pitch-black conditions illuminated only by the numerous temporary signs. For those who may know the exact spot, I will describe what happened next. The very wide Susquehanna River runs through Harrisburg, hence I-83 also has a very long bridge. In daylight the view from this bridge is spectacular on both sides. Tonight though it was as black as the inside of a cow.

The build-up of hundreds of semi-trucks and as many cars began on this bridge. The tail end of the traffic jam had been reached. We all slowed even further but two cars, one of which was a stylish Ford (pick-up in Oz lingo) went speeding on.  Ten seconds later just 20-25 metres in front of me they both buried their vehicles underneath the back of one of those semi-trailers. I heard the extreme noise and saw it all unfold in the headlights of mine and other people out driving late at night.

Braking heavily and pulling into the adjacent lane allowed me to bypass the devastation that had occurred just seconds before. I glanced at what was left of the Ford noticing that the engine bay and its contents were now back with the driver who was sitting upright and motionless, his hands still on the steering wheel. The other vehicle was only visible from the rear window back.

My mind raced hard. Do I stop and assist, thereby ignoring the arriving passengers at Harrisburg Airport?  I was helped to a decision by the sight of the truck driver walking up to the end of his semi with a flashlight searching through the smoke, steam and darkness.  I could see a handkerchief he had in his hand covering his mouth and nose …. it was that sight alone that caused me to keep on going.

The traffic had stopped completely now. No movement for 10 minutes or so. The only sound was sirens in the distance gradually getting closer. Eventually fire trucks, police and ambulances arrived from behind us using the emergency lanes. But because of the massive volume of traffic across five lanes there was no way any vehicle could move to allow access to the crash site.

Hence they dropped off several paramedics to do what they could and then continued north using the emergency lane until the next exit where they then found their way to the on ramp to go south and drive back up to the scene.

I composed myself sitting doing nothing except staring at the big red line on the GPS which was once a blue one providing direction to the airport. I then noticed the time. The plane was due at 2.26am. It was on time, but I wouldn’t be. The ETA was blowing out quickly. 10 more minutes passed and still no movement. The rescue guys had arrived on the other side of the interstate and jumped the cement dividing barrier and began to do what they are trained to do.

And then, as if a bolt from heaven, the GPS flickered into life and her voice started. “We have found a faster way to Harrisburg Airport” said Sybil. (My name for the GPS because it knows everything.)  At the same time the screen went berserk for about three seconds before settling on a series of left right, left right turns starting at the next exit. The same one that the ambos had used.

I looked at the ETA which had also changed. It had returned to 2.22am.  I could still make it!! Luckily I was in the lane next to the emergency one. In desperation I too pulled out of line and headed down it to the exit and commenced a drive (albeit slow) which didn’t stop once. For long periods there were no other cars going in the same direction as me as I cruised past the now five mile (eight km) long stationary traffic jam on the opposite side of the interstate. Why was I going in a totally different direction to what I was half an hour ago?? After 15 minutes an external sign for Harrisburg Airport came into view and I now knew the Sybil had done her job.

From there it was a breeze and I arrived at the appointed time of 2.22am, parked the enormous bus outside the American Airlines Terminal, locked it up and walked inside to greet the guys as they walked into the Arrivals Hall. I wonder what I looked like to them?  I think they were in better nick than me, even after their 30 hour journey.

From there our task was to get back to the Hotel, as clearly the road construction and the accident had caused chaos in Harrisburg tonight.  But Sybil was very good again and she knew there were detours for us to take and accurately steered us past the construction zones (which were in both directions by the way.)  But she had to put us on I-83 to get over the Susky. (The river.) Hence we had to drive straight past the accident scene (on the other side now).   By this time police had stopped all traffic totally from getting on the bridge from the south to allow a clean up and investigation to occur.

The two vehicles were on the back of tilt tray trucks totally on show for the passing parade of private cars. The damage was immense. Too dark for a photo, not that anyone would have wanted to.

We reached the hotel, had a drink in the parking lot on what was still a very hot night. Then went to bed.

I could have just written that final sentence, but figured you might like to know what happened on “the night I drove ole Dixie down …… to Harrisburg Airport.”   Maybe that’s her name from here on?

Let’s now resume with what happened in the daylight hours ……

One of us, namely Danny, was so excited to finally be in the US he chose to stay up until dawn and as it turned out, all of Thursday.  He elected to have a swim at 5.00am, stand outside on Carlisle Pike (it’s the name of the road) and watch the traffic go by til 7.00am. After which he went inside for breakfast where he met the rest who couldn’t sleep either. Your author was the last one down to brekky (at 9.25am) just in time.  That’s what the pre-season training does for you.

So, what was on the agenda today?  First it was to Walmart in what is expected to be one of approximately 30 visits across the course of the tour. Fold up chairs for tailgating was a must along with stuff that people bought but wasn’t visible because of those unfair non see-through Walmart plastic bags …..

From there I could smell the adrenalin arising from a super excited Danny. I thought it important to therefore release part of that pressure build up by driving to Williams Grove Speedway to see the track before tomorrow night.  Mission completed by standing at the turn 1 fence surveying a track that drips history and imagining just what we will see on Friday night.

A nap was in order from here so after a fun lunch at the adjacent Buffalo Wild Wings, where Emily earned herself a kangaroo for her wonderful service, folks returned to the hotel and had some free time. Dinner was in the Hibachi Chinese Buffet next door to the Harrisburg Bass Pro store which looked resplendent with hundreds and hundreds of American flags “planted” in the garden beds surrounding the entrance. Very impressive indeed.

The day ended with everyone assembled in the Hotel lounge watching the High Limit sprintcar racing from Wheatland, Missouri on Flo Racing.

Day 3 – Friday June 27th

Race day #1 is now upon us. And therefore, it becomes time to worry about the weather. Williams Grove hosts Round 1 of Pennsylvania Sprintweek tonight so eyes are constantly looking to the heavens. In actual fact to make the story easier to read, the weather when we woke up did not change through the day and night. It was heavily overcast, 30 degrees (Fahrenheit) less than yesterday’s 98, and misty light rain all day. If it was winter and zero degrees, then it would have been snowing all day.

Enthusiasm was high however, as we drove to the EMMR (Eastern Museum of Motor Racing), that the weather apps (you must have more than one on your phone) were correct with their forecast predicting skies to clear in the afternoon.  Inside we went where the very knowledgeable Brendan Bell provided a near two-hour tour of the museum, lovingly explaining everything he could about everything in there.  It was lapped up!  Thanks Brendan and Curator Mike Winslow for your very friendly attention to our needs.

Walking back outside, eyes once again immediately shot skywards, only to see that nothing had changed in the skies. It was still chilly with “Warrnambool sea mist” floating down to keep the ground continually damp. Mike also gave us a private tour of the overflow Storage Shed they have on the property.  It has numerous other cars in there that aren’t usually seen by the general public.

Lunch was at the delightful TJ Rockwell club around the corner from the speedway. Great service, good food, nice ambience, but a need for stronger lighting would help Barry to be able to read the menu. (You had to be there!)

Around 3.30pm we returned outside to look at the sky again. Yep, still misting.

As it was just five minutes away when we drove into the parking lot of Williams Grove. As much as I really wanted to park under the trees on the hill where we always do, there was no need for a shady area today. There was no sun and it was cold. When we spied Mike (from EMMR) in the parking lot we instantly decided to position Dixie (the bus) next to him and we piled out to discuss what speedway fans talk about when it’s raining.

We became aware that in season 2025, Williams Grove has already had 10 rain outs, pretty much destroying their year. Would tonight be the 11th? Sadly, it was and we drove out of WG knowing we could not return for next Friday night as we will be in Ohio at Atomic Speedway.

Dinner was at Aroogas on the Carlisle Pike where Global Speedway Tours paid for food and drink with the admission money that we all would have much preferred had stayed with Williams Grove.

Day 4 – Saturday June 28th

I have no doubt that at least five rooms in the Holiday Inn Express this morning had their curtains pulled back at first light to determine the shape of the day. Not, was it hot or cold?  Not, was it windy? Just purely to see if it was raining and if so, how hard. That’s the only important thing in their lives at the moment.

The answer by the way was misty, cold and overcast. No different to yesterday. Hopes dived ….

Gettysburg was our objective today. 38 miles (60 kms) south from the Hotel. Apart from last year, when we did what we did today, all previous tours deposited our members onto the “Battlefield Tour Company” buses. On average AUD$85.00 per person or so dropped into the company coffers. I figured there had to be a better and more economical way.

After some degree of googling, the Auto tour of Gettysburg was located. An app purchased for $20 appeared perfect. It is triggered by its built in GPS system which, because it knows exactly where you are in the vast Gettysburg killing fields, starts and stops with great info and explanation about what happened (and why) at precisely the spot you are at.

Last year it took a while to figure it all out, but this year it ran like clockwork and became a big hit. What else can you say about a three-day battle in which 55,000 Americans were murdered by other Americans. The course of the Civil War took four years to unfold with Gettysburg easily the worst part. Having said that, later Americans (in our era) have maintained a superb National Park in remembrance of the inexplicable 72 hours of mayhem.

A wonderful three hours or so was followed by a buffet lunch at the brand new Barn Function Centre purpose built for tourists who flock to this part of Pennsylvania in summer.

At this point spirits were high because through the magnificent windows of The Barn, the only thing visible to speedway eyes was a bright blue sky. Perhaps they also saw the sensational green countryside we were in as well, but that didn’t get a mention.

Driving to Lincoln Speedway was a hoot.  Barry needed us to stop at Walmart to buy a toaster, some butter and a loaf of bread. He wanted to ask Billy Dietrich to eat a slice of toast with butter and vegemite. Something he had declared on his You Tube channel that he would never do.  As the brother of Danny, the champion sprintcar driver (from Gettysburg), Billy has established his own identity on You Tube with a regular show about life as sprintcar owner / driver.

Hotter ‘n hell when we arrived at the track. We stopped in the usual spot next to the gravel road through the parking lot where all transporters line up waiting for the pits to open. It’s actually a sight you can never get bored looking at, but for some wide-eyed fans hanging out to see a sprintcar (even if it is inside a hauler) the sight was memorable indeed.  42 of them lined up in a rectangular fashion around the car park.

But these fans failed to raise their eyes above roof level. If they had, they would have seen the dark clouds forming in the west. A sure sign we were in for an afternoon storm.  But it was only 4.00pm.  Plenty of time to get the track back. Which they did, but it was the second bout of rain and potential of more that drove the final nail into the coffin.  Stumps were drawn with only hot laps and three cars completing qualifying.

Tonight’s Kevin Gobrecht Memorial has been transferred to Monday night when we hope it will happen without Mother Nature doing her thing.  And maybe Billy will get his chance to eat some toast and vegemite.

Day 5 – Sunday June 29th

Usually when we leave a half day free for personal duties, it means doing the washing. But not here. The washing machine in the hotel has had the ‘Out of Order’ sign on it since we arrived last Wednesday. And I suspect, probably for a lot longer than that.

So we rounded everyone up and headed for the nearest Laundromat, which as it turned out was probably the most modern and hi tech anyone has ever seen. The washers (22) and dryers (24) were in tip top condition and the place was spotless.

From there it was a quick pit stop at the hotel to collect belongings for tonight before tackling the immensely delicious offerings at the Olive Garden. A chain of 943 such places around the country.    The Italian cuisine and the physical surroundings made for a terrific lunch. In a private room and all!

Our third attempt in three nights to see a race was next. BAPS Motor Speedway in York Haven was the place. 26 minutes south on I-83 was all it took and on arrival took up the exact same spot as last year. It appears that Americans are equally as superstitious because those around us remembered the flags from last year and assumed it was the same gang. The fact that the van was black this year didn’t register with them.

With temps in the 90’s we soldiered away with the help of shade from the adjacent race trailer next to us until it was time to buy the tickets (because it was definitely going to happen) and go into what is a nicely refurbished racetrack. But next year’s BAPS capital works program must surely include destroying the toilets and rebuilding them.

We watched everything up to the end of the heats from our expertly reserved “Danny Starford seats” in the bleachers but during the break Barry, Darryl, Danny and I crossed over the shoe sucking clay of turn 1 onto the infield. We had a super time in there and, after only intending to stay for the C Main, we finished up watching the B and the A from there as well.

For the record, Danny Dietrich won from Chase Dietz and Ryan Smith. But more importantly our first GST sweep yielded the winner’s share (100% of the pool) to the author of this fine journal …..

Day 6 – Monday June 30th

Today was always going to be different, no matter how it turned out. Firstly, the bus took off for places unheard of before by the group. Secondly we experienced two race nights in succession. A massive achievement for this tour so far.

But seeing six covered bridges, encountering towns with names like Blue Ball, Paradise, Bird in the Hand, Lititz and then entering Intercourse just before lunchtime was almost too much. But they persevered and managed to go in and out of Leacock County (true) several times.

The weather was turning and in the distant southwest clouds were building and once again fears were there that Lincoln would again be hit with storms. We negotiated the 53 miles to Abbottstown  via the historic US30 transcontinental highway where the track we left on Saturday had dried sufficiently to permit 900 horsepower cars loose again.

The winner of the lightning shortened race was Freddie Rahmer, one of Fred Rahmer’s triplets. Fred shall ever be remembered by Steve Raymond at Parramatta City Raceway many moons ago when he interviewed Fred out on the track as the visiting star from America. Fred and wife had just had the triplets before he left to race in Australia. As is usual with Americans, it is important to ask them where they are from. Steve was no different and his first question was “Tell me Fred where are you from back home”. Meaning, “what town do you live in?”

Fred’s response, which stunned the crowd was “Intercourse, Pennsylvania.”  Steve was mortified and lost for words. Ever since that day I’ve wanted to see Intercourse and I’m pleased to say that has happened many times now.

The owner of young Freddie Rahmer was (now a richer) Ray McCann.

Day 7 – Tuesday July 1st

Time to leave Mechanicsburg after six nights in the same hotel. Won’t happen again until Indianapolis on July 23rd for seven nights.

This day was always going to be memorable. We had bought plenty of items which need to be carted around like fold up chairs, esky, bottled water, soft drinks and beer (which is scattered all over the bus under seats, between seats and inside some passengers) and most recently a gazebo for shade at the track parking lot.  It all fits easily when there are no suitcases. So, this morning was our first LTD. (Luggage Test Day).

Everything came out and neatly arranged in relevant piles on the already burning hot asphalt. Suitcases emerged out of lifts and were stacked by each other along with (airline) carry-on bags and backpacks. Photographs were taken and then came the surprisingly swift task of getting it all in. Fond thoughts flooded my mind as I remembered all those packers we have had over the years.  All with certain skills for Tetris.

Perhaps the most memorable was Daniel Kirby (with apologies to all others over the years).  On this particular tour we learned (pre tour) from Daniel’s Facebook page that he worked for Virgin Australia. “I wonder in what area”, I thought to myself.  Sure enough, there it was. “Baggage handler”.  It’s no surprise that he was elected on day 1 to be in charge. On day 1, when everyone was watching him expertly arrange the bags with precision and a deft touch, applause rippled across the car park upon conclusion.

On day 2 when nobody was watching, he stood back from the van by about a couple of metres and hoisted the bags through the air, only for them to fall right into the correct spot. It was mastery of the highest order. Straight out of the top drawer you might say.   Never to be seen again. But I do wonder at the start of every tour whether we will ever have another DK on our hands! (Love you Daniel, if you’re reading this….)

Chocolate World at Hershey Park was our first stop on the way through to Reading, Pennsylvania. We were unable to break our 2022 record when we had the greatest (free) parking spot ever thanks to a kangaroo and koala to the relevant parking attendant. Unlikely to ever be beaten. And we didn’t today either. Although we came very close.  And at no koala cost.

90 very pleasant minutes were spent in air-conditioned comfort alongside half a million kilograms of chocolate of all varieties. Including Cadbury, made under licence in the US by Hershey. Always a fun time in Chocolate World. Suggest you buy a milkshake and go out on to the back landing to watch the 19 roller coasters in the fun park do their work bringing kid’s breakfasts back up much quicker than 50 Hershey bars can do it.

Approaching Shillingham, where our Best Western Plus hotel was, we figured we needed to stop off for supplies and of course Walmart became the chosen destination.  (Future Pennsylvania visitors take note.  Buying beer [or liquor] in this state requires you to have the knowledge of a Philadelphia lawyer to achieve your end goal of drinking one can of beer. I won’t explain it here in this Blog but if you would like to read about it, make contact with me and I will e-mail back 36 pages of instructions.)

With the beer under control we were ready to head to the hotel and eventually tonight’s Round 5 of PA Speedweek. When, from the back of the bus comes a voice. In sad and apologetic tomes, Drew advised all listeners that tonight’s racing at Grandview Speedway had already been cancelled due to the approaching weather. Immediately all eyes went upwards out the windows. They, like I, could see fluffy white clouds and blue skies. But to be fair, there were hints of something more sinister.

After unloading the skillful efforts of the packing team, rooms were allocated, people had a nap or walk but made sure they were back in time before Armageddon arrived. Right on cue at 4.00pm it belted down. Perhaps even heavier than what we endured leaving Lincoln Speedway last night. We were driving then and had to pull off the road as it was impossible to see. Today we watched from the hotel room and the foyer.

The rain cleared as always within 30 minutes and off we went to the Longhorn Steakhouse to spend the money that should have been in the pocket of the promoter at Grandview Speedway. But no, we splurged on fillet steaks instead …..

Day 8 – Wednesday July 2nd

Yesterday’s dramatic T-storm headed straight for Grandview Speedway last night. We found this out how? By driving out of our way this morning to view the track, just to say we had been there of course. Wet and soggy it was, with clay sticking to every part of our shoes. And that was just from the pits. Needless to say, when a race fan sees a track for the first time (particularly one they were meant to be at the night before) the comments are mournful and along the lines of “this would have the best yet!”

The tiniest hi-banked track they had ever seen was next – the Kutztown Action Track at the Fairgrounds. Kutztown’s regular race night is Wednesday, but not when the Fair is due. I find it fascinating to watch the townsfolk set up for the yearly county fair. Not that they do anything different to any other town, but when you have a speedway dead set right in the middle of town you’d think they would have an objection to working alongside a dirt track.

But no, they embrace it and everything it stands for because it brings in money to the community and it’s a family affair.  To them, a speedway operating on a Wednesday night is no different to the local high school football team playing on a Thursday night. It’s just the done thing!

Our next track was Big Diamond. What a place this is. I’m sure it tries hard to be a mainstream track by inviting the PA posse 410 sprint cars to race there, along with the USAC non wingers making a yearly stop each June.  But it just doesn’t pass the pub test. It’s appearance alone leaves a lot to be desired. Although, having said that, on the day we were there workmen were busy in the main grandstand fixing the seating. Maintenance is continuously needed at Big Diamond.

The tiny town of Lykens, Pennsylvania had the honour of hosting some hungry travellers for lunch. We invaded the brand new DQ Chill and Grill store taking over their small in store dining area. Good fun and cheeky dialogue with the staff. Drew finished first (such is his appetite) so he volunteered to get some ice from “up the street” somewhere. Not sure where it was, but he had to avoid the tumbleweeds blowing down Main Street.

Finally, we reached Millersburg just before 1.00pm. We were making good time. After all, the world-famous Port Royal Speedway was on tonight and the weather was developing into a gorgeous American summer’s day. Well-deserved by us, after such a tough start.

The ferry across the Susquehanna was there tied up at the dock. It looked for all money ready to take our extra-large Sprinter on board. Possibly it might be the only thing allowed on (besides the passengers of course.)   But no go as it was to remain tied up until Friday when it is let loose to chug its way across the river flats all weekend. Maybe future tours should go to Port Royal twice because their second date is on a Saturday ….. so we can get to ride the ferry!

Seth Koser and his wife Brenda are terrific people. Seth is President of the Port Royal Fair Board, the group who essentially rescued the speedway from certain death several years ago and have resurrected it to what we see today. Seth and Brenda presented all members of our group a Port Royal cap (golf style, a stretchy “one size fits all”.)   In return they each received a Global Speedway Tours 2025 tour polo shirt which are unprocurable unless you actually go on a tour, or receive one in return for services rendered.

The following is what our members received on this night of nights:

• Complimentary admission
• An all-access areas wristband. Pits and anywhere within the complex. (Including one metre from the inside wall with sprintcars coming at you at 132 mph (211 kph)
• A $40 Port Royal cap
  • 40 minutes of riding in the ‘side-by-side’ buggies when they pushed off the sprint cars for qualifying. There were only four buggies doing the job, so we needed the cards to determine who won that. It was Darryl, Lynette, Sue and Danny.
• Riding in the pace car
• Access to the presentation podium
• Tailgating with the President post races when he was besieged with phone calls about the highly controversial feature. He handled them with aplomb, including the giant size Chief of Security, who arrived at the back of the very hard to miss Australian Mercedes Sprinter, equipped with enough protection equipment (ie. guns and bullets strapped to his already huge body) to inform Mr Koser that the whole area had now been declared safe. (If you’re a Twelfth Man fan, then that last bit must be read with the Security chief in mind!!)

An extraordinary night which should live in the memory of these guys for many years to come. It’s not every day that you wake up in the morning in sprintcar loving Pennsylvania and at night you’re pushing off Kyle Larson, Anthony Macri and Danny Dietrich to qualify at Port Royal …..

PS. Alex Attard was the recipient of the admission money which the otherwise would have gone to Port Royal Speedway. We did the same thing last year for his brother Jesse and it is sure appreciated as it helps them “get on down the road to the next race.”

Day 9 – Thursday July 3rd

There was no need to leave the best hotel so far (Holiday Inn Express in Reedsville) until 11.00am. Our ride today was a mere two hours to Hagerstown in Maryland where Round 7 of PA Speedweek would take place.

Knowing that we had the time, the GPS was routed to take us along PA1005 (south of the quaintly named town of Burnt Cabins). It’s a windy, twisty tree lined road that you think is never going to end. Or at least two of our passengers thought it wouldn’t, owing to the driver “refusing” to stop to allow elimination of excess beer from their body. He didn’t stop because he knew what was around the corner.

And that is Cowans’ Gap Lake. Totally constructed during the depression, the lake was man made by damming Little Aughwick creek in 1947 and by 1950 water began sliding over the spillway, thus signalling “I’m full”.  It (and the accompanying State Park) immediately became and still is a most popular area for boating, fishing, swimming, kayaking, camping, hiking, bird watching and napping in your RV or caravan.

The first view of the lake and associated facilities is totally unexpected as the panorama of it only emerges progressively as you round the final corner of PA Route 1005.

Footnote: If you’re old enough to remember Allan Sherman’s 1963 song “Hello Muddah, Hell Fadduh, here I am at Camp Granada” then you could be forgiven for thinking he was standing at the water’s edge of Cowans’ Gap Lake when he wrote the words.

Next stop was Hagerstown. Even though we arrived early, we were permitted to check in and after doing so, folks set off to any one of 15 eating establishments around the area.  Most took the opportunity of trying Cracker Barrel for the first time. I’m sure they will return.

The inevitable thunderstorm hit around 3.00pm and it poured for no more than five minutes. But it’s OK. It wouldn’t be “speedway night” without a reminder that she’s still the boss. While it rained, I was out looking for Mr. Tire.  A national chain of tyre and service shops which Enterprise use to have the oil changed in their rental vehicles when the dashboard tells the driver that it’s time.

Mr. Tire was easy to find but Mr. Storeowner who owned this Mr. Tire wasn’t easy to talk to. Get this. To initially avoid the 50-minute round trip drive I thought “I know I’ll ring them first to book an appointment, just in case they can’t do it immediately as their website claims”. No answer. Goes to Voicemail which promises I’ll get a call back from the Manager.”  But I drive over anyway on spec.

Arrived at said shop (through the thunderstorm), parked said monstrous vehicle, walked to the office and located said Manager. I opened up with “Hi there”.  He responded with nuthin’. (I then thought to myself, “Geez he’s a dead ringer for midget driver Zac Daum”. But that’s another story.)

Our conversation went like this …..

“I rang earlier” I said. “Left a message but didn’t hear back.”

“Yup I heard it.”  

“Oh, I thought you would call me back?”

“Why? Not much point. I ‘aint got no one here to do the job.”

“Oh”. When will you?”

“Middle of next week. But you probably don’t need no oil change anyway”.

“Oh, why is that?”

The guy who did the last one wouldn’t have re-set the warning sign. Dumb mother f …… s  don’t know how to do it.  It would’ve come straight back on again the next day.”

“Oh, how do you know that?”

“Can tell just by lookin’ at it.”  He was gazing out the window at the time.

I thanked him for the riveting conversation and left the store immediately, at the same time dialling Enterprise. Related the story about the continual warning sign on the dash that is now up to “Next oil change now 600 miles overdue”.  Lauren looked up the vehicle record and said “Next oil change is due at 21,652 miles. What’s the odometer now?

“14,190” I replied.

“Ah. Someone didn’t re-set the service warning system.”

“Can I turn it off then. It’s very annoying?”

“No, it can’t be done by the renter.”  

“OK then I’ll get it serviced when the warning sign says, “Next oil change now 8,100 miles overdue.”

“That’s fine” she said and that was that.

I guess Mr. Tire is worth his weight in gold through experience alone huh?

Hagerstown Speedway went ahead as planned and the place was packed. We arrived early as usual, gained a great spot to park on a slight rise overlooking the parking lot and with a direct line of sight to the track.

On the track Danny Dietrich and Kyle Larson waged a war up front pulling away from the rest every lap. Eventually Dietrich got baulked by a lapped car (I think it may have been the Australian Ryan Newton) and Larson didn’t hesitate. Dietrich appeared furious and manhandled his car urging it to go faster still, but he was beaten by the chequered flag.

Ray was on the money again in the GST sweep pocketing his second win in out of four.

Day 10 – Friday July 4th / Independence Day

I’ve written many times before about my fascination with the US road system. Nothing changed with that today as we winged our way west along I-68. A free-flowing roller coaster style freeway through the Appalachian Mountains. It could well be the most recent interstate built having been finished in 1991.  It was so good I almost turned around and did it again, but 150 miles is a long way.

We left the state of Maryland and passed through a smidgin of Pennsylvania, plenty of West Virginia and finally lots of Ohio. So that ticked off four states in a heartbeat. Our destination was Chillicothe where the Lucas Oil Late models were racing tonight. Or at least we think it was them going round in front of us.

As usual yet another Ohio track served up a dust storm, but the fans keep on flocking in. (Like us!) The bleachers were packed tonight as the Late Model crowd moved in. In a later edition I might try to evaluate Sprintcar and Late Model fans.  There is a definite difference, but I can’t do it justice in writing just yet to compare them.

A very hot night, but fortunately without rain. Although some showers may have done wonders to the track and certainly would have been appreciated by the Holiday Inn Express staff at the hotel who had to clean the towels once we got to our “home” for the night.

On track Brandon Sheppard was the winner and off track our chief beer tester won his first GST sweep. Well done Darryl!

Fireworks were prevalent in the town and it was a pleasant 15 minutes or so sitting out in the parking lot next to the esky watching sky rockets emerge from anywhere around us.

Day 11 – Saturday July 5th

Alcatraz in San Francisco Bay is, in my view, America’s best tourist attraction. Up there in the top ten though would be the US Air Force museum in Dayton, Ohio.  Given we had to drive straight through Dayton to arrive in Indianapolis, it was a no brainer to pay a visit to a place that has no cost of admission.

We arrived around opening time of 9.00am and allocated three hours. Real aviation enthusiasts would prefer three days but we didn’t have any of them so 180 minutes is usually sufficient. The best way to help you as a reader comprehend how gigantic the four hangars are, is for you to go to https://www.nationalmuseum.af.mil and peruse the website.

Needless to say, everyone thought it was great and spoke glowingly of the hundreds of original planes in there, along with anything else that gets off the ground.

Between Dayton and  Indianapolis is the state border. Straddling the border is Shelton’s Fireworks store. Labelled as the biggest in the world. And maybe it is. It’s monstrous. Usually there are very few customers in there when we go in to stickybeak, but never buy. But today the car park had plenty of pickups in there with their beds (I didn’t know either that that’s the word for where they put stuff) being loaded full with literally thousands of dollars of things that go bang in the night.

Inside we watched as they walked the aisles shovelling boxes and boxes into their trollies. Two bulging trolley loads that I watched go through the checkout were $5,000 in total. Our boys (yes they had returned to their childhood) bought substantially less. Just where they would set them off remained to be seen.

Onwards to Plainfield (next to Indianapolis Airport) where we made a much smoother check-in than last year. Run by an Indian guy, the rooms were as hot as where he was born. Not that the A/C didn’t work, he was too miserable to have it on in the rooms to welcome people when they first walked in.

At 3.30pm we pointed our Sprinter to Putnamville Speedway and the USAC sprinters who run without a wing. Laura whooped with joy when she saw us file in to her row where the familiar RV was snuggly parked in amongst the trees. Mike was happy too, but in his own reserved way as always.

Our group quickly became at ease with M&L and their many non-wing friends who dropped in to say hi. Not to forget Wayne (the Train) Twill who was parked nearby. Laura had reserved our seats so that was job Danny could cross off his list. There was nothing to do but sit in the shade of the magnificent trees that surround the campground area and relax on a brilliant day.

Carson Garrett won his first ever USAC feature this evening. Not sure who was happiest for him. His family sitting up near us (especially Mum who had to endure two green, white checkers) or Kevin Thomas Jnr who came second! Apparently the Garrett and Thomas clans are good friends and KTJ had taken Carson under his wing when he first started driving these monsters.

Our man Barry took the sweep money and like most times on tour, we once again did not get to bed on the same day as we woke up …..      

Day 12 – Sunday July 6th

Toby Kruse is known to some readers of this Blog. For the ones who do not, he’s an entrepreneur and loves a challenge. He has promoted many dirt track speedways, was General Manager of Knoxville Raceway for three years, owns a bar and restaurant in Boone, Iowa, owns a gas station, owns a wedding reception hall, started Speed Shift TV (the original streamer of dirt track racing), sold it to Flo Racing so they could get a foothold in the market and last but clearly not the least, is now a part owner of a massive restaurant at the gigantic Iowa State Fairgrounds.  

And, with life partner Dianna owns an Airbnb property (plus their own house) in the luxurious Gravois Mills area of the Lake of the Ozarks.  This is where we are going to stay tonight! We travelled out of Indiana into Illinois, skirted by St Louis (we’ll be back later for a proper look), crossed the mighty Mississippi to get into Missouri and kept going until we entered the amazing geographical phenomenon that is the Lake of the Ozarks.

It’s actually a reservoir formed by damming the Osage River in 1931. The result was a spectacular lake that to me looks greatly like a serpent sliding around the lake’s shore frontage of 1,150 miles (1,840 kms). Some 70,000 very flash house sit on most square inches available. 95% of them have a boat shed (known as a dock to our American hosts) which floats on pontoons to accommodate ethe rise and fall of the water level which is controlled by the authorities each winter.

These docks are more than just a place to park your boat. Toby’s for example has (all under cover) four big screen TV’s set up around a bar that would rival Cheers, an enormous supply of booze left available for presumably anyone to sample, lounge chairs and suites, twin elevated dry docks for his two boats (one of which is too big to fit so the dock has to be widened)  swinging love seats to watch the sunset, five jet skis moored and ready to fire up.  The whole shebang is bigger than his house.

We arrived around three only to find out the sad news that Toby and Dianna would not be at home owing to the new restaurant stealing all their leisure time. But Dianna’s best friend Janna and her husband Drew would be our hosts. So, we settled in, found our bedrooms and immediately gravitated to the Dock by walking along the long metal gangplank.  It’s set out about 30 metres into the lake to allow for the water level reduction in winter. Which in turn permits yearly maintenance of your stretch of retaining wall holding the lake back.

Meanwhile out on the dock, while consuming cans (from our collection), we watched Shane van Gisbergen win the NASCAR Chicago street race to supplement the Xfinity win he had yesterday.  But while all that was happening one of my eyes was focussed on the lake as a sleek red and white boat was rapidly approaching. We were to learn that this was Toby’s newly acquired second boat. One with an aggregated 1,200 horsepower attached around the back.  It was a real party boat and as you probably guessed, quick too.

Toby had left instructions with Adam and Megan (who were skippering the boat) that they were to take us anywhere we wanted to and for as long as we wanted.  We could answer the last one, but not the first. So left the route in the more than capable hands of Adam, who both looked like and drove like, Kyle Larson. Good choice Toby for your captain.

We set off around 4.30pm and got back at 10.00pm. During that time we travelled around 20 miles or so of the 1,150 miles of shoreline available for housing. Then out of the blue we cruised into a cove, were met by two bikinied ladies whose job it was to tie up visiting boats (like us) who have called in to buy and consume drinks at Franky and Louie’s beachside bar. Yes a whole beach has been fashioned, sand trucked in, and marinas built. We had a great time there with the American people who quite simply are fascinated by Australians who have travelled so far to their beloved little piece of the world.

After two hours or so it was time to bid farewell to paradise and jump back in for a perve at all the more expensive houses lining the lake. The Ozarks have their fair share of famous people living there but most were football, baseball and basketball identities. Some person called Taylor Swift (who has a connection to football) has a rather large home there. I heard that bit …..

The last surprise (on water anyway) was pulling up at the Tap and Grill marina for dinner. Barry and Darryl were that rapt in what had happened on the day that Adam and Megan enjoyed a great meal with us at T&G, courtesy of the two Murray Bridge boys.

Meanwhile back at Toby’s house it seemed like a good idea to retrieve the fireworks from the Black Beast where they had been resting since yesterday.  The fire pit seemed like a good place to let them off from, so at 10.30pm or so several grown men, who had instantly retreated to school kid mode, proceeded to ignite rockets and bombs to entertain the other five people. Danny’s purchase of unexpectedly good skyrockets proved the best. Although the one that landed in the lake just short of the dock was a little concerning.

Many people slept well tonight, although it’s unlikely some will remember what happened until they read this!

Day 13 – Monday July 7th

Despite the fun and consumption of yesterday, I could have called the roll before 7.00am. The delightfulness of the morning mist over a still lake was too good to miss. We sat in what Janna told us was Toby and Dianna’s favourite spot at the table overlooking the dock.  I must confess it was very, very good. On Golden Pond with Katherine Hepburn, Jane Fonda and her dad Henry came to mind …..

We drove out of Gravois Mills before 10.00am to find a diner, which wasn’t hard. Val’s on the main road did the job and eggs anyway you like, toast and hash browns were the staple diet. Our next task was to find Route 66 and follow it from Lebanon onwards to Springfield. Now Route 66 in Illinois I know very well, but today we were in Missouri. However the necessary research had been done and a route pre-planned on Google maps.

I warned the guests that whenever they were sick of driving on narrow side roads with lots of missing bitumen, to sing out from the back and we would get onto the interstate to Springfield.  We lasted about six pre-determined historic stops (after visiting the highly educational Lebanon R66 Museum) before the cry came from Darryl. Whether it was on behalf of all, is unknown. But no one complained when we switched back on to I-44.

Next stop was the gigantic “Head Office” of Bass Pro which occupies 850,000 square feet (20 acres). As with anything American it, like Disneyland is beyond belief. The parking lots were chock-a-block but I actually wonder what the store’s turnover is like. For example, none of us bought anything to my knowledge. Although I think Barry may have bought a cap. So, is it worth allowing everyone in to ogle the displays, but not put their hand in their pocket?

To the hotel now and checked in without issues. Washing was the thing on most people’s mind and the staff offered to do it in their commercial machines for us.

Dinner was in the Texas Roadhouse at the back of the hotel. A walk of maybe one minute. Most enjoyable fellow was our server who at first appeared aloof and uninterested, but that changed. No sweets or desserts in the Steakhouse because most had their eye on Andy’s Frozen Custard store, that was next to Casey’s General Store gas station both of whom are sponsors on Brian Brown’s 410.

When in Rome, support the sponsors.  Or something like that …..

Day 14 – Tuesday July 8th

Like yesterday the work had been put in to design a day around Springfield’s Route 66 history. Said to be the home of the Mother Road, Springfield is full of interesting memorabilia and a lot had been planned. If it wasn’t for the orange Engine Diagnostics light that remained continually on in the instrument panel. Not a good thing to do to ignore that.

Springfield had a Mercedes Dealer and a workshop, so it seemed like a good place to start. Until I was told that “although we are Mercedes Dealer we don’t deal with, or service Sprinters. Try Rick’s Automotive down by Bass Pro.” So, down there we went. The vehicle was performing OK. You wouldn’t know that there could be something hugely amiss with it though. If the problem develops, the engine shuts down into ‘limp mode’ and believe me you’re out of your depth on the interstates when it will only travel at 40mph. Or less.

No point in relating the whole story, so suffice to say that Micah at Rick’s was a good ally to us. He took a real interest in our dilemma and at the same time announced that his wife’s stepsister was the Sri Lankan actress Emma Harvie from Home and Away.  (I had to look that up.)  Micah expedited the testing of the entire engine to try to determine what part of it was causing the light to stay on.  It wasn’t cheap at AUD$575.00 (equivalent) but the Rental Company will pick that up one way or the other. The outcome after an hour on the machine was that the codes suggested the bus may not have been treated well before we got it.

Such as no Ad Blue for the diesel motor, running it with a flat battery, idling it for hours on end etc. Or the sensor was faulty and was providing false readings. No one can tell. They gave it back to me with the message that it could happen again tomorrow, or it may not. If yes, find a Mercedes dealer who will replace it under warranty. Comforting thoughts indeed. So, with that we headed off to Sweet Springs 180 miles north up near Kansas City for tonight’s USAC midgets.

The bus behaved perfectly and all was good. So were the midgets and surprisingly, so was the Super 8 Hotel in Sweet Springs. Situated on an exit off I-70, the Springs is not a very big town. I say that having counted our Hotel, two gas stations (to service I-70), one Diner and about four houses. Hotels with a number in their name are generally frowned upon as long term readers of this Blog will be aware, but when it is one minute from the speedway track, it’s OK!

Great little track, overflow crowd, cheap admission, good concessions. What more could you want. Well Rod got his wish for more when he drew the #2 card, which in turn gave him Cannon McIntosh. Cannon shot away from the rest of the field and won going away in a very lively midget feature, as always with these young fellas.       

More fireworks were located in various nooks and crannies of the big Black Sprinter. They were brought out onto the grassy expanse of the Sweet Springs parking lot. A hunt took place for a tall upright container to send Danny’s skyrockets directly upwards, rather than sail sideways at water based boat sheds.

Such an instrument was located and hence Guy Fawkes and his two assistants began to fill the parking lot with smoke. Two of the rockets went vertically and even Elon Musk would have been happy with them, but the third and fourth went a little askew. Like straight into the trees overhanging the bus and us. Video evidence is available for those who may wish to see the trees exploding in a myriad of colours.

We left the track at 10.57pm and were home at 10.59pm.

Day 15 – Wednesday July 9th
The day Black Beauty died …..

Lunch choices are always difficult when there is a diverse group of people who have different tastes. The way to beat it is to allocate a different person to make a food choice and advise the driver who will then find such establishment somewhere along the chosen route. Works a treat. No one ever complains. But when the bus needs attention, such as yesterday across lunch time, Lynette missed out on her choice of Chick-Fil-A, a chain that not surprisingly offers chicken products.

So, it was transferred to today on our journey to Beloit, Kansas for another round of the USAC midgets on their Mid America tour.  The Chick-Fil-A location picked was in Topeka.

With that in mind and a chosen route which took us right through the middle of Kansas City rather than the ring roads, we set off at 9.00am. Kansas City, a lovely lunch, the Belleville Speedway midget museum, check-in to the Holiday Inn Express in Concordia and finally the midgets at the Mitchell County Fairgrounds in Beloit.  That was Plan A.

By the time the day ended, Plan Z was the guiding light. Apparently leaving a diesel Mercedes Sprinter idling to provide air-conditioning on a hot day is not allowed.  In doing so at a stop near the Kansas City NASCAR track, the infernal engine diagnostics light came on again and stayed put.

This time anger replaced manners and while my new friend Micah from Rick’s Automotive Services phoned Mercedes dealers in Kansas City, I rang the Enterprise National Road Assistance line. With a van full of people listening in, the lady on the other end had no clue where or what Kansas City even was. “Is it a city?”, she asked?  I started laughing which didn’t help I suppose, but it was so frustrating.  Why put someone on a national assistance line who has no clue?

Micah rang back with the news that both KC Mercedes dealers could replace the sensor under warranty. That was good news until he said “ …. but not until the middle of next week.”

Eventually we were directed to an address just five minutes from the NASCAR track.  “They will be waiting for you”, I was assured. “And they will have a full e-mail with your problem explained.”

Of course that didn’t happen and we arrived with them none the wiser as to why we turned up with a black Mercedes Sprinter that from the outside worked perfectly. Once explained, three of the Enterprise team couldn’t appear to grasp what the issue was. But over in the back corner a young African American had already taken to the phones trying to find a 15-seater Sprinter which wasn’t being used for the next five weeks and more. While the other guys appeared to be working, I don’t think any were. At least not for us.

Then Christian called out to me from his desk in the corner, “I think we’ve found one.” It’s in the suburb of Olathe, 16 miles south from here.  Thanking him profusely we set off again with a perfectly performing black van to tackle the drive to Olathe. Time was running out to get any of those items on Plan A done.

Got there in good time and drove around the back to see a 12-seater and a 15 seater side by side. The dude here (Julian) greeted me wondering why we had driven into the back of his yard and stopped. No body had bothered to tell him we were coming. Black mark for Christian. Once again I explained the whole scenario. He listened and then went and got a 12-seater and said “here you go. Take this one.”  “No, I won’t. This won’t fit.” And opened the back doors to show him the luggage and then the side door to show him the people.

Suddenly the light bulb came on and he realised our predicament. “Take this one here” he said. Pointing to the white one we first saw as we drove it. Turned out it was only a matter of a few weeks old with a measly 5,000 miles on the clock. Plus, it was an entirely higher class of vehicle compared to the black bus.  I accepted the offer on the spot and the massive transfer started. It didn’t take long with 18 pairs of hands on the job and we left the Enterprise yard at about 1.30pm.  Racing tonight was going to be touch and go.

But first there was still a promise to fulfil to Lynette who so dearly wanted to eat Chick-Fil-A for lunch. So we did. And in the original Topeka restaurant.   After which we hightailed it (legally keeping to speed limits) to Concordia and then a further 20 miles to Beloit after checking in.

The final straw for the day came with the length of the line to get tickets. Would we be foiled at the final hurdle? No. We did miss qualifying, but sat down inside just in time for heat 1. Like Saturday night at Putnamville, tonight saw a first time USAC feature winner when Blake Edwards drove superbly to bring it home ahead of Logan Seavey and Jacob Denney.

On our end, nobody won the sweep. We all got out of the bus so quickly no one thought to do the draw.

The trip ‘home’ across the sweeping Kansas plains was exciting. The moon was full and it partly illuminated a very dark 25-mile-long country road. But a road that had the best continuous bitumen surface you could ever hope for. No turns, just dead straight with the road following the contours of the ground beneath it which meant plenty of roller coaster style “up hill and down dale.” Mysteriously enough we encountered zero deer which was fortunate because I’ve prepared myself not to instinctively brake or swerve when one or two step out in front of the bus. Nope, just hit them amidships ….

Day 16 – Thursday July 10th

Waking up and pulling open the curtains at this Holiday Inn Express in Concordia, Kansas is a great experience on a fine day.

If you get a room at the front, it overlooks US81, and you can gaze down at the multitude of different vehicles using the highway. Today the group saw their first wind turbine propellor blade being carried by road transport to its final resting place on a pole in a farmer’s field hoping for wind to move it. These things are 55 metres long and require special transportation skills to manage the task. Read all about it here. Fascinating.

On the other hand if you’re at the back (facing east) you see the sunrise over the cornfields and the many race transporters that are parked out there …… looking as though they are actually in amongst the corn as the sun melds the cornfields and the parking lot.

We aren’t carrying a turbine blade, but we do have a lot of luggage on board. The weight is highly noticeable during the day compared to the drive at night to the track. The sprinter stands up to it well, with a more than adequate braking system, no matter the load.

Before leaving Kansas we stopped in at Belleville Speedway to pay our respects to the late Brian Clauson who sadly lost his life on turn 4 in August of 2016. This track is certainly an eye opener when seeing it for the first time. Totally banked all the way around, it is almost a perfect circle which generates such high speeds the drivers often lose perspective of where they are on the track. So the promotion helpfully paints the corner number on the fence to assist their cause.

Lunch was Drew’s choice and his desire was Panda Express, the only close one of which to our route was in St Joseph, Missouri.  It added 32 minutes to the journey, but Panda Express is always worth it. I have no doubt it will be selected again.

West Burlington arrived soon enough and so did the Comfort Suites on Stonegate Drive. A great hotel. Write it down in your little black book for whenever you are in Burlington for 34 Raceway.

Tonight was the Lucas Oil Late Models again (they were at Chillicothe, OH last Friday) and this time we could actually see them, such was the standard of this whole facility. Best so far according to the judges on the trip. The track surface is superb and the LMs responded with a cracker of a race.

Barry took his second win to take his tour tally to US$90 on a night where there was thunder and lightning in the distance all night.  But not close enough to cause a stoppage to clear the stands.

Day 17 – Friday July 11th

When in Burlington there is one very big “must see” item. It starts with an M and has 4 i’s, 4 s’s and 2 p’s. (Might be three now. Danny did disappear for a short while.)  Yes, it’s the mighty Mississippi which runs right through this Iowa town.  Last year at this exact same time, the river was at a very high level. Today it was fine and looked resplendent in the early morning light. The width of this phenomenon and the speed with which it moves is breathtaking. We will experience it several more times before we leave.

There’s not a lot of racing available to us in and around Indiana in the week between PA Sprintweek and High Limit at Kentucky on July 11th. Hence we needed to go chasing it which meant plenty of miles beneath the wheels were racked up.

Here’s a summary.
Friday – Hagerstown to Chillicothe: 340 miles (544 kms) / 5 hours 33 mins
Saturday – Chillicothe to Putnamville: 246 miles (394 kms) / 3 hours 58 mins
Sunday – Putnamville to Gravois Mills: 439 miles ((702 kms) / 6 hours 51 mins
Monday – Gravois Mills to Springfield: 109 miles (175 kms) / 1 hour 52 mins
Tuesday – Springfield to Sweet Springs: 153 miles (245 kms) / 2 hours 30 mins
Wednesday – Sweet Springs to Beloit: 332 miles (531 kms) / 5 hours 26 mins
Thursday – Beloit to Burlington: 434 miles (695 kms) / 6 hours 57 mins
Friday – Burlington to Florence Kentucky: 449 miles (718 kms) / 6 hours 48 mins

That’s a total of 2,499 miles (3,998 kms) and 40 hours in the bus. Plus, food, and you know what stops.

But we saw top quality racing which was the sole aim of making the journey out through cowboy country.  Ignoring the engine issues, it was well worth it.

Today, from Iowa to Kentucky was the longest, but we are battle hardened now and aware of what to watch for on the dashboard by way of warning signs. And of course one popped up about 2 o’clock on I-74.

“Additive required. See Handbook.”

No explanation as to what, just an image which you’re meant to search through the book for. Sue took on that task and although we knew it would be the Ad Blu (or DEF over here) for the diesel engine, we checked anyway. Sure enough, the new motor had done 5,000 miles (8,000 kms) so we figured no one had had to refill the DEF since it left the production line. Reasonable assumption.

(If I haven’t mentioned it before, a Mercedes Sprinter gives the driver 16 warnings to refill before the engine goes into limp mode. Barry and I topped up with 9.46 litres of it late tonight at Howie’s gas station and diner in Lawrenceburg. So, we’re good for now.)   

We may need to do it again before the end of the trip …… and probably Tim’s bus when we pick that up on Monday.

The racing at Florence?  Pretty good, with a field of 30 High Limit 410’s and 16 Late Models.  A nasty accident on the back straight on lap 2 could have been worse, but Spencer Bayston walked away, as so often happens in these well-built racecars.

The High Limit boss Brad Sweet took the win from Tyler Courtney and Rico in a car that wasn’t quite suited tonight to a track which was new for everybody. My tip is he will have sorted out the set up on night 2 and will win on Saturday night!  (Written on Saturday morning by the way!)

Danny accepted the 45 sweep dollars wearing his nice new donated red USAC t-shirt.   An interesting question …… “Should you wear a non-wing shirt to a winged race?

Another eight tour members join us on Sunday, so the sweep will increase to 17 and $85.00 each night. Let’s hope husband and wife Drew and Sue can win at least one before then. They now remain as the only people who have not won so far.

Day 18 – Saturday July 12th

Sadly, not a day to remember I’m afraid. Started off OK with a sleep in permitted, or perhaps an early morning visit to the Hollywood Casino. Four took the sleep and five wound up at the casino to try their luck, or maybe just to look around.  I took the former option and at 1.00pm the sleepers called in to the valet area to pick up the punters. They all had smiles, but not from winning. Just seeing the difference in US casinos in terms of rules was enough.

With a full load once again, it was across the road to the Lawrenceburg Speedway. Yes, it’s that close which probably had some bearing on the decision of the casino bosses to help fund the re-building of the speedway at the Fairgrounds in 2001. It now has the highest banking of any dirt track we’ve ever seen. Maybe a couple of late model tracks in Tennessee are steeper.

The new promoter at Lawrenceburg (and currently the town’s Sheriff) is Shane McHenry. Shane saw us drive in the pit gate and came over to investigate who the intruders were. Naturally once he found out, he was more than amenable and talked to us for some time. He wished us the best and hoped to see us all again during Indiana Sprintweek on the Lawrenceburg date. Regretfully it’s one that coincides with the Brickyard 400 at Indy.

Next was lunch at Howie’s Diner where, in classic US old movie style, everyone sat up at the counter in a half-moon shape to eat. More than just hamburgers, there were good options ranging from breakfast to sweets, with Danny taking the cake (quite literally) by consuming several large slices of pie, whipped cream and ice-cream. A practice which continues every time we stop where there are pies and cream.

As we walked out of Howie’s, Andrew, just as he did for Grandview several weeks ago, announced by way of a screenshot on his phone that by agreement with High Limit, Florence Speedway officials had cancelled tonight already. Crestfallen to have lost another one, the only option was to return to the hotel and re-group. That plan included Walmart (of course) and restocking of the esky, plus new equipment for bus #2 when it arrives on Monday at Port Clinton.

The evening was spent privately and about 6.00pm or so, it also included watching through the windows at the T-storm hitting Lawrenceburg and which no doubt was also smashing Florence Speedway.  A track that is in Kentucky, but only 20 miles away. (Follow all that?)

A late-night whopper feed from Burger King (Hungry Jack’s) saw most people in bed by 9.00pm watching the USAC midgets race in Nebraska on Flo Sports.

Day 19 – Sunday July 13th

Meanwhile back in Melbourne, eight more excited Australians boarded flight QF21 to Dallas in order to meet us tonight in Cleveland, Ohio.  That was Plan A and was carried out perfectly by Qantas when the Yam liveried Dreamliner took off 35 minutes late, made up 44 minutes of time with tail winds over the Pacific and landed in Texas 09 minutes early.

All was good, but Dallas was extremely wet as the heavy rain that continued to fall across the Lone Star state refused to subside. Already 130+ people had lost their lives in the floods. As a result, unlike the water level, the excitement of the Aussies subsided dramatically when they watched the departure boards at Dallas Airport show American Airlines’ flight AA 2818 gradually blowing out until it was cancelled altogether.

Global Speedway Tours hurriedly purchased four rooms at the Holiday Inn Express at DFW so they could get their heads down. Meanwhile four of the nine Best Western Hotel rooms in Port Clinton remained empty overnight. The other five were occupied by the team who had driven up from Lawrenceburg during the day, stopping at the incredible Ohio State Reformatory (OSR) in Mansfield, Ohio to tour the now legendary site of the Shawshank Redemption movie.

We were able to add it as a last-minute inclusion on the way north through to Port Clinton on the shores of Lake Erie, one of the Great Lakes of USA and Canada. The admission price from the Grandview, PA rain-out covered the fee at OSR.

Perkins’ Bakery and Restaurant in Ashland provided a late lunch for us. The entertainment once again was the pie eating competition between various combatants. Danny is difficult to beat …..

Dinner that night was inside and outside McCarthy’s Irish pub at Port Clinton.

By the way, if you don’t understand the Great Lakes system on the US / Canada border, then do yourself a favour and read this.    

One other comment about the Lakes deserves special recognition …..

The Great Lakes span more than 750 miles west to east. But if all the water in the lakes was spread out evenly across the USA, they would submerge the entire country under three metres of water.

Day 20 – Monday July 14th

The cancellation meant that the trip to Put-In-Bay out on Lake Erie went down the tube for team Dallas, as did the pre-arranged High Limit racing at Fremont Speedway tonight. More about their escapades later.

Andrew (substituting for Tim) and I ventured off at 7.00am for the Sandusky depot of Enterprise Car Rental to collect the second 15-seater bus. With Tim stuck in Dallas I figured that a guy who drives road trains in Far North Queensland would be an able substitute.

Of course, there was no 15-seater bus sitting there for us. Just a solitary 12-seater waiting there that suited Enterprises needs to offload. But this person wanted a 15-seater. But trying to provide the correct vehicle proved impossible at the last minute and we had no option but take the smaller one with promises from the staff that they would look for a 15-seater elsewhere in Ohio.

It means that an extra US$1,900 now needs to be shelled out in Indianapolis on July 30th to rent a Chrysler Pacifica (not from Enterprise) for the last four people coming in from Australia for the Iron Man races in St Louis and the subsequent Knoxville Nationals.

The 12-seater immediately got deposited in the Hotel parking lot at Port Clinton while we piled into the 15-seater headed for the Jet Express base.

Sadly, the existing group were eight short on the hi-speed catamaran and the much lower speed six-person golf buggies out on South Bass Island, the home of Put-In-Bay, 14 miles (23 kms) out from Port Clinton on Lake Erie.  It was fun out there with seriously good weather assisting the cause.

Barry, Danny and Darryl rested their golf cart for 10 minutes while they embarked upon a helicopter ride over the various land masses that form the Bass Island group. Lunch at Topsy Turvey topped off the day with dollar bills stapled to the wall from half the group.  The highlight of that exercise was being allowed to use the high-powered stapler exactly the same as the one Clark Griswold used to staple 25,000 lights into his roof.

At night it was off to Fremont Speedway to watch 46 cars attack the little quarter mile, resulting in the most bizarre circumstances seen for many a long day when Cole Macedo flipped violently just 15 metres past the finish line not knowing he had won the 40 lapper. He missed the checkered flag entirely.

We took both buses to Fremont with Andrew driving the 12-seater back to the hotel and I set off on the 280 km round trip to Cleveland Airport to meet and pick up the Dallas crew who arrived at 12.36am.  The esky was ready …… and the grateful passengers enjoyed some ice colds as we sped through the inky night to Port Clinton.  Bedtime came at about 3.30am.

Tim, the leader of the pack, decided he would re-count their experiences in Dallas on the day before leaving for Cleveland … with help from ChatGPT.  Dang I must learn that one day …   

Dallas: Where Pegasus flies, Gold sparks, and History’s shadows linger.

Turns out a little Texas drizzle can’t wash the shine off Dallas. We began under the mighty Pegasus, that fiery neon horse once galloping across Magnolia Petroleum ads, later inherited by Mobil. Today it’s not just an oil relic — it’s Dallas’s own winged sentinel, blazing high above streets where every block seems to hide a story.

We wandered down to the Spirit of Communication, a towering figure wrapped in gold leaf, gripping lightning bolts like he was about to spark up the whole skyline. Originally perched atop AT&T’s old New York headquarters, he’s found a gleaming new home here, still busy whispering messages to the modern world.

Of course, Dallas also does weird wonderfully. Turn one corner and suddenly there it is — a giant blue eyeball, veined and eerily lifelike, tracking you with a stare that’s playful and unnerving all at once.

Though we didn’t step inside, we lingered outside the sleek cube of the Perot Museum, imagining the dinosaur skeletons, glittering gems, and kids racing robotic cheetahs. It’s all thanks to a $50 million gift from H. Ross Perot’s children, who helped drop this scientific wonderland right into downtown Dallas.

When hunger finally caught up, we ducked into Jack Ruby’s, where we sunk our teeth into juicy burgers and crispy tacos — plates full of Texas flair with a side of eerie history. Because yes, this was tied to the Jack Ruby, the nightclub owner who shot Lee Harvey Oswald live on national TV. That grisly moment on November 24, 1963 shocked millions watching coast-to-coast, and pushed networks like CBS and NBC to start using live broadcast delays — those few precious seconds that now save audiences from tragedies, accidents, and the truly unexpected. It’s strange to think that one dark Dallas moment changed the way the whole world watches “live” television, sparing us countless painful sights ever since.

By late afternoon, umbrellas tucked away and bellies full, we were already plotting the next Dallas run. Because where else can you stand under a flying horse, squint at a gold giant juggling lightning, stare back at a massive eyeball, and bite into burgers and tacos with echoes of TV history all around you — all before the sun’s even set?                   

Day 21 – Tuesday July 15th

The ever-growing group finally left as one from Port Clinton this morning. Our destination was Lima and the Howard Johnson, commonly known as the “inside out hotel” due to its unique qualities. The architect must have been sampling the demon drink when this one was designed. All the balconies face inwards over the huge expanse of enclosed ground floor including the inevitable swimming pool. It’s actually quite spectacular and very, very nice.

Nice enough that many sprintcar teams use this hotel as their base while racing in Ohio. One in particular is fairly high profile! Paul Silva and crew rolled the white #57 car out of the hauler every morning for maintenance to ensure that Kyle Larson has a rocket ship underneath him every time he hits the track.

Lots of teams also use the car wash adjacent to the hotel to clean the sprintcars after a hard night at the track. Our tour members couldn’t help but wander over there late at night, or early morning, to watch and talk with the teams.

Our rooms weren’t all ready so that alone slowed down our objective of leaving for Attica Raceway at 3.00pm. It was more like 4.00pm when we left for the Fairgrounds track which attracts large crowds indeed.  The Brad Doty Classic held annually on this date is always a sell out. Attica reminds many of Parramatta City Raceway in Sydney in the way it is shaped and although often very dusty, always provides great racing.

Regretfully tonight saw a bad one in the B Main when Brady Bacon and Kalib Henry, the driver of the “101 team” owned and operated by good friend Jim Muth (known to all as Doc), clashed on turn 4 racing for the final transfer spot to the A feature. Kalib maintained the high line that he had been running all race when Bacon moved up a touch to make it difficult for Kalib to get by. The result was a monumental wreck with Kalib cartwheeling into the fence on the main straight coming pretty much to a dead stop when he encountered a fence pole.

The crowd was silent as they knew they had just seen a nasty one. 20-30 minutes went by while rescue teams extracted Kalib from the wreckage before being airlifted by a medivac helicopter which had been called in to take him to Toledo and hospital.

When racing finally resumed, Carson Macedo won the Brad Doty Classic from Buddy Kofoid and a fast finishing Donny Schatz.

Days 22, 23, 24, 25 – Wednesday July 16th to Saturday July 19th

Wednesday was a morning of leisure to allow members to stroll around the vicinity of the Hotel which sits right on I-75 the seventh longest north south interstate in the country. It begins in Sault Ste. Marie at the Canadian border in far north Michigan all the way to Miami. A distance of 2,875 kms without a stop. If you had superhuman powers and a large bladder.

Lima is a large city in its own right but where we are for five nights is at an exit of I-75. Hence a large community of retail shops have grown up around here and provides interesting stuff to occupy leisure time while waiting to go to the next race.

Which we did at 2.15pm by making the first of our four successive daily drives to perhaps the most famous speedway in the world. Eldora should consider changing its name to “Nowhere Speedway”, because that’s exactly where it is.  In the middle of nowhere. It has an address of course on Route 118 but my best guess is that you could take 30 different routes to get to Eldora from Lima.

Each would get you there eventually, but not without first passing through cornfields, soya beans, wheat and super large chicken coops holding chooks that presumably produce eggs but are mainly there for keeping regular supplies up to KFC.  These unfortunate critters only have a life span of 6-12 weeks before becoming the prime item in a zinger combo meal.

Eldora is somewhat similar to a chicken coop. For 5-6 nights people flock to the Kings Royal and hole up in small, medium or large camper trailers, caravans, RVs, or an old fashioned tent.  Folks emerge each morning by sticking their heads out to see if its gonna rain. They know it doesn’t really matter if it is raining (or looks like it will) because they will still venture out of the coop irrespective.

Like the chook when it walks around to find food and never stops until it does, the Eldora fan walks around in the morning purely to find everything they left out overnight because they were generally incapable of putting it away the night before. They yarn with the people next to them arguing about who did and didn’t win last night and then speculate on what will happen today based on the latest rumour which some dude started this morning in an RV a mile away, but which has now quickly filtered throughout the camp.

For us however it was back to Lima each night of the four, never once arriving back there on the same day that we left. On Thursday morning some of our “stuck in Dallas crew” wanted to see the Dayton Air Force Museum. It was a drive of several hours there and the same back, but we decided to cut that a bit shorter by leaving later than planned and then returning straight to Eldora rather than back to Lima. A good time was had by all. As usual some would have preferred several days there while others were comfortable with the three hours.

Our host each year at the Kings Royal is the incomparable Stubb (aka Scott Phillips). Without wife Gail this year who elected to stay in the sanctity of their holiday cottage at Lake Erie. As usual throngs of people call in to “Stubb Central” to say hi. They arrive on foot, in a car, in a golf cart, in a squad car (yes the local constabulary often call in to say hi to their old mate who’s been in the same spot for 35 years), on a mobility scooter, on a bicycle, or they have never actually left since yesterday. It is a moving feast, particularly on Saturday.

The Eldora gang that Stubb grew up have now become quite attached to the Aussies who make a stop in at Eldora every year with Global Speedway Tours. They are wonderful enthusiastic race fans making the most of the measly three months of the year when Mother Nature graciously provides warm weather to party outside in. For the last 15 years or so this group has been one short after long time gang member Petey decided he had lived long enough and cut short his life on earth.

Consequently, a Cornhole tournament was quickly established in his memory and is played out each year at Stubb Central on Kings Royal Saturday. It is always numbered after a speedway somewhere in America, because Petey knew them all. This year it was the 55th annual event!! So called after I-55 Raceway in Missouri. Global Speedway Tours has been honoured over the last 10 tournaments to be able to present the winning team (two people) with current tour polo shirts. Congratulations to Mark from Chicago who with his son won their second tournament.

On the racing side of things, it was scary on track. It appeared that Kalib’s Henry’s wreck at Attica on Tuesday was the catalyst for way more as three drivers were hospitalised following severe accidents on turns 1 & 2. Tyler Courtney, Aaron Reutzel and Brad Sweet (all very large names in the sprintcar world) inspected the roof of the track ambulance at some point of the week. Others simply walked away from their monumentals. The track surface on Thursday and Friday in particular provided a surface for warp speeds and drivers were on the edge of oblivion as they drove within an inch of the fence at 240 kph. Some were caught by the cushion (and a rut that had crept in unannounced) and simply hung on for the ride after the right rear got sucked into the wall.

Friday during the day saw us at Winchester Speedway in nearby Indiana. Not for a race, but a highly enjoyable three hours being entertained by the staff of Winchester who always open their arms to us and Tom Bigelow who started nine times in the Indy 500, was a USAC national champion in both midgets and sprintcars, now living in Winchester and is a constant presence at the track in a maintenance capacity. An extraordinarily good bloke is Tom.

In addition to all the above, the Winchester City Tourist Bureau team turned up with a hot lunch, cold drinks and cream pies from Mrs Wicks’ store in town. Then we were permitted full access to the track to drive the buses around and at Tom’s cheeky request the bus was stopped at the very top of the banking between 1 & 2. At that point it is 37 degrees. Nearly enough to topple the van over.  Tom brough his own SUV out of the car park and invited folks to “come ride with me at speed” as he diamonded each end in a classic display of how he used to drive it in anger in a sprintcar.

At Eldora the new King for 2025 is Anthony Macri who we had been following in Pennsylvania all those weeks ago.  He took home US$200,000 after leading all 40 laps. The 50/50 winner took home US$82,791.  We contributed to the pool by substituting the sweep with $85.00 worth of tickets.

Day 26 – Sunday July 20th

Time to get back on the road after five nights in Lima. Our journey today took us north up I-75 through Toledo and on to Detroit. A place which has encountered massive setbacks in its ability to progress as a viable and profitable place to live.  In the early 2000’s, Detroit’s bankruptcy was a result of a complex interplay of factors, primarily stemming from decades of financial mismanagement, population decline and the weakening of the massive auto industry presence in the city.

A cool saying in America is that you don’t want to live on the wrong side of the tracks. Referring to the railroad line which splits most towns. Well Detroit is a classic example of that with the tracks being heavily weighted to one side more than the other.

One example of that occurred today when it was Rodney’s turn to pick the lunch venue. Not where, but what.  He chose Popeye’s Chicken. So, the thing to do for me is to simply ask Google and / or ChatGPT to tell us where the nearest is to our current location.  Google provides an answer based purely on distance, not appropriateness of the neighbourhood.  Nor where the railway tracks end.

Hence when we arrived Barry made the first comment of “geez Pete, make sure you check the hubcaps are still there” which was followed by 17 people walking into Popeyes and 20 seconds later 17 people walking out. The environment was one of probable concern for safety you might say.

Google was then asked “what is the poshest suburb in Detroit” followed by a request for an eating place. Turns out that Tap and Eat on Trumball Avenue opposite the old home ground for the Detroit Tigers was a good place to go.  An enterprising businessman had built a Tavern which has beer taps coming out of 50 or so holes in the walls surrounding the seating areas.

On entry you buy a wristband which electronically permits you to pour beer (different variety in every tap) from the wall into your glass. It measures how much you pour (minimum one ounce) and then charges accordingly when you leave. Along with the cost of any food you buy.  An all round fun place believe me.

We did take the opportunity of visiting all the sites of the few assembly plants still in existence in Detroit – there used to be 50 in the city’s heyday. Plus, we had a fascinating tour of the Piquette Building, the site of the exact place which produced the Model T Ford for Henry. There were originals of all his early models which led to the creation of the Model T.  All assembled on the very floor that we walked on for the tour across the six-storey building.

Later we drove past Henry Ford’s massive (ex) mansion on the Rouge River in Dearborn.  A sign of the opulence indeed of a man who once (without any prompting from his workers) doubled their pay overnight because he thought it was the right thing to do.

Our night without racing was spent in the Hampton Inn in Chesterfield, Michigan.

Day 27 – Monday July 21st

Back on Day 8 mention was made of our (read my) desire to ride the ferry across the mile wide Susquehanna River in Millersburg, Pennsylvania.  Since discovering this ferry, we have always been denied getting on it because it’s the wrong day, or some similar excuse.  So once I discovered that we can get into Canada by riding a ferry, it’s been my desire to do so. Hence why we went so far north on the continental USA.  Unknowingly, this craving could have also been our downfall.

Read on McDuff ….

Detroit has several separate crossings into Canada. Bridges and tunnels amongst them.  Boring! But about 70 miles further up from Detroit lies the tiny little town of Algonac which sits at the mouth of the St Clair River. One side of the river is the USA and the other belongs to Canada. And a ferry is the only method to traverse the river.  A perfect scenario.

We left the hotel at 7.30am just to ensure that if there was a long line for the ferry, we would still have time to get to Niagara Falls before dark. An extremely pleasant drive along SR29 hugging St Clair Lake (not one of the Great Lakes) brightened everyone up after a bit of a dusty night in the parking lot. It was only the driver of the lead dog that was wondering just what was around every turn. Would we encounter an issue at the border? Would we have a three hour wait or something?  Would the ferry sink? No one else was concerned, because they assumed the host had it all under control …..

As we slowed at the sign announcing we were entering Algonac, I took my last breath. I knew that bookings for the ferry were not taken.  It was first come first served.  We rounded a corner and encountered the most picturesque sight possible. Algonac was beautiful. The river was dead calm, the weather was perfect, boats were bobbing on the early morning tide, fishermen were in abundance but guess what?  There was no one at the USA border crossing hut. And that’s about all it was. A hut.

Neither were there any vehicles in sight. No lines. No cars. No people. Just a ferry sitting forlornly on the water waiting to be told to do something.  And then, from out of the haze representing the merging of the river and the sky, appeared two kids, teenagers at best who turned out to be the ferry operators.

“You wanna go to Canada?”
“Yep”.
“Know where the captain is?”
“That would be me”, said the apparent oldest one.  “Got any passports?”
“Yep. Here’s 17.”
“One’ll do just fine” said Captain Kidd.
“How much for the ride over to Canada?
$12.00.
“What? Each person?
“No. Each bus. Don’t matter how many in ‘em. Get ‘em on thar now”.

And with that, 17 bemused folks sailed off to Canada across the St Clair River.

Now we’ll relate what happened on the other side, which is where we expected some degree of questioning, or even maybe a search of the buses.

But just before that happens, it’s worthwhile to point out what happened on the ferry.

Tim, who by now has become a very adept drone flyer, decided he wanted some vision of the ferry out on the river “going across the border”. So, he set it down on the deck and it took off normally happily buzzing around sending photos and videos back to its boss, just like every other day. And then, also just like every other day, it was told to return home to be packed away until next time.  Like a ventriloquist’s doll being put silently away in a suitcase as though it’s dead.

Anyone guess what happened next?

Yep, a drone always remembers precisely where it took off from and returns upon request to exactly that spot. Except for Tim, this time it was half a mile away from where it took off. Hence it prepared for landing in the middle of the St Clair River. In retrospect Tim realised this was his biggest mistake. Urgent instructions were sent to the drone to abort the landing and he had to bring it back manually to a moving ferry deck.

He finally grounded it but not without snapping a propellor that has rendered it unable to fly for a while.

Now back to the Canadian border guards.

Peter drove off the ferry first, followed by Tim, the only other vehicle on the conveyance. This time it was a bit more regulated. Two Canucks armed with a suspicious mindset together with handguns came out of their hideaway to watch the ferry approach. Just who were these people in two white (obviously rented) vans attempting entry into Canada early on a Monday morning?

Well, they were soon to find out.

The interrogation on our bus was quite straight forward. Standard questions such as what country are you from? (I thought the eleven passports I had provided to him may have given that away.) He allowed us to pass through without issue. However back at Tim’s van it was a little different.  This gendarme wanted to know why the group had chosen to bypass the two most common routes into Canada at Detroit, 45 miles south of us. The Ambassador Bridge and the Windsor Tunnel.

Clearly he assumed this ragtag bunch of Australians were up to something and had things to hide. Tim kept telling him that all we are doing is following that white van in front. We’re sightseeing Sir.”   He declined to accept these answers and those on board figured his next move was to search the bus. But that didn’t happen because his boss (who was interviewing us) walked back there to find out why it was taking so long.

After some words in French between each other, Tim was waved through with a smile and a half salute.

100 miles later we stopped at Oshweken Speedway to inspect where the Outlaws make a stop on their week long trip to Canada. A very impressive complex indeed owned entirely by Glenn Styers on family owned property.

From there it was an easy drive to Niagara Falls. I knew it would blow people away, but I underestimated by how much. After unloading bags at the Comfort Inn Fallsview Hotel, the troops were let off the leash and like a magnet, the roar of the Horseshoe Falls drew them to the bottom of the hill where they encountered what in my view should be the eighth wonder of the world.

Later we all met up at the Captain Hornblower “Ride to the bottom of the Falls” on large passenger boats. Exactly the same as the more well-known ‘Maid of the Mist’ on the American side.  This was the coup de grace for them. The boat took the red (for Canada) poncho wearing tourists right up to the teeth of the Horseshoe Falls and stayed there for what seemed like 10 minutes or more. Whatever the time was, it allowed everyone to be soaked through to the skin from the voluminous amount of spray that the 168,000 cubic metres of water creates on its 60 metre fall to the bottom every minute of every hour of every day in every year. It  just never stops …..

The Canadian side has perhaps three miles of walkways with 100% uninterrupted views of the Falls. Nobody misses out on a front row view. Daytime and night-time for the famous fireworks and lighting show. Not sure if anybody ate tonight, but everyone surely drank in the view …..

Day 28 – Tuesday July 22nd

The fascination with Niagara Falls continued into this morning. Knowing that half a day and a full night yesterday would not satisfy the keenest of sightseers, today’s departure for Butler, Pennsylvania was set for 11.00am, the same time as the Hotel check out. Hence the patter of big feet was heard from 7.30am as folks scattered once again to get final photos and video of (particularly) the Horseshoe Falls in all its early morning glory.          

We hit the road towards the Rainbow Bridge, a steel arched structure built in 1941 connecting Niagara Falls in Ontario (Canada) and Niagara Falls, New York (USA). Perhaps the major summer Border Crossing of the 117 that can be used to travel between the two countries.

The Rainbow replaced the doomed Honeymoon Bridge which collapsed into the icy Niagara River in 1938 when massive chunks of ice broke free in Lake Erie and travelled downstream and over the Horseshoe Falls. Only to butt up against the Honeymoon Bridge stanchions.  30 metres of ice was too much for the abutments and they eventually gave way causing the bridge to collapse in one piece, much to the amazement of thousands of onlookers who came to watch.

No such weather problems in July though for the Rainbow Bridge and it’s extremely pleasant US Border Security officer who was happier to be dealing with us than his Canadian counterpart was yesterday.  He wished both buses well for our future adventures in his homeland.  His attitude made us keen to get back into America again.

Our route took us right through the heart of Buffalo and its many monstrously high “Terry Barry won’t drive over them” bridges across the rivers and docklands of the City of Light. So named because it was the first city in the USA to be electrified when it hosted the World’s Fair in 1901.

Another thing the state of New York had to deal with in 1901 was the native Seneca Indians. Without a lengthy dissection of why they get state tax breaks on their income earned while on their reservation, they just do. Perhaps this sentence best explains it. “Reparations for Native American tribes often include monetary compensation provided as states admit their past indiscretions.” 

Hence 30 miles southwest of Buffalo on Highway 20 there lies the small hamlet of Irving which has numerous gas stations, souvenir shops, Cannabis shops and casinos of course.  All exist on the Cattaraugus Reservation of the Seneca Nation of Indians. So we stopped to refill the diesel in both buses at a price that undercuts the non-Indian gas stations by upwards of  20%. Tour members wandered to all parts and explored different options for their purchases.

The next stop of Butler, PA is a town that is very well known for the invention of, and assembly of, millions of jeeps for the US Army in all its wars against those who wanted to fight them. But last year around this exact time, it became famous for a part of Donald Trump’s right ear falling to the ground when he was the subject of an assassination attempt at the local Fairgrounds. We needed to pay it a visit.

On October 5th this year, he is returning to a rally in exactly the same place. Naturally it will have a political flavour but it will also honour the family of Corey Comperatore who was killed by the sniper’s bullet while protecting his family. The speedway connection in all of this is that Mr Comperatore was the Head of the Fire & Rescue crew at Lernerville Speedway where we will be in two hours’ time.

High Limit were at Lernerville and they put on a good show despite the dreadfully embarrassing performance of an Australian teenage baseball team who were invited (as they were last year and stuffed it up then as well) to sing the Australian National anthem. Not only did they not know the words they appeared inebriated and made a thorough laughing stock of themselves and our country.

And it went out to the world on Flo Racing via their streaming service. Needless to say they included Ozzie, Ozzie, Ozzie Oi Oi Oi at the end of it and thought it hugely funny. I hope the promoter of Lernerville reads this and firstly offers an apology to those in the stands that night and secondly never invites them back.

For the record World of Outlaw invader Carson Macedo used one of his four ‘passes’ to race outside the Outlaw schedule. He won the Don Martin Silver Cup going away, from Tanner Thorson and Sye Lynch.

Day 29 – Wednesday July 23rd  (Happy birthday Anthony) 

Pittsburgh lies 60 kms south of Butler and 560 miles east of Indianapolis – today’s destination. I only tell you that because one of life’s pleasures is driving through Pittsburgh in the morning rush hour. So we left the hotel early (7.30am) to make sure we did just that. We encountered the best (some would say the worst) of it 15 kms or so out from downtown. It was some unanticipated roadwork that put a spanner in the works.

But it was also good in that it was a slow pace we had to endure on Route 28 (the Buffalo Highway) which gave us an opportunity to look at Pittsburgh from the other side of the Allegheny River which runs through the city. We followed the Allegheny for eight kms until we came face to face with PNC Park, the MLB baseball stadium for the Pirates and then 800 metres from it is Acrisure Stadium the home of the Steelers in the NFL. Spectacular views for all of both.  Except the driver who is enveloped in cars and trucks all wanting to change lanes to get to where they want to go. Quickly!

The Allegheny ceases to be when it meets two other major rivers at the exact same time where we cross by bridge and into a tunnel on I-376. It’s called a confluence, and this situation only occurs here and in two other places in the world. The Monongahela River and the Ohio River meet the Allegheny. And only one can remain. And that is the Ohio which is fortunate because otherwise Olivia Newton-John would have had nothing to sing about.

All of the above is worth the hassle of the peak hour traffic, besides I often think we leave too late on some mornings. But if we did go early, we wouldn’t get anywhere near the amount of sleep we need to survive.

Indianapolis emerged into our view around 4.00pm and we hastened to the Staybridge Suites off I-69 in Fishers where we will put our heads down for the next seven nights. Everyone did have a suite too and it was a hotel that was considered “right up there” with the best on tour.  It must have been to others as well because as we arrived the police were leaving having been called to remove some people from their room who refused to check out, even though their employer had stopped paying the bills the week before.

After an hour or so to assimilate with the surroundings we hopped back in the human carriers (the buses) and headed for Lucas Oil Raceway. Formerly known as Indianapolis Raceway Park (IRP) the Silver Crown cars from USAC were racing there tonight on the ½ mile paved oval track. “Old timers” will remember this track from ESPN’s very popular Thursday Night Thunder telecasts when they occasionally made their way to Australian TV screens from 1989 to 2002.

As the only pavement race on the tour folks were very much looking forward to this race.  But sadly, disappointment was all round us. Only 18 cars turned up, two broke during qualifying leaving 16 to start the feature.  It was a stark field of 16 that did 100 laps and that was that. CJ Leary won by seven seconds with only one caution for a car that stopped on lap 77 with a mechanical issue.

Time to wake up and go home.

Ben and Junior were meant to join us this afternoon by flying in from San Francisco where they should have landed earlier in the day. But like all things to do with airlines this year, they too had an entire flight (from Sydney) delayed for 10 hours. Hence, they finally flew into Indianapolis at 4.30am and yep, Tim and I were there to meet them.

Day 30 – Thursday July 24th 

One of the biggest happenings in US dirt track racing occurs tonight, but we’ll leave that for the moment until we get through the day first.

The morning was set aside for the buses to shuttle people to various shopping malls which abound on the other side of I-69 to our hotel.  The US has a distinct lack of footpaths so it becomes quite dangerous to walk from A to B on the shoulder of the road. Hence the need for motorised transport. Which we provided until midday, at which time we tackled I-465, the ring route around Indianapolis. Nearly always the quickest way to get anywhere in this city.

Our first stop was at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway offices to pick up the tickets for tomorrow’s sprintcar races on the Dirt Track at Indy, plus allow members to buy their tickets for the Brickyard 400 on Sunday. There is a choice of race venues to be made on Sunday so no tickets were included in the tour price as it is an optional decision as to where you go. Indy or Lawrenceburg.

Lunch was at the popular Charlie Brown’s on Main Street in the suburb of Speedway. The troops particularly liked this highly unique racing themed establishment. A stroll across the road to Sarah Fisher’s SIK (Speedway Indoor Karting) facility which has a 13 turn road course over two levels. Plus a successful restaurant called 1911 Grill.

Now we had to work out what to do with the buses. Later today at 5.00pm is the annual NASCAR Hauler Parade which sees Main Street filled side by side with 43 transporters. Fans can walk around and between them and buy merchandise as well as talk to drivers and crew.  Before that at 3.30pm we had tickets to visit the recently re-opened and re-imagined Indianapolis Speedway Museum.

We would drive back for that but when the haulers arrive we need to be back at Charlie Brown’s for the best vantage point. Hence arrangements were reached for us to park in their lot again for an hour or so. Because after the haulers we have to drive to the other end of the immense speedway complex for Round 1 of Indiana Sprintweek on the Dirt Track at Indy. (Keeping up with all this – questions will be asked later!)                  

Going quickly now the Museum was very modern in its new clothes. The upgrade was well done but maybe a bit too well done. I would much prefer the old one. And the old admission price. It’s now triple what it used to be.

The Hauler Parade was it’s usual spectacular self with a cacophony of truck horn blowing, each trying to outdo the other. I’ll admit it was a very colourful affair …..

And finally to the last item of the day./ R1 of Indiana Sprintweek on the track some regard as too small for USAC non winged sprintcars. “It’s built for midgets” was the cry from most. “Won’t work.”   But it did and was a sufficient enough success to ensure it will happen again next year I would think. Every driver wanted to be the first to win a sprintcar feature race at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. So there was plenty on the line.

And that winning driver was Justin Grant who had learned plenty from his four midget successes here in the BC39.  Second was Logan Seavey and third was a fast finishing Robert Ballou.

Day 31 – Friday July 25th 

The schedule for the day is sightseeing followed by more sightseeing of historical motorsport places in this racing mad city. Surely if you moved to America to live for the duration of your visa, then Indy would have to be the place.  A nice little rural property on the outskirts of the city for me I reckon.

Our first stop was not out in the country, but smack bang in the city precinct. For 17 days in every August since AJ Foyt was a little boy, the Indiana State Fair is held at the massive Indiana Fairgrounds. It might be in the city, but all the participants and exhibitors are rural folk who head into town to win some blue ribbons for the biggest pumpkin, or the fattest pig.

The fairs are a huge part of the American way of life with families constantly interacting with others at the various events. By coincidence ‘our sport’ of short track racing on dirt ovals originated at the fairs. Previously it was horses that dominated on the ½ mile dirt tracks specially built for trotting or thoroughbred racing. But as Henry Ford and others developed their gasoline powered contraptions it became popular to find out which one went the fastest.

Hence the horses were sent off to find somewhere else to exhibit their single horse power frames. Something else with considerably more horsepower had replaced them.  And thus man began his quest to win the blue ribbon for first place in the fastest automobile competition. Which to this day still happens on hundreds of fairgrounds each summer.

Except for the Indiana State Fairgrounds where, for 65 consecutive years, the famed Hoosier Hund-red was run for Silver Crown cars and before that the “Big Cars or Champ cars” as they were officially called. In reverse osmosis, horses have now kicked the autos off the historic one mile dirt track.  We viewed what was once the HQ of dirt track racing in Indiana from the gigantic grandstand on the front straight.

After that it was off to the original and still standing Gasoline Alley to visit Arizona Sports Shirts to rummage through the $5 bargain bins that have new shirts put in there every day I would imagine. Hundreds of dollars from 19 people changed hands here as the suitcases back at the hotel squirmed as more and more merch was accumulated.

Lunch is often the most difficult choice of the day with 19 people all having differing tastes. So to solve that, the plan for today was lunch at the always popular Golden Corral.  It was a great idea and people were looking forward to it even though they probably had no idea what the GC was. We rocked on into the parking lot just as an almighty large bus pulled out after emptying its load of 53 people. Followed in to that spot by a second one with just as many on board.

Well that put a dampener on the plan once we saw the line snaking out the front door and out across the lot. The best idea now was to POQ somewhere else. My thinking cap went on and eventually the decision came to me that a visit to Plainfield and the tried and true Cracker Barrel would be ideal. And it was. We had plenty of time so a “knife and fork” meal was highly suitable.

Plainfield was on the way to Putnamville the scene of tonight’s R2 of ISW (Indiana Sprint Week). Everything got filled up in Plainfield. People, the buses and the eskies ready for a big night.

A first occurred today when one of our group arrived by Uber from Fishers after a top level meeting with Amway owners and Executives who had flown in by private jet from Atlanta to meet with him.  $136 US dollars to the Uber man (who had no idea where he was) was a small price to pay for Ben to have had that opportunity.

Lincoln Park Speedway (aka Putnamville) is a very pretty and picturesque environment and it has a track which offers up superb racing each and every night. It’s always fun there and even more so because we can meet up with the Henderson’s, Mike and Laura in their motorhome.  Each summer they lock up the house in Washington State over on the West Coast just below Canada and make the long tow in their RV to the Midwest to watch every non wing sprintcar & midget show they can get to in the three months of summer.

Also in residence tonight at Putnamville was the Sauer family, former promoters of Lismore Speedway. Mick and Kim, together with their two great kids, Ambrose and Rusty were also in a 42 foot RV they had rented privately out of Chicago. We were to spend many nights with these guys across Indiana Sprint Week in 2025.  Not to forget the likeable Wayne “the Train” Trill who bobs up each year as well.

The on-track action was most worthwhile tonight. Things can get pretty aggressive during ISW and tonight was no exception with tempers flaring inside the cockpits. Carson Garrett became a first time USAC winner after waiting through 96 races before he was able to take his first chequered flag. 2nd and 3rd were Kevin Thomas Jnr and Logan Seavey.

Day 32 – Saturday July 26th            

We awoke this morning to find a classic car show underway in the rather large vacant blocks adjacent to the Staybridge. Given that this morning had no official engagements, next door was the place to go, assuming you hadn’t already planned something else to do, like washing .

At 2.30pm we headed off north up US31 for Kokomo, home of the “baddest bullring in Indiana” for Round 3 of Sprint week. Stubb was in the Peter’s bus and entertained the troops in his own imitable style with stories about anything!  The weather looked very promising throughout the drive, although showers did disrupt the classics demonstrations this morning.  We were more than hopeful that Kokomo would get the chance to show off in front of 16 Aussies who had never been to this speedway before.

We found Mike, Laura, Mick and Kim easily enough and slipped the two big Mercs into the parking spots they were saving for us. The eskies were opened, Ben’s football came to life to encourage footballers from the golden age to see if they were still as good as 30 years ago, plus a Verao Pro Flyer frisbee that later would provide most of the entertainment by placing empty cans on top of makeshift poles to provide a target to hit from 30 metres. Very competitive indeed did the players become …..

We had two hours of this before the storm hit.

As you can see from the photo, it had been building quietly and then came with a rush as frequently happens in the US. It could everyone by surprise with some of the group sheltering in Mick and Kim’s RV, others in the buses and but most were under the aluminium grandstand on the back straight. Plus one stuck in the ladies’ toilet.

It didn’t take long for the track to call it and announce they would try again next Tuesday night.  That was fine by us as we were still in town and it was a free night for us anyway. Fans started leaving in droves at that point and the one lane track out from the back straight parking became one long, long line as it struggled to merge with those on the front straight parking area to see who could get out onto the road first. Plus they had to contend with 60 or so race haulers emerging from the pits.

The rain was that hard and the traffic that congested there was no chance to go against the flow to pick up those stranded under the grandstand, so they had to stay there for 50 minutes or so while things settled down.

The trip home was relatively easy. Stubb was fast asleep in Tim’s bus, people had full bladders in both buses with Tim stopping his along the way to allow relief. A high naughty procedure in good old America. Fortunately no one in authority witnessed said event …..

On arrival back at the hotel, we realised it had not rained at all in Fishers, so drinks were convened in the car park alongside the continual stream on I-69.  (This time it was traffic!)

Day 33 – Sunday July 27th            

Brickyard 400 day for everybody ……

For several months GST management figured that our numbers would be divided today with some wanting to go to Lawrenceburg for Round 4 of ISW and some to Indianapolis Motor Speedway to watch the NASCARs in action on the 2½ mile oval track in the Brickyard 400. Hence, we had a plan worked out for transport, but it would only work if seven or more wanted to head southeast to the highest banked dirt track in Indiana (maybe the entire country).

As of yesterday, the consensus was looking as though 14 wanted to watch the NASCARs so the majority ruled and all 19 of us went to Indy. Next task was to calculate what time we should leave the hotel. If it was the Indy 500, then there would be 350,000 other people there with us. The Brickyard 400 would attract probably no more 70,000.

Gates open at 10.00am with plenty of things to see and do before racing starts at 2.00pm. The public track walk along the main straight is always popular, but one’s wallet needs to be open to buy a ticket.  So with all that considered, a departure time of 7.30am was set. If we left the hotel at that time for the Indy 500, we would arrive around 12.30pm. Today we arrived in Parking Lot 2A at 8.10am.  We were directed into the third row from the front on Georgetown Road. Way early, but we always figured that might be the case.

People found things to do. There were merchandise sellers of all kinds on Georgetown Road outside the track, so that occupied an hour or so. Others stayed at the buses and had a couple of early ones kept cold by their stubby holders. Other race goers wandered in for a chat, attracted by the four Australian flags permanently adorning the back doors of both Mercs.

The flex tickets that everyone had purchased allowed seating in any stand that was open, thus allowing fans to view the race from pretty much anywhere. Bearing in mind that to walk from Turn 4 where we entered the track, to Turn 2 is about three kilometres. The main straight seating opposite the pits was popular for our group. Noting that pit row needed space for 39 teams – a lengthy walk indeed for the officials.

I accompanied Ben, Tim and Junior for the day. After sitting midway up the Turn 4 stands to watch the start, we only lasted 10 minutes before the burning hot sun forced us to reconsider our options. We walked down underneath and found a volunteer driver with an empty golf cart, so offered him $5 to take the four of us into the infield to walk around. That drive in itself took 10-15 minutes and gave forth to the realisation of how great a way it was to get around. He enjoyed our company immensely and we his. So much so that we took his phone number to call him when next we needed him.

He even tried his best to get us admitted to the private party set up by a Company to entertain their guests. He failed that time, but several hours later Ben, Tim and Junior got themselves in. It’s always a challenge to do such things and succeed!!  Ben’s footy may have had something to do with it ….

We then went in different directions and I found myself on my own. As time marched on the sun got hotter ‘n hell, the race continued without an hint of any drama at all and my body became less willing to do what might have been fun for it decades ago.  And then I hit upon an idea. I rang our golf cart driver and asked if I could ride with him as he picked up various members of the public and took them to different places around the complex. Both inside on the infield and outside behind the grandstands.

He readily agreed and came to pick me up behind the Pagoda and away we went all over the complex for an hour or so.  Eventually the race was nearing its end and I asked if he could drop me off at the Turn 4 gates so I could return to the buses. As I approached the parking lot on foot I hoped that some vehicles in the front row on Georgetown Road had already left so I could put the Merc in their spot for some people watching.  The race would be finishing in 20 minutes or so.

No problems there. Many cars had already departed and there were some prime spots parallel to the road that I could manoeuvre the big unit into and set up our fold up chairs ready for some partying before even attempting to put them on the road for home.  Tim returned early as well so both were set up together with back doors wide open to publicise the Australian flags.

It was then just a matter of waiting for the throng to arrive and for someone to call out “G’day mate”, or give us an “Ozzie, Ozzie, Ozzie”, or yell out “is Shane van Gisbergen an Aussie yet” or ask “why aren’t you drinking Fosters” or “have you got any snakes in that van”? The banter was fantastic and a truly nice way to finish the day.

We hit the hotel around 7.30pm and folks dispersed for different places to eat with IHOP the most popular. As it was last night after Kokomo rained out.

PS:   Down at Lawrenceburg, it was a barnburner of a race according to the Hendersons and the Sauers. The latter family by the way left the Brickyard 400 at 4.00pm and skedaddled down to Lawrenceburg 190 kms away, arriving just in time for the heat races. The winner was Logan Seavey, from Kale Drake and Kevin Thomas Jnr.

Sprintweek points after R4 are: 1-Logan Seavey-148, 2-Briggs Danner-146, 3-Kevin Thomas Jr.-143, 4-Brady Bacon-118, 5-Jake Swanson-118, 6-Robert Ballou-117, 7-Gunnar Setser-97, 8-Hayden Reinbold-93, 9-Mitchel Moles-86, 10-Kale Drake-85.
(R3 at Kokomo to be run Tuesday night.)

During the feature on a lap 17 re-start, one of the most harrowing crashes of the year took place on the front straightaway involving each of the top three drivers in the current USAC National Sprint Car point standings.  USAC’s Richie Murray describes what happened …..

Coming back to green, third place running Justin Grant’s front wheels got airborne as he hopped the turn four cushion and nosed into the outside wall. As Grant ricocheted off the wall, his car performed a 180-degree turn. At that same moment, fourth running Mitchell Moles’ right rear tire ramped over Grant’s left rear, sending both drivers into a violent tumble. Moles helicoptered over six times while Grant got t-boned by Kyle Cummins who was running sixth, which sent Grant’s car airborne before flipping over five times. Cummins also toppled over following his contact with Grant.

In an accident that began with cars flipping at the exit of turn four, Grant and Moles landed very near the entry to turn one three quarters of a full straight away from where it started. Moles was able to climb out and walk away while USAC point leader Cummins was able to restart and finish 10th after his car was repaired in the Indy Metal Finishing Work Area. However, Grant was helped out of his car and taken via ambulance to the hospital with the diagnosis being a broken left foot.

Click here for video of the accident courtesy of Flo Racing.

PPS:  In researching the facts presented in today’s commentary, I came across this most interesting (and in a weird kind of way, humorous) article about tailgating at the Indianapolis 500 over the years since 1909.  I urge you to open it and have a great read.  It’s called “The History of the 500 Party.”

Day 34 – Monday July 28th       

No racing tonight as few promoters will gamble on getting a decent Monday night crowd. As for Tuesday, the same principle applies, but Kokomo have taken a chance and will run the rained out R3 tomorrow.

So what to do today. Well an 11.00am appointment at an address in Greenwood (a suburb of Indy) will put a smile on the dial of anyone. It is here that Mr Ray Skillman, a prolific motor car dealer with 19 dealerships around the city, has accumulated a private collection of not only classic cars from the past, but for dirt track fans there are literally 100 (minimum) restored original midgets, sprintcars, silver crown cars and champ cars from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.  When men knew no better than to race without the safety equipment used today.

Sitting in the middle of the massive shed that houses this collection is a merry go round (carousel) that was originally bought by Tony Hulman for his daughter Mari. (Besides many other things, Tony Hulman owned Indianapolis Speedway outright for 74 years!) He had it placed at his Lingen Lodge in Terre Haute for Mari, her friends and other Hulman Family members.

It then got moved to the Indianapolis Speedway Museum and sat in the basement for years, along with race cars awaiting restoration.  Ray Skillman purchased it from the Museum and had it meticulously restored to perfection for it to become the centre piece of his racecar collection.

People speak in hushed tones when inside this building. It’s almost as though it would be rude to awake the ghosts of the men who drove these beautiful cars. Curator Donnie Gardner is as proud a man as you could find to preside over his flock and he loves it when groups such as ours come in to appreciate just how much this collection means to so many people. It is not open to the general public by the way. It’s strictly invitation only ……

Check out this photo below.   And the one at the start of this Blog.

A considerable hunger had built up while inside this building. It must have been these guys at Skillman’s who sit there day in day out waiting for their burger with fries and a vanilla shake.  So, to compensate the group for missing out last week because of the 104 people who piled off two buses, I thought it would be a good idea to pay a visit to the Greenwood Golden Corral today.   

Which we did and it was a great hit. It’s a pity these places are dying out only because of the gluttony of some people who see fit to pile their plates up and then proceed to only eat 20% of it before going back to do the same thing with a different line of food.

After the “all you can eat feast”, we drove back into Indy on suburban roads (ie. no freeways) and most enjoyable it was too. All the way in fact, to the Lucas Oil Stadium in West Street where the 2012 Superbowl was played. Won by the NY Giants 21-17 over the Patriots.  It’s also the home of the NFL’s Indianapolis Colts.  It’s a spectacular place and I’m sad that a tour of this place was the only promised item I couldn’t deliver across the course of our tour. 20,000 singing school children took over the place and disrupted the public’s regular Friday stadium tours.

Back home at the Staybridge we found another surprise with Happy Hour (actually happy 120 minutes in the end) provided FOC by the Hotel Manager. Needless to say, those who enjoy a beer, or red wine, or white wine were there on the dot of 5.30pm and stayed ‘til it ran out …..  

Day 35 – Tuesday July 29th 

Last year we discovered the Grant King Raceshop in Brownsburg.  Now owned by his nephew Bill Throckmorton and wife Stephanie, it is still a working “shop” as well as a classic example of what such a place would have looked like in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s when King was in his prime as a fabricator of race winning Indy cars and sprintcars.

Grant King’s history is best related by this link to a PDF.

What’s not on there is any reference to his life outside racing. Specifically, his arrest and six month jail term in 1990 for “steal to order auto theft” in Indiana and Ohio. Besides being very good at expertly copying race cars and building clones, he was very good at stripping vehicle identification numbers from scrapped cars and putting them onto stolen cars.

King died in an Indianapolis car accident in 1999.

Right next door to King’s house in Brownsburg was the house that AJ Watson lived in. His garage is still there but is sealed up and not open to the public. Quite extraordinary really that two much admired men in their craft of building iconic looking cars should be neighbours.

From this shop we headed back to the Hotel to get ready for the re-run of R3 of ISW at Kokomo. Pretty much an identical build up to this one in the tailgating stakes. The only difference being that it didn’t rain. The weather and subsequent sunset was spectacular.

Arriving on the back straight at Kokomo in style …

Onya Ambrose …. and his Mum Kim …..

Darren admires the racing when he really should be looking at the sunset.

On the track, from start to finish, Tuesday night at Kokomo Speedway couldn’t have gone any more perfectly for Briggs Danner.

First, he turned the quickest time in Hot Laps. He followed that up by posting quick time in Honest Abe Roofing Qualifying. In his heat race, he charged from sixth to the win. As a grand finale, he stormed from sixth to first once again to earn the feature victory.

Not only did the Allentown, Pennsylvania native win the thing, he completed a clean sweep of the evening in spectacular fashion by erasing a half straightaway deficit in the final lap-and-a-half before making the winning move around the outside of Robert Ballou in the fourth and final turn on the last lap to win by a mere two car lengths.

Danner was ecstatic and Ballou had the shits bigtime. Current ISW points leader Logan Seavey could only manage 8th, which means Briggs Danner elevated himself to the top of the ladder and currently holds a 25 point lead over the favourite Seavey.

PS: The fireworks purchased on impulse on the Ohio – Indiana border back on Day 29 are still resting in the back of the bus.  Maybe tomorrow??

Day 36 – Wednesday July 30th                 

Time to leave the all-suite Staybridge after seven nights in excellent accommodation. Tonight, we will be in Terre Haute at the Holiday Inn where (according to previous travellers Andrews and Perry) the resident Longhorn Steakhouse provides the best steaks in all of America. And as her upstairs knows, these two have demolished steaks all over the country.

Leaving Fishers at 11.00am (the latest possible check-out) meant we had heaps of time on our hands before we took the track tour around the Indianapolis Speedway. Something that couldn’t be done until today because of the NASCARs and subsequent use of the track for corporate days.

Unfortunately all we could get was the ‘Kiss the Bricks’ tour which involved a slow lap of the map along with recorded commentary. And a stop at the start-finish line to kneel at and kiss the nine rows of bricks. The prized tour of the Pagoda and Mr Penske’s suite was not up for discussion today.

Lunch was at the old Pit Stop BBQ in Brownsburg. Remember the midget next to the salad bar? Our old mate Harold who always enjoyed seeing us in his popular restaurant passed away two years ago. However his son and another investor kept the building as a restaurant but removed the auto racing theme. An excellent meal and service was had there anyway, despite the fact that all the speedway photos and the chance of seeing racing personalities deep in “bench racing discussion” surrounded by empty beer bottles, was no more.

The Pit Stop BBQ was where we had one of the most enjoyable lunches ever in Global Speedway Tours’ history when in 2014 Merle Bettenhausen joined our table and entertained us for an hour with hysterical stories galore about his time in racing, both in the US and Australia.  Thank goodness Merle is still with us and in fact if he is reading this, thank you Merle for your help in getting us into to see the Skillman collection.

After lunch we made our way to Circle City Speedway on the eastern side of town for tonight’s Round 5 of ISW.  A brand new track (well six years old is nearly new) it has quickly gained the necessary notches on its belt to be able to host a round of Sprintweek.

Once again we met up with the folks from Washington State and Lismore, who for once were not parked side by side. Which proved to be quite a blessing indeed when it was discovered the next morning that the Washington State folks were stuck in the mud. Their RV needed to be dragged out by the Lismore family wagon. Quite a sight indeed I understand.

Kirk Daugherty wandered into our little tailgating community this afternoon and I was delighted to be able to exchange shirts with him. A GST polo to Kirk for all the help he has been over the years with Winchester Speedway and forming the unbelievable relationship we now have with Charlie Shaw, Bob Lemons, Gary McFarlane and Tom Bigelow.  In return Kirk gave me a twice signed Tony Stewart shirt which will go ‘straight to the pool room’. (An Aussie expression for a valuable item!)

Winner tonight was CJ Leary over Mitchell Moles and the very consistent Kevin Thomas Jnr. Briggs Danner now leads the Sprintweek points by a mere seven, just ahead of KTJ.

The 85-mile drive to Terre Haute down I-70 in pitch black conditions, except for the truck lights, was enthralling. I love the night driving and dicing with the semis is a real challenge. We lobbed into the Holiday Inn around 1.00am making it once again a night where we didn’t go to bed on the same day as we woke up …..

Day 37 – Thursday July 31st      

Pronounced Terra Hote, it’s a great town of 58,000 Hoosiers (ie : people who live in Indiana) and the obligatory speedway track of course. And yes, it’s at the Fairgrounds and in fact has been since 1952 meaning it has provided thrills and spills to sprintcar and midget fans for 73 years. The US television channel ABC put Terre Haute on the national map in the 70’s when it used its national program called Wide World of Sports to showcase live racing from this very track. (Ever wondered where Channel 9 got the name from?)

I can honestly say that watching this vision as a kid back in the day cemented my own desire to see sprintcars and midgets race live in the USA. You and I have Terre Haute and Jim McKay at Wide World of Sports to thank for giving me the vision for Global Speedway Tours.

And to top it off with one more stat, the Action Track to give it its correct name, may well be the closest speedway to the geographic centre of any town in the country. Our hotel for last night and tonight is precisely an 80 second drive from the front gate of the Fairgrounds. (As I write this last bit, that little guy who sits on your shoulder called your conscience, is telling me that maybe the fabulous Angell Park Speedway in Sun Prairie equals it. But I say, that’s way up in Wisconsin and doesn’t count!!)

Today is a do anything day because pretty much everything you would want to do is within walking distance of the Holiday Inn. Be it eating, shopping, going to the movies, exercising, sleeping or washing.  Earlier in the tour I had promised several people that when in Terre Haute I would take them to a Rural King store. What is it you may ask. Well Google’s AI tells it like this.

“A family-owned retailer offering a diverse range of products to support those living the rural lifestyle. As of 2025, we operate 134 stores across 13 states in addition to two primary distribution centres. We welcome everyone with a friendly smile and a free bag of popcorn!”

In other words it’s a Walmart for farmers.

Right down the back of the store are live animals.  Mainly baby chicks, ducks, rabbits and mini pigs. (Pigs that are bred not to get very big.)  My grandkids would spend hours in that one spot. Next door was Lowes, former longtime sponsor of Jimmie Johnson’s NASCAR career.  It’s a chain of stores which are seen every day from the interstates as we drive past but never stop.  Well today is the day to step inside. All I can say is, take the footprint of a Bunnings store and overlay it onto a Lowes store and it would drop right in perfectly.

As we emerged from Lowes it started to rain! Hearts sank and punters dived for their weather apps on the phone. (Yes plural, because it’s very important to have at least three different weather apps to ensure that at least one of them is predicting the rain to clear.)

The problem was that none of them were. It was here to stay apparently.  The temperature had dropped considerably as well. Yesterday it was nudging the 100 mark in Fahrenheit lingo. Today it was in the high 60’s. Not good at all.

But guess what? Everyone ignored the forecasts. The promoter. The track crew. The teams. The fans.  Everyone kept on piling through the famous gate with the old fashioned sign and we not only got the race in, but it was a record crowd for recent years. Yes, Terre Haute was back.

On track it was the race of the year so far across all USAC competition categories and one of the all-time great races in the Action Track’s history. No point in me trying to describe it.  Just read Richie Murray’s report at this link.  Stockon Sprints to First USAC Win in 5 Years at Terre Haute  Kevin Thomas Jnr now leads by only two pts with two races to go.

Because we won’t see the last two ISW races, it’s appropriate to record here that Seavey won Round 7 at Bloomington from Thomas and Thomas won Round 8 at Haubstadt from Seavey. The ultimate final point standings had Kevin Thomas as the ISW champion by six markers from Logan Seavey.     

Post races, the area surrounding the two RVs and two Mercedes Sprinters came alive with fireworks. The perpetrators figured that because everyone was already charged up by the race they had just witnessed, they may as well let off the recently purchased fireworks to excite them even more. A vacant area of the grassed parking lot was scouted out and away they went.  Lots of people watched, and no one approached them to stop it. Probably because I doubt that anyone knows what the real rules are surrounding letting fireworks off on other than July 4th anyway.

As it turned out, they didn’t let all of them off with some remaining hidden under the fold up chairs ….

Day 38 – Friday August 1st

News was received overnight that yet again the airlines (this time United) had let the team down by completely cancelling the flight out of Melbourne to San Francisco that our four new starters should have been on yesterday across the Pacific. If they were, they would have then flown to St Louis from San Fran and stayed the night to await our agreed 10.30am arrival today from Terre Haute.

Eventually it happened, but not until 24 hours later.

So, when we turned up at the Hampton Inn at the Gateway Arch (way too early to check-in) all we had to do was grab the parking passes (US$45 / vehicle / night) and park the vans with our entire luggage collection stored inside, in the exterior parking lot. There were lots of spots and no attendant. We then walked leisurely down to the Gateway Arch to undertake two optional excursions. The first was the potentially claustrophobic ride to the top of the Arch in small five person trams which shake, rattle and roll their way up there via the legs of the Arch.  An ingenious process which is partly witnessed in action through the glass doors as the tiny tram ascends the 192 metres (62 stories) to the top.

Once up there though it is totally worth it with the curvature of the earth very evident when peering into Illinois and Missouri for about 30 miles. Right below is the mighty Mississippi River with plenty of specialised tugboats pushing 15 barges at a time, both with and against the strong current. Each barge can hold a maximum of 1,750 tons which is the equivalent of taking 60-70 semi-trailers off the road.  15 linked barges, which can be regularly seen chugging up the Mississippi, means that this operation alone takes 975 trucks off the highways. Something we should be very grateful for …..

Next was a ride on the paddle steamer Tom Sawyer which plys the Mississippi taking tourists on an hour’s cruise north under five or so bridges that carry traffic and / or trains across the river. This bit is against the extreme current of the river and lasts three times as long as it does to return the same distance with the tide. The biggest task the master of the Tom Sawyer has is not looking out for other vessels, but to avoid tree trunks which float down the river from the furthest point north in Minnesota where the river originates.

Back to the hotel to check-in and then leave for I-55 (Federated Auto Parts Speedway) and night 1 of the World of Outlaw sanctioned Iron Man races. A 40-minute drive got us to Pevely a bit later than we would have wanted, but it didn’t stop our Missouri mate Andrew Muser locating us for his regular 12 monthly catch-up. This year he had his lovely girlfriend Stephanie with him.

Most had gone into the track when Andrew arrived, so it was just a few hardy souls who remained tailgating. Amongst them was our Queensland-Kiwi, James. Now you need to be aware that firstly, James has a freaky knowledge of aircraft and secondly, Andrew who looks the most unlikely person to ever have airplane knowledge is actually a pilot in his own right. Once that subject was introduced, we just let them be, talking numbers and words that only they could understand.

We had front stretch seats tonight and it had been a week or so since the group had seen a winged sprintcar. Their speed, especially on the famous I-55 was mind-blowing indeed. Folks were in raptures about both. In particular the track and they can now understand why the powers that be in Bordertown, South Australia sought permission to laser measure I-55 and build a replica of it in the middle of nowhere in SA. It is complete now and when the final seating is put in will attract huge crowds, even if they have to drive a fair distance post-race to sleep.

Carson Macedo continued his recent golden run by winning night 1 from Donny Schatz and Buddy Kofoid.

Now let’s return to the parking situation back at the hotel.

Before we left this arvo, some cash changed hands with the young bloke on the gate to get him to put out three cones for our vehicles when we returned, probably well after midnight. (Forgot to tell you that we picked up a Chrysler Pacifica in Indy to take the load off the two Mercs when Robyn, Lloyd, Barry and Jan join up with us in St Louis.)  It was highly likely the car park facility would fill up on a Friday night and we can’t put the vans in the adjacent multistory indoor car park.

I should also point out at this stage that last year on this very same weekend, the hoons who drive through the city terrorising all and sundry on the roads late at night ‘til dawn with their unmuffled V8 supercars and dreadfully unsafe driving habits, had an almighty four car accident on the corner outside the Hampton Inn. It was about 2.00am and it brought down power lines, traffic lights and destroyed four cars. Only one of which was a hoon …. and he jumped out his wreck and fled through the backdoor of our hotel! I watched the whole thing unfold with a red cup of bourbon & coke in my hand.

But back to tonight. When we arrived ‘home’ the cones had long ago been moved and were nowhere to be seen. Nor were any available parking spots.  The young bloke who got the cash was also gone and his replacement was a gentle fellow who explained it was his first night on the job!  “I ‘ain’t seen no cones” he spluttered. There was available space to park them with one spot being a private disabled zone and the other where motorbikes would park if there were any.

“Put ‘em in there man” he shouted excitedly, eager to help on his first night.  So we did, maneuvered them in and prepared for a couple of red cup drinks. But before we could put them to our lips, another guy strode out of the hotel wearing a jacket with Security embroidered all over it. The lettering actually looked like it was done at home by his Mum.  In the meantime, the hoons were constantly racing around and around the city and always down along 4th Street past the Hampton Inn. Just like last year ….

Security (that’s what we will call him from now on) immediately told us to move them right out of the car park. “They are not allowed to be in here. They are over height and too long. Not permitted” he said over and over. It was an outside parking lot, so height could never be an issue, despite them having a gate with a lid on it for some obscure reason.

Junior used his negotiating skills to convince Security that the 12-seater was shorter than a couple of Ford F450’s already parked in there. It was a calculated guess from Junior, but Security couldn’t argue against it and allowed it to stay squeezed into a spot at the back. But the 15-seater had to go.

But where?  Security walked out of the car park to the front of the hotel and pointed to the inside lane of 4th Street. “Right here. We own this bit of road” he said. The four of us just looked dumbfounded at each other. “You mean here on Hoon Highway”, I said.  Right here exactly where this time last year an almighty accident occurred. You remember that”?  “Yeah I do but the po-lice have got them cars off the road. Besides I’ve got some cones. I’ll put them out behind your car.” I started to laugh and was about to say “Yeah, I reckon I know where you got the cones from”, but was drowned out by a hoon going past in second gear at probably 110 kmh.

Security was still insistent that is where it should be parked for the night. We weren’t, so went for a walk and found a public parking lot with hundreds of spaces just 200 metres away. This is where both vans will be parked for tonight and tomorrow. I drove mine there and Junior and Ben guided Tim out of where he was squeezed in and soon they joined me in the 405 Washington Lot. It was $10 per 24 hours starting at 12.01 am each night. Perfect timing for us. The payment system was superb. Never seen anything like it before. Ask me about it one day. It’s called ParkMobile.

Still furious with the Security guy we settled our anger with the red cup solution for at least an hour on a perfectly still summer’s night listening to the hoons do what they do best.

It was now 2.00am at least and we walked back into the hotel. The boys grabbed the lift, but I went straight to the front desk where to my surprise I saw Security standing there with a broom in his hand. His other job (or could it be his real job) is obviously the cleaner. The sight added further fuel to my fire and it didn’t take long at all to convince the desk clerk that she should immediately remove all US$270.00 of parking charges from my room account.

She did it so quickly and without any resistance that I suspect I’m not the first to go through what we just did tonight.

And by the way the night was not over, even though this next bit should really be in tomorrow’s write-up.

Around 2.30am I’m sitting at my laptop doing some accounting for the last few days, and I hear an almighty bang. Clearly some distance away. I ignored it. I’ve had my excitement for the day. Five minutes later there’s another massive bang and this one was much closer. Like right outside on Hoon Highway. This time I grabbed the room key and ventured downstairs and out onto 4th Street.

I stood there open mouthed. It had happened again. Hoon #1 had gone through a red light (said the Uber driver that he hit) at a minimum of 80 miles an hour. The speed limit in the city is 25. The hoon car is almost demolished with steam and smoke bellowing from its engine bay. Two women in the front seats are both unconscious, or worse. Neither are moving in any way.

The Uber driver is out of his car wandering around. Fortunately it was hit on the passenger side where no one was sitting. The two back seat passengers are sitting cross legged on the sidewalk leaning up against the Hampton Inn wall. The power pole that came down last year, is again lying prostrate on the ground.

After observing all this I turn around and standing there behind me is Security. “And you wanted me to fu#@%ing well park there on that street”, I smirked. His answer was beyond belief. “You wouldn’t have been hit. I told you to park 20 yards further up the road”.

I turn my attention back to the accident and another hoon car turns up and skids to a halt. Two rather large African American women emerge and rush to the hoon #1 car and begin to cradle the unconscious passengers. Their state of dress suggests they had been disturbed from doing something when they received a call about their friends. It’s probably not often that they would go out in just a bra and panties I would suggest.

I turn back to Security but he had quietly disappeared. But beyond where he was standing I could see further down 4th Street. Maybe 300 metres to a freeway on-ramp. There are flashing red and blue lights everywhere. (The cops, paramedics or fire brigade are yet to arrive at our accident scene.)  Another hoon had lost control under acceleration and smashed into a few other innocent drivers. This was the first bang I heard.

Eventually an ambulance did arrive at our crash site and the paramedics took over. I’m not sure how many they took to hospital but in one of my photos we noticed another body underneath hoon car #1. Hopefully they took him or her away too. Then the cops, then three fire trucks landed to combat the fallen power lines. For me, at that point I put the phone away and walked back inside. The front desk lady sighed and gave me a look of pity as if to say, “I guess you won’t be returning here next year huh?”

Well, the answer to that my dear depends on two things.

1. Will the hotel still be employing Security then?
2. Will the St Louis police ever get serious about fixing the hoon problem?

Day 39 – Saturday August 2nd        

Yesterday we worked a little bit of GST magic for our new arrivals.  Such is the popularity of the Ride to the Top of the Arch, tickets need to be booked months in advance. Which is what we did back in April for yesterday at 11.40am. Once we knew who wanted to do it.  After which, at 1.30pm,we boarded the Tom Sawyer for the Mississippi cruise.

All good planning, except we didn’t factor in that United would cancel an entire flight from Sydney. What we did know is that the Arch always opens each day at 9.00am with the first ride to the top 10 minutes later. We also knew that like our time slots yesterday, 9.10am Saturday was sold out months ago. But Tim and I felt that we should try to see if we can get our four “newbies” on the 9.10am Ride to the Top. Not Tom Sawyer, because we would be at the Budweiser Brewery at that time.

So we waited in the Customer Service queue for a short time practicing our best Australian accents. It would be a good get if we can pull this off. It wasn’t long before we stood in front of a young man who after listening to our story, didn’t immediately say no, or brush us away. There was a flicker of a chance when he said “this sounds like a job for my manager. I’ll go get him.”

Out came the manager and he stood before us. We couldn’t take our eyes off him. Or should I say his moustache. The best Handlebar moustache either of us have ever seen. I suspect actually that anyone has ever seen. Tim responded first by congratulating him on such impressive facial artistry. (Every bit helped.) He was tickled pink by that, particularly coming from an Aussie.

The first young man explained the scenario to HM (handlebar moustache) who listened intently and then outlined the dilemma to the three of us. “Every time slot for the next two months is sold out. But we do have an option. My young friend here doesn’t know this, but he will in a minute when I tell you two the solution.”

“We always have 10 spots available on each day that we can slot into the roster for situations just like this. Problem is that the computer doesn’t open them up until 11.00am the day before.  It’s nearly that now, so let’s just chat for a bit about Australia until it’s 11.01am.” So, amongst other things, he told us that his previous employer was American Airlines and that his only job was to console passengers when flights were cancelled.  His ‘tash fairly bristled when I said “Oh, so it was a full time job then?”

Tim glared at me, but fortunately HM loved the humour. By now he had delved into the system and allocated four extra spots to tomorrow’s 9.10am ride. He produced new tickets, whilst at the same time refunding the money Global Speedway Tours had already paid for the Tom Sawyer cruise.

Some things are just so good about America and there was one such example ….

So now its 8.45am Saturday morning and we’re in the bus taking the Mumfords and the Whiteheads to the magnificent Gateway Arch. Tim took them in to show them the ropes inside, while I visited a Bank of America ATM (no fee for Westpac customers), filled the bus up with diesel, bought a Starbuck’s cappuccino and finally parked the big unit on Leonor Sullivan Boulevard. The road that runs parallel to the Mississippi and allows short parking to pick up exiting Arch climbers. I opened up the laptop, wrote three minutes (or less) of Blog and promptly fell asleep.

Only to wake up a minute or two before the five of them turned up to get in for the ride back to the hotel. They think I was diligently working at the open laptop resting up against the steering wheel, so please don’t tell them I had been fast asleep.

The Budweiser Brewery tour, followed by lunch in the Biergarten precinct is always a favourite and today was no different. An inclusion in the GST tour price is guaranteed, even if you don’t drink beer. The sheer size of the place commands its own zip-code of 63118 and seeing the 50 or so Clydesdales in residence is worth the price of admission on its own.  In the chilly aging cellars are 63 gigantic submarine like holding tanks. Each one holds the beer for 21 days before it is sent to the bottling plant elsewhere in the complex. If a person wanted to empty just one of these tanks on their own, they would need to drink one can every hour of every day for 125 years.

I only know of one man in the world that could pull that off  ….. while sitting by a river underneath high voltage electricity lines from a nuclear power plant.

Late afternoon saw us back at I-55 for night 2. We had reserved seating on the back straight tonight and were packed in like sardines. From now on, our seats will be in the same place each night on the front straight towards turn 1. Much more comfortable and a far better viewing point.  Despite all that the gruelling 55 lap feature had plenty of drama and excitement with Buddy Kofoid taking the honours from Tanner Thorson (17th to 2nd) and Sheldon Haudenschild in third.

Getting out of Federated Auto Parts Raceway ‘aint as easy as getting in. It is far better to have a few traffic clearers than swing up into the seat and inch forward in a line for 45 minutes or so. And during that tailgating hour the remaining fireworks were sent to the sky. And, at the same time track security were sent to our vans. It wasn’t real difficult to determine where they were being let off at.

They crept up on us actually and surprised the hell out of everyone watching. Demands were made to stop immediately. There was silence ….. and no one was sure what would happen next until Andrew our local aeroplane man broke the ice and said in his famous Missourian drawl; “Well officers, as the only American here I tried ma best to stop ‘em setting off them fireworks, but they just wouldn’t listen to me!”

Then, as suddenly as they arrived, their demeanour changed dramatically when they also saw the Australian flags. They knew Andrew and realised we weren’t hoons who drove V8 supercars throughout St Louis city streets. They became nice guys and advised the “lighters” of said fireworks that it was illegal to set them off. “But you may as well finish off what you got.”

With that, the law enforcers stayed with us for 15 minutes chatting away about sprintcars in Australia.

The trip home was quick.

The vans were parked in 405 Washington Lot.

And the hoons were out again, but without incident tonight.

Day 40 – Sunday August 3rd      

The Sunday after the Iron man, besides the Capitani Classic at Knoxville, is always “stop in at Hannibal for an ice cream” day. So what is Hannibal you might ask? Well it’s a very pretty town in Missouri that sits on the awe inspiring Mississippi River. It’s also where Samuel Clemens (aka Mark Twain) spent his childhood.  Born in 1835 Sam had two early ambitions in life. One was to become a writer, hence leaving school at 12 to become a printer’s apprentice before leaving Hannibal for bigger cities on the east coast where he enhanced his schooling by educating himself in public libraries at night.

His second goal was to become a ‘steamboatman’ on the mighty river. Which he did in 1860, qual-ifying as a Riverboat pilot and becoming an expert in the workings of and life on, the Mississippi. Interestingly his adopted pen name of Mark Twain came in this period. It was the cry that the leadsman gave for a measured river depth of two fathoms (12 feet / 4 metres) which indicated safe water for a steamboat.  Bet you always wanted to know that!

Tom Sawyer’s girlfriend was Becky Thatcher and the ice cream shop in Hannibal is named after her. The proprietor is always happy to see 20 odd Aussies come in for thick shakes and cones.  Even more so today because this morning’s scheduled arrival of the massive Riverboat “Viking Mississippi” was cancelled because the river was too high for it to get under certain bridges.

Another ‘given’ about the Sunday after the Iron Man is that lunch will be in the Hardees fast food joint in Mt Pleasant, Iowa.  I’m sure they don’t remember our individual visits over the years, but they might recall today’s. The BP gas station next door was held up at gun point just before our arrival. Tim and I didn’t know that when, after dropping off the hungry horde to eat, we adjourned to the gas station to fill up with diesel.  Fortunately we used credit cards at the pump, so didn’t need to go inside ….

Onwards we went to Altoona, Iowa to check into our hotel for the next eight nights before doing a quick turn around and making the 35 minute drive to Knoxville. It was a drive that we would make seven more times to both watch racing at the Sprintcar Capital of the World, Oskaloosa, English Creek and sightseeing galore.

The Capitani Classic on a Sunday night attracts upwards of 70 cars who use the night to get one last time on the famous track before they attempt to qualify next Wednesday or Thursday. The Australian James McFadden was super quick tonight and thus earned his first ever career 410 win at Knoxville.  His excitement was fairly noticeable as the footwear came off for his famous victory “shoey” on the podium.

Day 41 – Monday August 4th  

The morning was set aside to become familiar with our new surroundings and prepare for the run home of seven more races in seven nights. In actual fact the more memorable total is 17 races in the last 20 nights of the tour.  We left for Knoxville around Midday to allow visits to the Sprintcar Hall of Fame and Museum for some and the Dingus Lounge for others.

Imagine a triangle for just a minute. One of the vertices (or corners) is Altoona, the second is Knoxville and the third is Pella where we used to stay. 25 kms further on from Pella is Oskaloosa the home of the event known as “We held a party and a race broke out.”  For years now Terry McCarl has taken care of the gap in racing on Monday nights by renting the Osky track and putting on a race that anyone with a 410 can turn up to try and win 25 grand in a one night stand.

For Global Speedway Tours it’s also a chance for eight people to win the opportunity of going up into the flag stand with Toby Kruse to experience the rush that sprintcars at 240 kmh will give you when just two metres above them. We conducted that draw whilst tailgating right next to the Turn 1 fence and the Flo Racing production truck. The 15-seater had its bum pointed to the track and the 12-seater formed a 90 degree angle with the whole of the driver’s side parallel to the track. (This is important information for later.)     

Seating was squeezy up in the open grandstand thanks once again to people sitting in reserved seats that weren’t theirs, so it was just as well that at least four of us at any given time stayed near the flag stand to usher folks up and down throughout the night. Joining us at this sacred and forbidden place were the Oskaloosa Sherriff and his deputies. They remembered me from other years and this year’s lucky tour members enjoyed some great conversation with the constabulary.

Adam was the lucky winner who secured the rights to the A Main and he stayed up there with Toby for the entire 30 laps. Not unusually, Kyle Larson won his fifth Front Row Challenge, putting three seconds between him and Corey Day and James McFadden in third possie.

Folks trekked back to our own Sprinters ready to have a couple before leaving for Altoona, only to find a gaping hole in the left rear window of the 15-seater.  Had we been broken into? Or did a rock (or major chunk of clay) get skimmed off the track at a faster velocity than the car that flicked it up?  The amateur sleuths amongst us (plus one real one) went forensically investigating but could find no evidence of either option. Even the Flo Racing dude flying the drone from the back of their van didn’t hear or see anything.

There was no choice but to locate some large and solid bits of cardboard from the merchandise shops and with the help of the ‘duck’ tape we already had, a self-appointed team of plasterers did a great job of sealing up the hole in the whole back window. It was as rigid as with its strength was demonstrated when the bus flew home without so much of anything coming adrift.

Day 42 – Tuesday August 5th

Baseball was the featured part of the daytime hours. A drive to the “Field of Dreams” movie site in Dyersville, Iowa was the plan. But not many wanted to go. It was a long drive there and back and the lure of the nearby Des Moines Outlet Stores proved insurmountable. Hence just Ben, Tim and Junior drove the Pacifica for the 520 km round trip and thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

Your blogger would have gone with them, but he had another pressing matter since last night’s mysterious window episode.  And that was locating a replacement window which didn’t have a hole in it. Some members suggested we would have to wait days to get one shipped in to Des Moines. Others declined to comment. Only one (me) was very optimistic at the after breakfast discussion on the odds of getting it done quickly. (Mainly because I had already located an auto glazier who had one.)

It would be fixed at Midday. On the dot of 12 I arrived at 20/20 AutoGlass on the north side of Des Moines. I was greeted by Kyle Larson’s doppelganger – a greater lookalike I have never seen! Turns out that the business was Mexican owned and operated and “Kyle” and his dad were the nicest people I have met for ages. A welcoming Mountain Dew was offered, plus a seat in the airconditioned waiting room while they did the job.

$255 cash was handed over in return for a receipt and Sprinter with a brand new tinted rear window. It was at this point that an answer was provided for last night’s forensic police who searched for evidence. Kyle’s dad said that he has had many jobs replacing Mercedes Sprinter’s rear windows. People come in and tell him (like I did) that they have no idea why it shattered.  His experience is that it’s the heating coils inside the glass that cause the spontaneous breakage.

Knowing that it was a rental, he suggested that we don’t re-connect the wiring to the window until it’s given back. And with that I drove it out of the shop and back to the hotel before 2.00pm. A good day’s work indeed.

Shopping went well as did the evening’s ride to English Creek Speedway for about 10 of us. The rest chose a rest. Watching kids race outlaw karts is an fascinating experience. (There was adult racing as well).  We’ve all seen angry parents at junior footy matches who believe their son or daughter has been poorly treated by the coach, other players, or the umpire.  But I’d never imagined the same thing happens at the local speedway.

Tonight we saw it. Throughout this tour we have been party to some massive accidents. More so than any other trip I’d say. Tonight was no different at English Creek. The kids started it in the U/8’s. They go as hard as the U/21’s and crash more frequently. No more so than one young fella who failed to see the yellow come on and rode a wheel at considerable speed down the back straight and end for ended his kart at least six times. A fairly tough thing to with what is basically a go kart.

Others had less spectacular flips, one of which according to a Dad sitting in our row, was caused by the kid who’s father was sitting in the row in front of us. It was on ….. like Donkey-Kong. Abuse flowed with all the usual four letter words, but it was a bit sad when the word ‘dead’ was one of them.  With the accusation that ‘your kid tried to kill my kid’.  Some folks poked the bear a little bit too much and others had to restrain the parents from fisticuffs before sanity prevailed and both disappeared for the night.

We too departed before the big boys had their A Mains, but the fun factor was such that we will definitely keep English Creek on the Tuesday night itinerary!

Day 43- Wednesday August 6th

Dave Argabright day.  Every tour we do is blessed that it can have the opportunity of lunch with Dave. It’s not often that we miss out, but sometimes real work must come before the side hustle. Today was not one of them, although it could have been if the printer of Dave’s new Book “Kinser” had cooperated with the journalist and delivered the product in time for a Knoxville Nationals launch. Sadly, that didn’t happen and Dave had the free time to meet and address our group today.

Before arriving in Pella, we chose a route that took us past the Iowa Speedway.  A 7/8th mile paved track that opened in 2006, it has been plagued by financial difficulties virtually every year of its life. Now owned by NASCAR, it manages to keep its head above water and has retained its two major dates of the NASCAR “Iowa Corn 350” and the Indy cars double header of the “Synk 275” on the Saturday and the “Farm to Finish 275” on the Sunday                    

Pella is a great Dutch themed town and is a favourite for everyone. Sprintcar T-shirts in August way outnumber tulip shirts in May for the Tulip Time festival. The Pella golf club was our destination to have an Aussie burger buffet lunch with all things you would find in your local fish and chip shop hamburger “back home”. Delicacies like beetroot, fried eggs, pineapple, fried onions, tomato, iceberg lettuce, cheddar cheese were in abundance for the build your own burger.

Dave enthralled the group. During his presentation I tested the theory of dropping a pin (bit of beetroot actually) and I swear I heard it hit the ground. 40 minutes went quickly, finishing with Q&A and even after providing a vote of thanks to him, he sat down, people gravitated to his table and it continued on informally for another 20 minutes.

Money was exchanged for books signed by the author and all was good in Dave Argabright’s life. Even though the Kinser books had not arrived …..

From Pella we went into Knoxville via Lake Red Rock.  Folks had no idea of what was coming when we breasted the rise in Highway 15 and there in all its glory in the middle of corn country was a 283 square km lake. Plus, a hydroelectric plant at the dam wall. This video link shows what the area used to be before the Des Moines River was dammed and six, yes six towns were flooded forevermore.

A quick pitstop down at the bottom of the wall to see if any locals were fishing with crossbow and arrows yielded a nil result unfortunately, but we did chat at length to those catching catfish, bass and walleye.  In amongst the carp!!

Wednesday is not only Dave Argabright day, but Night 1 of the Knoxville Nationals. After 42 days of crisscrossing the mid-west chasin’ racin’ the time had finally arrived for the big one. Merchandising (or at least buying it) for family, friends, and maybe yourself, was the flavour of the day.   Once that was done Dingus was popular to make new friends, meet old ones or just to quench your thirst.

Our seats tonight were in the back straight grandstand, only ever open during the Nationals so the overflow crowds can be accommodated. They are much closer to the track than those on the front stretch. To use an uncommon expression the seats are raked more steeply than those on the other side, hence they provide a much better sightline. We didn’t miss a thing although Turn 1 had most of the action for the night.

Ryan Timms was a convincing winner over Justin Peck and Sheldon Haudenschild.

Day 44 – Thursday August 7th      

Storms smashed Knoxville overnight, but not Altoona so we weren’t to know until reading about it on social media. There were thoughts that even if it didn’t rain any more, racing tonight may still be delayed. So our plans needed to be flexible enough to leave at any time down Highway 5 to the half mile of Iowa dirt.

Hence Walmart and other stores in the neighbourhood got a workout before heading to Jethro’s the BBQ restaurant we went to last year for our farewell dinner.  Home of the Adam Emmenecker burger, the restaurant offers it up for free to anyone who can finish it inside 15 minutes. No one achieved the challenge because sensibly, no one attempted it! Although six years ago co-tour host Timothy did manage to finish one, but not within the allotted time.

Upon receiving word that the sun was shining in Knoxville and the day was back on track, we left Altoona around 3.00pm and arrived at last night’s parking spot 40 minutes later. The rain overnight had the elders on our trip (that was just about everybody) concerned that last night’s spot may well be a little wetter now and hence unsuitable for vehicles of our weight.

A chat to the RV occupants on higher ground confirmed our suspicions. So with that we moved to another one of AJ’s properties in Grant Street and popped them in there.  AJ (the Dingus owner) later confirmed that was where he wanted us to go all along.  That would now be our spot for the last three nights.

We viewed the racing tonight from our reserved seats on Turn 1. If we were there last night 80% of the unanticipated action occurred here.  Tonight that action occurred on the back straight and up on turn 3. (Brian Brown’s massive spill was but one of them.) When you’ve got a half mile track, the distance from A to B is a long way!

That man in the 57 car won again. In his last 22 Knoxville starts, Kyle Larson has won 10 of them and finished second six times.  Pretty soon the crowds will be saying “ ….. anyone but Larson” when asked who they want to win. Just as they did with Kinser and Schatz before him.

Day 45 – Friday August 8th

For years now Friday has been set aside to visit the immaculate shop of Matt Barbara’s KCP Racing up in the small town of Granger. At the outset of Global Speedway Tours, Friday was for visiting Kerry Madsen’s shop, when team owner Bob Gavranich ran Keneric Racing out of a former lumber mill in Knoxville.

While that partnership was building, so was Ian Madsen’s relationship with St Marys, NSW friend and schoolmate Matt Barbara. Matt had been crew chief for Kerry in their earlier years when both had arrived in the USA to make waves in the racing scene over here.

Kerry went on to do exactly that behind the wheel of various teams, but Matt found himself immersed in concrete, eventually starting his own business and excelling from there. Now married with kids, sprintcar racing still held a place in Matt’s heart while building his business to what it is today. Hence KCP Racing was formed in conjunction with Brett Nehring, with Ian as the driver and racing predominantly at Knoxville.

They won the Knoxville point score in 2014 and again in 2017, after which they decided to go full time on the road with the World of Outlaws. Global Speedway Tours were incredibly proud to be able to enter the race shop with our groups over the years to meet Matt and Ian and receive the greatest courtesy a tour group could ask for.

In July 2020 it all fell apart when the team released Ian from his driving responsibilities.  His subsequent replacement was Gio Scelzi who, although quite shy, was always at the shop when GST turned up with another bunch of Aussies. As was Matt who loved the chance to speak Australian English again with us.  And then this year (again in July) Gio decided he wanted out after a large accident at Eldora.

It made me think hard about whether we should even go to Granger this year, but in a series of text messages with Matt, it was clear to me that he wanted to see us again and to “show off” Emerson Axsom, his new driver. Well Emerson put the car straight into Saturday night’s A Main in P8. So it was a beaming owner who spent as much time as we wanted with us this morning. It’s fair to say that #18 now has 23 more fans to cheer him on Saturday night. (For the record Emerson finished 15th and was still on the lead lap.  Earnings across the four nights were US$23,500.)

Boone was next up. In speedway terms probably the biggest thing Boone has to offer is the Supernationals week of racing when 1,024 cars of all categories turned up to race for gold. That was last year. Apparently more are expected for the 2025 edition in the first week of September.

Toby K’s Hideaway is here in Boone as well and lunch there is always a pleasant interlude under a ceiling which is completely covered with panels from wrecked IMCA Modifieds. Back to Altoona we went for a spell in the Best Western before heading once again into Knoxville for Night 3.  This night is the best of the four in my mind. We already have the top 16 in points locked in to the A on Saturday. The next 10 in points are locked into the B on Saturday. The rest hand their points back and go again Friday night.

Qualifying was held for 69 cars who are competing for the top four spots in tonight’s A Main. If successful, they take positions 21, 22, 23 and 24 in Saturday’s A Main. The remaining 65 are sorted by finishing position into 11-24 in Saturday’s B and then so on through to the E Main on Saturday.

Racing is cutthroat with nothing left in the reserve. It’s win it or bin it time. We watched it all unfold from the back straight again, which is where we will also be for tomorrow night. The much maligned David Gravel won the A (and grabbed P21) from Buddy Kofoid, Cole Macedo and Daryn Pittman.

Day 46 – Saturday August 9th      

The 11.00am parade through the Knoxville city square fell by the wayside this year. It is not what you would expect it to be in a sprintcar oriented town. It suits the locals though who can exhibit their local business to others for example. Hence we stayed in Altoona and folks used the extra free time to start the dreaded task of packing for home.

At midday we headed down to Knoxville via the Slideways Karting Centre which continues to grow each time I see it.  You can race a kart, eat your lunch, play mini golf, throw cornhole bags and drink beer or other preferred liquors. We then positioned the beasts into AJ’s property and settled down to tailgate for the final time on the 2025 Month of Money tour.

To celebrate the occasion, we gave the floor (it was really a patch of grass) to Ben who recited a poem he had written about life on tour.  Considering he had only been with us for 3½ weeks, it was a great effort and was well received by all.

The entire poem has been reproduced at the conclusion of this Blog.

We also had one last sweep and at the same time doubled the amount to go into the draw because the excess funds were to buy 130 50/50 tickets. Iowa law states that no 50/50 prize paid can exceed $9,999.00. Except for one night in the year. Which the Raceway hold back for the Saturday night of the Knoxville Nationals.  Tonight it grew to way more than that, but it wasn’t our night to win.

But it was 18 year old Ryan Timms’ night when he spanked a high class field to easily win the US$195,000 on offer for first place. I’ll never forget seeing the entire back straight bleachers stand and cheer his last two laps of the race. He deserved every plaudit that came his way and plenty did from the fans who understandably couldn’t believe what they had just seen unfold.

Ryan still has three years to go before he can legally drink, so there’s no podium champagne for him for quite some time. Second was Rico Abreu and third was the clear “hard charger” of the night, David Gravel who came from 21 to make up 18 spots.

Barry, our final sweep winner, was delighted with his US$115.00 that he now has two choices as to how he spends it.  Either buy 115 cans of beer from the GST $ esky for everybody.  Or wait until he gets to New York City on Monday with wife Jan and friends Lloyd and Robyn, where he can shout all four of them with two cans each in the hotel bar …… 🙄

Back at Altoona, drinks continued in the parking lot for hours, well into Sunday morning.  Plenty of pleasant tour memories were re-lived over and over as the eskies were gradually drained of their contents ……

Day 47 – Sunday August 10th      

With most packing completed it was now time to go visit the Iowa State Fair. It was a short 10 minute drive to the main gate for a day’s look at an event which attracts 112,000 people every day for 11 days. It is most famous for its catchcry of “you can buy any food you like here as long as it’s on a stick and is deep fried.”  Tickets were provided for tour members because the Fair was going to be where we held our farewell dinner.

The venue was meant to be Toby and Dianna’s most recent purchase. Six months ago they tendered for the lease of perhaps the most popular restaurant at the Fair. It was called the “Steer ‘n Stein” by the long term owner who, just seven months ago was discovered to be underpaying his staff. He lost the lease immediately. A syndicate that included Toby Kruse and Dianna put in a tender and won it. There was much work to be done.

The end result was beyond their wildest dreams. The joint was packed every hour of the day with drinkers and eaters who loved the live music and quality food. There was zero chance we could have our farewell dinner in there as we would not have got a table for 23 and you could not have heard anyone talk about their favourites things. The “sound of music’ was drowning all conversation out. Great for a farewell party but a dinner, no unfortunately.

So we worked out a solution with Toby and we finished up at the Spectators Bar and Grill back near the Hotel. It was a Sports Bar with TV’s everywhere, plus we had a room to ourselves.

And top it all off, it had a sprintcar outside the front door …..

Day 48 – Monday August 11th

Shuttle services started running to Des Moines Airport at 5.00am when the party of four heading for New York packed their bags into the bus for the final time. The weather was superb (even though it was pitch black) so delays to departures today were unlikely to happen.

Subsequent rides happened until the last one left with most on it at 10.30am. The Chrysler Pacifica was returned to Alamo at this point but the two Mercedes vans have to be returned to where we picked them up from in Sandusky, Ohio.  Hence Tim and I had a long 1,150 km drive in front of us.

Hugs and farewells happened on the sidewalk at the departure drop off area for American Airlines who were to take folks to either Dallas direct, or Los Angeles via Phoenix. We took longer than we should, but the watching cop turned a blind eye owing to the number of people who have to hug and shake hands with each other!

And so it all ended. The airline terminal swallowed everyone up and I-80 consumed Tim and I for the rest of today.  We made the obligatory stopover at the World’s Largest Truckstop in Walcott, Iowa and then another in mid Illinois for a leg stretch and putting your head under a tap in the men’s. It’s a proven stay awake routine .….

We eventually stopped for the night in Merrillville, Indiana.

Day 49 – Tuesday August 12th

Those on aeroplanes crossing the Pacific Ocean did not have this day so I don’t need to write about them. It just simply disappeared for them thanks to the International Dateline.

But it was another day in the bus for the two of us.  We made our way across Indiana and into Ohio only to crawl our way along a two lane road back to Port Clinton and eventually Sandusky up next to Fremont. As we drove into the Enterprise rental yard I’m sure my loud exhale of breath matched the one in the 12 seater from Tim.  It was done and both vans were being returned in mint condition. Albeit a little dirty on the inside and the outside.

Mine even had a new rear window that was now connected to the Merc’s electrical system.

Paperwork was exchanged for two vehicles and dollars paid for a total of three months of actual rental cost, plus insurance, registration, taxes, both state and federal, fees and a contribution to the region’s tourism board.

Then we went through it all again to rent an SUV for 24 hours to get us to Stubb’s lake house next to the Davis-Besse nuclear power station. We would be sleeping here tonight after a Stubb prepared meal of cajon prawns and pasta. Powerful stuff when you mix it deep down around the belt buckle line with bourbon of the Early Times variety. But we didn’t have any trouble sleeping as the serenity of the power lines overhead comforted us all night.

Day 50 – Wednesday August 13th

Those on aeroplanes were now landing in Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne ready for connecting flights or taxis home.

Tim and I left Stubb and Gail’s holiday house to make the drive to Cleveland Airport where we would board our first flight towards Australia. No complications at all and our arrival in Dallas meant we had six hours to fill. It’s a good job Tim uses an American Express card because their Lounge sounded just right to spend in six hours in.  Thanks Tim for the surprise.

The Qantas A380 home from Dallas to Sydney was a massive aircraft. Made even more so by a measly amount of passengers on board. I’m sure the flight attendants rubbed their hands in glee when we took off with less than 40% of our cabin being occupied.

But sleep came quickly and easily ……

Thursday August 21st

At 5.50am on a foggy Queensland morning two trucks collided head-on on the D’Aguilar Highway near the Nukka Road intersection. Approximately 50km north of Toowoomba. Both drivers died at the scene of the accident.

It is with profound sadness that we advise that the driver of the fuel tanker was our own Adam Hopf with whom we had just spent a wonderful 30 days on our Month of Money tour in America.

Our deepest sympathies are extended first and foremost to Adam’s immediate family and in particular Sue and Andrew Fuller, his sister and brother-in-law who were fellow travellers with Adam on their holiday of a lifetime.

                                                                                                                                        May he Rest in Peace …..    

                                                                                               Farewell Adam ……

Build the High banks and They Will Come

By Ben Physick

In fields where dreams and corn grow high,

Global Speedway Tours rolls on by.

With branded hats and a sleek new shirt,

Ready for action on the high-banked dirt.

With Aussie spirit, bold and clear,

A ghostly whisper they flew to hear.

The promise that makes a racer’s heart hum.

“Build the Highbanks, and they will come.”

A father-son trip for the kings of the hill,

Neil & James, they came to see Knoxville!

Tania & A Grader joined the run,

A trusty pair who know how to have fun.

“We’ll never forget PCR” some would say,

“But you beauty, now we’re watching in the US of A”.

For Drew, this trip was a childhood dream,

No longer stuck watching on live stream.

Now Adam got a view, so close at hand,

Watching the feature from Toby’s flag stand.

And Sue, through her lens, on that glorious night,

Captured the magic in the stadium moonlight.

With Sue and Drew by his side,

He lived that great dream with a heart full of pride.

Though his spirit has soared and his final lap’has now been run,

Our love for Adam will never be done.

Peter rallied the Physick boys & Junior this year,

For a memorable trip they’d all hold so dear.

A band of brothers, sons, and friends.

On them, the spirit of the tour depends.

They came from the land of the Down Under son.

Where Vegemite toast is how the day’s begun.

But over here it’s waffles, burgers, and fries,

Super-sized dreams under midwestern skies.

With Stubb the VP, as their trusted guide,

His legendary stories fill the long bus ride.

He brings the corn boards and cooks up the meat,

His Midwest hospitality just can’t be beat.

After some plane delays, a story to tell,

The crew from Queensland arrived safe and well.

With Barry, Jan, Lloyd & Robyn in tow,

They’d finally made it to see the big show.

A Budweiser tour – a great way to start the day,

With free beer and Clydesdales munching on hay.

The old-timers drank Bud and had a blast,

Recalling racing stories from seasons gone past.

But Ray and Lynette politely declined,

The scenic track of I-55 in their mind.

Keen to see just how fast these sprinters go,

“Let’s just get on our way to the show!”

So the drive to Knoxville got underway,

But Junior and Tim went a little astray.

They blew past the pace car without a care,

Childhood buddies and still a cheeky pair.

Peter just grinned with a seasoned eye,

“Don’t poke the Steward, just let it lie.”

He cracked a Bud, raised it high and wide

“To sprint cars, pigs, and Midwest pride!”

He winked and said with a knowing squeal,

“Twenty-three million pigs make this state real!”

With stories, good times, and plenty of cheer,

“Hey Barry Merritt, want another cold beer?”

Peter Physick they said, “surely this can’t be right?”

“We get lunch with the legendary Dave Argabright?”

He told stories and spun tales from near and far,

Of every hero, and every race car.

With daily trips to Walmart for snacks and beer,

Ensured they brought the thunder and Aussie cheer.

“Is this Heaven?” Glenn asked at a late night hour,

“No, mate—it’s Iowa!” said Pete from the Clauson Tower.

The talk starts to heat up over more burgers & beer,

As the Knoxville Nationals draw ever near.

Rodney reckons Larson will do the threepeat,

But could Carson Macedo hand him a bitter defeat?

Could it be J-Mac or that wanker Gravel?

A few in the crowd hope his chances unravel!

But no matter who wins, the old-timers say,

“Looks like the king’s record of 12 is safe for today.”

Now the tailgating’s on with the chosen crew,

The bourbon’s flowing & some of Danny’s gummies too!

The thunder of the 410’s means it’s time to go,

To live the Aussie dream and watch the big show.

But wait! A car park attendant came running to stare,

At Daryl’s fireworks as they shot through the air.

Then Darren yelled out with a grin and a huff,

“Oi mate, you can fuck off, you’ve seen enough!”

Well, it’s been bloody fun, wouldn’t you agree?

This GST tour had action to the highest degree.

But I don’t think anyone would have expected to see,

An 18-year-old kid claim a National’s victory!