by Alfreda Duffy
The Icelandic Roots Writers Group wrote about summer memories for their April assignment.
The smell of oil and gas permeated the air as motors backfired in a crescendo of tuneless cracking and popping sounds that shattered the calm of a beautiful summer afternoon. As the stock cars lined up, the drivers pumped their engines in anticipation of the starter signal. When the flag came down, the noise escalated as they roared off, jockeying for the right position to take the lead. Exciting? Yes, it was! I had never seen or experienced anything like this before in my life… or heard such a racket. A deafening noise indeed. Over the years tests have proven that the decibel scale for stock car races is up there competing with rock concerts which are generally on the highest scale.
My cousins Joe and Kelly were part of this race and knowing them made it even more of a thrill. My blood was pumping as I eagerly urged them on. Did they win this one? Not that I remember, but just being there was an amazing experience.
Where were we? We were in Gladstone, Manitoba at the Salt Plains Raceway just outside of town on Highway 16. During that summer I remember them working on their stock car every spare moment they got off from the fields. I was in awe of their ambition for this new sport and their stamina after working such long days under a blazing sun. Back then they did not have air-conditioned tractors to keep them cool.
Today, Salt Plains Raceway is nothing more than a memory for racing enthusiasts. It has
been reduced to a livestock pasture where the track now resembles a Viking burial mound and, like them, is slowly fading into obscurity. Instead, the long-forgotten track surrounds another type of mound, a graveyard of tires left embedded and standing in rows along the edge of the racetrack that used to cushion a crash. From an environmental perspective, I dread to think what else could be buried in that overgrown oval. Certainly, no Viking treasure will be found there.
That summer in Langruth, Manitoba was my first introduction to the stock car races and to the thrill of speed. Then later that winter in Lundar, I got to experience my own electrifying moments with speed and danger racing a skidoo on snow trails as well as on ice trails. This flashback will not only live on as a wonderful summer memory, thanks to my cousins, but it also serves as a reminder of my own adventure with racing. Both events were an amazing experience!
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