The first thing that strikes you when you make a trek across US Highway 36, is how straight the roadway is. It is literally as straight as an arrow. An arrow that has been shot straight through the heart if Illinois. And right through that of America, for that matter. For this is a path that takes you through the very center of America’s agricultural heartland.

The second thing that is blatantly obvious, when you’re in this part of our country is the absolute perfect order in which everything is situated. The majority of the real estate is occupied by fields, that are dedicated to specific crops. These fields are perfectly square, and the rows or corn or beans are straight enough that it looks like a t-square could have been used to place each one. Countless walls of corn, surrounding carpeted rooms of beans. Dotted with numerous clumps of trees and woods, whose members are all proportional to one another.

Also, along with the fields of crops, are pastures that contain cattle. And although there is no cow manual or there is no cow congress, there is still a perfectly uniform order in which they manage to conduct their daily activities. The females raise and tend to their young, while the bull stands guard, assuring that no one or nothing interferes with this cycle of life. All while their babies play. And the rest of their energy is devoted to slowly wandering around, finding nourishment.

Being immersed in perfect such natural order for the time it takes to drive through a hundred miles or so of it, is relaxing. Therapeutic, even.

Then you get to the final destination of this journey. The small farm town that you’ve arrived at doesn’t look like anything out of the ordinary. Like all the other villiages you’ve went through or passed near, it is a clump of houses, featuring the skyscraper of the rural world, a column of grain elevators. On the very west edge of this little country town sets a dirt oval, surrounded by grandstands. And gathered around the outside of this circuit are a few rings of race cars and race car haulers. Then evenly placed rows of automobiles and motor homes. Then you stand in a single file line to get your ticket, pass through the gate and proceed to the seat you choose.

Shortly after you’ve chosen where you want to view the evening’s entertainment from, race cars appear on the track, circling slowly. Then a man stationed on the inside of the front stretch waves a piece of cloth just as green as the landscape of this farming state you spent the last couple of hours driving across. Only this time green doesn’t represent peacefulness, calmness and natural order. Quite the contrary. It means all of those things have been shattered and are about to become a distant memory. The next four hours of your life will be about total warfare, chaos and competitors, with the help of their machines, trying to tell their version of how the order of things should be. The small bullring configuration of this arena and your proximity to all of the action only intensifies how you experience this event. The roar of some of the motors and the scream of others pushes your sense of hearing to it’s limits. The closeness of the cars cause the methanol to burn your eyes more than normal and have more of a taste than you’re accustom to. Your nearness to the racing action causes the brightly colored racing machines to fly across your field of vision at a rate that upsets your equilibrium, until your brain adjusts it’s self to it. And your sense of touch is awakened, as you’re beaned by a high-speed clod of mud. When the final checker is thrown, you leave having really experienced a night of racing, at Macon Speedway.

So, all in one afternoon and evening, you’ve been exposed to both the serene splendor of natural order and chaotic wonder of man-made disorder. What a night!!

As always, a great read Jerry. Thanks.

SO WHO WON
And was it black slick top too bottom

'Shakespeare' Shaw. Gotta a pretty good ring to it, don't ya think?
Seriously; good read Jerry!
Those of us who only get to enjoy the mid-west short track scene on a limited basis are fortunate to have wordsmiths like Argabright, Burton, Oldham, Eckert and now Shaw to help us stay connected. Thanks guys!

Sounds like a bunch of attorneys who formed a partnership doesn't it? How would you like to answer the phone there. Thank you for calling Argabright, Burton, Oldham, Eckert & Shaw.

You're right! And it would have been even worse if I hadn't neglected to add Sullivan to the list. Sorry Pat!

Maybe something Al Gore knows nothing about, YET! Bob

Just one of many things Al Gore knows nothing about!

Maybe an accounting firm, Mike. At least there's one real-life accountant in that group. Anything but ambulance chasers.

Jerry

Pete,

I'd rather be compared to Charles Kuralt in jest, than William Shakespeare. I think watching and loving all those "On The Road" installments he used to do is one of the things that helps me appreciate driving though the countryside and the small towns I have to go through, to get to some of these little hidden gem race tracks, that are off the beaten path. To me, it's definitely part of what I love about a race day.

Jerry