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In The Groove
By Stacy Ervin
KNOXVILLE, IA (April 26) - Many moments were good. One, in particular,
was bad. But the thing that really struck me on this day was the familiarity
of it all. This was opening night, or at least what should have been opening
night. Ironically, “opening night” seldom goes off as the schedule shows.
But we all seem to know that innately and have no choice but to accept our
fate.
It's not that hard, really. Racing people are tough, after all, as we all
know. There was that little twinge of sadness at about 4:22 p.m. as I stood
in Knoxville Raceway's ticket office next to Arleta as she announced over
the loudspeaker that no sprint-car motors would be roaring to life tonight.
But the way it was raining, it wasn't much of a shock. And I had at least a
few minutes to spend laughing with people I love and hadn't seen since last
fall.
Driving back home, another two hours after I had just spent two getting
here, was disappointing, but familiar. And passing by all the towns and
farms and fields for the second time in a day, I had ample time to think
about how the more things change, the more they stay the same.
I've traveled these same roads for the past 34 years. Some of these cities
and towns have certainly grown, stretching their boundaries out little by
little. There used to be a picturesque farm here on rolling green hills and
all the barns and outbuildings had beautiful blue roofs.
Now it's a gigantic casino resort. And there's a stoplight in the middle of
a road that used to be the middle of nowhere.
Some of these farmhouses look like they've been here for years, but
underneath their exterior, there's brand-new construction. A couple of these
mansions still cause me to daydream about what life inside their immense
walls must be like, but they still look kind of out of place in the midst of
these cornfields.
I'm a true animal lover, so any opportunity to see dogs, cats, horses and
assorted farm animals roaming their pastures is good with me. Sheep, goats
and llamas are the best, though. I enjoy looking at deer, but I definitely
don't want to see them too close while I'm on the road.
There are several different routes one could take on this journey, but
mostly I'm a creature of habit. I know where the clean restrooms are and
which convenience stores have the snacks I prefer. I know about how much
longer it will take me to get to them by the way the utility poles look in
certain stretches. Every once in a while, though, I have to adjust my route.
Last year's massive flooding gave me a real adjustment and I found a route I
never took before. It was interesting for that one week, but I haven't gone
that way since, just out of habit more than anything else.
A grand new overpass under construction also cut me off from my “quicker”
route last season. I had to go back to the old route, which is familiar yes,
but not the same anymore. The little country store that used to make the
best fudge ever is now a daycare center. But all the barns along this road
in the heart of Amish country now feature pretty wooden quilt-patterned
tiles in vibrant colors. And one Amish farm has lots of goats.
There used to be this one old dilapidated house where the only occupant was
a big brown goat with curly horns. I really thought I was losing it the
first time I noticed him laying on top of the porch roof out the
second-story window. But he was there every week after that. Once I pulled
into his driveway just to sit and look. He looked kind of mad so I never did
that again. I just slowed down as I approached and looked at him. Until they
tore his house down. Apparently he couldn't make the payments. I still
wonder what happened to that goat.
Up the road a ways from the goat lives one of the legends of my upbringing.
Long before I started traveling this route to Knoxville all the time, we
only went a couple blocks from home every week to West Liberty Raceway. My
grandpa started this crazy obsession when he owned stock cars back in the
1960s. One of those old-timers he told stories about still lives along here.
Another one apparently ran for a seat on his county's board of supervisors
last year. I know because I saw the campaign signs along the road every
week.
Pretty soon we'll come to Oskaloosa. I have a special place in my heart for
this town because it is home to my alma mater, William Penn University. I
spent a couple of wild years here and have a lot of fond memories. There
used to be a great comfort-food restaurant here right across the highway
from the turn to the race track. It was a teeny little place that was pretty
much like having lunch at grandma's house, but with about 40 people you
don't know squished all around you, a line of about 20 more waiting outside
the door and semis rumbling by mere inches from your table. They served the
real best tenderloin in Iowa alongside homemade mashed potatoes and cream
pies. They tore the building down last year and now it's a car wash that
sits across the street from another car wash. I do hate driving in this
town. I'm always relieved to reach the west side and it feels great to know
that my destination is on the horizon from here.
When we do get to Knoxville, it feels just like coming home. Everything is
right with the world when I'm here. Except when it's raining. But I have had
a lot of fun in the rain here over the years too.
Things have really changed here in 34 years. I remember how it looked when
the sale barn and its gravel parking lot was across the highway from the
track, but boy that was a long time ago. And what would we do without that
24-hour Hy-Vee anyway?
It goes without saying that the National Sprint Car Hall of Fame and Museum
is the greatest addition off of turn two. The nearby Subway restaurant was
once home to the most popular gathering spot for the “morning after” race
discussions. The delectable treats offered up at Bailey's Donut Shop were
good, but the real draw was in the “celebrities” you might sit next to and
the conversations you might overhear. And if you missed something you wanted
to know, you could always trek back to your campsite off of turns three and
four and ask your neighbor while he was thrashing on his race car.
Yeah, things sure have changed here. But progress is good too. Heck, I used
to pay to get in and stake out my seat in Section N. Now they pay me to sit
in the pressbox between two of my heroes, Bob Wilson and Ralph Capitani, and
write live results on the worldwide web. I used to daydream about what it
would be like to know everybody here on a first-name basis. Now some of my
closest friends wear official shirts and driver suits. Now for me a simple
walk around the grounds during Nationals week is an all-day event because of
all the friends I run into and conversations I get caught up in. Yeah,
progress has been good to me.
But still, some things really never change. No matter what has changed along
my route to this place, no matter what looks different around the Marion
County Fairgrounds, no matter where I stay or who I sit next to or what my
jobs are, I still come to this place. Partly out of habit and the
familiarity of it all. But mostly because I don't know where else I could
ever go that feels this much like home. Even in the rain.
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