Trackside with Rick Minter

  Some years back, when NASCAR Hall of Famer Terry Labonte was in the last years of his driving career, running part-time for upstart teams, he had lots more time to chat than when he was a full-time driver.  One weekend at Atlanta Motor Speedway, he was driving a car near the bottom of the points standings, which meant his crew had to work outside the garage under a tent. With few sponsors to represent, Terry wore a plain black firesuit.  But he seemed be happy with his situation.  He joked about his experiences on Sundays away from the track after decades of racing nearly every weekend. He even floated the idea of an “All Star” team of semi-retired drivers. He proposed that each of the participating drivers would run at their best tracks. As for the Talladega crashfests, which most veterans privately – and sometimes publicly - despise, he suggested picking at random an inebriated fan and putting them behind the wheel.  Interestingly, the SRX Series that debuted this year has many of

  There are lots of ways to spread the word about dirt-track racing, but in my book, few are as effective as open trailers.  I say that from personal experience.  When I was just barely a teenager, I spent a lot of time playing in my grandmother’s back yard, which offered a clear view of Highway 92 between Fayetteville and Griffin.  On Saturday afternoons – and Sundays too – I got to see some beautiful race cars, all brightly painted, shined up and sporting giant numbers on the doors, riding on open trailers pulled by trucks headed to seemingly far-away race tracks.  My favorites were the No. 44 of Roscoe Smith, the No. 222 of Leon Archer and the No. 05 of Jack Evans.  They passed through Inman on their way to races at West Atlanta Raceway (later Seven Flags Speedway) in Douglasville and Rome Speedway in Rome.  I followed NASCAR racing at that time, but I was just as intrigued by the cars of the Griffin dirt trackers as I was by the No. 21 and the No. 43, my favorites on th

   As anyone who knows me can attest, I’m not much for change. I like the same style clothes I wore years ago. If my wife hadn’t hidden them, I’d still be wearing my Members Only jackets.  I prefer the music of my youth, and for the most part the same goes for the racing I like.  But I’ll admit that at times, change is the best thing for the sport.  Last week, driver after driver spoke out against the plans for the reconfiguration of Atlanta Motor Speedway, which is in the process of changing the banking in the turns from 24 degrees to 28 and narrowing the straightaways to 40 feet.  Ironically, those same drivers are the ones who for the past several years have successfully lobbied track officials not to repave the track. If that work had been done when track officials first decided the 1997 pavement needed a new coat, those complainers would be racing on the same old layout next year.  Other NASCAR track operators, in an effort to address lagging interest in their product, h

  Racing history always has had a special appeal for me. At my age, I actually watched many of the races that my younger friends consider ancient history.  Luckily for all of us, races back in the day usually were well documented by local newspapers, and many of those old stories can be found in scrapbooks kept by fans, racers and their families.  With the lack of regular newspaper coverage today, and most photography shifting from old-fashioned cameras and prints to digital images taken on smart phones, I worry that down the road somewhere those pictures, often unlabeled, will be lost and along with them the documentation of the races where they were taken.  That thought occurred to me last Saturday night at Senoia Raceway. While the preliminary events were running, Rhonda Spencer, who works in the ticket booth at the pit gate, was showing me a scrapbook compiled years ago by her husband Eric Spencer’s mother, the late Cathy Spencer.  Eric is the flagman at Senoia and the gran