Better than Pixie Dust

If you remember the Peter Pan story, Pixie dust was the magic dust Peter put on the kids so they could fly to Neverland.  It was magic! I never really believed in Pixie Dust, but I found a dust much more magical than what Peter had. 

The first stock car race I attended, in 1952, was at the half-mile dirt track now known as The Historial Columbia Speedway.  The “dirt” was actually red clay, common around the area. I remember that night so well, or perhaps it is my imagination that remembers it so well, but I do remember, with complete clarity, my mother’s comment about all the red dirt in my clothes.  That was the beginning of many hundreds of trips to several dirt tracks over the years.  

As I sit here writing this memory, I can remember the dust sort of sparking in the lighting around the track, and it seemed to hang in the air for quite a long time after the race.  I sure it was my imagination that made the dust sparkle, but that was the same imagination that believed there actually was a place called Neverland.

Thinking of the dirt tracks brings back many memories of some of the drivers during the period of dominence of the dirt tracks.  Let me tell you about a few.  

First up is Dink Widenhouse who recently passed away.  Dink drove B29 and was my uncle Bobby‘s favorite driver.  Bobby would take me wherever Dink was racing, and it was always a dirt track.  Dink won a lot!  In the later years I was fortunate enough to become good friends with Dink, and we often talked about those night race and the “pixie dust” that hung in the air afterwards.  

Another favorite at Columbia Speedway in the early days was Ralph Earnhardt, Dale’s father.  At Columbia you either pulled for Ralph or hated him as he was well known for rattling the cages of many a driver to gain a position.  I didn’t know Ralph well, in fact hardly at all.  He was there to race, not socialize. 

The man who builds winning cars for drivers at Columbia Speedway was Herbert Corley who had a shop in downtown Columbia.  He enhanced the careers for many a driver including Joe Penland, Haskell Willingham, Johnny Cooper, and others I can’t seem to recall this afternoon. 

Joe Penland was a winner almost from the beginning. In the last six years of his life, Joe and I became close friends and attended many short track races together.  Joe once robbed a bank, served his time and never really made it back to racing.  Joe was very friendly when he won, but no especially good company when he lost. He was truly a good guy who lived to race and loved to just be at the track, any track, to watch the short track shows.

Haskell Willingham ended up driving for Marion Cox, a legend in car building for short tracks and a devout Christian.  He would not allow his cars to race on Sunday.  Story has it that he car was leading a race with 10 laps to go on a Saturday night when the clock struck twelve.  He ordered his driver in and loaded the car.  Haskell was a winning driver no matter what he was in but his stint with Herbert was special. 

Johnny Cooper was a simple man with racing in his blood. He won many races at Columbia Speedway and other short tracks.  Johnny and I became good friends after his career as a driver was over and he traveled to several Cup (the Grand National) races in our family motorhome. Johnny and his best friend were killed in an on the street firey auto accident while I was out of town.  Broke my heart to get home and hear the news and that I had missed the funerals. 

One of the most special people to ever drive the dirt, and one heck of a driver was “Lil Bud Moore, so named so as to not be mistaking for car builder Bud Moore.  I saw Bud win what seems like hundreds of races and he was always gracious, win or lose.  In later life he and I became very good friends and would often talk for hours at a time.  He died of ALS and that hurt me a lot because there was just no one who could, or would, talk racing with me like “Lil Bud.

Columbia Speedway attracted many of the stars of the sport. Butch Lindley, Harry Gant, and so many of the drivers who went on to greatness in the sport.   

I was very glad I was able to witness all the short track, dirt track, races that I did. They finally paved the Columbia Speedway in 1970, and it lost some of the magic.  There was no “pixie dust” hanging in the air when the races were over.  I attended dirt track races at many other tracks as well, but Columbia was my home track.  No matter the track, if it was dirt, there would be that dust hanging in the dim lighting after the races. There are still dirt tracks around and before my wife’s health issues I would take a trip down to Sumter Speedway, about 50 miles from my home and the magic dust would still be there.  Maybe it’s my imagination that the dust held such special meaning for me.  It was NOT however, my imagination when my mother would scold me for coming home covered in red clay dust. Oh, but such sweet memories.  Makes Neverland seem not so special.

If you live near a dirt track and are a race fan, you owe it to yourself to take in a race.

Tim Leeming

Photo Credit (cover): Columbia Speedway