In the beginning ...
It was a long time ago when I became involved with SCCA road racing as a corner worker (and only once a driver for four laps around Elkhart Lake!). My friend, John C., had bought a Fiat 124 Spyder. Later, he upgraded to a Benz 250SL. He influenced me in buying an Opel GT. And he opened the door to me to corner working at the Blackhawk Farms private (no spectators) racetrack just outside of Beloit, WI. As much stress, competition, work, student rioting, departmental hostility, and hard living as being on the faculty in the UW chemistry department was, that is how much fun this part of my life was.
The up-sides of the sport follow. The down-sides were the impact it had on my family. Many workers and drivers divorced. I, instead, dropped the track and stayed married. In a sense, it was that simple. Racing is a hard mistress, and tolerates no other loves in your life. I loved the sport, but I loved my family and my wife more, so it ended after a few years. I am glad I did it, but I am especially glad I left it when I did.
When I left, I had this jacket, and this bicycle, as my mementos. I still have the jacket.
This is John's Mercedes Benz 250SL, with me riding shotgun and doing a little map work. This is the car we both took turns running around Elkhart Lake on a "Benz Day" event. It also is the one that I chased down to Blackhawk Farms track though the Wisconsin back roads every Sunday morning for a couple of years. It was a gorgeous machine, very expensive to own and to keep running, but styled to the nines.We both loved it.
Here is my Opel GT, warming up on a cold Wisconsin morning to go out on a winter run. I never got a summer picture of it, mostly because I was driving it all of the time. It was a snappy car to have, and was very quick on curves and corners. I sold it after I ran over a huge pig in it while drafting the Benz (above) on a back road on the way to the Blackhawk Farms track early one morning. The pig actually survived. The Opel was never quite the same, nor was I. When I told my graduate students that I had run over a pig, my reputation soared (they thought I had hit a cop!). Madison in the '60s - what more can I say?
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