Mom, Can I borrow the car?
The evening of July 4th my wife, an immigrant from California, snuggled into my arms and said
"If I were in California I'd be in Santa Cruz, eating candied apples on the Boardwalk watching the street buskers until the band started in the evening - then there would be the fireworks display".
Well, this isn't California but we are not without quality entertainment. The next afternoon we saddled up and went to the Gronlid Sports Day. The highlight of the day was the 15th annual Smoke Show. Bring your new truck, bring an old beater you dragged out of the bush, sneak moms grocery getter out the driveway - and lots of spare tires!
They had a side street blocked off and lined with barrels and snow fencing. The announcers booth was ten feet off the ground with Norm Ruddock of 94.7FM from Nipawin doing play by play. Buy your tickets, get your car in line and when your turn came up you had a timed slot to stand on the brakes and fry those tires. The flag man - whose other duties during the week is to be our meat manager at the Carrot River Co-op, spent most of his time holding the cars in line. Once you get the tires smoking the car is riding on a layer of liquid rubber. Add in the physics of the engine torque and direction of rotation, the rear end of the car wants to come around. Beings that the car is floating on a greasy surface it doesn't take much strength to hold them straight. However sometimes a car would line up with wider tires or weaker front brakes. Then the man who acted as timer had to step in and they both had to hold the vehicle in place.
For the most part the contestants drove beaters. An old Monaco with a 400 CI big block, a Buick Riviera with a 403, and a Grand Marquis with a 460. A couple of farm trucks, and someones moms Crown Victoria. In the timed events, 30 seconds? - the contestants had the worst tires they could find. Half the cars blew the tires out before the horn signaled their time was up. "Moms car" among them. Back to the pits, swap the tires and get in line again. Then when the Powder Puff round began the fun really started. They stood on the brake and throttle with no regard for the engine. They were having so much fun they paid no attention to the timers air horn. If the tires blew, they never let off. And moms Crown Vic? Mom was not to be denied! There she was, cigarette hanging from her lips and she never stopped until the rims were digging into the pavement. It made me wonder when the car went by and I saw the registration was active.
Then the fun started: Go To Blow. No timer. Keep it between the barrels and let 'er all hang out until something blows up. Tires, transmission - engine - by this time everyone was full of beer and they wanted to get something back from their $2 entry fee! First up, a white Chev pickup that from the sound of it had a lot of money in the engine. When he cut loose the Posi-Traction held him straight. One minute and forty seconds later both tires let go at the same time. He hobbles out and the Grand Marquis comes back again. He blew several tires in earlier rounds and this time he had better treads. That 460 was a screamer. Key word is "was": after a couple minutes it started knocking then with a bang he blew the engine. Others rolled in and used up their last tires. Then the old brown farm truck showed up with All Terrain tires. He'd blown before but this time he had traction. It took both men to hold him back and at that he crept up to where we were. As it started to knock I decided it was time we backed up: we were only five feet away from the front tire. With coolant flowing from every part of the front end there was one final gasp and the engine seized up. We stepped back up to the fence, our meat manager looks at Sandra and says
"Bet ya don't have this in California do ya!?"
With that truck pushed out another took his place. Thirteen minutes later his engine expired, after he dug holes 6" deep in the asphalt. Then an old Dodge Polara lines up again looking real good with its paint brush paint job. Chrysler may have made crappy sheet metal but they knew how to build engines. He paid his entry fee and he was there to break something. As the mosquitos fell you could see the tires start to wobble and loose integrity. Where before the timer and flagman would stand right beside the cars as tires blew, this time they ran. Chunks of rubber the size of your head everywhere! The event was paused for a while as the firetruck washed down the track. Coils of wire from what was steel belted radials were washed away.
A white Ford pickup came back in for another run. He'd been there 13 years and couldn't blow his tires. He had so much power under the hood when he got onto the throttle the rear end went into Axle Wrap and started bouncing. Even with five big men sitting in the box they couldn't hold him down. So after 13 years, he still was unsuccessful blowing up anything. One of the crowd favorites was the entry from the Royal Hotel in Arborfiled: an early 70's Impala with a 400 CI small block, headers coming through the hood. With one of the waitresses driving they were there to save the engine for next year but destroyed every tire they brought. The Arborfield crew always knows how to get the job done right .
As Sandra said, "this is good stupid fun". Yup. Farm boys and beer.
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Editor : Timothy W. Shire |