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January 2000
Flashback to Yesterday
 by Hans Nieborg
Karnac's Racin' Talk Radio show was paid a
telephone visit not too long ago from Mike Powers of Hialeah Speedway fame. Towards the end of the interview, Mike invited us out to the track to attend the Marion Edwards Memorial race and see
the "Racing Story of 2000" in action. We all agreed and after the show, we made our plans to be there.
To begin with, if you have been even a casual listener to our
show, you would know that I'm originally from the South Miami area and spent many, many Saturday nights at the track. I always seem to be shooting my mouth off about Hialeah
speedway whenever I have been presented with the opportunity. And now, I was going to travel with the "K" team to visit my old stomping grounds. After only a few days of
having to hear my stories of 'remember-when', the wife finally said she couldn't wait until I could go there, just so I would shut my trap. I couldn't help it, I haven't been there for what,
10-12 years? I mean, it was about 1988 when I left to seek my fortune in Tampa.
When I left Miami so long ago, I honestly didn't think much about the track and racing society so many miles behind me. It
didn't take long after arriving though, before the racing bug bit me again, and I started looking for a track to fill the void. I spent some time at East Bay, visited DeSoto once, and then finally settled in at Sunshine.
I never truly had a chance (or the time) to muster a return visit to my version of the Holy Land since I had left. You know, the excuses come easily, falling off the tongue as quickly as
the remorse can set in and another year went by without me even dropping by to say "Hi". I almost lost that chance to drop by you know. The 2000 season sure has been tough for a
track that saw it's first race in 1954. And things were looking pretty dismal for it's future in about the middle of the season when a few die-hard people headed up by "Firemen" Mike
Powers, assembled themselves and stopped what seemed to be inevitable.
Well, as has happened every weekend of my life so far, Saturday arrived. My heart filled with anticipation as I joined
up with Jack Smith, Rick Anges and Bill Hunt and we headed south for Hialeah. We arrived at the track at about 4:30 and were met by smiling faces at the pit booth. (I have to admit
this was the first time I have shown up at a track and had no trouble gaining entrance. There was no confusion, no directions sending us to another entrance only to find we
needed to go back to where we were originally. It was quite refreshing to experience that level of coordination.) When we walked into the pits, the memories started flooding back. The
old "Barn Door" gate onto the track was still there, but sad to say, it was no longer in use what with a newer entrance set into the wall by turn four getting all of the attention now. I
saw that the infield tech area was still there, but also was no longer in use. Now there is a new, more improved tech area outside of the track that isn't as likely to flood every time the
heavens decide to trickle down a little bit.
I walked around the pits and saw that the mighty Ficus trees were no longer surrounding the track. A casualty of Hurricane
Andrew, it turns out. And I noticed the muddy parking lot that the fans used to park in was also level and grassy. No more highly coveted dry spots that the early birds would practically
fight over. I took a stroll with Jack Smith down the front of the bleachers and pointed out the very spot my family and I planted our backsides at for so many years. It was interesting
to find that the stands had been increased in their capacity since I had been gone too. We went over to the mall area and as Jack was talking to Debi from Charlotte County Speedway, I
surveyed the gift shop. Being a cheap fool like I am, I couldn't help buying a T-shirt from a rack that proudly boasts Hialeah's history originating from 1954. Soon after this, qualifying for the
Late models began and everyone settled into watching their efforts.
I won't go through all of the race details, but I will say that everyone I met, with the exception of one rotund gentleman
operating the tow truck in the infield, were quite congenial and very upbeat. It made me remember what it is I have been missing. Practically everyone is working together as a team.
And this is the very teamwork that makes a racetrack live and breathe. I spent some time in the pit steward's tower shooting the breeze with Chuck Steiner about things on and off the
track and I asked him about track security. He said he rarely has a problem, but if one were to arise, he had to but to make a call on the radio and assistance would come from
everywhere. Help would come in the form of safety personnel and even drivers. But again, he reminded me, it almost isn't necessary. I don't know about you, but this impressed me.
After witnessing and hearing about the violence present at most tracks today, it's nice to know that civility and racing can still be found side by side.
When the race night finally wound down at about a quarter to twelve, I was exhausted. There was so much exciting racing and several of the race weren't decided until the final lap. I
mean, the street stock race was won as the leader was sliding sideways across the finish line! I walked across the front of the stands one more time, and glanced up at the well-worn
spot that was once my home on Saturday nights. Just as I did so, the track lights were doused for the last time this year.
It was time to go.
As I walked out of the speedway, I thought back to the time I
first walked across that mighty piece of asphalt, just a 4 year-old with my hand in my father's, heading to the pits to see our favorite drivers. I remembered the first time I brought
my wife to her first auto race here. The look of awe on her face when they dropped the green flag and the race (a full contact sport at that time) began. That look is indescribable.
On her face was every emotion I had ever felt since I began coming to Hialeah. And for a fleeting moment, I was back. Rooting for Bobby Coyle and Bobby Brack. Driving a mini stock
for an all too short season and a half. Walking on the track that is more bowed than it is flat. Believing in my heart that they will be back next year, and better than before.
I just had to see it for myself, that's all.
By Hans Nieborg
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