Syracuse Mile was a staple on the GNC series for years, but hadn’t been run for a while. I think (without doing too much research) the race was put back on the schedule in 2004, but was never run. It was going to be a night race, and when the fairground lights were turned on for the race, they threw so little light that the riders didn’t want to run at 135-140 mph without being able to see the corners. The race promoter had also used the wrong chemical on the track, and instead of aiding traction; the chemical turned the dirt into a skating rink.
So the fans were sent home, the riders left without any money, and the series got another black eye.
Syracuse had been a great mile back in the day. The late Ricky Graham had won both races of a two-day doubleheader there the season that he brought the Honda RS750 out again and won the championship in convincing fashion. The doubleheader wins were (again, from memory) the 4th and 5th GNC race wins in a row for him that season, which was an unheard of accomplishment before that day. He also set an amazing record for the number of wins in one season that year.
Even more amazing, he had only a year earlier been drowning in alcoholism, lost his job as a rider after getting busted driving drunk to a race out in California, and pretty much had been blacklisted by most GNC teams.
Who knew if Syracuse would survive on the schedule for too many more years? 2005 could well be our last chance to see a race on that storied track.
The Lima Half Mile is a race, along with the Springfield Miles, that we try to make every year. The combination of a pea-gravel Ohio track with 100HP motorcycles always makes an amazing show.
So: we could catch two races and have a week to bum around out East. All kinds of possibilities! Stop in Boston and have an Italian sausage sandwich? Phillips buffet? Stop and enjoy the beach on Assateague Island?
We headed out in June, armed with a scenic byways map of the top scenic roads in the USA.
Getting to Syracuse is pretty easy. Blast down the Indiana and Ohio toll roads to Cleveland, then head through Erie, PA to the New York Thruway. Syracuse is along the Thruway somewhere between Buffalo and Albany. We got a motel in Syracuse, and rode over to the fairgrounds for the race.
Didn’t look good.
There were only two other bikes by the grandstands and no other evidence that a major race was scheduled to take place in a couple of hours. We asked the guys on the other bikes what was going on. It had rained all week, and although the rain had stopped, the track was in bad shape. There would be no races today. They had been rescheduled for tomorrow, if the weather held up.
We climbed up into the grandstands to see what the track looked like. It looked as if the track crew had prepped it as well as they could, but not race ready. Many fans probably would not be able to return the next day, so the promoter would probably lose a sizeable investment for the second year in a row. He was probably somewhere looking for some rope.
We checked out some of the old trains parked by the grandstands, and went into Syracuse to do some exploring.Pam spotted an old diner almost immediately. Sadly, it was closed. It looked to be a nice, clean, well kept up old girl. Closed and for rent. Sabel’s Diner.
It was time to find some food. We cruised the streets of Syracuse and saw a lot of bikes parked around a BBQ joint: the Dinosaur BBQ.
Syracuse looked to have had a building boom at the turn of the 20th century, because many buildings seemed to be the early style skyscrapers of that era.
Every once in a while, we come across a building that is a jaw-dropper. There was one in downtown Syracuse. The Niagara Mohawk building. Art Deco.
I guess I like the old Art Deco buildings for the same reason I like old diners. Stainless steel, fluorescent strip lighting, and Formica. Actually, not to much plastic laminate in Art Deco skyscrapers, but they, like the old stainless steel diners, were born of new high-tech (at the time) materials, and the designers used the freedom of those new materials to change people’s ideas of beauty.
Syracuse looked to have had a building boom at the turn of the 20th century, because many buildings seemed to be the early style skyscrapers of that era.
Every once in a while, we come across a building that is a jaw-dropper. There was one in downtown Syracuse. The Niagara Mohawk building. Art Deco.
I guess I like the old Art Deco buildings for the same reason I like old diners. Stainless steel, fluorescent strip lighting, and Formica. Actually, not to much plastic laminate in Art Deco skyscrapers, but they, like the old stainless steel diners, were born of new high-tech (at the time) materials, and the designers used the freedom of those new materials to change people’s ideas of beauty.
Check it out:
The next AM we again headed for the track.
As I expected, the crowd for the rain date was small. The track looked to be in pretty good shape, the pits were full of riders, bikes, and equipment. Vendors were showcasing their products around the back of the grandstands.
They were having an exhibition race also. Five or six riders with old board track machines were going to have a race on the mile track. Board trackers from the roaring twenties. No brakes. No transmissions. No clutches. Twist the throttle open to go faster, twist it closed to slow down. Pretty cool.
Many of the riders are not in love with the Syracuse oval. Turn three narrows down at the end of the back straight and it is easy to misjudge and end up in the wall between turns three and four. The Illinois Motorcycle Dealers Association had brought out the air fence for the race, and that narrowed the turns even more, although made hitting the wall a lot more forgiving. There were a lot of restarts after riders ended up in or under the air fence in turn three.
The track also was getting pretty rough. Atherton had to ask the EMTs in attendance to try and fish an old pin out of his wrist that had been jarred out of an old break. They couldn’t get it, and he had to drop out because it kept him from flexing his wrist far enough to crank the throttle all the way open.
Carr won the race after a lot of delays. Not the best flat track race I have ever been to, for sure. Wiles did get the Aprillia into the main, to keep his team’s streak intact; getting the new brand bike into every mile it had entered.
We left the track and explored Syracuse a little longer. Pam spotted another diner: a classic stainless steel model. We stopped for pie and coffee, and headed back to the motel.
We had a week to bum around the area before heading for the Lima, Ohio race. A Boston Italian sausage sandwich was still on the agenda, so we headed east the next morning.
We followed I-90 across New York and into Massachusetts. It was a nice ride through the Mohawk River Valley and into the hills of western Massachusetts. The closer we got to Boston, the more I was dreading the traffic in the city. We decided to skip the sandwich and visit the smallest state in the USA instead: Rhode Island.
We hung a right at a sign that promised Rhode Island and cruised our way south. Into Providence. I followed the signs for downtown, and stopped at an open parking spot on the street. We were in front of the library. I asked a guy passing on the sidewalk which way to the ocean.
He said, “it’s everywhere, this is Rhode Island.” OK. But if we wanted to actually see it, which way would we go? It was a mistake. He launched into a long rant about how Providence sucked, Rhode Island sucked, the beaches sucked. He was rapidly sucking any of the thrill of being in Rhode Island right out of us. Musta been a representative for the local tourist board. We finally pried the information out of him that ‘if’ his brother (who sucked) would ever let him ride his Sportster again (which sucked anyway), and ‘if’ he was going to ride along any Rhode Island beaches (which all sucked but if he had to, he would ride along this certain one, that didn’t suck quite as much as the rest), he would head that-a-way.
We headed that-a-way, thinking the Rhode Island tourist board should tighten up their hiring practices ASAP.
We rode for quite a while, not seeing or even smelling the ocean. Finally we saw a sign warning us that we were going to be leaving the Ocean State of Rhode Island pretty soon. I think it was hinting that if we wanted to see any ocean from the ocean state, we better find it pretty quickly. My unerring sense of direction told me that if we headed left, we had to hit the ocean sooner or later. My unerring sense of direction has gotten me into trouble before, and will again, but we did end up at the ocean in Rhode Island.
The little Rhode Island ocean community was pretty nice. It was about two blocks long and one street wide. We got a room at a motel on the ocean side of the street, and unpacked the bike.
Our room was on the second floor, with a balcony overlooking the beach. We hiked the two-block length of the town along the beach and found a little seafood joint. We ate on their deck, watching a kid try to throw every rock on the beach into the ocean. Then walked back to the motel, and hung out on our balcony watching the moon rise over the Rhode Island ocean.
The next day we crossed into Connecticut. We soon began seeing signs for Mystic, and pulled in to see the town. Mystic Seaport was a tourist version of an old East coast port. Nobody hanging around worn out from seafaring and no old salts swearing and looking for loose women: it was more the Disneyland version of a seaport. Nice nonetheless.
Houses along the main street were covered with gingerbread trim. Nice place, but we were burning daylight and riding time.
The scenic byways map showed the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut as a nice cruise. The road was built in the 1930’s and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. This trip seemed to be turning into an Art Deco exploration trip, since many of the bridges spanning the road were that style.
One problem: the road was taking us to the New York City vicinity. I had just skipped Boston traffic, and didn’t want to get too close to the Big Apple. As we entered New York, signs announced the Tappan Zee Bridge ahead, which would get us around the city and into New Jersey.
Cool bridge, and a very long one! The Hudson River is about 2 miles wide at this point.
Once in NJ, I looked for signs for the Palisades Parkway, a nice route along the west side of the Hudson. We traveled south on the Parkway, getting nice views of NYC across the river.
Pam wanted to head into the city, but I didn’t want to deal with the traffic on a bike. We saw a sign for a ferry, and pulled into the parking lot. This might be a way to get into the city and do a little exploring on foot. We locked up the bike and bought tickets for the ferry to the Wall Street area of Manhattan.
We got a nice view of Lady Liberty as we ferried south around the island. The ferry landed on the east side of the island, down in the Wall Street area. We walked west toward the financial district, and then to the World Trade Center site. We were in Maine when the towers were hit, and the site brought back all the horrible memories.
We tried a hot dog from a street vendor. What can I say? Come to Chicago if you want a good hot dog. Pizza, now, that’s another story. It’s hard to beat New York pizza by the slice or Italian ice.
We made it back to the ferry landing for the last ferry back to NJ. Got back on the bike and headed south through Jersey, through Hoboken, singing Sinatra songs. Found our way to the NJ Turnpike, took it south a ways and found a room for the night.
The next morning we headed into Atlantic City. They weren’t giving any money away at the Atlantic City casinos. It was interesting seeing all the Monopoly game streets, though. We strolled the famous boardwalk and sampled some NJ Italian ices. The day was getting short, so we headed back to the Turnpike and south toward Delaware.
We got to Cape May, Exit 0 on the Turnpike (thinking of Steve Earle), too late for the ferry to Delaware, and got a room at an old fashioned motel in Cape May. Found a Laundromat and Pizza joint still open, and took care of business. A lady at the Laundromat wanted to know why we would go anywhere else but Cape May for seafood, and we didn’t have a good answer. We decided to explore around that area the next day before catching the ferry.
Cape May was a nice town. The houses were great, with infinitely varying hand cut gingerbread trim and color combinations. We spent a couple of hours walking around, pointing out details on the houses. I picked up an EXIT 0 sticker for the bike, and we tried another Italian ice. Best one so far.
The lady at the Laundromat had also suggested going up the beach to the next town: Wildwood. She said it was a popular destination for people on bikes, and was full of old style motels and neon. We headed up there in the afternoon.
She was right. It was an old style beach town, with little motels lining the main street along the beach. Lots of cool neon, lots of cool 40’s and 50’s architecture.
We had lunch at the Cadillac Diner, an old stainless steel model.
There was another stainless one a couple of blocks down the street, but it was closed.
We didn’t want to miss the last ferry again, so we headed back to Cape May. The Cape May-Lewes Ferry is a nice one, pretty big and modern. It makes a nice sea cruise 10-12 miles across to Lewes, Delaware. From Lewes, it is a short ride to Maryland and Ocean City, home of Phillip’s.
Phillip’s is a big crab wholesaler and restaurateur. The seafood buffets at their restaurants are legendary. There are two of them in Ocean City, and one in Washington DC that we have tried. If you can’t handle the buffet, try the crab cakes or the lump crab sandwich. After we stuffed ourselves at the buffet, we walked it off along the Ocean City boardwalk, and got on US 50 to head back west.
US 50 starts in Ocean City, and there is a nice highway sign over the highway as you get on it there: SACRAMENTO CA 3073.
We headed west until it got dark, and found a room. The next morning we headed to the Bay Bridge. Maryland is the place for crabs, so we stopped for a bite before the bridge and I had a crab sandwich. Maryland crabs are not to be confused with King crabs, the Maryland ones are little, with soft shells, and are eaten shell and all.
The Bay Bridge is one of my favorites, I think because it is long AND tall. It spans Chesapeake Bay at a narrow point where it is about 4 miles wide. Before the bridge was built, Annapolis was the eastern endpoint of US 50. You get a nice view of Chesapeake Bay from the bridge.
After Annapolis, 50 heads toward Washington DC. It is another place I avoid on a bike. Not only is traffic heavy, but the streets are confusing. We cut up toward US 40 before hitting Washington.
US 50 is one of the original coast-to-coast U.S. highways laid out in the 1920’s. US 40 is another one, but follows another, older road through most of the east: the Old National Road.
The National Road was the first federal highway, built in the 1800’s, from Cumberland, MD to Vandalia, IL. One of the major routes for settlers heading west, you can travel the much of the route today on US 40. We took it into Wheeling, WV and got a room for the night.
The old National Road Bridge still spans the Ohio River in Wheeling. Ohio River Steamboat companies, fearing that the road would cut into their profits from moving goods west, built steamboats with taller smokestacks. They hoped the stacks would damage the new bridge, but the bridge proved stronger than the smokestacks.
The rain hit on I-75 about 20 miles south of Lima. A frog strangler. We pulled up under an overpass behind a couple of other bikes heading for Lima. Waited it out, swapping rain stories from previous years. Sometimes it rains while we are on the road to Lima. Sometimes it rains after we get to the track.
Doesn’t matter. If it rains on the road, pull over and let it pass. If it rains at the track, get some BBQ chicken or corn on the cob, and head into one of the fair buildings and enjoy it while waiting for the rain to pass. If it rains really hard, the races will go on until early in the morning. If it sprinkles, they will go on pretty close to schedule. Nobody cares. Rain is part of Lima.
The Rotary or some other civic organization is grilling a couple of tons of chickens, cut in half, on grills. Corn on the cob is getting grilled in the husks, the husks are peeled back, and the cob is dipped in a coffee can full of melted butter. There is popcorn, pizza, all kinds of county fair food. Heaven on earth!
The ‘civilized’ fans sit in the front straight grandstands. The wilder fans sit on the bleachers along the back straight. The insane fans hang on the fences in the turns, ducking behind blankets or plastic draped over the fence as the rider fly by, leaned over and sliding sideways, spraying the corner fences with pea gravel rooster tails.
Sideshow aside, it’s the racing that is the show at Lima. Former national champ Joe Kopp put it pretty well. “Most tracks take some finesse. Throttle control. Steering. Here at Lima it’s who can hold it wide open all the way around. The biggest animal wins this race”.
How to describe Lima? Have you ever ridden on a loose gravel road? It’s kinda spooky.
Imagine doing that at 100 mph. Imagine seeing a corner coming up. Well, you can let off the throttle, slow down to 30 or so, and tiptoe around the corner hoping the bike doesn’t slide out from under you. Or just snap the throttle closed momentarily, so the bike starts to skid sideways. Crank the throttle back open, get the back tire spinning and throwing a rooster tail of gravel about 50 feet, and, while balancing the sideways-skidding bike, power around the corner. Ohio cushion track racing. Nothing else like it.
Mees won his first GNC race that night.
The next day we headed home. We had been on two major transcontinental US highways, US 50 and US 40. We might as well take US 30 back home.
30 runs a little north of Lima. A few miles west is Van Wert, a county seat. US 30 generally follows the old Lincoln Highway through the Midwest, and Van Wert is an old Lincoln Highway town. As 30 bypasses the town, signs direct you to the old road, which runs directly through downtown Van Wert.
The Lincoln Highway was built with private and state funds, before the Federal government got involved in highway building. The route was marked with concrete posts, as were the other highways of the day, and painted markers on telegraph poles. Van Wert has a nice little Lincoln Highway park and display in a downtown lot, with an original highway marker.
The Hotel Marsh was a Lincoln Highway resting spot for early travelers.
The Van Wert County Courthouse has been standing since Lincoln Highway days also.
The old highway rejoins the modern 30 west of town, and runs through Indiana. We spotted this old Art Deco design school in eastern Indiana.
Stopped at Schoops for a burger and shake, and rolled home.
The next AM we again headed for the track.
As I expected, the crowd for the rain date was small. The track looked to be in pretty good shape, the pits were full of riders, bikes, and equipment. Vendors were showcasing their products around the back of the grandstands.
They were having an exhibition race also. Five or six riders with old board track machines were going to have a race on the mile track. Board trackers from the roaring twenties. No brakes. No transmissions. No clutches. Twist the throttle open to go faster, twist it closed to slow down. Pretty cool.
Many of the riders are not in love with the Syracuse oval. Turn three narrows down at the end of the back straight and it is easy to misjudge and end up in the wall between turns three and four. The Illinois Motorcycle Dealers Association had brought out the air fence for the race, and that narrowed the turns even more, although made hitting the wall a lot more forgiving. There were a lot of restarts after riders ended up in or under the air fence in turn three.
The track also was getting pretty rough. Atherton had to ask the EMTs in attendance to try and fish an old pin out of his wrist that had been jarred out of an old break. They couldn’t get it, and he had to drop out because it kept him from flexing his wrist far enough to crank the throttle all the way open.
Carr won the race after a lot of delays. Not the best flat track race I have ever been to, for sure. Wiles did get the Aprillia into the main, to keep his team’s streak intact; getting the new brand bike into every mile it had entered.
We left the track and explored Syracuse a little longer. Pam spotted another diner: a classic stainless steel model. We stopped for pie and coffee, and headed back to the motel.
We had a week to bum around the area before heading for the Lima, Ohio race. A Boston Italian sausage sandwich was still on the agenda, so we headed east the next morning.We followed I-90 across New York and into Massachusetts. It was a nice ride through the Mohawk River Valley and into the hills of western Massachusetts. The closer we got to Boston, the more I was dreading the traffic in the city. We decided to skip the sandwich and visit the smallest state in the USA instead: Rhode Island.
We hung a right at a sign that promised Rhode Island and cruised our way south. Into Providence. I followed the signs for downtown, and stopped at an open parking spot on the street. We were in front of the library. I asked a guy passing on the sidewalk which way to the ocean.
He said, “it’s everywhere, this is Rhode Island.” OK. But if we wanted to actually see it, which way would we go? It was a mistake. He launched into a long rant about how Providence sucked, Rhode Island sucked, the beaches sucked. He was rapidly sucking any of the thrill of being in Rhode Island right out of us. Musta been a representative for the local tourist board. We finally pried the information out of him that ‘if’ his brother (who sucked) would ever let him ride his Sportster again (which sucked anyway), and ‘if’ he was going to ride along any Rhode Island beaches (which all sucked but if he had to, he would ride along this certain one, that didn’t suck quite as much as the rest), he would head that-a-way.
We headed that-a-way, thinking the Rhode Island tourist board should tighten up their hiring practices ASAP.
We rode for quite a while, not seeing or even smelling the ocean. Finally we saw a sign warning us that we were going to be leaving the Ocean State of Rhode Island pretty soon. I think it was hinting that if we wanted to see any ocean from the ocean state, we better find it pretty quickly. My unerring sense of direction told me that if we headed left, we had to hit the ocean sooner or later. My unerring sense of direction has gotten me into trouble before, and will again, but we did end up at the ocean in Rhode Island.
The little Rhode Island ocean community was pretty nice. It was about two blocks long and one street wide. We got a room at a motel on the ocean side of the street, and unpacked the bike.
Our room was on the second floor, with a balcony overlooking the beach. We hiked the two-block length of the town along the beach and found a little seafood joint. We ate on their deck, watching a kid try to throw every rock on the beach into the ocean. Then walked back to the motel, and hung out on our balcony watching the moon rise over the Rhode Island ocean.
The next day we crossed into Connecticut. We soon began seeing signs for Mystic, and pulled in to see the town. Mystic Seaport was a tourist version of an old East coast port. Nobody hanging around worn out from seafaring and no old salts swearing and looking for loose women: it was more the Disneyland version of a seaport. Nice nonetheless.
Houses along the main street were covered with gingerbread trim. Nice place, but we were burning daylight and riding time.
The scenic byways map showed the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut as a nice cruise. The road was built in the 1930’s and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. This trip seemed to be turning into an Art Deco exploration trip, since many of the bridges spanning the road were that style.
One problem: the road was taking us to the New York City vicinity. I had just skipped Boston traffic, and didn’t want to get too close to the Big Apple. As we entered New York, signs announced the Tappan Zee Bridge ahead, which would get us around the city and into New Jersey.Cool bridge, and a very long one! The Hudson River is about 2 miles wide at this point.
Once in NJ, I looked for signs for the Palisades Parkway, a nice route along the west side of the Hudson. We traveled south on the Parkway, getting nice views of NYC across the river.
Pam wanted to head into the city, but I didn’t want to deal with the traffic on a bike. We saw a sign for a ferry, and pulled into the parking lot. This might be a way to get into the city and do a little exploring on foot. We locked up the bike and bought tickets for the ferry to the Wall Street area of Manhattan.
We got a nice view of Lady Liberty as we ferried south around the island. The ferry landed on the east side of the island, down in the Wall Street area. We walked west toward the financial district, and then to the World Trade Center site. We were in Maine when the towers were hit, and the site brought back all the horrible memories.
We tried a hot dog from a street vendor. What can I say? Come to Chicago if you want a good hot dog. Pizza, now, that’s another story. It’s hard to beat New York pizza by the slice or Italian ice.
We made it back to the ferry landing for the last ferry back to NJ. Got back on the bike and headed south through Jersey, through Hoboken, singing Sinatra songs. Found our way to the NJ Turnpike, took it south a ways and found a room for the night.
The next morning we headed into Atlantic City. They weren’t giving any money away at the Atlantic City casinos. It was interesting seeing all the Monopoly game streets, though. We strolled the famous boardwalk and sampled some NJ Italian ices. The day was getting short, so we headed back to the Turnpike and south toward Delaware.
We got to Cape May, Exit 0 on the Turnpike (thinking of Steve Earle), too late for the ferry to Delaware, and got a room at an old fashioned motel in Cape May. Found a Laundromat and Pizza joint still open, and took care of business. A lady at the Laundromat wanted to know why we would go anywhere else but Cape May for seafood, and we didn’t have a good answer. We decided to explore around that area the next day before catching the ferry.
Cape May was a nice town. The houses were great, with infinitely varying hand cut gingerbread trim and color combinations. We spent a couple of hours walking around, pointing out details on the houses. I picked up an EXIT 0 sticker for the bike, and we tried another Italian ice. Best one so far.
The lady at the Laundromat had also suggested going up the beach to the next town: Wildwood. She said it was a popular destination for people on bikes, and was full of old style motels and neon. We headed up there in the afternoon.
She was right. It was an old style beach town, with little motels lining the main street along the beach. Lots of cool neon, lots of cool 40’s and 50’s architecture.
We had lunch at the Cadillac Diner, an old stainless steel model.
There was another stainless one a couple of blocks down the street, but it was closed.
We didn’t want to miss the last ferry again, so we headed back to Cape May. The Cape May-Lewes Ferry is a nice one, pretty big and modern. It makes a nice sea cruise 10-12 miles across to Lewes, Delaware. From Lewes, it is a short ride to Maryland and Ocean City, home of Phillip’s.
Phillip’s is a big crab wholesaler and restaurateur. The seafood buffets at their restaurants are legendary. There are two of them in Ocean City, and one in Washington DC that we have tried. If you can’t handle the buffet, try the crab cakes or the lump crab sandwich. After we stuffed ourselves at the buffet, we walked it off along the Ocean City boardwalk, and got on US 50 to head back west.
US 50 starts in Ocean City, and there is a nice highway sign over the highway as you get on it there: SACRAMENTO CA 3073.
We headed west until it got dark, and found a room. The next morning we headed to the Bay Bridge. Maryland is the place for crabs, so we stopped for a bite before the bridge and I had a crab sandwich. Maryland crabs are not to be confused with King crabs, the Maryland ones are little, with soft shells, and are eaten shell and all.
The Bay Bridge is one of my favorites, I think because it is long AND tall. It spans Chesapeake Bay at a narrow point where it is about 4 miles wide. Before the bridge was built, Annapolis was the eastern endpoint of US 50. You get a nice view of Chesapeake Bay from the bridge.
After Annapolis, 50 heads toward Washington DC. It is another place I avoid on a bike. Not only is traffic heavy, but the streets are confusing. We cut up toward US 40 before hitting Washington.
US 50 is one of the original coast-to-coast U.S. highways laid out in the 1920’s. US 40 is another one, but follows another, older road through most of the east: the Old National Road.
The National Road was the first federal highway, built in the 1800’s, from Cumberland, MD to Vandalia, IL. One of the major routes for settlers heading west, you can travel the much of the route today on US 40. We took it into Wheeling, WV and got a room for the night.
The old National Road Bridge still spans the Ohio River in Wheeling. Ohio River Steamboat companies, fearing that the road would cut into their profits from moving goods west, built steamboats with taller smokestacks. They hoped the stacks would damage the new bridge, but the bridge proved stronger than the smokestacks.
Wheeling is also home to the WWVA Jamboree, an old country music live broadcast.
The next day was Saturday. The last Saturday in June. That meant two things: the Lima Half-Mile, and we were probably going to hit some rain. I seems as if it always rains in Ohio on Lima race day. Doesn’t really bother the track, because it is a pea gravel Ohio cushion track, and really needs a couple of inches of rain to keep the dust down. But the rain always seems to come as we are approaching Lima. Not a huge deal, but wet.
Meanwhile, Columbus is between Wheeling and Lima. Columbus means Schmidt’s. Schmidt’s is another one of those restaurants that you might as well go to if you are within a couple hundred miles, because you will be kicking yourself if you skip it.
It is in the old German section of Columbus, south of I-70 and east of US 23. Germantown is full of little brick houses, built by German immigrants, on tiny lots. Most of the lots have no lawns, just perennials. Hostas, roses, ivy. A great place to wander around. And Schmidt’s is there.
German food and cream puffs. Real German food and real cream puffs. Even a buffet. What else do you need?
So we stopped at Schmidt’s, had lunch, had cream puffs for desert, and headed to Lima.
Meanwhile, Columbus is between Wheeling and Lima. Columbus means Schmidt’s. Schmidt’s is another one of those restaurants that you might as well go to if you are within a couple hundred miles, because you will be kicking yourself if you skip it.
It is in the old German section of Columbus, south of I-70 and east of US 23. Germantown is full of little brick houses, built by German immigrants, on tiny lots. Most of the lots have no lawns, just perennials. Hostas, roses, ivy. A great place to wander around. And Schmidt’s is there.
German food and cream puffs. Real German food and real cream puffs. Even a buffet. What else do you need?
So we stopped at Schmidt’s, had lunch, had cream puffs for desert, and headed to Lima.
The rain hit on I-75 about 20 miles south of Lima. A frog strangler. We pulled up under an overpass behind a couple of other bikes heading for Lima. Waited it out, swapping rain stories from previous years. Sometimes it rains while we are on the road to Lima. Sometimes it rains after we get to the track.Doesn’t matter. If it rains on the road, pull over and let it pass. If it rains at the track, get some BBQ chicken or corn on the cob, and head into one of the fair buildings and enjoy it while waiting for the rain to pass. If it rains really hard, the races will go on until early in the morning. If it sprinkles, they will go on pretty close to schedule. Nobody cares. Rain is part of Lima.
The Rotary or some other civic organization is grilling a couple of tons of chickens, cut in half, on grills. Corn on the cob is getting grilled in the husks, the husks are peeled back, and the cob is dipped in a coffee can full of melted butter. There is popcorn, pizza, all kinds of county fair food. Heaven on earth!
The fairground is wall-to-wall bikes. Lined up as far as you can see. If you want a seat in the covered grandstands, you had to purchase them when the race finished the year before. There still might be some seats left in the open stands on the front straight. There are always some seats left in the bleachers on the back straight. And if you are crazy enough, you can hang out along the fence in the turns.
The ‘civilized’ fans sit in the front straight grandstands. The wilder fans sit on the bleachers along the back straight. The insane fans hang on the fences in the turns, ducking behind blankets or plastic draped over the fence as the rider fly by, leaned over and sliding sideways, spraying the corner fences with pea gravel rooster tails.The fans on the back straight seem to spend most of their time, during breaks in the action, trying to convince any female that walks in front of the stands toward the concessions or bathrooms, to pull up their shirts. Any that are willing are greeted with great cheers.
One year there was a young father with two boys, maybe 8 or 10. I told him to hope that mom didn’t ask the boys if they liked the races. He laughed and said he had finally talked her into letting him go to the races after about 5 years, but figured this would be his last race forever when his wife found out about the sideshow.
One year there was a young father with two boys, maybe 8 or 10. I told him to hope that mom didn’t ask the boys if they liked the races. He laughed and said he had finally talked her into letting him go to the races after about 5 years, but figured this would be his last race forever when his wife found out about the sideshow.
Sideshow aside, it’s the racing that is the show at Lima. Former national champ Joe Kopp put it pretty well. “Most tracks take some finesse. Throttle control. Steering. Here at Lima it’s who can hold it wide open all the way around. The biggest animal wins this race”.How to describe Lima? Have you ever ridden on a loose gravel road? It’s kinda spooky.
Imagine doing that at 100 mph. Imagine seeing a corner coming up. Well, you can let off the throttle, slow down to 30 or so, and tiptoe around the corner hoping the bike doesn’t slide out from under you. Or just snap the throttle closed momentarily, so the bike starts to skid sideways. Crank the throttle back open, get the back tire spinning and throwing a rooster tail of gravel about 50 feet, and, while balancing the sideways-skidding bike, power around the corner. Ohio cushion track racing. Nothing else like it.
Mees won his first GNC race that night.
The next day we headed home. We had been on two major transcontinental US highways, US 50 and US 40. We might as well take US 30 back home.30 runs a little north of Lima. A few miles west is Van Wert, a county seat. US 30 generally follows the old Lincoln Highway through the Midwest, and Van Wert is an old Lincoln Highway town. As 30 bypasses the town, signs direct you to the old road, which runs directly through downtown Van Wert.
The Lincoln Highway was built with private and state funds, before the Federal government got involved in highway building. The route was marked with concrete posts, as were the other highways of the day, and painted markers on telegraph poles. Van Wert has a nice little Lincoln Highway park and display in a downtown lot, with an original highway marker.
Balyeat’s is an old restaurant along the highway, still open and still featuring ‘young fried chicken’.
The Hotel Marsh was a Lincoln Highway resting spot for early travelers. The Van Wert County Courthouse has been standing since Lincoln Highway days also.The old highway rejoins the modern 30 west of town, and runs through Indiana. We spotted this old Art Deco design school in eastern Indiana.Stopped at Schoops for a burger and shake, and rolled home.
