Wisconsin Grand Prix

There are epic tales of legendary races. There are very short stories about not-so-interesting races. And there are a few stories of races that never were.

The SCCA had planned to host a race on the infield road course of the State Fair Park racetrack (the "Milwaukee Mile" -- I don't call it that because the road course is two miles, not one). Everything was arranged, and the cable company was even going to send out a film crew to cover the event for the local sports channel.

I got to the track just after 6pm, when registration was scheduled to open. The paddock was already a little crowded, but I parked and went to stand in the registration line. On the way I passed a few people who were on the board of directors for the SCCA region, and they didn't look happy. The phrases "looking pretty grim" and "may not happen this weekend" were overheard. Someone else filled me in: The race may be cancelled because the track was not ready. It would take a lot of work to make the track safe for a race, and nobody knew yet if the project could be completed in time. They would try, and we would wait.

A handwritten sign on the registration tent didn't inspire confidence either: "Registration closed until futher notice." I decided to take a spot in line and wait for the final word.

The State Fair grounds were hosting several other activities that same weekend, including a very large cattle show. (That's a very large show for cattle, not a show for very large cattle. Though some of the cattle there were indeed very large.) They had decided that the best place to park all the cattle trailers was just outside the track -- circling the registration tent. The smell wasn't too bad, but apparently it soaked into my clothes pretty thoroughly during the two hours I waited in line.

More details came filtering in bit by bit. Barricades were not in place for the road course because an Indy car team had been testing on the oval all day long. Stacks of tires, which had been supplied by and assembled by members of various sports car clubs, were now missing. The pavement of the infield course was much higher than the surrounding shoulder, resulting in a severe drop-off. The track had been instructed to fill in the shoulder to make it safer if a car spun off the track. Instead, they dumped a lot of rocky fill dirt on the edge of the track, building up a berm in some spots and leaving large (6" diameter) boulders sticking out in other spots. The track didn't have the equipment required to grade the dirt and make the slope of the shoulder more gentle. They were now trying frantically to scrape it down and redistribute the dirt with small Bobcat loaders, working by the light of the safety trucks' headlights.

Around 8:15, the club made the official announcement: It had become clear that there was no way the track could be made safe for a race before Saturday morning, so the event had to be cancelled.

I was disappointed and a little frustrated over the work we had done to get the car ready in time, but then I realized how many people -- drivers and crew and volunteer workers -- had taken the day off to drive in from all over the midwest, only to find there was no race. I have to be thankful that this race was (or would have been) in my own backyard.

Someday I should have my dad tell you the story about the time we pulled up to Grattan Raceway in Michigan back in the '70s and were met by the track owner, drunk and at the wheel of a bulldozer, blocking the entrance.