The Road That Used to be a Racetrack

The weather today in central Maryland is chilly and rainy. And, like any terrible parent, I'm standing outside our parked car with my 6-year old on a dead-end road in the middle of rural Carroll County.

So why am I subjecting us to this misery? Because we're there to listen to race cars. There's a great field of entrants today, and the sound of flathead V8s, modded small block Chevys, and Offey-powered dirt cars are enough to make any car guy swoon.

There's a great crowd on hand for today's racing action, too, and the smell of cheap hotdogs and soft pretzels wafts across the grandstands in a delicious haze.

Then I feel a tugging at my jacket. "Can we go now?"

Suddenly, the cars stop running and the crowd quiets. I open my eyes and, once again, I realize we're still standing out in the rain. I start looking around for the stands, the pits, all the modified race cars. But they're nowhere to be found. All that I see is a McMansion with a manicured lawn.

Where we're standing is the approximate location of what used to be turn three at Condon Raceway, just west of what is now Eldersburg, MD.

Years ago, I was talking to an older gent who mentioned there had once been a race track in that general area. Over the years, I never came across anyone else who knew about it, much less its true location, and it got shelved in my mind. A recent conversation with a car-guy friend reminded me of it, and I went in search of more info.

Condon Speedway was a third-mile dirt track oval that ran modifieds from 1953-1959. No one particularly famous ever raced there, yet for almost seven seasons, the men who brought out their cars and ran along the knife-edge of adhesion that is dirt track racing were heroes in their own right. Names like Mullinex, Morgan and Culp are still well known in the area, even if their history, and that of Condon Speedway, is not.

Sadly, the last remnants of the track have been long since erased from the landscape. But if you park along the gate of trees on Gina Court, take pause. If you squint through the daylight, you'll see the ghosts of a mechanic tuning a carburetor, a young man selling programs, and the sound of vintage cars powering their way to victory.

But if you smell hotdogs, odds are it's just one of the neighbors having a cookout.

Special thanks to Larry Jendras, Jr. for his patience in answering all my questions, and helping to keep alive the motorsports history of Maryland.

Arial view of Condon Speedway vicinity, 1995.
If you look closely, you can still see the oval's outline through the trees.

Photo courtesy of Google Earth.

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Now THIS is a hot rod

Summer's winding down here on the East Coast, and with it goes one of my favorite Saturday night activities - the local cruise night.

It's a great, impromptu little show that has cars rumbling in around 5pm or so, and wraps up when everyone gets tired or cold. A lot of the cars belong to the usual gathering of locals, but when the weather's warmer, more exotic machinery shows up which makes for a must-see event at the drop of a hat. I've seen a number of REALLY interesting cars - a Boss 429 Mustang, Max-Wedge Mopars, Top Flite Corvettes, the only Yenko Corvair convertible, custom Panteras, even the occasional gaggle of GT40s and Vipers.

When it comes to custom cars, I'm a bit picky; an afficionado of loving details, and champion of, well, just getting it right. I suppose it's easy for me to stand there, looking at someone's pride and joy, and scoff at the details ("huh, if you'd have spent another $1,000 to do wet sanding, you'd have a show stopper...") when I don't have a car of my own. So yes, I'm a hypocrite. But I like to think my hypocracy means I can appreciate cars that much more when they're done right.

As a result, I tend to be the one guy who stops and looks at the odd car that everyone else walks past, or I happen to notice the details that everyone else misses. So while everyone else is staring the paint off of a tubbed '69 Camaro or yet another shoebox Chevy, you'll probably find me laying on the ground admiring the period-correct Halibrand quick-change rear differential on a vintage-style hot rod painted in black primer. The looks I get are priceless.

Recently, I found another diamond in the rough.

This one was parked between two modern pickups and a rogue minivan. Given it's parking spot, I assume the owner had no intention of showing it off that evening. But if I'd have had a trophy in my hand, I'd have awarded it "Best of Show". Scratch that - "Best of Summer".

1934 Ford three-window coupe. Painted in vintage-style dark blue lacquer, with '50s style flames. Chopped top. No fenders, no running boards, no hood, no hood sides. Turned metal firewall. Vintage style 5-spoke Americans painted flat grey on the rear, with an old set of chromed wheels in the front. To top it all off, it had an old V8, with dual carbs and a 6-71 blower backed up with a true 4-speed manual. The 4" side pipes weren't period-correct, but still worked with the look of the car.

If it'd had the Halibrand quick-change, I probably would have teared up a bit.

I never found the owner, but it was obvious that whoever built this car, well, just got it. It was the kind of car I've always dreamed of having in my garage. Something to scare Mercedes-Benz owners, and my mother-in-law, too. This car had a mean attitude, and looked to have the equipment to back it up.

For ten minutes of my life, I never lusted after a car more than I did that one. I could envision myself driving it like a 16-year-old with Dad's car. Every traffic light would invite a smokey burnout, followed by a full-throttle run with the supercharger's belt squealing to keep up with the crankshaft. People would think it was Don Garlits driving through town. I'd plan a trip to Bonneville just so I could get some proper salt encrusted on the chassis. I'd drive the tires off the darn thing - no sitting around at a car show!

But therein lies my dilemma. Because really, if I actually owned a car like this, I'd probably miss out on some really great cars at the car show.