Western Drag Fest
Road Impression:
Virtuous handling is among many personable attributes.
WESTERN DRAG FEST
Motorcycling's fastest growing competition form, has an outing.
WALT MAHONY
IT'S THE FINAL results that count. So it was with the second annual all-motorcycle drags at the Lions Drag Strip in Long Beach, California. The famed Southern California quarter-mile paved strip was playing host to over one thousand two-wheel speed enthusiasts. Sign-up and entry formalities were well handled. A few drag racing cars showed up . . . poor fellows didn't know it was an all-motorcycle day and they wouldn't get to run.
Soon after gate-opening, the familiar sounds of unmuffled engines, Harley-Davidsons, Triumphs, Hondas, etc., and of course the unmistakable sound of the Yamaha twins, filled the air. The weather was like every Chamber of Commerce wishes their particular city could enjoy every day. Temperature about 70°, bright sunshine, not a cloud in the sky. What sounded like thunder turned out to be cars running the quarter-mile. Looked like no one told them it was motorcycle day, surely a mistake that would be corrected.
Standing in the pits, looking over all the beautiful racing machinery, one feels like a gourmet standing in an Emperor's kitchen, viewing all of the delicious morsels displayed before him.
If your taste was for beautiful paint jobs, there was one in every color of the rainbow, and a few that went beyond that. Lacquers, enamels, pearlescents, to metalflake. Even spray-can primer paint jobs take on a racy look in this racy atmosphere. Chrome, of course, is abundant, and the engineering innovations in frames, suspensions, custom-built oil and fuel tanks, make each of the special drag bikes a tribute to their owners.
The southward journey through the pits ends at a wire fence, through which only contestants, photographers and officials can pass. CYCLE WORLD'S photographer was among the lucky few to get close to the charging machinery. Burning racing fuels made noses and eyes sting, but to most, one of the best smells on the earth is that of fuel, tires burning on pavement, oil in fuel burning, all mixed together. To racers it's like the morning pot of coffee when you are camping out.
Twenty-five or so cars started running through, thrilling us with 1955 Fords turning 67 mph! Wow! I wanted to go get my Chevy and run it but it would have used too much of the motorcyclists' time. Strangely, no one else thought of that!
Electric lights on the strip replaced old Sol, and a slight breeze was bringing in a chill. Racers were still at it, running with intermittent groups of cars. All facts accounted for, it was a day and night well spent and all are looking forward to the next all-motorcycle day at Lions. Next time, though, someone should tell those car guys it's time to go home.
