Sprint Car Night Before Christmas

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Sprint Car Night Before Christmas
By: Pete MacDonald

Twas the night before Christmas, and up on Beerhill.
All the fans were filing in, awaiting this weeks thrill,
The haulers pulled through the backstretch with plenty of care
In hopes that the World of Outlaws soon would be there.

The cars were unloaded what an impressive fleet,
While a packed house of fans piled in and fled to their seats,
The flagger with his ‘kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just head for Central PA after a quick fall time nap,

When up on the backstretch there arose such a clatter,
I sprung from my chair to see what was the matter,
I slid across the grass like a slidejob off of four,
To look over the fence and take a look once more,

With the sun setting down on my fresh cut infield lawn,
A new National Open day soon was upon,
When the sun finally set, it now was too clear,
The Greatest Show on Dirt had finally appeared,

With an old driver so dirty, so dusty, and so quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
Not as loud as 410 or even a 360 they came,
As he yelled from under his helmet and called them by name!

Now Gravel! Now Madsen! Now Darrah and Schuchart!
On Kinser! On Saldana! On Schatz and Pittman!
Down the front stretch the paced by the crowd four-wide
Green next time by, into turn-one they will slide

Across a slick track the 410s did fly,
When it finally blew off, they all moved up high.
To the top of the track the entire field soon moved too.
With their wings pitched back, I hope their tires were new.

And then in an instant I heard being staged,
It was the next heat, with a single driver to add to the rage.
As I stumbled back to my seat to see who it was,
This driver wore red and white, with black boots and white fuzz.

He had all right safety gear from head to toe,
And looked of a jolly old man that we all know.
With a bundle tear-offs and his belts pulled tight,
He rolled to the track for a special treat tonight.

His eyes how they twinkled when the motor came to life!
As he put both hands on the wheel we beheld such a sight!
Then his long white beard began to collect some brown dirt,
He thought ‘what the heck, a lil dirt never hurt’.

As he dropped the visor down and gazed at his view,
He mashed down the loudpedal and with that we all knew.
An ordinary driver this man was not,
And even though it’s December, it’s about to get hot!

He was larger than most, a plump, jolly old pilot,
We laughed at first when we thought he wouldn’t fit.
But with a wink of his eye and nod of his head,
We soon gave big props to the man in red!

We spoke not a word when he drove straight to the front,
Then the crowd fixed upon him, all hollered and jumped!
Without a wink, nod, or any other magic,
He soon drove all around that lap traffic!

As he sprang from his chassis when the checkers waved,
Not a speech was heard nor anything exclaimed.
As he departed, he looked towards the track,
Merry Christmas to all, and next year I’ll be back!

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