It’s an otherwise quiet Sunday in South Butler. Other than the choruses of two churches facing each other on Route 89, things are peaceful—on THIS side of the track, at least. Want to take a trip to the other side? A three-by-three sandwich board with black letters pointing west on Butler-Conquest Rd. is the only thing alerting race fans and drivers to an old drag track under new management. Yet, in a very Field-of-Dreams way, the two strips of asphalt spanning well over a thousand feet in length that hasn’t been altered since it’s paving days was all people needed to show-up and relive over five decades of glory days.
While the four corners of South Butler were singing hymns, just a mile over, engines were humming hemis.
The South Butler Nostalgia Dragway may only be open for business each of the last four Sundays of June, July, August and September, but if the response from friendly competitors, fans, and its two-dozen volunteers was any indication, the two dragstrips may see visitors for decades to come. Almost a thousand spectators watched 60-plus cars do what science has failed time and time again at doing.
Building a time machine.
The pits are packed with enough cars to fill an auction block. On the other side, the flea market is open for business, the cruise cars’ hoods are up, engines shined, and hosting dozens of curious eyes. Well, intermittently, at least. Why?
Their drivers keep darting to and from the fences to catch the races. Just like everyone else.
The Iron Horsemen are sweating through the heat in their trademark black jeans and t-shirts, running the Christmas Tree (the stop-and-go lights) they’ve donated so each pair of cars knows when to punch the gas. Between duels, they’re hosing-down the starting blocks on this no-prep track. All but one driver has his helmet (of course, CFO Bill Arnold forgot his, depriving himself of the very privilege he and the committee fought for—drag racing), and each of them have their fire extinguisher within an arm’s reach.
The sound system is set-up atop a trailer and Wayne County’s NASCAR King himself, Racin’ Randy Salerno, is ready to make his big debut as the track announcer.
Seems like the South Butler Bunch has everything they need. There’s just one problem.
He has no power.
Of all the preparations, he forgot one little thing:
A power cord splitter.
“Buddy, we’re just waitin’ on that and we’ll get started,” Randy says. He’s handed about 70 index cards describing every vehicle’s year, make, model, owner and driver—none of which he needs; Randy can spot cars like a hawk looking for dinner.
Yes, it’s all for fun. There’s no governing body walking around like the IRHA, just a tech inspector. Other than safety, there are few rules, no trophies, and nobody trying to rain on anyone’s fun. Well, except the rain itself, which flashed for a few short minutes.
Here, trucks race dune buggies. El Caminos race Silverados. Chevys vs. Fords. Challengers vs. Chevelles. Station wagons vs. Hot rods. Yes, that happened, too. Have a Pontiac Bonneville? Have a hearse? If ya got a helmet and pay your $20, they’ll let you race that, too. Though, no motorcycles, of course. And no cars built after 1988. That’s the other important rule. And they’re all parked and ready to go.
A volunteer with a $2 orange splitter shows-up and Randy is ready to go.
“Been waitin’ 45 minutes for that,” Randy adds with a laugh. “That’s all we needed.”
After a quick drivers’ meeting and a quick-paced, pitchy anthem, the first pairs of vehicles line-up in the staging areas and open the 2017 amateur drag reason season, the first as South Butler Nostalgia Dragway.
And co-organizer, Scott Arnold, couldn’t be happier.
Success?
“Yes. Definitely,” he boasts. “Very happy. This is all about people who love cars and love racin’ having fun. It’s not about money, or winning races. It’s about car people having fun.
“We got sunshine. Everybody’s happy. And now, we’re runnin’ up-and-down the track until everyone gets tired of racin’.”
For the day, and maybe for the foreseeable future, Scott will be remembered as the Arnold who REMEMBERED his helmet, as he raced his two-toned Chevy El Camino, with the words “Just For Fun” emblazoned on the back. Meanwhile, the various food vendors are having an even better day. You can bet they’ll be back next month. As will some of the drivers who made the trek.
Vance Sawyer from Hamlin races a 1957 Chevy Bel-Air, painted in a ’69-only shade of red that would make Ronald McDonald jealous.
“I’ve owned this car 47 years,” he says, not having raced, but adding the finishing touches to the car.
Next to Sawyer in the pit is a man who wished to remain anonymous, but drives “just an old (1973 Chevy) pick-up,” he says. “I’ve been racing here since, probably, 1967.”
His advice to drivers is simple:
“Stay in the middle.”
Moving along the pit-turned-car museum of cars that could be sold for tens of thousands mixed with cars whose next stop could be a demolition derby, one car with it’s pearl-white body and American flag-red flames adorning the doors, while the hood and fenders are bathed in a deep royal blue, splashed with white stars. The chrome wheels are highlighted by blue spinners.
“I painted this car when 9-11 happened,” Randy Peters says about his car. “I used to collect die-cast cars and one company that made die-casts was donating proceeds to the families of the victims of the tragedy. So, I built this and made a decision to dedicate this to my brother who was a soldier.”
His brother, Joe, has since passed away. Peters has small white decals on the windows, one with a cross that says “In Memory of Joe.” But, Randy doesn’t just race this tribute.
“The thing I love most about this car is that I can drive it anywhere,” says the Buffalo native who moved to Seneca Falls last year. “I found this dragstrip online and decided I needed to be here. First time.”
“I had a ’68 Chevelle that I drag-raced for years and wanted to race a streetcar. Heard about this. It’s not that I’m racing for points or for money. It’s all for fun. I enjoy the people and wanted to have a good time.”
Meanwhile, track announcer, Randy Salerno, is holding court over the hums of engines that make weed whackers sound like lullabies. Within the first thirty seconds of Randy’s intros he’s already done more than track announcers did for decades:
Get the crowd involved.
“Who’s a Chevrolet fan?”
Applause and a few proud whoo-hoos.
“How about the Ford fans?”
Crowd pops louder, as now an impromptu competition of car pride has started.
“How about the Mopar fans?”
Other than an idling engine, the track grows as quiet as it would be all day.
So much for Dodge. That is, until the third race. Granted, the drivers were advised to get a feel for the track in the meeting, the driver of a ‘71 Challenger pulls-up alongside a copper-colored Pontiac Le Mans.
“Oooh. A Mopar-GM battle,” Randy announces.
The North Carolina blue Dodge jumped the lights and took-off. Apparently the driver had something to prove—all in fun, of course. The win wouldn’t count, but then again, at South Butler, the only thing that counts is fun.
The lanes have never been sponsored before. Now, Friendly Ford makes sure they are.
The guard rails have been replaced, thanks to Guide Rite.
The grandstands have returned, and are at capacity thanks to the Interlaken Fire Department.
And everyone on the farm can hear Randy, in-between revs, thanks to Rochester native, Mike Nolan, who donated his equipment.
And for one Sunday out of four, the familiar scents, sounds and a renewed buzz have returned to the air, and the area. Meanwhile, Randy, who has now become the track mayor, announces Jimmy DiSanto is here.
Who?
“He’s a guy I raced against and graduated with,” he yells. “Who’da thought we’d be working on a drag strip together some 37 years later?”
South Butler may be in the middle of nowhere, but back in the old days, that’s what racers wanted—a place to race and not get caught by the cops.
Now, five decades, a new crew, and a blend of first-timers and old-timers later, it’s a strip of Heaven for four summer Sundays.
Next race is slated for 9 am Sunday July 30th.
You can bet Bill Arnold won’t forget his helmet, nor will Racin’ Randy forget his plug.
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