Watkins Glen Sporting Roadster Tour

So there I was, weaving my way through the throngs of onlookers, drivers, pit crew, sandwich hawkers, chamber of commerce volunteers, car club members, and children young and old, all crowded onto downtown Franklin Street, Watkins Glen, New York, eager for the command to “start your engines” for the vintage race re-enactment over the old road course. Never mind that the street was hopelessly narrow and pedestrian-choked. Or that once the signal to go was given, the first thing that confronted the drivers was a 90 degree right turn onto Old Corning Road past a gas station, and barely a hundred feet later a 90 degree left and a steep, flat-out uphill run. Heck, that’s just part of the charm of the old course, and it’s a good thing it’s run “just for fun” these days. That first 90 degree turn was where the horrible accident involving pedestrians happened in the Grand Prix race of 1952, the last event of that day and also, because of its deadly result, the last “real” race to ever be held on this course. Funny thing was, I didn’t even think about that dark event until I was done lapping the circuit. I guess that’s the last thing you want in your mind when you’re actually behind the wheel.

Prior to the green flag on today’s race, I wandered amongst the wonderful vintage racecars gridded here—there was a beautiful dark blue Jaguar C type, ca. 1952; a red (what else?) 1954 Ferrari Testarossa; an Aston Martin DB4GT; and a beautiful red Allard J2X, probably a ’52 or ’53. Plus some more modern “vintage” cars like a 1970 Lola T-70 and a Porsche 910 of about the same era. There were several GTVs as well, and an Alfetta GT. I also spotted Jim Hayes’s old Alfa Giulietta racecar, now owned and run by Mike Lawton, whom we have seen many times up at Lime Rock. Mike and his wife were there, and everything about Mike’s demeanor at that moment showed that he couldn’t wait to get ol’ yaller on the course and fully into its song. Bob Bondurant, former F1 World Champ and racing school founder, was wandering around and I heard later that he got a ride for the race in the passenger seat of some guy’s race-prepped MG-TC. After my three laps around, I can only think that sitting in the seat without the go (and stop!) pedals must have been awful tough on him.

	GTV(GTA?) awaits start of race
	Another GTV ready to go on Franklin Street
	A GTV6 is ready to race
	Mike Lawton's (ex-Jim Hayes) Giulietta
	Alpine GT - heading out of town
	Lola T70 ready to rumble
	Lola's only competition - Porsche 910

The race finally got underway, which was pretty thrilling (especially the noise of all those exhausts) as they took off around the 90’s and charged uphill. As usual, it would be nice at this point if you had a helicopter, so you could follow the cars around at the many key points on the track, but I just got back through the crowd as far as I could to see them come back around at Milliken’s corner. Alas, the crowd was pretty thick and I was lucky to get a glimpse of a passing racer as they came back down Franklin. Next year, I will hike further out of town along the course to where I might be able to get a better photo op. I did hear that it was pretty crowded at the turns into the State Park and Stone Bridge, and at Archy Smith’s corner. Finally, the race was “over”, but it was kind of anticlimactic at that point—the officials had really slowed the cars down as they went through town for safety, and it almost seemed like they stopped before going off on subsequent laps. Still, it was great seeing those cars there and I will be in a different spot next year with camera.

	Jaguar C-Type and Ferrari Testarossa
	Where'd they go, LeRoy?

The next morning, I drove up to Watkins Glen International Speedway, which was up the same hill as the old course but about three or four miles further out of town. The last time I was at this track was the 1968 U.S. Grand Prix, of which I unfortunately remember little. I was then trying out a new-ish car for me—a (blush!) exceedingly practical ’66 VW 311 Fastback (with 56 whole ponies under the hood—uh, rear floor—compared to the standard Beetle’s 40!) that I had finally settled on as a way of getting through upstate New York’s wild winters while attending college. I had really wanted a TR4A—but you knew even then that you just don’t drive them in the snow. Anyway, I had my favorite girlfriend with me and she approved. I wondered how she would feel about me driving 400 miles to get back here 35 years later in a 30-year-old Alfa Spider?

But, once again, I digress. When I got to the track, I had been told to look for the Roadster Tour Corral. After about an hour of driving around the infield and outfield areas, it became apparent that nobody who worked at the track had heard about this. Finally, I just parked up at the “old car show” going on at one of the infield areas and met up yet again with Pablo and Cal, who were about to walk over to a grandstand for a better view of the races. At the grandstands, we ran into Marcia Douglas, my navigator from yesterday, taping her brother who was racing a 240Z in today’s on-track event. It was a great location—right after the “Boot” area of the track with a sweeping view to the right of a small straight ending in a sharp right-hander before the main grandstand area. We all caught about eight or nine races, and I heard that Alfa racer Joe Nastasi was there in a ’67 T33, but unfortunately did not see him. After a couple of hours, the lack of shade was a factor and so I moved on to check out the many vendors at the track (including Burt Levy recently seen on Franklin Street, and Bob Gillespie, who really can paint a racing scene—his work has real racing “soul”).

	Watkins Glen International - entrance
	Old Car Show on parade laps
	Racers sweep through next-to-last corner before the main WGIS grandstands

After leaving WGIS, I stopped at the IMRRC again, to spend a little time with the many volumes and exhibits all devoted to motorsports. I was almost the only one there, except for, once again, Bob Bondurant, who was getting a courtesy tour through the place. By now, the hot dry roads and heat of the events had taken their toll, and I found myself back in the Spider, taking it a little more relaxed this time up Old Corning Road, heading into the parking lot at the Seneca. The place was still half empty, as the day’s racing had just ended, and the crowds wouldn’t be back for another hour. I found my way into the bar, which was empty—for now—but I was quickly waited on by none other than Jack Brubaker. Jack’s dad built the Seneca back in ’47, and its bar quickly became the racers’ favorite watering hole, even though it was half open-air back then. Nowadays, the bar is all closed in, but a large back room with tables opens onto a large deck with picnic tables. To my right was the dining room—huge—and with tempting specials already on the chalkboard. As I sat with Jack nursing my diet coke, he showed me a bunch of old photos from under the bar—one was of Graham Hill, in his suit and tie, downing a gin and tonic right there at the bar. Many other photos of the famous were taken out at that point and ga-ga’d over, by me and a few folks who had just wandered in from the events. One woman was introduced to me as “The Queen of Canada” and proceeded to complain to Jack and me that the sharper curves on the old course should bear appropriate warnings—“my goodness” (or something queenly like that) she and her friend in an MGB almost went off the road on a blind curve just before Archy Smith’s. I remembered that spot—it was pretty hairy—but nobody made them take the laps and, if I recall, the speed limit was 25 (not that anyone did so). But danger is an inherent part of that course, and that is one of the lessons of doing this type of an event. A lesson that you hope no one ever has to learn the hard way. On the other hand, would it be a little less exciting—less “fun”, perhaps a little too tame—if this danger was not there to be coped with? At any rate, the “Queen” finally got on and the topic quickly shifted to cheerier subjects (although none as good to argue about) and the Seneca bar was in full swing, with the crowds spilling out onto the large deck. Interestingly, the crowd was pretty much evenly divided between male and female, and the topic of all the excited jabbering was about 99% racing, more racing, and cars. That experience might be a first for me. Needless to say, by late afternoon, the drivers at the Seneca were at least as well lubricated as their cars.

	The Seneca Lodge
	The Seneca bar
	Parking lot or car show?
	Old and new at the Seneca (MGTC in background)

At this point, I took a stroll out to the parking lot for some early evening fresh air and, as you might imagine, the lot looked more like a sports car show than your usual restaurant lot. It was nice, too, how the age span of the vehicles, all of which had brought somebody to the restaurant or bar, was from the late 1940s to brand spanking new. It was like one of those “time-warps” like you hear about in movies in that way. It seemed like you were in a place where the racing of the early ‘50s, and the socializing that went with it, never really stopped. The old cars (and drivers—or their ghosts) were still there, and so were all their favorite (excuse the expression) “haunts”, waiting for the late summer/early fall arrival of us later generations to join them around their favorite places, and race with them around their favorite old course. It was an invitation I’ll be taking up again. You can come too, if you must. Just let me know and we’ll caravan out together.