Another American Adventure: Beaver Run Race Track

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Beaver Run Race Track

This morning John went to a vintage and classic car race at the Beaver Run Race Track. He took a lot of photos of this event.

Click HERE for more information about the races and a list of cars by class. John says that there were no real old ones. We have to go somewhere next weekend for that.

2 comments:

BarbaraJuly 17, 2011 at 6:01 PM
You two would love Formula One week in Montreal!
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beth cioffolettiJuly 20, 2011 at 8:28 AM
It reminds me of little toy cars and race tracks, Barbara. I think that mostly men/boys like this kind of thing, but I don't say that in a biased way. Men don't especially like going to fashion shows (nor do I) but style (and art) does interest me more than cars. However I find that I do find the "event" somewhat interesting. Anyway, I suppose I'm going to the big vintage thing this weekend.
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"In those first days, people said, a squirrel could run the long length of Pennsylvania without ever touching the ground. In those first days, the woods were white oak and chestnut, hickory, maple, sycamore, walnut, wild ash, wild plum, and white pine. The pine grew on the ridgetops where the mountains' lumpy spines stuck up and their skin was thinnest.

"The wilderness was uncanny, unknown. Benjamin Franklin had already invented his stove in Philadelphia by 1753, and Thomas Jefferson was a schoolboy in Virginia; French soldiers had been living in forts along Lake Erie for two generations. But west of the Alleghenies in western Pennsylvania, there was not even a settlement, not even a cabin. No Indians lived there, or even near there.

"Wild grapevines tangled the treetops and shut out the sun. Few songbirds lived in the deep woods. Bright Carolina parakeets - red, green, and yellow - nested in the dark forest. There were ravens then, too. Woodpeckers rattled the big trees' trunks, ruffed grouse whirred their tail feathers in the fall, and every long once in a while a nervous gang of empty-headed turkeys came hustling and kicking through the leaves - but no one heard any of this, no one at all."

Annie Dillard, An American Childhood.