Converted school bus campers hand painted to match a favorite driver's car. "Show your BLEEP" scrawled in black marker on a piece of cardboard. Usually the cardboard contained a case of beer in a previous life. Confederate flags hanging limp on makeshift PVC poles. The ubiquitous blue tarps protecting pale white skin from the Pee Dee sun and rain. Overwrought fans. Overflowing portable toilets. Overweight, underdressed women.
Welcome to the infield at Darlington Raceway in the 1980s. I was there a few times back in my wasted youth. I've heard the stories about the Talladega infield, but I haven't seen it firsthand, like Darlington. I'll still put Darlington's notorious infield up against anyplace else's. I don't recall the cops or guards ever stopping any activities at Darlington.
It was like a two night, three day, rock festival with a couple of high speed, roundy rounds thrown in to keep the inmates occupied for a few hours. There's nothing quite like waking up in a K-Mart lawn chair covered in dew. I hope it was dew. Stand in line to take a shower, or stay in camp and drink a few Busch beers for breakfast? That line was too long anyway.
***Side note on the Darlington infield shower shack. It was a cinder block, flat roofed box about 12'x12'. One shower for men, one for women. The shack was originally built in the 1950s to be used as a temporary jail for any overexuberant customers. It was built a couple of days before the race. Sure enough the cops put some partiers in there the night before the race. When Andy and Barney came back the next morning to release their prisoners there was a hole in the wall, and an empty cell. According to infield legend, the mortar used on the block jail hadn't hardened completely, and the thirsty prisoners kicked their way to early freedom.***
South Carolina being such a forward thinking state, even back then, didn't allow beer sales on Sunday. So when you entered the infield for the weekend you better be packing, and ready for company. Of course, back then, we never did a lot of pre-planning, so Sunday beer was at a premium. Hard to believe a six-pack of Busch cost $1.99 back then, and we still didn't ever carry enough.
You could see anything in the Darlington infield back then. Girls in the men's room. Drunks passed out under their trucks, for the whole race. Fans standing on top of the family sedan to see the race, and stomping a large bird bath in the roof. Homemade wooden scaffolding that looked like something off of Donkey Kong. Shirtless, sunburned, Levis wearing drunks stumbling along lost. And, that was just the girls.
The SC Highway Patrol should give seminars on how to move 50,000 people out on three two lane roads in an hour. Every road leaving the track will be going one way, both lanes. When the trooper points for you to turn, you turn. Don't try and stop to let him know that you actually want to go the other way. He ain't hearing it. Keep moving.
No one was ever left behind. We were all back at work the next day. Sunburned, hoarse, and hungover. Looking back now I'm glad I went, but don't think I could go through it again. But, it sure was fun for a young man. Ahh, good times.
