J W BARFIELD, INC.
WINTER HAVEN, FLORIDA

Watkins Glen, where men came, again and again, to check their nerve and boys came to test their mettle. The Glen, a track some said was as old as cars. When men first sought the dangers and excitement of speed, they came to the Glen. Possibly the most exciting and legendary racing spot in the country, the Glen, offered one of the first 24 hour endurance races in the United States. A track where men tempted and cheated death, challenging the road course with only their skills and equipment. They raced for the fun, the glory, and occasionally, the stupidity of it all. The early May race would provide an unusually cold testing ground for the opening race weekend of the highly touted U.S. Formula Ford 2000 National Championship series, sponsored by the Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) and the United States Auto Club (USAC). Another step on the ladder for Indy racing hopefuls. This was usually the third step of a long frustrating ladder most failed to climb. Many started in Go-carts, then advanced to Formula-Vee or Formula Ford. The next step was to Formula Ford 2000 or Formula Continental. Some also called the sleek racecars, "The Continentals" or "FC," while others affectionately called the speedy cars, "Formula 2000." The Formula Continental used a modified two-liter, four cylinder, Ford engine boasting 140 horsepower. Including the driver, helmet and fireproof suit, the small open wheel Indy type racer weighed in at a minimum 1175 pounds. Some tried to build their own engines, but most preferred to rely on proven engine builders like Ivey, Elite, Quicksilver and Atwell. The price tag varied but usually cost around $6000 for a complete engine. All Formula Continentals used 4-speed manual transmissions and changed the four gear sets to fit each individual track. Thomas pointed outside to the large black and white eighteen-wheeler with the word, "GO," tilted slightly forward, to appear as though moving. The block letters "Racing" followed the "GO," which stood for Guido's Operations, and was painted on both sides of the lavish semi-trailer. Guido Pepin, who also raced, owned GO Racing and was closer to Pepper's age than the much younger O'Brien. The trailer housed Guido's car and two other team members' Formula Continentals. Each racecar also carried the insignia. The setup attested to the wealth Guido had amassed in the restaurant business. Now Guido played and spent money he earned, and Guido's game was racing. "I hear we're the Saturday prelim for the Sunday SCCA Endurance race," I said. "Where are Les and Marty?" Wesley asked, referring to the two young mechanic helpers who also worked for TJ Benson or actually worked for me. Outside, two rows of incoming traffic paused as drivers, crew and racers parked and took time to fill out their registration forms. Also adding to the congestion were Stewards of the event and helpers. The all-important Sports Car Club of America corner workers, the life support system for drivers involved in life threatening wrecks. Patches from previous events sewed on the white uniforms easily distinguished the Corner Workers. The patches literally covered a few uniforms, attesting to the desire and participation of the corner workers. All waited in the appropriate lines ready for the event to begin. Those without money fended for themselves, although many independent drivers tended to group together. All offered each other assistance and help whenever necessary. Including my BRM team, there were six major teams: Wesley's team, Dotson Racing; TART, a Canadian team run by Ron Leclair; PACE, a French Canadian team Ian Poirier owned; Spratt Racing owner, Phil Spratt; and, GO Racing with Guido Pepin. Only Spratt and TART relied on something less than the large eighteen-wheelers. They used diesel Cummings, 1 ton crew cab Fords to pull their 42 foot fifth wheel trailers. Although not as impressive as the larger teams, they still came well prepared. I scanned the impromptu drivers' list, a copy from the previous year's standings with new drivers added at the bottom. The number 1, 4, 5, 12 and 13 positions, marked through with a wide black marker, showed five previous competitors who either advanced to another series, fulfilling yet another step in their dreams, or reached another temporary stopping point along their rough road of dreams. They would surely return another time or another place. I continued to survey the summary sheets: O'Brien reached into his back pocket and pulled out a black billfold, took out a five-dollar bill, and held it in front of my face, "Let's see if you can do it three years in a row. Go ahead, Charlie, pick the winners again." "Yeah, but even if the Stewards catch Marcoux doing something dangerous, once he's done it, it will be too late." "Nice to meet ya." The smile was contagious as was the youthful enthusiasm, "Man, have you ever seen so many cars. I can't believe we're gonna race the day before the Showroom Stock Endurance race. I'm staying to watch, are you?" Shannon laughed, making the dimples and the cleft in his square jaw more prominent, "Shoot, they asked if I had any sponsors, and I told them my Dad. I don't have a race team, and if it wasn't for my Dad, I wouldn't be here." Shannon pointed to race number 3 and asked, "Maybe you could help me, and I hope this doesn't sound dumb, 'cause I've never raced in a real series before. I know IRP is for Indianapolis Raceway Park, but TBA . . . where is that?"