By Roger J. Hull
Back in days of yore
Roundabout Nineteen hundred sixty four
The big bore Corvettes
And Cobras would roar
Round Road America, round
They’d go, pedal to metal
Inches to spare, they’d clip corners
With the outside front wheel in the air
Blue with white stripes, white with red
the colours would tell who was ahead
The ground would shake
And the crowd would scare
Down Canada Corner hill
Rolled the big bore thunder
Spinning and squealing the tires
Round the corner, black rubber fires
Round they’d go like dogs in the chase
A fearless lot with smiles on their face
Up the Dunlop hill and disappear
Only to later on the horizon, reappear
Like mystical Ancient Gods and
The rumble of approaching thunder
[Sports car racing at Elkhart Lake, WI.
Road America in the ‘60s]
[Roger volunteered for the field crew,
but never got to race any of his many sports cars.]
Corvettes in a Curve
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Copyright
2008 © Roger J. Hull
9/28/08
A Cobra racing at
Elkhart Lake