By DAMIAN CRISTODERO, Times Staff Writer


Published August 2, 2005




Man, it was loud. It was enough when one drag racer in the staging area burned out his tires with a ferocity that sent a plume of gray and white smoke into the air.

But when both drivers revved up, the competing engines were like animals roaring before a fight.

Forty cars in two lines of 20, with matchups made by chance, waited their turn to mark their territories before green lights sent them screaming down Sunshine Dragstrip's one-eighth of a mile track.

Winners and losers drove to the end of the line to do it again.

"When the light goes green," St. Petersburg driver Vinnie Fugett said, "your heart is pounding."

It is like this every Wednesday night, when the track on Ulmerton Road opens to everyone.

Have a driver's license, a car with seat belts, a tied-down battery and $15? You're Don Garlits. Have a jacket, gloves, boots and a helmet? You can wheelie your sport bike to your heart's content.

The pros are there, too, testing and tuning for the weekly Friday night card. But on Wednesdays, teenagers, grease monkeys and fathers with sons are the soul of the track.

It's too bad, Lee Pritchard said, more don't come out to race.

The St. Petersburg resident and sport biker, who said he has raced at Sunshine Dragstrip for 24 years, believes most of the racing in the Tampa Bay area is done illegally on the streets.

Even he admitted he comes to the track, in part, to be timed electronically so he knows he is running 100 percent, "In case someone wants to throw down with me on the street."

But Pritchard said there's an even bigger advantage to racing at Sunshine than dodging traffic, red lights and the police on the street.

"Living to tell about it," he said. "If I'm going to take a header, I'd rather do it with that EMT guy down there."

So it seemed odd on a recent Wednesday that Pritchard, 49, and friend Kevin Dobey, 27, of Dunedin were among only a handful of bikers waiting to run. Part of that was the threat of rain. But track lease owner Todd Dickinson said participation for all types of vehicles has dropped about 50 percent.

Couple of reasons.

Pritchard said racers are a rebellious lot.

"It's freedom and there's a lack of supervision," he said of street racing. "It's like you're getting away with something."

And it's risky.

"If it wasn't dangerous," Dobey said, "I don't think anybody would do it."

Dickinson, though, is convinced November's closing of Sunshine Speedway is the real culprit.

"People think we're closed," he said. "I get calls every day. "Is the dragstrip closed?' Nope."

It is, however, on the same 125-acre property the state Department of Transportation bought for a highway that will connect Interstate 275 with the Bayside Bridge.

The DOT does not know when work on the still unfunded project will begin, and the dragstrip and Sunshine Motocross, also on the property, have two-year leases that run through July 2006. DOT spokeswoman Kris Carson said the leases could be extended.

Short-term, though, Dickinson said attendance at his Friday shows has fallen by half, to between 600 and 750. Of Wednesdays, he said, "I used to get 100 kids with cars alone. Now it's down to 30 to 50."

Where are the rest?

"Back out on the streets," Dickinson said.

Risk and reward

Trooper Larry Coggins, Tampa Bay area spokesman for the Florida Highway Patrol, said would-be racers are "always asking cops, "Where can we go?' When they say they've been to Sunshine or Bradenton (Motorsports Park) it's like music to our ears."

Coggins said street racing in the bay area is "an occasional problem but on an upward trend.

"It used to be two vehicles would plan to do something on a dark country road where nobody's around," he said. "Now it's happening on major roadways and they're no longer planned events. It's spontaneous. One guy drives alongside and revs a motor and says, "Let's see who's more powerful."'

A favored racing spot is Gandy Boulevard's long straightaway near the bridge to Tampa.

Beyond the legal ramifications (Coggins said depending on the circumstances, jail time is possible with sentences of 60 days to five years), there are huge safety issues, especially with sport bikes.

"The problem is when they fall they have to deal with other traffic, other cars," said Kevin Hull, a Pinellas County paramedic. "They also freak out other cars. It's also common sense. If I'm out on the road and start riding a wheelie, somebody may come off a side street and if I'm up with my headlight up here, they won't see me."

Which brings us back to the dragstrip, where every Wednesday, Hull, 47, hired by Dickinson, sits in his rescue vehicle just off the track.

The Tampa resident said he has equipment to extricate drivers from cars and chemicals that instantly choke fires.

It is still dangerous. Dickinson's father, Randolph "Doc" Dickinson, was killed in May 1982 in a crash, the second and, as far as most can recall, the last death at the track.

But, as Hull said, "It's just so much more dangerous on the street than on a safe track. Here you don't have to worry about a car turning off a side road in front of me. And when (a crash) happens, we're here to take care of them until the ambulance gets here."

Tampa bike racer Victor Gotay said that reasoning prevailed when he and an opponent decided to take a street-race challenge to the track.

"We were going to do it on the street, but we don't want anybody to get hurt either," said Gotay, who turns 20 today.

"I'm not going to lie and say I'm not a street racer. A lot of people prefer to do it on the street. But we try to do it at the track."

The need for speed

For Tampa driver Norby Phillip, it all comes down to the way he is "pushed against the seat" when his 2004 Mustang accelerates.

For Pinellas Park's Corky Markwart, it's the "G force of stopping. They slow down as hard as they take off. It's a rush."

But St. Petersburg's Justin Morefield was more concerned with the bottom line.

"I'm happy when I win," he said, "sad when I lose."

That's what you get on Wednesdays at Sunshine, where the drivers are as diverse as the cars.

"This is home," said Markwart, 51, a pro and Friday night regular. "We grew up there. Our kids grew up there."

Markwart said his wife, Sherry, raced with their doctor's okay until she was two weeks from delivering their daughter, Nicole, now 24, who also races.

"There was a time you knew every person's name and every kid's name there," Markwart said. "It will be horrible for the community when it closes. It's like your favorite amusement park closing or your favorite restaurant."

For Seminole's Jack Acerbo and son Chris, 15, the dragstrip is a place to bond and offer lessons.

Acerbo said he and Chris spent $4,000 to refurbish a 1977 Corvette purchased for $2,500. Acerbo said he wants his son to know there is a safe place to go fast.

"Kids are going to race," he said. "I'd much rather see him here under controlled conditions than on the street screwing around."

Sport-biker Pritchard said that works for any age.

"This is a blast," he said. "You say you've got a fast bike, show me. If more people would come out here and try it, it's every bit as fun as doing it illegally. You know you're getting better by the clock."

And, man, it's loud.

 

A-Men!

We have been having a blast there on Wednesday Nights...
As soon as it cools off a bit.... I'll be back