I played speedway photographer at Beechridge Speedway in Scarborough, Maine the summer of 1974...dirt track...rowdy crowd, and crazy drivers. I was on a dirt berm in the infield on the number one turn one Saturday night, and a sprint car driver named Bob Bushley Jr. came down the straight and hit a wall going about 90. A bunch of us rushed to his car...it wasn't pretty, and he was dead. Dirt track drivers slide their cars through all the turns...V8 power all the way...going sideways is probably a little over the top with a yellow flag flying, but the dirt track drivers I always watched were hungry, daring, crazy, and many of them got progressively drunker as the night progressed....these guys would drive several races a night, and track officials didn't have the manpower nor the savvy to watch what these guys were doing between races. Guy named Dick Wolstenhume was one of those wildmen...won a whole lot of races, but like many others, he did what had to be done to win, and much of that stuff was against the rules, and it was pretty well-known, Dick got better as he got drunker. These guys were hell bent to win races, and nothing stopped them.
"I think I may say that of all the men we meet with, nine parts of ten are what they are, good or evil, useful or not, by their education." John Locke