To fully appreciate my relationship with this beautiful West Central Florida quarter-mile facility, we must first go back a few decades to the timeframe of the late 1980s and early 1990s. When I was a teenager growing up in my native North Carolina, I used to walk to the corner store and buy drag racing magazines during the off-season, just so I could feel somewhat connected in the dead of winter. Previously, I never gave much thought to the racing scene outside of my local area, so I guess that’ s why it was so fascinating when I learned of the happenings in Florida during the winter. I soon realized the term“ off-season” didn’ t really apply down in the Sunshine State, and in fact, Bradenton’ s legendary Outlaw Snowbird Nationals is famously held each year on the first weekend of December. Where I come from, the only race that takes place in December is when we all make a mad dash to the store for milk and bread if there happens to be a light dusting of snow in the forecast!

Nevertheless, it was the timehonored power of print media that spurred a fascination with Bradenton all those years ago. The real clincher was when sometime around 1991 I read this exciting write-up about how Ed Hoover won“ The Snowbirds.” Hoover was( and is) a hero of mine from the local Quick 8 scene of the Carolinas,

and to read about how he won this ultra-cool race in December many miles away made me realize right then and there that I must visit this magical place! Well, it took me roughly 16 years to actually make the trip, so understandably my anticipation had been building. When I drove through the gates of Bradenton in December 2009 it was just as I had imagined it in my dreams: Sunshine, short sleeves, palm trees swaying in the warm breeze and, of course, race car haulers that lined the pits for as far as the eye could see!

Longtime track official Dave Lansbury was the first BMP dignitary I met. He showed me around the facility, then introduced to me to the rest of the gang. In addition to Dave, I interviewed co-owners

Alan Chervitz and Todd Dickenson, along with longtime tower coordinator Laurie Johnson. They each told me their best Snowbirds memories from decades past and I, of course, echoed how I used to daydream about this event when I was a kid. The conversation was pretty surreal, actually. Little did I know that I’ d be getting my first taste of“ the curse” in less than 24 hours.

The following morning in Bradenton seemed just as glorious as the first, but in the early afternoon

a distant storm was developing. Trouble was, it wasn’ t going to be distant for long. I was in disbelief as I watched this lowhanging mass of frightening, black clouds heading straight for the track! When I say it rained hard, I mean it rained exceptionally hard, and soon a flash flood ensued and before I knew what happened the event was effectively cancelled, and I was driving back home feeling all kinds of disappointed.

Not to be deterred, I was determined to give this another go in 2010. This time around, though, I contracted food poisoning and nearly died alone in a Motel 6 right there in Bradenton! Thankfully, I lived to tell the tale, although I’ ll omit the horrid details of my sickness! Fastforward to the Snowbirds of 2011

and amazingly I’ ve got this bright idea that I’ m going back for more! I dropped a note to Dave Lansbury requesting media credentials.“ You’ re a brave man!” he wrote back. We had a good laugh, although I was secretly fearing for my life if I attempted this trip one more time! Somewhere in the middle of all this I also broke down on the highway one January evening as I journeyed to Palm Beach Raceway for the winter bracket series. It seemed as though the curse had somehow been

upgraded to a state-wide warning that I should stay out of Florida altogether! I can truly laugh about it now, because those early perils are long gone and I’ ve enjoyed many Snowbird events without incident, including the most recent running of the 2016 gathering.

My fun-filled Bradenton adventures go far beyond the Snowbirds, though. A couple years ago, I was sitting at home when I glanced at the forecast and realized that some sort of“ polar vortex” was heading straight for North Carolina, with threats of snow and ice and a high of, say, 10 degrees. I knew I must leave town while the getting was good, so I threw some things together( short sleeves, short pants and sunblock) and made a spur-of-the-moment trip to Bradenton to attend the Southern Nostalgia and Muscle Car shootout. It was an awesome event, and a worthwhile cause to escape the wrath of winter! Then there’ s the action-packed U. S. Street Nationals held in late January each and every year. Oftentimes I close out the season with a December trip to the Snowbirds, then start up again right back at Bradenton the following month. It’ s a beautiful pattern to follow.

Just north of Bradenton, in the historic town of Saint Petersburg, is where I fell in love with Greyhound racing at Derby Lane, which is remarkably the oldest continually operated Greyhound track in the world, dating back to 1925! All things considered, the older I get the more I gravitate toward Florida, which is only the natural progression of life I suppose. Dave and I text back and forth throughout the year, and recently I told him that when I retire I wanted to travel around, sample coffees of the world and watch Greyhounds race... all while wearing plaid pants pulled up to my chest.“ I’ ll join you!” he wrote back.

And so it goes, all those unfortunate events were really just a coincidental streak of bizarrely bad luck; something to reflect on with a laugh during my very brief off-season. Most any day of winter, you can bet I’ ll be counting the days until I pull through the gates of Bradenton again. DI