I received this letter from who I so fondly refer to as my friend Phil from Kentland. Phil’s name is Phil Boldman and he sends me emails and an occasional snail mail letter as he calls it. Yesterday I received one of his snail mail letters and I enjoyed it so much I have decided to share it with all of you. Phil said this is the first of a series of about three letters. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thanks Phil for sharing your stories and thoughts with me and now the whole Kamp Motor Speedway family. It gives us all something to enjoy and to think about.

Hi Gayle,
This is the first of about three letters. There is nothing important about these letters just something I have thought about for a while. Please read them when you have a little time to waste.

I was going home from the last race of the 2008 season and I happened to be traveling on a ten or twelve mile stretch of dual lane highway, as I was driving I suddenly realized I was all alone. There were no lights ahead of me, no lights behind me and no lights facing me. I let my mind wonder back to the years of 1969, 1970 and 1971 when I myself had a race car, a truck and a trailer. As most people know having all three of these things just didn’t happen back then.

My girlfriend and I had the truck pulling the trailer and race car. My parents and sometimes their friends were following behind us, at least two of my friends that helped me and their wives or girlfriends were following behind them and that was just one race car going to the races. At times there were three and sometimes four cars parked in our yard so at times there could be a ten or twelve car convoy headed to the races. Now as I was headed alone down the dual lane highway it was just one old pickup truck headed home from the now end of the 2008 season and I was just wondering what has happened to the good old days of racing.

Among the three or four cars following the night I was headed to the race track, there were older people, young adults, teenagers and children. It was a weekend party that lasted from Friday afternoon until late Sunday evening.

We all ate when we were hungry, drank when we were dry and even slept when we were to exhausted to move but most of all we were happy. There was no money among any of us but we shared anything we had with each other. We shared our drink our food and yes even our gasoline, oil, tools, parts and our labor.  We learned from each others experiences and luck both good and bad.
Sometimes it was more of an adventure getting to and from the track than it was during the actual racing.

Sometimes we had three race cars that ran and only one trailer that worked so I had to drag all three race cars down with another guy’s trailer and I used the tires off of my trailer for my race car.

One time I had the only truck that could move so again I had to take all the cars to and from the track. We had to take a head off of one truck to make a race car run, we also used a transmission and u-joint from another truck so that left me with the only working truck.
I will discuss parts in another letter but the sports has changed so much through the years and not always for the better.

Anyway we usually had a ten to fifteen car convoy leaving Henry’s on Saturday night and we would stop at G & T Tap at Earl Park for a few beers and the weekly driving meeting would soon get underway. This is where we would discuss and occasionally cuss at all the happenings that occurred on that night of racing. Johnny cash had a song out that would talk about all the mud, the blood and the beer. He must have written that song about all the race discussions on Saturday night at G & T Tap.

In 1969 it was ten to fifteen cars and trucks following in a convoy down the highway and in 2008 it was just one old man in and old truck traveling down the dual lane going to Kentland and the parking lot of the old G & T Tap in Earl Park was now also setting empty.

I think I have written all you would want to read for right now but I will write again soon.

Thanks for all you do to keep the sport of racing alive.

Phil Boldman
Kentland, Indiana

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