*This is the first in a series of stories by veteran motorsports writers sharing their favorite story from many years of covering races at Martinsville Speedway as we head into the Goody’s Fast Pain Relief 500 weekend March 26-28.
By Tom Higgins
Clay Earles parked his car alongside U.S. 220, got out and sighed with resignation.
Before him was a briar patch that looked more intimidating than any he ever had seen. Even Brer Rabbit of the great old Uncle Remus stories would have hopped away from being thrown into that thicket.
Earles mumbled an expletive and waded into the tangled mess, which was heavy with thorns.
Within only a few feet Earles, then 33, was forced onto hands and knees, following a path probably worn through the years by rabbits, 'possums and other critters.
Finally, Earles, who was considering buying the land, reached the bottom of a hollow formed by a small creek. He found himself in something of a natural bowl. "I think this might do," Earles muttered, nodding approval while rubbing scratches inflicted by prickly blackberry bushes.
Might do, indeed.
The spot visited by Earles more than six decades ago soon became the site of Martinsville Speedway, a track destined to become a NASCAR treasure.
It's likely few modern era fans are aware of how the track came into being. Earles told me the tale in a wide-ranging interview in 1990 during a race weekend at Martinsville. The conversation is my favorite memory of him—and the speedway he loved so much.
Clay Earles had bulldozers clear away the briar patch and carve out a race track from the red clay of the Blue Ridge Mountain foothills.
The speedway was ready for racing in 1947. Or at least it seemed so.
Earles had been inspired to build his track after attending some races in North Carolina, where short tracks began springing up across the Piedmont in the car-crazy months following World War II. Earles had seen that clouds of dust were kicked up at these dirt tracks, and he was determined this wouldn't happen at Martinsville.
Earles, who passed away in 1999 at age 86, set out to provide a cleaner racing surface. He covered the clay with a 20,000-gallon mixture of oil, calcium chloride and water.
Excitement about the "clean track" was the talk of Virginia and North Carolina.
"We advertised in good faith and sincerely believed we had a dust-free speedway," the personable Earles said. "But it turned out to be the dustiest place I've ever seen. Just after the race started it looked like an A-Bomb had been dropped. There was a dust cloud so big hanging over the track that I'm sure it could be seen for miles.[clickon title for rest of article]
