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Dirt Track Poems


Dirt Track Poems | DE Tribute {#-E} | DE Tribute {F-L} | DE Tribute {M-R} | DE Tribute {S-Z}

A Driver's Dream

42 cars lined up, side by side,

42 cars lined up, side by side,

Everyone waiting for that green flag to fly.

The pace car pulls in & everyone knows,

Now is the time to start the show.

The green flag flies & the engines roar,

Racin’ down the track, door to door.

Into turn one, & out of turn two,

Everyone looking for that all important groove.

Down the backstretch, your spotter yells clear,

You shoot down low, without a fear.

You come close to the wall, out of turn four,

Then you start drafting, trying to gain even more.

The flagman waves yellow, for the car in the wall,

Four tires & gas, and you’re ready to haul.

A few more laps & it’s almost done,

Then the white, which means there’s just one.

You see the leader, who went too hard into three,

You took it low, now you’re in the lead.

You grab the checkered, & give them a wave,

Now your dreams have come true, you’re in Victory Lane.

Heading Towards

The Front

42 cars lined up, side by side,


Anxiously waiting your shot at the pole

You go the high draw, you’re the last one to go.

25 spots have been determined so far

Now starts the bumping with every new car.

You’ve run the car through the inspection line

Just hoping it’s right & you get fast time.

The crew’s worked hard on the setup all day

Making sure the car will run exactly your way.

They’ve adjusted the wedge & stiffened the shocks

Just so you have your very best shot.

Your turn has come & you strap yourself in

Knowing that this could help your guys win.

You go out on the track & start picking up speed

Waiting for the flagman to throw out the green.

You cross the line & they start the clock

Knowing you’ve given it your very best shot.

You go low into one & speed out of turn two

Then move on up to get the best groove.

Into turn three & out of turn four

You punch the gas & hear the crowd roar.

Your crew tells you what you feel in your soul

Your car was just right & you grabbed the pole.




I'm The Other Guy

I’m the “other” guy, the one not always seen,

I’m the "other" guy, the one not always seen,

I usually start in the back, my driving’s not always keen,

I work as hard as the rest, sweat dripping from my brow,

But, I haven’t taken my first win yet, I guess my "time" isn’t now.

I don’t drive a big rig, but I am very proud,

I know my fans are few, but they are faithfully in the crowd.

Working a 10-hour day, I come home to put in 4 more,

I must get the car ready, I’m exhausted, but under the car on the floor.

I can not pay my pit crew, they do it for the fun,

These guys are the best, they stick with me, although I have not won.

5 nights a week, making sure all the nuts are tight,

For I have a dream that keeps me going, I always keep it in sight.

At the track, we watch as "they" drive in,

Very proud of my truck & small trailer, big rigs don’t help you win.

I watch as "they" unload the car, they don’t look my way,

As I pass them at the driver’s meeting, to me, they don’t have much to say.

I think, "Someday, I will be up there" & then they will look,

Then they will remember, the hand of mine they shook.

All the cars enter the track, we all really look the same,

More experience, more money, they have what you need to play the game.

I race them on the track, I do the best I can,

I realize that the crowd is watching, the one in front that ran.

But I don’t give up, just because I’m not first to cross the line,

I know deep in my heart, one night will be "mine".

I’m not going to give up, for this game I like to play,

Doing what I love, they can’t take that away.

My car is not winning yet, not as fast as their’s flies,

But anyone taking a checkered flag, is a winner in my eyes.

The Night Before


T’was the night before raceday & all thru the track,

T’was the night before raceday & all thru the track,

Not a motor was rumbling, nor even an impact.

All the tires were stacked by the hauler with care,

In hope that St. Earl soon would be there.

Then what to my wondering eyes should appear,

A gigantic water truck & track packing gear.

An experienced blademan, so lively & wise,

I knew in a moment it was no disguise.

And more rapid than hot laps, his drivers all came

As he shouted, "on Moyer & Kinser" & each driver’s name.

And so up to the high banks, the drivers soon flew,

With the cars full of fuel & St. Earl, too.

Down the front straight he came with a leap & bound,

He was covered in dirt & slid all around.

He spoke few words, but went right to his job,

And graded the race track to the cheers of the mob.

After watering the track & making sure it was right,

He ordered his elf crew to pack it in tight.

His job was now done at this palace of speed,

Up the high banks he rose with a toot of his horn as he left the track in his trusty old steed.

But I heard him say, as he drove out of sight,

"Merry racing to all & to all a goodnight!!"