When my uncle was running his Jr. Gas dragster
at “the Pond” (as Fernando was quaintly and
derisively referred to, its moniker a diminution of Lions
Drag Strip “the Beach”), I would hear both fundamental
tones of a nitro-burning motor as well as the overtones:
the thundering grunt of the combustion chambers as well
as the harmonic counterpoint of the blower spinning like
a dervish eating serpents and hot coals and hell-bent upon
breaking into ecstasy.
But away from the track you could only hear the whine of
the blowers...
All of these years, I
can’t say I remember the day of the sound of the blower
that just wouldn’t quit. On June 16, 1968, Father’s
Day, Gary Allen Peterson was driving a "Beast From
The East" out at Fernando. While hauling ass down the
drag strip, the throttle linkage hung and the fuel shut-off
didn’t seem to work and the damn thing just kept pulling
and pulling and pulling and the parachute did not fully
deploy.
As the car was still pulling, Peterson attempted to drive
through the hole in the bridge, he struck a concrete barrier
that catapulted and flipped his fueler into the bridge.
The blown Chrysler engine somersaulted the distance of a
football field into the so-called “Spin Out”
area and wiping out its warning sign.
Seven or eight years ago I rode my bike to the arroyo and
just kind of hung out among the remnants of the old San
Fernando, the 1/4 mile drag strip that paralleled the wash.
There was a Jiffy Lube adjacent to where the drag strip’s
shutdown area used to be. And a coat of blue paint had been
slathered on the bottom half of the bridge. But at the time,
the tire tracks from Gary Allen Peterson’s impact
were still visible.
A couple of Sundays ago, I rode my bike back out there
again. I thought of tossed footballs and the whine of blowers.
City workers finally slapped another coat of fresh paint
on the bridge over the Arroyo again. This time they managed
to cover up most of the tire tracks.
While I took pictures, the homeless guys who sleep under
the bridge packed up their tarps and their laundry and walked
their beater bicycles up into the Sylmar Hills, seeking
shade and shelter amidst the scrub brush. 
Cole Coonce blogs about drag racing, cycling, punk
rock and modern literature at www.kerosenebomb.com;
He can be reached at cc@kerosenebomb.com
