It is called Valencia American Fest, and the show is in progress on its second day at the Ricardo Tormo Racing Circuit in Cheste, Valencia, as I write this. I attended yesterday, April 25th and thoroughly enjoyed the day. However, considering the program on offer there should have been thirty or forty times the number of people in attendance. The publicity machine completely failed because people living in the town of Cheste were unaware that anything was going on. I became aware by accident because the story was picked up from a newspaper article. What a shame because it was mega expensive to put on this show with a lot of participants working their hearts out.
There was absolutely something for everyone, in spades. Fabulous cars, bikes and trucks on display! One truck was so big it needs three windscreen wipers. Someone had his VW Transporter wagon on show which is simply an Uber Sound system on wheels. This is a private individual who has spent so much money on his sound on wheels one has to wonder how he found money for food.
The layout of the terrain was as follows: The main racing circuit was the A- ring, of course, and the B-ring was the centre of attention in the paddock area. There was continuous entertainment in the B-ring by stunt riders and drivers who did things that none of us should try at home,or anywhere. When I first got there a driver was running doughnuts in a Seat Leon. My wife owns a Seat Leon and I'm fairly certain she did not know the car was capable of such things.
There were lots of eating and drinking places in between the many static displays. There were two super sports cars, one an orange coloured Lamborghini superleggora, and the other was a white Spano GTA, both cars looking like they were ready for space travel.
In my opinion the car of the show was number 122, Ford's 2015 Black Mustang. I couldn't resist running my hand along its lovely lines and curves as though to pet it. A look in the cab revealed lots of silver trim to set off its instrumentation and equipment. The problem for me is that once I got into the bucket seat I may never be able to move my bucket again.
The truck of the show was the Kenworth W900, an out of this world massive monster of a truck. It was fully kitted out with lots of lights and chrome and antennae, and a solar panel on top to add to the comfort of its roomy studio sleeper for two men, or one man and as many women that can stuff themselves inside; because they will want to There was even a boot brush on the step so that you need not step into the cab with dirty soles of your shoes. When you sit in the cab the seat adjusts for your weight and height.
If you were driving along the highway at night and this truck came up behind you and he turned on only some of his lights you could be forgiven for thinking that a space ship had just landed behind you.
Meanwhile, over in the A-ring there was something continuously going on. When I arrived there the safety car was leading the way for a run around the circuit ahead of at least twelve NASCAR racers. NASCAR came to Valencia in a moderately exciting race, which I enjoyed, but I compared it to Formula 3 and Formula 1 races that I had seen in this same circuit. I should not have done that.
The next race would be one between trucks that we normally see towing trailers with freight. We regard them as slow moving lumbering work horses. After this race I will never see them in the same light again.
Sixteen of these guys lined up for the off, with number 2 quickly taking pole position which he never gave up. Number 35 was last of the pack and as the race continued over the eleven laps, number 2 eventually caught up with number 35 and lapped him. Eventually the whole field lapped him and he fell back to being last again. Number 2 ran a brilliant race, extending his lead from six seconds to eight seconds, and eventually winning. What excitement as I really didn't expect such vigor from this group.
Then came a parade of customized towing trucks with special lighting systems and art work. There was one truck, number 16, that was named Violeta. This was the name of my first wife, the mother of my two daughters, who died much too soon in 1982. A truck named Violeta had more significance for me than the owner had intended. I thank him for honouring that good lady.
It was not intended for me, but rather as some kind of honour to people sitting behind me, but the trucks pulled off the track and formed a semi-circle facing us, and they hooted their horns and flashed their lights, and Violeta did doughnuts. What an emotive moment for me, and they had no idea that this little celebration came only a few days later than would have been her birthday.
Later that afternoon a second truck race was scheduled. I had enjoyed the first so much I decided to stay for the second. The line up was the same but this time number 2 started in fifth position. Number 35 was in its usual last position. Number 2 moved up to third position which it held until moving into second place, but then disaster struck, as a water line on number 2 burst causing the trucks behind to have to use their wipers.
Number 23 was driven by a favourite Spanish driver who started in third place. To the sound of furious excitement he moved up to second place, and for a brief time he moved into first place. I thought the whole group of spectators would have a collective heart attack, they were so pumped up. Unfortunately he could not hold the position and gradually dropped back to sixth place, but he gave us something very special to cheer about.
Meanwhile, number 35 was again being lapped by the field to move back to last place, yet again. Alas, number 2 had to make a pit stop, which was quick but he re-entered in ninth place and stayed there. The field was now being led by number 1, with number 7 in second place, and that is how the race ended, with number 23 in sixth place and number 2 in ninth place.
Those races should have been witnessed by sold out spectators. What a pity they weren't!
Copyright (c) 2015 Eugene Carmichael
