Passion for racing keeps driver going

Don’t tell Ken Anderson he’s crazy for racing.
He’s heard it before from his family, his friends, and co-workers. But they never convinced him to give up his obsession with race car driving, so the chances you would are slim.
And besides, who wants to argue with a guy with a 550-horsepower car at his disposal.
“They look at me like I’m nuts. Most of my family think I’m crazy,” said Anderson, 57, who’s been racing now for 18 years.
“Everyone that tells me I’m crazy play golf and stuff like that,” he added. “But I find that golfing is more dangerous than driving because people get hit in the head with golf balls all the time.”
For Anderson, “the itch” started on a trip with his family to Alberta. Bouncing up and down in the back seat of his dad’s ’53 Ford Meteor, the five-year-old implored his father to keep going faster and faster.
“I kept on encouraging him to pass the guys in front of him. I kept saying, ‘Let’s go, let’s go. Quit fooling around and let’s go.’”
His dad, Jack, obliged—and in the process collected a few speeding tickets along the way.
Fast forward 50 years—with too many races to count, two grown-up children, a wife of 34 years, and yet Anderson is still that five-year-old in the back seat of the Ford.
“It keeps me young. If you always associate with old guys, you just become a crabby old man at the corner of some store that complains about everything,” reasoned Anderson, who plays hockey with players half his age each winter.
“It keeps my mind motivated and gives me a zest for life.”
That’s all good for him but what does Mrs. Anderson think about her husband’s life-long affair with racing. “It’s a disease and the only way to cure it is to shoot them,” she grinned.
When he started with competitive racing, Anderson would sneak parts in the garage with the stealth of a 17-year-old teenager trying not to get caught for missing curfew.
But he was now a little older, a little wiser, so he would go out and buy his beloved and unsuspecting wife a bouquet of flowers, then break the news he just spent their savings on a engine that makes the car go “really fast.”
“I kind of wore out that strategy. I still try it, but it did work for me more than a few times,” said Anderson, looking to the ground with guilt as his wife watched with her arms crossed.
“When he brings me those flowers, I know he just bought something for the car,” she interjected. “We [women] give them [men] the impression that we’re not aware, but we know all.”
It is almost 7 p.m. and the spectators are beginning to fill the grandstand at the Emo Speedway, where races are held every Saturday night. Hotdogs are sizzling on the grill, children already infected with “the itch” are racing their remote-controlled cars, and the track is being prepared for the night’s events.
Race time approaches, but never fast enough for Anderson as he zips into his seasoned driver’s suit. After a couple hundred washes, the colours of the suit have been reduced to one not even Crayola knows of.
“I’m always thinking of racing. At work, at home, and before I go to bed,” said Anderson, who is 189 days away from retirement from the mill.
His wife walks to grandstands to take her place a few rows up “so that I can see all the turns,” and there she will sit and wait with other drivers’ wives, giving each other support, with her fingers crossed and her heart rate raised.
Final preparations are made to his Modified-A car that supports a SPEC-350 Chevy engine—a car he also shares with his son, Jason, as he double- and triple-checks anything and everything.
This week’s races will see the Mini (a larger, more powerful version of a go-cart), Street, MOD-B and MOD-A cars. The differences between the MOD-B and A cars varies from engine and transmission to the weight of the vehicle.
The MOD-A race is the main attraction of this week’s event, with 12 cars split into two heats for placements and then racing in the feature, which will see all the drivers on the 3/8-mile oval course.
“When I race, nothing exists other than the racetrack and who’s behind me or in front of me. Anything in the grandstands means nothing,” Anderson said as he looked upon his “oval office.”
Anderson was in the second heat with five other cars and he came out strong, holding second place throughout most of the race before he took Turn 3 on the last lap a little high—a mistake that cost him five placings.
The MOD-A cars reach speeds of up to 145 km/h (90 m.p.h.) and a lap is done in less than 15 seconds—a time most “normal” drivers take too get through an intersection.
More than 150 spectators were on hand for the night’s racing, paying anywhere from $4 for children and $10 for adults.
They are kept a safe distance from the track, but purchase a $3 set of ear plugs unless you want to experience a hangover-like state that would’ve made Johnny Cash cry, cry, cry.
In the feature, the stress on drivers is exceedingly increased. The race, filled with excitement and suspense, was brought to a caution after drivers Curtis Kamm and Joey Galloway made impact down the stretch after Turn 2.
Both drivers were uninjured, with only their egos hurt.
Anderson held his own for his first appearance this season, but the race was a feeling out process as he placed last.
After the race, a smile was stretched along his face. His wife once again was by his side after another race and the itch had been scratched for today.
It will come back tomorrow (a real driver can never be satisfied), but there is always this Saturday to look forward to.