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Thanks to Max Engellenner for this fantastic poem, it
really makes you relive those great times. 


A personal journey

Every Summer Saturday Night

Sixteen years old face full of pimples,
nowadays just got to look at wrinkles.
I look at Brooklyn pics. and reminisce,
glory days at The Skids in sixty six!

First on the bus and first out the door,
I got my fix and a whole lot more.
Heart beating faster as I spot the place,
good ol Brooklyn, don't miss first race!

Newcomer's stand against the fence,
well dressed and neat, unlike the rest.
First lap of racing, covered in crap,
next time I bet they won't do that!

Solos up first, Dewhurst's the hero,
JAP'S and ESO's, all else zero!
Gleaming chrome under the lights,
bar to bar racing, it's hot tonight!

Sidecar racing, the V twin JAP,
Vincent's behind about to attack.
Handicap was the race of the night,
McKimmie from the back, what a fight!

Crundwell now out in front,
Heaviside gives him a shunt.
Fight on now at the pit gates,
crowd loves it, we know they're mates!

Saloon car racing, FJ's and such,
no rules racing, Western Suburbs crush.
Crowds cheering they feel the rush,
upside down on fire, now there's a hush.

Hot rods now, Richochet and Welsh,
good old Yellow 75, there's no one else!
Sidewacker V8's with that flat note sound,
it's a cliche but they really pound the ground!

Offy speedcars with burgling exhausts,
touching wheels with no recourse.
Open face helmets with monkey masks,
Nankerville and Power trying to pass!

High pipes and trumpets out the side,
those glittering cars filled me with pride.
Lap belts and knock on's - Sherburn's Holden
hiking the front left, man that's golden!

Rode a solo in the 70's, raced on a dare,
spectator to racer, such a scare!
Solos have changed, Jawa's the go,
no more JAP's, too bloody slow!

Bought a new tyre, held the bike flat,
got the jump on Dewy, how good's that!
Almost a dead heat on the line,
not quite there, will soon be my time.

International riders hard to beat,
they ride real fast and keep it neat.
Racing can get pretty intense,
ride the high line, don't hit the fence!

Held the lap record for a while,
looking back I get a smile.
Little Stan's swinging the gate,
Hollingworth's track just looks great.

Handicap race crowd loves to see,
hard from behind, this time it's me.
Lambert crashes, we lay our bikes down,
Jones on full noise, whack, that ugly sound!

Speedcars change too, not an Offy in sight,
Vee Dubs and twin cams and oh so light!
Cage now on top, chisel nose and pods,
will they run wings? the troops are at odds.

Sidecars now Japanese brands,
Kawasaki triples sound so grand.
Rooney and Jones the guys to beat,
Forest's old Triumph's feeling the heat.

Hot Rods now, overhead valve's the go,
apart from that it's the status quo.
Saloon cars now Falcon's and H.Q.'s
Timberlake and Grinstead, who will lose?

Sprintcars now on the scene,
Rushie real fast, cars look mean.
Bikes ruled the roost, cars behind,
little did we see our ultimate decline.

Come the eighties, new guy in town,
Richard Newnham what's going down?
Re shaped track and hard packed clay,
the bikes were done, we had no say.

Management decides to clear the pits,
we hid in the dunny, it gave us the shits.
Make a buck any way you can,
just don't rip off the dedicated fans.

Had the Weslake road racing around,
too much grip, bars on the ground.
Big divets on the corner from braking cars,
high sided over the top, still got the scars!

Clay track for bikes just didn't work,
went on my head, felt like a jerk.
Short gearing, bald tyre just wouldn't slide,
think I'll buy a Speedcar, swallow my pride.



Brakes and suspension, a new world to me.
not sure how I will go, well let's see!
Bought the Gall-Gardiner Vee Dub,
now I'm in the Speedcar Club!

Ian Campbell's on the mike, 
his one liner's are pure delight!
Frank Allwell and Leroy on the case
Noddy and Millsy, wow what a race!


Racing's over should go home,
esky's out, well I won't moan.
Racing tales around the fire,
sun's coming up, think I'll expire!

Sprintcars now are the Kings,
gazillion horsepower and great big wings.
Awesome to watch, Lacey and co.
20 cars flat out, none of 'em slow.

2 decades around that oval track,
'86 was the year to act.
Time to move on from the Speedway scene,
try something else, live a new dream.

Looking back the lighting was crap,
dark spots all around the track.
Rough sawn boards on the fence,
but then it just made perfect sense.

Twenty years passed, had a ball,
overall it was just a great call.
The pals I made and people I've met,
those days at Brooklyn were heaven sent.

I still drive past that hallowed ground,
and think I still hear a ghostly sound.
Solos, Sidecars, Speedcars, and Rods,
and old yellow '75 still roostin clay clods!

Sad now to see the old crew go,
Superstars one and all, as we know.
What I wouldn't give for one last sight,
Every Summer Saturday Night.