Jackson Prairie Speedway - Keeping It Simple

A dozen "Stingers" line up in two-wide formation as the flagman in Jackson Prairie Speedway's tower gives the "one-to-go" signal.

The compacts build speed as they round the first two turns and shoot down the back straight. By the time the leader sees the flag stand again, he is full on the throttle, the tiny engine in his compact buzzing a redline that would mean instant destruction of its larger V-8 brethren.

At any other racetrack, the assortment of imports and American-made compacts would be a warmup for the night's main feature. At Jackson Prairie, they are the main feature.

"This is what people race here," says Jamie Guenther, the track operator, "because this is what people can afford."

The oval sits behind Guenther's house, hidden by towering fir trees from the two-lane country road that passes by the property.

Access to the pits is via a long gravel driveway that passes through an impressive collection of pipes, towers, earthmoving equipment, and rusting machinery that could easily be part of the closing scene in a Bruce Willis film.

The property is on the border of the largest underground natural gas storage facility in the nation.

"We don't have many neighbors, other than the wells," he says. "They pump gas into the ground during the summer and pump it out during the winter."

The area around Chehalis, Washington, is mostly blue collar, with farm and factory workers making up much of the driver pool at the track. It is too far south of Seattle to reap much benefit from the more sizable paychecks generated by that city's high-technology job base.

There is another paved track, NASCAR-sanctioned South Sound Speedway, about 20 miles north.

"Most of the guys racing here can't afford to run what they race at South Sound," says Guenther.

His compact, progressively banked, paved 1/5-mile oval is ideal for small, low-powered sedans, motorcycle-powered Dwarfs, and an occasional visit from a group of historic racers with cars dating from the '30s.

It is racing as it used to be. Enclosed trailers are still a rarity. Most of the race cars arrive on open trailers hauled behind work trucks. The weekly drivers' meeting is held in a grove of trees, with drivers, crew members, and officials sitting on picnic benches.

"This is how NASCAR started out," says Guenther. "This is how racing is when it is still a family sport."

It was family that created this miniature racing diamond.

Years ago, Guenther's son wanted to try his hand at Kart racing, so his old man carved a 1/8-mile clay oval behind their house for him to use as a practice track.

"Pretty soon other kids were showing up to practice," says Judy Guenther, the other half of the family-run race operation. "After a while, the local Kart club asked about holding some races on it. It just kept getting bigger and bigger."

Eventually, the young racer wanted to move into larger, faster cars, so Jamie Guenther fired up the grader and carved out a 1/5-mile oval next to the smaller track.

"People kept showing up to race," he says. "So we had to make it into a racetrack."

Bit by bit they improved it. Guenther spent an entire winter welding the framework for the grandstands. Then they added permanent bathrooms and a first-rate concession stand with a covered seating area. In something akin to an old-fashioned barn raising, some of the drivers showed up to help install the chain-link fence around the track.