The Meaning Of Summer

It’s funny how the meaning of certain things can change with time. As we get older, the context of our world changes. What was once important, relevant, or even all-encompassing may evolve into something completely different with time.

As summer time hits us in Texas, I find myself thinking about the meaning of summer – and how that has changed over the years. Now, the summer months in Texas signify lots of air conditioning, oppressive heat, drought more often than not, low lake levels, and sweating. The dog days of summer may be the worst part of living in Texas.

But there was a time when the meaning of summer was completely different. When I was growing up in Canada, it meant swimming in the St. Lawrence River. It meant the coming of Riverfest, the local music festival that would invade Brockville over a week in July. Summer was also the season to go to see some auto racing.

My parents were avid racing fans – real road course racing, not the turn-left-only versions of NASCAR or Indy cars. I was raised on a steady diet of Formula One, Can-Am, Formula 5000, Formula Ford, and a host of sports car endurance events. I think this steady exposure to auto racing started during the summer of 1971 or 1972, and lasted well into the ‘80s.

Once springtime hit Canada, I always knew we’d soon be headed to one of two venues: Watkins Glen (now Watkins Glen International) or Mosport (now Mosport International Raceway). We spent a lot of summer weekends at either of these venues – one in the Finger Lakes region of New York, the other just outside of Toronto. Neither was more than about a 3 to 3.5 hour drive from home.

I remember looking forward to these summer road trips. We would always camp at the course. My parents had a van with a full interior (and full airbrushed murals on both sides, but that is another story). My father did all of the work on it, designing and building a mobile camping machine with refrigerator, bed, carpeted floor, and storage. My parents would get the bed in the back, and I would fine myself in a sleeping bag on the floor, or if the weather was good, in a tent outside.

I have distinct memories of waking up and hearing the sound of a V12 Ferrari off in the distance as practice and qualifying would begin. I can remember breakfast being cooked on a Coleman stove outside the van, anxiously awaiting a walk through the pit area trying to catch a glimpse of the drivers or the latest designs and technology. There were times when we would sit on top of the van in order to have a better vantage point during the race. It was always a ritual to walk or skateboard around the course at night once all the events of the day had finished. Summer was pretty simple.

I grew up watching Can-Am (the McLarens, Porsches, and Shadows), Formula 5000, and World Sportscar events. The “6 Hours Of Watkins Glen” always featured so many incredible cars, including the Matra of Henri Pescarolo and Gerard Larousse and the Ferrari of Jacky Ickx. The wail of the V12 engines was enough to take your breath away. I was a big fan of Hans-Joachim Stuck when he was driving the tri-color BMW 320. He would always have it up on 3 wheels and sliding sideways through the corners, yet always fully in control. That was one of my favorite cars! Jackie Oliver in the Shadow Can-Am car was also one of my favorites.

It was also during these times that I began to explore sports photography – something that has since provided me with many years of enjoyment, and almost became my chosen profession (but I digress).

Those days of summer were special. They gave me the inclination to explore mechanics and design. They gave me the desire to learn more about technology. And the thoughts of summers long past, when the meaning was so different and simple, bring such a broad smile to my face. Even when I am sitting in the air conditioning, waiting for October to arrive.

Photo credits: Wikipedia