Stories told by Lester

A poem by Evan Myquest

Stories Told by Outlaw Lester Until the Cows Come Home

Old one-armed slow walking Lester once raced sprint cars

He even helped build those racetracks across the 1930s Midwest

So he could race on them and make money

There were three drivers at the time that could beat him

But if there were more tracks and more races

He won more by spreading out the field

And even with a stunted arm lost to disease

He could still lathe up custom parts for old cars

The parts stores said they no longer carried

One of Lester’s favorite stories

Concerned a racing wannabe who thought

Racing was only a gas pedal and raw nerve

So Lester said, “The car is gassed and sitting there,

Take it for a ride hotshot!”

As if Lester was doing the talker a favor

Lester wheeze laughed with what was left of his nicotined lungs

Hotshot put his foot on the gas and that car spun like a top

Big talker didn’t even realize the car was weighted and suspended

For left turns only—the hard part was starting it straight!

Lester was an outlaw. He raced the races with the barest rules

“Run what you brung” was the motto of the outlaw sprints

People thought Lester was too good, had an illegal machine

But all the inspections found nothing, he said with a laugh

He said they always looked at the wrong end of the car

He had re-engineered, maybe invented, the exhaust pulling turbine blades

And Lester unloaded his marvelous machine where he could

County fairs and 4 th of July festivals and the dirt would fly

Don’t sit in the turns, drifting sprints could throw mud like bullets

Later on Lester could only sit in the stands and marvel at

High banked asphalt ovals and the machines that flew almost sideways

The best sight in racing was the look in Lester’s eyes

Where the pull to drive was still shining

Later on the way home from races, Lester would point out the gin mills

That used to attract the drivers towing those wingless cars

With numbers on their hoods.

I met Lester through my first father-in-law, a machinist and millwright, who hung around Lester and his auto salvage yard. I got involved when my car was rusting apart but still had a decent engine and the old guys suggested a body swap from something in Les's salvage yard. It happened one weekend, and I don't even remember any money changing hands. All I remember is I went from a station wagon I could see the road from footwell holes to a pretty solid sedan.

Evan Myquest