Thursday Night Thunder: How Irwindale Raceway Keeps Grassroots Racing Alive in Southern California

Irwindale is a small city in the San Gabriel Valley, made up of rock quarries, warehouses, and a somewhat famous hot sauce brand. Most people wouldn't even give it a second look on a map, but Irwindale keeps an important part of SoCal car culture going.

Situated in the southeast corner of the Irwindale Event Center-the "House of Drift," if you're one of the popular kids-is Irwindale Drag Strip, the last public drag strip in Los Angeles County. The eighth-mile track opened in 2001 and started to host test-and-tune drag nights to help combat illegal street racing. Today, those events are known as "Thursday Night Thunder," where for the small sum of forty dollars, anyone over eighteen with a valid driver's license and a car that passes a straightforward tech inspection can make as many passes as possible.

Robert Crespo

I didn't want to be in one of those "I really wish I'd checked that out before they closed" situations. Considering Irwindale Event Center had been on the chopping block quite a few times in the past, I decided it was about time I paid the track a visit.

So I left work on a Thursday in October, jetted home to get my 2009 M3, and made my way to Irwindale. This was the most difficult part of the evening: I battled traffic as I crossed many freeways between my home in Orange County and Irwindale. I was reminded of the last time I staged a car at a proper drag strip, back in 2006 when I was a senior in high school. A little track out in the North Bay called Sonoma Raceway held a similar event called "Wednesday Night Drags," and I would leave my high school in Pacifica and drive forty miles to race my 2001 Trans Am. It was a short-lived but important part of my life as a car enthusiast.

Robert Crespo

Thankfully Irwindale wasn't as far as Sonoma, only thirty miles from my home, and even with traffic I managed to get there shortly after the gates opened at 4 p.m. for "Thursday Night Thunder." Armed with some helpful directions from the gate attendant and my own two eyes I headed towards my first stop-tech inspection. It was easy enough to find; just follow the cars that looked like they belonged at a drag strip.

The tech inspection was a simple affair. Attain a form from the person with the clipboard, fill out the form, hand the form back to the person with the clipboard, and they'll make sure you're car is good to go. It's especially quick if your car is fairly new and almost completely stock like mine. With that out of the way, I was off to the races-or so I thought. I'd made a bit of an error by I arriving early, because the track wasn't even hot yet.

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At that point, the only thing to do was park my car and wander around to see what was lurking in the parking lot. That's when I found Joe and Ricardo getting their S2000 prepped for the night. I didn't want to bother them too much, but I couldn't help but ask a few questions about one of the wildest S2000s I've seen; it surely had over $100K under the hood. The turbo was almost the same size as the engine, the external wastegate was the size of some turbos, and the whole package put down 1400 hp. According to the owners, the car is capable of running a staggeringly fast mid-four-second eighth-mile time. For those who speak quarter mile, that's the mid-six-second range. Neither Jesse nor Johnny Tran would stand a chance!

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Whilst I was ogling the S2000 I noticed a '55 Chevy four-door hiding behind a Suburban and its trailer. It was sporting all the right hardware: A flat black paint job with flames strewn across the front end, a hood scoop the size of a mailbox, and some slicks out back. It gave off a very Two-Lane Blacktop vibe, if they needed space for a child's car seat-I only say that because there happened to be two children's seats belted up in the back of the car. I snapped off a few photos and it was around that time when the owner, Carl, showed up.

Carl was a friendly guy, happy enough to talk to a random dude with a camera about the car and his time in the drag racing scene. Not only is the '55 a daily driver but it's been in his family since he was born.

Robert Crespo

"My mom bought the car when she was pregnant with me; she wanted something strong to drive around in. She brought me home from the hospital in it but my dad wrecked it when I was three. When I was 15 I told my dad I wanted it for my first car and he told me if I rebuilt it I could have it. I learned to work on cars and rebuilt it. I even took my own daughters home from the hospital in it."

His answer when I asked about what's been done to the engine was simple: "Everything." A glance around the engine bay backed it up. A Holley sniper EFI unit sits atop the manifold, a bright red Edelbrock nitrous solenoid catches the eye of those in the know, and a classic set of Mickey Thompson magnesium valve covers complete the look. He scored them while he worked for a speed shop a long time ago. The whole car overflowed with hot-rod nostalgia.

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the numerous race cars getting fired up. The sweet smell of race fuel mixed with burned rubber wafted across the parking lot from the burnout box. The track was hot. It was time to get out there and make a run.

Robert Crespo

I donned my helmet and headed off towards the staging lanes. Immediately, I felt a rush of nervousness and excitement as I sat next to seasoned racers, stony faces with the sole focus on a clean pass. The cars I was surrounded by drowned out the sound of my own. Normally I can hear the deep rumble of the four-liter V-8 but the only way I knew it was running was from the vibrations I felt through the seat. I was in a whole other world. This was nothing like the track days I'd done at Willow Springs and Buttonwillow.

The cars started to make their runs and I got a little closer to the burnout box each time. And with each move, I felt a little more anxious. It was at this moment I was thankful for people like Sam, a regular around the track I'd met during the tech inspection, who shared some words of wisdom: "Just do your burnout and make a run, that's all. If you have any questions after, just ask." Armed with those words of encouragement, and the fact I was basically past the point of no return, I psyched myself up and went for it.

I pulled through the wall of tire smoke into the burnout box, did perhaps the weakest burnout in Irwindale history, and staged a car for the first time in eighteen years. And that car was an automatic; I've never launched a manual transmission at a drag strip before. It's a whole different situation. I mean, there's a clutch pedal involved now! And then there was the awkward moment when the car in the next lane pulled up, a '68 Camaro with a 327 badge on the side and a suspicious blower that peaked through the hood. (I later learned it was not a 327.) I gotta admit, I was intimidated. But I remembered one important bit of information: Always leave on the last yellow.

Robert Crespo

First yellow, second yellow, third yellow and the clutch is out and I'm on the throttle! I pulled a Brian O'Conner and fumbled the launch. The Camaro next to me was gone in a flash of pale yellow paint as I granny-shifted into second, but no matter-this wasn't actually a race. Second gear got me across the finish and I went off to collect my time slip. It showed I'd ticked off a run of 10.191 at 71 mph-not a fast pass at all, considering the car is capable of a 12.7 in the quarter mile. Likely a driver issue-someone decided to be a bit too gentle because he was worried about his clutch.

Robert Crespo

The crew running the show at Irwindale has been at it a while and it shows. The runs go off with the consistency of Japan's public transit system and even when the track is at max capacity it's still possible to get in at least three runs before the night ends. The track doesn't really get crowded until after dark, so if you want to get the most from your visit, show up early.

Then I watched. I watched as cars, trucks, and the occasional motorcycle made countless runs down the track. The cars stretched across generations. Modern American muscle cars, gassers, classic muscle cars that you know the owner has spent years perfecting, imports of all kinds. It wouldn't be drag racing in SoCal without a few Volkswagen Beetles in the mix. The gathering was a melting pot of performance cars that created a symphony for the senses. The sound, the smell, and the vibrations you could feel through your whole being all created an atmosphere that brought you back to a different era of car culture: an era of wild innovation, an endless pursuit of speed, power, and lower ETs.

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And as the night went on it became clear that this wasn't just cars, this was a community. This was a night when families, friends, and competitors gathered to share their lives, to talk to strangers and talk about their lives. Irwindale Drag Strip isn't just the last drag strip in L.A. County, it's a connection to the past, to the history of drag racing, and to the community of people who made it great. It's the cradle of life, the essence of car culture. It grew from the roots of drag racing and evolved into the car culture we have today.

So next time you're bored and happen to be in L.A. or Orange County on a Thursday, make the drive out to Irwindale. Spectate or race-either way, you'll have a damn good time.

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