Will Climate Change Kill the Sport? – Sportico.com

As Dave Burnham drove to the Adirondack Motor Enthusiast Club’s annual meeting outside of Saratoga Springs, NY this January, he thought this was probably going to be the end.

The group’s 65-year-old president knew he would not run again. He had only agreed to take on the duties for the past year—his 20th term as club officer—because no one else had. Now he didn’t know if anyone wanted to fill in his footsteps or what would happen to the 69-year-old ice racing organization if nobody did.

He hoped that AMEC would not, like so many of its peers, disappear under the onslaught of generational trends and warming winters. But he wasn’t confident.

Ice racing is basically what it sounds like – taking cars (either street legal or modified wheels) and pitting them against each other on a frozen surface, most often a lake.

Motorcycle ice racing can be traced back to Scandinavia in the 1930s (horse racing on ice dates back to the 19th century), while the four-wheel drive version made its debut in the northern United States in the 1950s. All the major automakers used to sponsor racers, professionals showed up and competitions attracted TV airtime. The sport may have reached its cultural peak in 1969, when none other than James Bond found himself in the middle of a race On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

The complaint is pretty simple. Where else can you blast a car down a straight at 100 miles an hour and then slide through a series of corners? Burnham started in 1982. “I remember how excited I was,” he said. “I just couldn’t sleep all week because I was just waiting for the next race.” Between the Saturday and Sunday events, the competitors stayed up late and lied to each other about how fast they went that day.

For many, the sport has also proven less expensive — with shareable cars starting in the hundreds or thousands of dollars — than other forms of speed-based thrills. “I always suggest my friends try ice racing,” said racer Caleb Pocock. “Everyone loves it and gets hooked.” But getting her on the ice in the first place is becoming increasingly difficult.

The number of race days available began to shrink in the ’90s, Burnham said. Then the clubs themselves began to fall away for all the reasons one would expect. Rural populations shrank, particularly in the northern states, along with their nearby urban centers. Albany shrank by a quarter between 1960 and 2000. The car culture lost its youth.

Clubs in the US have adapted by organizing time trials in addition to races and adding more accessible vehicle classes to make participation easier. But most probably accept the hobby’s heyday in the rearview mirror.

“Within about 15 years, we’ll be telling our kids about it,” said Paul Dudley, past president of the Sports Car Club of Vermont.

Burnham recalled the New York State Ice Racing Association where he started. In the early 2000s, the club’s leadership was in its 70’s and there was no generation running the club. “At that point,” Burnham said, “they just fizzled out.” Recently, young people just have other things to do on winter afternoons.

Then there’s the problem of the ice itself. It’s also disappearing.

Ottawa’s Rideau Canal Skateway, a destination for tourists and a major transportation hub for locals, closed this year for the first time since 1971. Near Montreal, ice racers were lucky enough to emerge unscathed after two riders hit the St. Lawrence River.

Others were less fortunate. Three Vermont fishermen, an ice fishing couple in the Catskills, a snowmobiler in upstate New York and a 17-year-old near the New York-Massachusetts border all died after falling through ice during another winter marked by record-breaking heat . Across the country, temperatures during the meteorological winter (December to February) were 2.7 degrees above average, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

In recent months, Burnham has driven nearly 1,000 miles drilling holes in various ice sheets in hopes of finding a solid 12-inch chunk. On February 26, he resigned. The 2023 season would be the third in four years to be abandoned without a single race being held. “I hope everyone thinks about trying again next season,” he wrote to the club. “This is not the last you will hear from AMEC.”

Other clubs are struggling with similar difficulties. For example, this was the first year that the Sports Car Club of Vermont was unable to host an official ice event. “We keep trying to think of it as a fluke – ‘Oh yeah, next year will be better. Blah blah blah’,” said Dudley. “Will it? I don’t know.”

Even in its reduced form, AMEC could be the largest group in America organizing on-ice street racing, Burnham said. For now, all he can do is hope it lasts long enough to get back racing.

Back in January, Burnham brought back a car full of club memorabilia dating back to the ’50s as part of that effort. In The Factory Eatery he made sure that highlight videos were also played.

“I was trying to get people excited about ice racing,” Burnham said, “and I think that worked.”

When it came time to elect a new President, to Burnham’s surprise –to his shock– Someone volunteered. Allen Pashley, whose father, uncle and grandfather had all previously run the club, took over the reins.

Pashley started racing in 1986 and won a few championships before feeling overpriced. Last year when the club managed to hold four events, a strong schedule by modern standards, Pashley felt withdrawn. “I remember going to practice on the first day on the lake and thinking, ‘Why did I stop doing this? The?'”

Pashley was one of about 50 people at the meeting and probably wasn’t the only one who looked around to see if anyone would step forward when the time came. Then a friend nominated him a few seats down.

Burnham turned to Pashley.

“Is that something you would seriously consider?” he said.

“I can’t just let the club go under, Dave,” Pashley replied.

Pashley will officially take charge on April 1, with Pocock as vice president. Burnham, meanwhile, has made it clear he’s not going anywhere even if he’s burned out with his leadership. He’s looking forward to getting back behind the wheel as soon as possible.

“I will race until I can’t race anymore,” Burnham said. Basically, until hell freezes over – assuming New York’s lakes ever do so again.