As a kid in high school, I was an enthusiastic drag racer. But that was decades ago. Fast forward 60 plus years to October’s The Race of Gentlemen (TROG, as it’s euphemistically known), and I was excited just to be a spectator. So when custom car builder Rob Ida flipped me the keys to his ratty 1957 Porsche coupe, I almost flipped them back. Rob was driving his 1954 Corvette, complete with a tonneau cover and a finned headrest, a car he built in just two weeks to emulate Zora Arkus-Duntov’s EX-87 Daytona race car.
“That’s hardly a contest,” I replied. “The clutch is slipping a little,” he countered.
My wife, Trish, didn’t hesitate. “Go for it,” she insisted. “When are you gonna have a chance to race on the beach?” “OK,” I said, and the wheels began to turn.
Rob’s hot rod ’Vette packs a 350-cid small-block Chevy V-8 with dual quads and a Duntov 30-30 cam. The gearbox is a Tremec T5 and the rear is a Corvette Posi with 4:11 gears. His car weighs about 2,800 lbs.
The ’57 Porsche is a racer -— it has a 2.4-liter flat-four built by Lou Hodi that develops 185 bhp, and the engine is in the rear. It weighs just under 2,000 lbs. The power-to-weight ratios are about the same between the ’Vette and the Porsche. I still have pretty good reflexes. Maybe if I get a little jump?
Once in line, wearing an ill-fitting helmet, I was questioning my sanity. As we got closer to the flag lady, I watched her technique -— flag pointing at the left lane, waiting for her head nod. Flag pointing at the right lane (mine), waiting for the nod. Then she lifted the flag as she jumped up and dropped it. My cue to go. I only looked at her, not at Rob, and aimed the Porsche toward the finish line. As the flag lady jumped, I hammered the throttle to a quick 5,500 rpm. The tires bit and churned, then grabbed. Right foot to the floor, I hit 60 in first gear in split seconds and snap-shifted. The rear wheels increased their grip and out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t see Rob. Accelerating hard, the Porsche crabbed sideways; I caught it, surged halfway through third gear, then stomped hard on the brakes.
Damned if I hadn’t beaten a Corvette with an old Porsche!
TROG gets off and running
Since that contest, Rob has fixed his clutch issues, added traction bars and fitted drag shocks and 7-in. slicks, so I doubt I’d do very well on the repeat run. But that’s TROG — it’s good fun, repeated over and over again in quick races held on shifting sands. For those who don’t remember from a previous “Speaking of Hot Rods” column, The Race of Gentlemen began in 2012, and it’s been held in several locations on both coasts. The beach racers are limited to pre-1935 model hot rods and ’40s motorcycles (three-speed tank shifters are preferred). Engines are restricted to four-bangers (Miller-Cragar OHV conversions are welcome), flat sixes (like Studebaker Champions and Chrysler Spitfires) and, of course, flathead V-8s are prevalent. Carburetors? Of course. No billet is allowed, just steel wheels or wires, and everything’s strictly American-made. Roll bars are optional, but they’re strongly suggested. Old-fashioned open-face helmets are fine. There are no formal classes. It’s really “run what ya brung.” You’re usually paired against a similar car or bike. That said, Rob Ida brought his Corvette and that Porsche I drove this year, and Mel let them run because he and Rob are testing a couple of sports car ideas for the future.
Mel, of course, is Meldon Van Riper Stultz III, from Asbury Park, N.J. On Instagram, he’s YEOLEGHOST with 30,000 followers. He looks like a cross between a pirate and a biker with his intense gunfighter eyes, sleeves of tatts, scraggly salt-and-pepper beard and battered leather motorcycle jacket weighted with pins paired with rolled-cuff Levi’s. And he’s a bit of both pirate and biker. Mel started as a member of the Rumblers, famous for their “Kustom Kills and Speed Thrills” New York City meet-ups, then resurrected the Oilers Car Club when the last dying member passed him the torch. Managing by walking around, Mel usually wears a wicked grin as if to say, “I’m having fun, I’m having you on, and there’s nothing you can do about it. So, fire up whatever you drove or rode here, and let’s race.”
The first The Race of Gentleman (immediately abbreviated to TROG) was held 12 years ago on the beach in Allenhurst, N.J. Everyone loved it. Rusty rods, bellowing bikes, a sexy flag lady leaping high between the staged drag racers and no one keeping E.T.’s — it was a scene from the past that resembled a ’50s flashback, maybe even a reenactment… Everybody immediately “got it” and they couldn’t wait to do it again.
TROG 2025
This year, once again, the show went on at Morey’s Pier in Wildwood, a funky Jersey Shore beach town that’s laced with old-style illuminated neon signs, ’50s-style motels, cool bars aplenty, narrow streets and ocean-weathered houses. Tradition rules here. I like to say that many of the old buildings look as though time stopped when Ike was president. Duffinetti’s Restaurant and Lounge, opened in 1947, serves Italian comfort food (read: lots of red sauce dishes and a lasagna slice that’s so big it’s called “The Brick”). Alfe’s classy Italian restaurant shares space with a bowling alley. Secondo Panico’s, on the Cape May border, and The Beach Street Oyster Bar & Grille in Wildwood Crest, attract more sophisticated diners.
TROG’s three-day event this year attracted 4,000-5,000 spectators, 120 cars and 65 bikes. There were lots of Harleys, of course, and a few Indians. Mel likes an event by the ocean. As everyone knows, sand is much safer than asphalt. As more cars and bikes choose off and run, the loosely packed sandy surface changes. You have to be clever to compensate for the shifting coefficient of traction. Bikes and cars assemble in the “pits” on the beach, line up two-by-two, then accelerate in one direction for 1/8th of a mile. The crackle of open exhausts, the acrid aroma of fuel, and the period-dressed drivers, riders and spectators all make it seem as though you’ve somehow drifted back into a simpler time. Racers and spectators collectively share a joy for a bygone era that most of them never knew in person. But as someone who was there in the ’50s, I can attest that the feelings are the same. “If you dream about the old days of racing, this is the closest you’ll get,” is an appropriate quote, reportedly from a Rolling Stone article.
The crowd, the experience
Mel has told people many times “… by having it on the beach, you see the kids, girlfriends and wives actually get excited about it. They want to come and spend the day enjoying the show. It creates a neat dynamic of young kids (as well as) the older crowd we typically would see at these events. Some of my best moments are watching the kids. This year, we really turned up the rock ‘n’ roll background music.” I’d add that the “merch” line was endless. Wearing anything that reads “TROG” is cool.
We stayed at Blue Palms Hotel, conveniently close to the HQ bar, appropriately called “Jersey Girl.” The three-cornered bar itself was packed with “Troglodytes,” the nickname for TROG aficionados. The decibel level was earsplitting and the fun quotient was off the charts. The streets and adjacent parking lots were filled with rusty, fender-less hot rods and motorcycles, and there was a section for custom cars. Bobber bikes roared up and down, but nothing was out of control; there weren’t a lot of mufflers, but the vibe was mellow and the local cops astutely stood back and just watched. TROG is inspired, authentic and not watered down -— and that’s the way Mel likes it. He likes to say, “I looked sat a beach and I saw a racetrack.” For years, he longed for what he recalled as the good old days where racers competed against one another and also helped each other. “They were gentlemen,” Mel recalls, hence the name. “And that’s what I’ve tried to recreate." Other events have copied his efforts, but Mel keeps changing things up, staying one idea ahead of the pack. He’d like a few more sponsors, and we think it’s a terrific opportunity.
First-timer Jerry Mengelkoch, from Arlington, Va., brought his pro-built 1932 Ford roadster. Dave Crouse’s shop, Custom Auto, in Loveland, Colo., built it years ago for Steve Memishian, founder of the American Hot Rod Foundation. Too nice for the sand, it was power parked at the Blue Palm for a few days, and it drew a lot of admiring glances.
“The staging area, swap meet, and vendor area were all well organized,” Mengelkoch remarked. “It was fun looking at the wide variety of cars and bikes, talking to the owners, and getting ideas for future projects. The races themselves were fun to watch. Most vehicles had trouble gaining traction in the increasingly rutty sand off the line, but they came on strong once they hit second gear. Standing near the finish line, it was impressive to see the speeds they were able to achieve.” His suggestion: “They should consider opening the pits to spectators on race days.”
Dates for next year, as we went to press, have not been determined. Check the website www.theraceofgentlemen.com for updates and announcements.
TROG brings back the hot rod scene of the ’40s and ’50s with clothes and cars to match. Practically speaking, if you bring a road-going car onto the sand, you’ll be plucking grains out of every crevice for years, so if you want to compete here, I suggest you bring a purpose-built beater. And you should apply early, because the slots fill up fast. Just as the Goodwood Revival encourages participants and spectators to relive a bygone sports car racing era, even if it’s just for a weekend, TROG joyfully takes you back into hot rod prime time.
And it’s just as much fun as you remember....
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