Ascot - The story of the iconic dirt track that defined Southern California racing. It began in 1903 as a horse track, then as a one mile dirt track in L.A., then as New Ascot Raceway in East L.A. which became Legion Ascot and finally Southern Ascot in Southgate. Then, Los Angeles Speedway was built in 1957 on the site of a former landfill just south of Gardena. The promoter got into financial difficulties and it became New Ascot Stadium and eventually just Ascot. Everyone raced there, sprint cars, stock cars, midgets, buggies and motorcycles. 90 Indy 500 drivers raced there. Names like A.J. Foyt, Rick Mears and Parnelli Jones were regulars. It was said that "if you haven't raced Ascot, you haven't raced". Read the book to see why it closed in 1990. Written in scrapbook style, decade by decade, full of newspaper and magazine articles, photos and stories from those who were there. Read the review from LACar.com (edited for brevity) -This is a feisty, tough little (is 399 pages with what must be a thousand photos really "little"?) MOFO (of a book) that triggers memories long dulled by watching racing live, and in person TV racing from four of five camera angles and then again from the blimp or fast-flying drone and over and over in replay. Ascot was a blink and you'll miss it, in your face, wall to wall. It was a "shut the (heck) up and race" joint that some seem to master, but that very few had a real wrap-around view of. That track seemed to thrive on being mythical, moody, a place where almost everything went for even the best of them and winning was a cause for great celebration. It has always been something of and anomaly that no book (until now) had been written about the place where some of the greatest dirt short track racing ever seen had thrilled generations of Angelenos over it's short, 33-year life.If you were lucky enough to have been there, I'm sure noise and smells are hard to forget. Chevy V-8s screaming out while being tortured by competitors who had "tipped the can" and doctored the nasty, eye-watering methanol fuel with "liquid dynamite" (nitro-methane) to get a few horsepower over another racer and who's motor oil spit out on to red-hot open exhaust.... In case you didn't notice, this is a book that every LA motorsports fan of a certain age has been asking for for a long time now ... a scrapbook of photos and news clips that recount (and remind in a lot of cases) of the glory that was Ascot, where the ambiance was not about the place, but exclusively about the sort racing that went on there for thirty-three years. But every foot, no matter what the tape made it, was jam-packed with real racing action at that joint.The growling motorcycles, the howling sprint cars, the screaming midgets, the high-flying off-road buggies and three-wheelers, the blunt force trauma of the demolition derby cars, the shouting parents of the bike-x kids, even the occasional "over-served" fan who decided to see what kind of a lap they could cut on foot, all conspired to make a very satisfying show at Ascot. It always managed to be that kind of place - the one where (the you know whats) COL-LIDE.Wolin's use of photos - and contemporary news articles - pays off in the best way possible for the Ascot legend. There's a ton of truth in this one. Thanks for all the memories Mister Wolin! 399 Pages - 8 1/2 x 11 - B&W. Published by the Racing History Project and autographed by the author.