In the sticky, midsummer night air of the U.S. last week the fans were turning out in droves for a new national pastime: stock-car racing. Sheer speed was not the point; nobody was after records. The main idea was to pack 20 or 25 hopped-up cars on a tight, sharply-turned little quarter-mile track, and let them go for the bacon. The result was motor madness a deafening combination of roaring engines and screeching tires, cars careening against each other or spinning into fences at 60 m.p.h.
In Chicago, where the racing is done mostly...
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