The Long Beach Grand Prix turned 50. It's wiser (and crazier) than ever.
Don't get it twisted—Long Beach still parties.
HAPPY RACE DAY! especially to everyone who attended our preview party for Larry Chen’s upcoming book, Life At Shutter Speed, which we held in conjunction with Formula Drift right here on the Long Beach track.
It was an incredible night, and a wonderful opportunity to celebrate Larry’s career to this point. Our friends at Car And Driver wrote a lovely piece about the event—click here to read it.
When Racecars Invade Your Backyard
LONG BEACH is not perfect. But it is special. Anyone who’s been to the Grand Prix of Long Beach, which celebrated its 50th anniversary earlier this month as the longest-running street race in North America, can tell you that. It’s a wild concoction of motorsport and mania. Palm trees and motor oil. High-brow and High Life.
Take every form of racing you can imagine and throw them onto tiny streets built for soccer vans, mix with nostalgia and $18 Modelo, shake well, and you have Long Beach. It’s the race you go to for spectacle. Because even if your seat only has a good view of one out of 11 turns, or if your general admission ticket doesn’t even buy you a fixed view, then at least you get to chew Pirelli smoke under a nearly-guaranteed blue sky.
LONG BEACH is not perfect. But it is special. By my count, this was my 20th time attending the Grand Prix. Go to an event for that long and you can feel whether it knows its audience or not. Long Beach knows exactly what it is.
It’s a place where even the diehard motorsport fans want to scream like children while a truck flies through the air at 100 mph. A place where no single race is going to hold the entire crowd’s attention, so you’d better throw in historic F1 cars and drifting to mix things up. A place where there isn’t much passing but there is the song of twelve cylinders bouncing off the walls of Art Deco architecture.
LONG BEACH is not perfect. But it is special. It has mastered the art of whipping up a Formula Drift crowd into a frenzy. During the FD weekend, one week prior to official Grand Prix action, a packed house saw two heavyweights lock into a vicious duel as series champions James Deane and Frederic Aasbo took turns dancing in the final round. When they finished their last pass the stands seemed spent, but the judges crowned Aasbo and his gold-wrapped Toyota Supra and the bleachers roared to life once again.
Later on, during the IMSA sportscar race, these poor endurance masters were forced to compete for a measly 100 minutes—one snort of an exhaust compared with 12-hour or 24-hour marathons they’re used to. Long Beach is hardly breaking a sweat for these cars. But it’s high drama for the people involved. The swooping BMW driven by Belgian driver Dries Vanthoor notched a third straight pole position in triumph. But for the third straight time this season, Porsche outmaneuvered and outran them to take the win. Pure agony for Vanthoor & Co., but pure bliss for anyone within earshot of the V12-powered Aston Martin Valkyrie that stole the show.
Finally, in the weekend’s marquee race, IndyCar rolled into town and rolled right back out without much tussling. Kyle Kirkwood started on pole and won comfortably over Alex Palou and Christian Lundgaard. There wasn’t much battling at the front, but Kirkwood is building a legacy here. Out of his three career wins, two have come in Long Beach. At only 26 years old, Kirkwood has the chance to etch his name alongside others like Andretti and Unser as masters of the beach.
LONG BEACH is not perfect. But it is special. The key is options. You can park it to watch racing or roam and admire the beauty. You can suffer through the marked up food or pop into local spots, still open within track confines, and take advantage of race weekend specials. Long Beach seems tailor-made for its shrewd, passionate, easily distracted audience. And knowing your audience is how you set an all-time attendance record in Southern California the same weekend as Coachella.
We also saw first-hand how the weekend spills outside of the track and into the streets. During the FD weekend, our author Larry Chen hosted a car meet with sponsor Type S at none other than the Queen Mary. City planners have had an easier time pulling teeth than attracting crowds to the old ship. But by the time the meet was scheduled to start, at 6:00pm on a Thursday, authorities were already turning away people who’d waited in lines a half-mile long. Officials estimated a total crowd of more than 15,000 before Formula Drift even arrived with two dozen racecars and a police escort. The strength of modern car culture, with an undeniably creative presentation, couldn’t be contained.
LONG BEACH is not perfect. But it is special. I moved here at 18 years old and never left. This was the place for me, and the race is a big reason. I fell in love with its people, learned their beleaguered history and unshakable will, then started a family and built a business here. I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to contribute to its story.
The Grand Prix gives us locals the chance to celebrate our city, and all its jewels and warts, just like it gives us motorsport fans the chance to celebrate our passion for the sport—even if the cars are constrained and limited to sprint races. The point is in the spectacle. The point is in the gathering and the sharing. The point is in losing your mind while a Mustang goes sideways or a truck takes off in flight. The point is in grabbing the complete stranger next to you and simultaneously screaming into each other’s faces. All under a row of palm trees. It’s not perfect. It’s Long Beach.
And Finally…
A few final shots from photographer Walter Fulbright to take us out, including my personal favorite (not telling which one 🤫).
Follow Walt here. Enjoy your week.
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