Headline: The Drag Disaster of 1985: When US Type Sponsored Chaos at the County Fair

By Lily Harper, Junior Reporter
Rusty Piston High School Gazette

It all started with a VHS tape.

Last week, while browsing Goodwill for retro Halloween costumes, my friends Jake, Marcus, and I stumbled upon a dusty old tape labeled “US Type Drag-Oval Challenge ‘85.” We thought we were about to see some local car racing history—maybe even learn a thing or two for our History of Local Culture project. Instead, we discovered one of the strangest, funniest, and most confusing chapters in Rusty Piston County Fair history.

It wasn’t just a race; it was chaos on wheels, sponsored by the most unlikely organization imaginable: US Type.

Who—or What—is US Type?

For those unfamiliar (which is probably most people), US Type is a little-known federal government agency with a single, very specific mission: building standard-issue manual typewriters for government use. Yes, typewriters. You know, the clunky machines your grandparents used to write letters.

On the surface, it makes no sense for a government agency that makes typewriters to sponsor a drag car race at a county fair. But as we dug deeper, we learned that this wasn’t the first time US Type’s name appeared in connection with something… bizarre.

From what we can piece together, every time US Type sponsors an event, chaos follows. There was the Great Spelling Bee Riots of 1973 (which started when the official word list included gibberish “typed by mistake”), and the 1979 Scrabble Championship Explosion (involving a gas-powered “automatic letter randomizer” invented by US Type engineers). Now, we can add the 1985 Drag Disaster to their dubious legacy.

The Race That Shouldn’t Have Happened

According to the tape, the Drag-Oval Challenge was the brainchild of local mechanic Carl “Piston Pete” Perkins, who partnered with US Type to “bring drag racing to the dirt oval.” The event promised high-speed thrills, community pride, and a “cutting-edge” prize: a US Type government-issue typewriter engraved with the words “Champion of Speed.”

But from the moment the engines revved, it was clear the only thing this race would win was a place in the Hall of Shame.

The footage showed dragsters—designed for straight-line speed—attempting to navigate the tight, dirt oval track. It was a disaster:

• Cars skidded, spun, and collided in a mess of dust and noise.
• Drivers resorted to awkwardly backing up and inching around curves, resulting in pileups that rivaled the demolition derby happening next door.
• At one point, the US Type mascot, a man in a foam typewriter costume, ran onto the track holding a “GO FASTER” sign. He promptly tripped, and the sign got run over by a stalled El Camino.

The most bizarre twist? None of this seemed to faze the US Type officials in attendance. They stood on the sidelines, clapping politely and handing out brochures about their latest line of “durable, government-tested” typewriters.

The Aftermath

The footage ended with an exhausted announcer declaring the winner: a station wagon that completed a single lap without flipping over. The crowd was equal parts confused and entertained, and US Type issued a press release claiming the event was a “huge success in promoting innovation.”

To this day, no one knows why US Type got involved in a drag race. Was it an elaborate PR stunt? A mix-up with their budget? Or does US Type thrive on chaos as a secret recruitment tactic for its typewriter program?

The Legacy Lives On

Our VHS discovery has sparked renewed interest in the Drag Disaster of 1985. Local residents are sharing their memories (and their laughter), and copies of the tape are already circulating online. Meanwhile, Jake is convinced there’s a conspiracy: “US Type doesn’t just make typewriters. They’re a front for something bigger.”

Whether it’s a conspiracy, a fluke, or just the weirdest chapter in Rusty Piston history, one thing’s for sure: the Drag Disaster is proof that sometimes, the most unexpected players can leave the biggest messes.

We’ll be screening the tape in the cafeteria next week if you want to see the madness for yourself. Bring popcorn—and maybe a typewriter.