Spotlight USA: Meet Marty Himes, The Ex-Racer Preserving Vintage Race Cars All By Himself

I'm still not entirely used to talking about myself in the first person right now. It's hard to picture myself as a central figure in a feature story about somebody who isn't me. My dull and ham-fisted opinions shouldn't be the spotlight of anything, right? It's all about the cars, or in this case, the person behind the wheel.

To that, I say this. The only way I could adequately convey the magnitude of the happenstance encounter I had with a resident of a little town called Bay Shore, New York, is to explain my honest reaction to some of the fantastic things I saw. This property might just be another South Shore Long Island home, if not for the 1930s vintage Chevy 350 cubic inch (5.7-liter) V8 Race Car parked out front.

This car and all the other miscellaneous classic American Iron on this suburban property is in the collection belonging to a man you're probably not familiar with. That's a real shame because he thinks you youngsters out there ought to put some respect on the name. Meet the racing driver Marty Himes. He's lived on this property since the mid-1960s.

As of 2022, Himes is one of the sole surviving gatekeepers of a time before Long Island was a whitewashed suburban beacon on a hill. At a time when many of its residents weren't just car enthusiasts, they were certified card-carrying petrolheads. In what might be quite a shock to the millions of people who call Long Island home, this 118-mile glacial deposit east of New York City was once home to dozens of racetracks.

To say my jaw hit the floor when I saw the page-filling list of race tracks that used to call Long Island home, it wouldn't be that much hyperbole. But Marty Himes didn't give a damn where the track was located.

He'd smoke your ass like a full-pig roast three to four times a week and then fix up other racer's cars at his own shop across the street from where the now long gone Freeport Raceway once stood. Oh, and he also once beat Stirling Moss in a classic exhibition race and called Indycar legend AJ Foyt and Mario Andretti two of his closest pals. Color us impressed.

To some people, the various cars, gas pumps, gas station signs, and other ragtag memorabilia from all three big American automakers scattered across the front and back yards of this property may seem like an eyesore.

Something Suffolk County code enforcement may want to order cleaned up, lest it drives down property values. But to us, Marty Hime's property is a house of worship. One where the altars are made of metal and have V8 engines under the hood.

As old and cluttered as some of the cars on his property may look, Himes swears that most of them, at least out on the back lawn, could fire to life with little more than some starting fluid and lots and lots of swearing.

Race cars from all manner of different disciplines and engine sizes find hope on the property. But Himes will be the first to tell you midget, and sprint car racing was his all-time favorite. He's been racing since 1955, so far be it from us to challenge him. It's also worth mentioning that Himes hasn't seen more than a couple of minutes of a NASCAR Cup race since the year 2000. To give you an idea of how he feels about stock car racing these days.

This is evident by the innumerable examples of race cars from these respective series on his property, both on his lawn and inside of trailers on the property, including one with a one-of-a-kind sprint car with a special engine made to the exact specifications of American entrepreneur and sportsman Briggs Cunningham. The engine in this beast was designed by the bespoke engine builders at Offenhauser. The motor alone is probably worth $50,000.

But don't dare try to haggle with Himes on a deal for anything on his property. He even received an offer from one local gentleman to buy one of the 1950s Ford 312 cubic-inch V8 stock cars on his property for around $10,000 before they'd even seen the engine or sat inside it for any length of time. As Himes is a classic gentleman, he politely declined the offer.

In his day, Hime's travels as a barnstorming gentleman racer brought him to some of the most important people of the 20th century. He was a creative consultant for the iconic American actor Mickey Rooney in the film The Big Wheel. He even got to meet President Reagan, with receipts to prove it's legitimate coming in a photograph signed by the 40th U.S. President himself.

These photos and everything else on the property are maintained by Himes every single day, a practice he's kept up since the mid-1960s. To listen to his musings about his days of racing and his gripes about modern racing is like hearing the gospel.

One from a preacher at the alter that is motorsports. Heralding of a time before nearly every single one of Long Island's racetracks was demolished to build single-family homes and shopping malls.

A time when its residents had something to be very proud of. Your reasons are other than some of the highest property taxes, lousiest drivers, and comically abrasive, non-compassionate locals. Funny how 60 years can change a place, am I right?

But most of all, what Marty aspires to do with his collection is to save it all from the scrapyard. As it happens, Himes saved quite a few one-of-a-kind racing cars from the scrap heap himself. Sheltering them in his backyard for years on end.

Oh, and his daily driver is a 1937 Plymouth ex-Suffolk County Police Car, because duh, of course, it is. The only thoughts he had to offer about my 2021 Mitsubishi Mirage parked just beyond his lot was that it was "way too new," you'll have no arguments from me there.

There's an equal sense of dread as there is wonderment when visiting Marty Hime's property. A property that you can call to book one on one tours to see, under the county-approved Marty Himes Museum, by the way. So better get book a visit before it's too late.

Because by Hime's own admission, once he's gone, chances are good the cars in his collection will go too. It's a notion that's so profoundly driven home by a photograph of Himes and all of his racing buddies. Himes estimates that of all the men in that photograph, he's the only one left alive.

Hearing this come out of Hime's own mouth was enough to move a few tears to my eye. But I did my best to let this moment of existential dread about our own shared mortality pass. Lest I get misty-eyed in front of him like a dribbling little baby.

Because there shouldn't be any reason for tears in a place as magnificent as this. Only bright, vibrant smiles and memories of better, less complicated days gone by. It only sounds cheesy because it's completely true.

So please, if you find yourself on the South Shore of Long Island, give Marty Himes a call and set up an appointment to see all of his wonderful bits of memorabilia. But also to hear some stories no one else still alive would be able to tell. Let's help keep Marty's life's work alive and well, and prove to him that we modern gearheads really do respect our elders.

Many, many thanks to Marty Himes and his family for allowing me access to his collection. It was a profound privilege up there with some of the most fulfilling and vibrant interviews I've ever conducted.

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