Bill Bader Jr. looked out at the rain-soaked Summit Motorsports Park, and despite the unfavorable weather, dozens of other pressing issues were running through his head ahead of the Summit Racing NHRA Nationals.

The customer experience was not the best, as almost every ticketholder scurried for shelter.

“That was the biggest thing on my mind all week,” Bader said. “Making sure that we have done our level best to meet or exceed our guests’ expectations that’s the ultimate measuring stick. It’s not profit and loss; it’s never been profit and loss; it’s been your level of guest satisfaction. We must continue to meet or exceed expectations, or we fail.”

Bader has guided the Summit Racing Motorsports Park facility through the best and worst of times, including 2020, when Covid forced him to shut down the facility for the rest of the season.

Bader keeps on keeping on in a world that still plays host to labor shortages and supply chain interruptions. He’s been so busy lately the 60th anniversary of the track built in 1963 just slipped up on him.

“My father bought the track in ’73, so we’ve owned the park for 50 years,” Bader said. “That, to me, is more of a personal thing, and what’s made it personal is it was really important to my dad. He always talked about 50 years being such an incredible benchmark, and he stayed involved even if it was just working a few events a year here because he wanted to make it to the Big 5-0. So, I dedicated this year to him because I knew how meaningful it was to him.

“The anniversaries are wonderful. At the end of the day, my wife will tell you; I don’t remember birthdays, I don’t remember anniversaries. I remember when my two sons were born because I was in the delivery room, and it’s traumatic to watch that, and miraculous. But generally, to me, it’s about business as usual and making sure our guests are happy.”

Bader only wishes he could forget the call on race day last year.
Bill Bader Sr. was killed in an accident while working on his property.

“That is something I will never forget, and it’s very top of mind,” Bader said. “I talk to my dad more now than I probably have in the last ten years combined because I feel like I know that he’s there. I’ll be out on a run, or I’ll be in typical Bader fashion, huffing and puffing about something, and I will say, ‘Okay, Dad, what are your thoughts here? What do you think?”

“And it’s funny, I always get a response to every question, to every thought, and I think some of that is divine, and some of it is that this year marks my 46th year here, and I worked very closely with my father until he passed. I just know how he thinks. I know what he would say. And so, there is a closeness we share now because before I had to send him an email, he was on the mountain, and he was telling me about the 8 million things he had to get done between sunrise and sunset, so I had to schedule something.

“One out of 100 times, I could call, and he would pick up the phone. I think he liked it that way, with no cell reception; I think he liked the solitude. But now, I talk to him all the time. And it’s funny because every recollection, every thought, every memory, every moment, they all just put a smile on my face. There is nothing somber; there’s nothing sad; there’s no anger. It’s just all an extraordinary experience.”

The more he moves forward, the more Bader faces the reality he’s become just like his dad. It’s a notion he’s become oblivious to.

“My father to me was Superman,” Bader said. “He was the guy that felt no pain; he was the guy that always had a smile on his face. He was incredibly graceful and universally revered. His personality was extraordinary. And I recognize the fact that I’m more of an introverted personality: I’m a little more intense, I’m a little more passionate, I’m a little more focused. So, I guess I probably am oblivious because if there’s something between me and my mission, I don’t see it because I am laser beam-focused on whatever is at the other end of my journey. So, I probably am a little oblivious to that.

“I’m very appreciative and respectful and understand the fishbowl that I operate in, but I’m not my dad.”