4/23/2025
Bloomington Speedway
Richie Lex: On His Terms
Richie Lex: On his Terms
The 2025 season will mark the 30th anniversary since Richie Lex first climbed into a UMP modified and made the dirt fly. At one moment he moans that the constant pounding he takes in his car, the hours it takes to get prepared before race day, and the basic economics of it all suggest that the end of his career is near. Then he describes what he feels when he stabs the throttle and tries to keep his car underneath him. At that moment it is clear to all that Lex still has a raging fire in his belly.
He was born on January 30, 1971, in Morgantown, Indiana to Carolyn and Richard Lex. His parents have passed but Richie has not strayed from home. To the best of his knowledge no one in his family ever raced, but his father introduced him to the sport. “There was a neighbor named Cosby Smith,” he said, “and his two sons Craig and Steve ended up racing street stocks. My dad had a pickup truck with a camper shell and one night he loaded me, Craig, and Steve in the back and we headed to Paragon Speedway. I was ten or eleven years old. That was it. From there I didn’t care about anything else.”
The Lex family was not flush with cash, so while Richie’s appetite for the sport was whetted it was unclear if he would ever have an opportunity to race. Enter neighbor and sprint car racer Glen Scott. Scott (whose son Jake is the reigning Paragon Speedway sprint car champion) provided Lex with a chance to go kart racing. He proved to be good at it. Richie finally acquired a kart of his own and for the next five or six years he competed at West Boggs Park north of Loogootee, and at county fairs.
By 1995 he was ready for more, and before the season had ended he took his first laps in a modified. In his typical understated fashion, he proclaims that “he did alright.” He was trying to crash the party against some talented and experienced hands. Dale DuBois would take the 1995 Bloomington Speedway modified title, with Buddy Cunningham and A. J. Bowlen waiting in the wings. Matt Tiller was finding his stride, and Scott Patman was still spending some time in the modifieds. It isn’t surprising that he found getting to victory lane on the red clay to be a tall order, but in his second year he reached the top rung of the ladder at Bunker Hill Speedway.
Richie was smart enough to know that a trip to Daytona was not in the cards, but that didn’t mean he lacked meaningful racing goals. He wanted to become one of the best in his discipline and he quickly discerned what it would take to attain that status. “There are a lot of people who think they are fast,” he says, “and I don’t want this to sound mean but if you really want to be a racecar driver you have to travel. Now, if you want to be a local hero that is fine, but early on I travelled to Kentucky, Illinois, Ohio, and up north. That is when I really started learning a lot. You have to go to different tracks, hit different surfaces, and race against different people. That’s how you learn.” Lex also listened to others, noting, “I got so much advice and help from so many people that I can’t remember them all.”
When you ask Lex to list his accomplishments expect a long pause. Reminiscing is not high on his priority list. Pushed he will tell you that he has won over 150 features in his career, and five track championships. He counts his victory in the Patriot 100 at Lincoln Park Speedway in 2006 as the most meaningful, but the fact that he carried a sprint car to a win at Paragon is also a fond memory.
Counting points has never been his thing, however, he does relish his 2012 Indiana UMP championship. “We had just run well all summer long,” he says, “but I still never gave two thoughts about it. I was hovering from first to third in the standings and everything was coming together. I was talking with Shayne Frasur who has been with me forever and we finally decided it would be cool to win that deal. It took 57 races to get it done, which was a lot on our plate with our regular work.”
The dilemma Lex faces his one that has a familiar ring for many. This is his racecar. He races, he prepares and repairs the piece, and he pays the bills. To survive he cannot make the same choices as those in well-funded operations or are hired guns. There are times when his sole help at the racetrack is his girlfriend Karen, and there are also times when he is alone. A couple of his rules are basic. “I am not going to shove my racecar into a hole for 25 extra dollars,” he says, “Here’s the deal. My stuff is going back into the trailer. I don’t want to spend my money constantly fixing the car.”
When he thinks about how much it takes to be competitive and the cost-benefit ratio at play he wonders how long he can do it. He’s five thousand dollars short of a motor he needs right now. He is also not a kid. When he says, “my brain tries to tell me that I’m young, but my body tells me something different,” it is a perspective many of us understand all too well.
Racing a modified is hard, and it can take a toll on one physically. It also provides an experience like no other. “Oh, I love it,” he says with a laugh, “I really do. It is a thrill you can’t find anywhere. There is something about going down into the corner and feeling the g-force or the power of the motor. You are trying to control something that is almost out of control. It’s the speed and really everything.”
Perhaps the sensation that grabs him by the throat explains why he has always been good at high speed places like the Terre Haute Action Track. When he speaks about the big the Vigo County plant his eyes nearly glaze over. “You hear a lot of people say that place is hard on motors,” he says, “but it isn’t any harder on a motor than at a short racetrack. People do not understand that. They think you hold it open all the time. Well, you’re not screaming at maximum rpm’s all the way down the front straightaway. It just takes you longer to get there. Then when you let off the gas it’s not like you are shutting the motor down immediately it is like when you are on the highway, and you slow down because a stop sign is coming up.” Yet, when pushed a bit he admits that he doesn’t lift all that much on the big half-mile track.
Lex realizes that he may not be a marquee name across the country, but in Indiana he has been one of the best modified hands for years now. He’s come full circle as he is the one others now turn to for advice. He reached that stage of life where like it or not, it is impossible not to be a bit reflective. There is a lot to be proud of. “As someone who grew up in little Morgantown, Indiana I guess it is a dream come true,” he says. “Who really thought I would do all this stuff and win all those races?”
The fact of the matter is there is still time to put a few more victories in the log book.
Tommy Kelly Kfmedia photo
Article Credit: Patrick Sullivan
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