Racing Grand Nationals Once Meant Prepping Your Car in a Hurry
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When I attended my first NASCAR Grand National race at
the Richmond Fairgrounds on a Sunday afternoon in April 1963, I had no idea
that nine of the drivers in the starting field had been in action Thursday
night at another GN event in Augusta, Ga.
In those days, I think it’s safe to say none was a “big
money” team, but they somehow managed to drive from Georgia to Virginia and
presumably do at least a little work on their cars before putting them out for
250 grueling laps. Ned Jarrett won the Augusta race and finished second at
Richmond, so he gets the “iron-man” (or “iron-mechanic”) award.
Ned makes a pit
stop - and notice that the window rolls down.
This is identified
as being from the last race run on the dirt at Richmond, but it’s also
supposedly from the 1967 Capital City 300, and the last dirt race was run the
next spring, so make of it what you will.
When the gang returned that fall, it was by way of
Hickory, N.C., where they had raced Friday night - not as long a drive, but I
can’t imagine any of the guys who made both shows (Hickory was 250 laps and
Richmond was 300) feeling like going out for a couple of cold ones afterward.
In 1965, NASCAR scheduled a 400-lapper on the asphalt at
Old Dominion Speedway in Manassas, Va., on Saturday night and then ran
Richmond’s 300-lapper on dirt Sunday afternoon. I don’t recall any cautions for
drivers nodding off, but it wouldn’t have been a surprise. With that kind of
schedule, it’s also no surprise that nobody did well in both races. Neil
“Soapy” Castles finished eighth at Manassas and fifth at Richmond, completing
657 of a possible 700 laps in the process. Neil had a temper, so it probably
wouldn’t have been a good idea to get him riled Sunday evening - assuming he
wasn’t already back out on the highway headed south.
Couldn’t find a
photo of Grand National/Cup racing at Old Dominion, but it was a good track for
watching just about anything.
This week the Monster/Cup Series runs at Dover with a
typical schedule, having had off since last Sunday’s race at Chicago. I’d like
to see somebody go up to one of those teams and challenge them to run the
schedule at the first Dover race back in 1969. That 300-lap race was run on a
Sunday afternoon, barely 48 hours after most of the teams had raced in the
Medal of Honor Firecracker 400 at Daytona.
That’s right. Finish up in Daytona at mid-day Friday,
load up the car, drive for at least 18 hours (it’s 13+ hours today, and there
weren’t as many interstates, four-lanes, or by-passes back then), set the car
up for a completely different type of track, and pretend you got some sleep
when you’re out there going 120+ miles an hour.
The first Grand
National (pre-Winston Cup) race at Dover, back when the start-finish line was
in front of the horse track-centric enclosed stands.
Give the award here to James Hylton, who definitely
wasn’t “big money,” but who finished ninth at Daytona and third at Dover. I’d
like to see one of today’s “developmental drivers” pull that off.
OK, it’s comparing apples-to-oranges,
granted. Today’s cars require a lot more work, and the competition level is
such that, if you let something slide like those ‘60s guys had to do, you’re
one of the slowest cars in the field.
But let me ask you this: Which makes for more excitement,
perfection-vs-perfection in a sterile setting or grit-n-grime with the
possibility of a wheel falling off or the driver passing out?
For that matter, ask Tony Stewart which is better, a week
to prep for all the engineering challenges of a Monster/Cup race, or less than
24 hours between Arctic Cat All Star Sprint Car events? There’s a reason you
see Tony smiling more these days.
For me, I’ll take the real stuff, too.
Frank’s Loose Lug Nuts
The racing world lost a giant last weekend when New
England modified star Ted Christopher died in a plane crash on the way to a
race on Long Island.
Christopher was a former NASCAR national champion, but
above all he was a polarizing figure that you either loved or hated, because he
raced to win and he raced aggressively. But I always thought his personality
when he wasn’t behind the wheel was much more that of a guy you’d spend time
with in the pits or the bar. He had a great smile.
He was 59 years old when he died, but the fire still
burned, without question, and I’ll bet his appearance at a track brought out
more fans than nearly anyone else there.
Certainly - as a percentage of total attendance - many
times more than any of NASCAR’s sanitized developmental drivers. As Matt
Kenseth fans start looking at schedules for other sports (or other forms of
motorsports), it would really be nice if somebody would notice that.
RIP, Ted. You gave us a lot of thrills, and you can’t be
replaced.