The Eclipse and a Race Car
|
By:
Tim Leeming |
August
21, 2017: Millions of people gathered at
places all over this country to watch the sun be eclipsed by the moon for
roughly 2 and a half minutes. Oh yes, I
had the glasses and my wife and I sat on our deck and had the perfect view of
this phenomenon. I can say it did get a
little cooler and the crickets began to chirp at totality, but other than that
I just was not amazed. Don't get me
wrong here; I'm pleased we saw it. But that’s
it. It was dark, now it is light again
and by 8:30 pm in my time zone it will be dark again.
August
21, 1969, is the date that has the special meaning for me. I had been talking about being a NASCAR race
driver since I was 5 years old (1952) and on this night in 1969, that talk was
to become reality. My friends and I had
bought a 1959 Plymouth from a guy who raced it weekly at the Columbia Speedway
and got a good deal on it. We towed it
home with Marty's Daddy's truck on Tuesday night. Wednesday we painted my name on the door and
painted "PLYMOUTH" on the quarter-panel, changed the oil and changed
the spark plugs.
Thursday
evening, we hooked the Plymouth to the back of the same truck that towed the
car home and pulled it to Columbia Speedway.
I bought my NASCAR license that night (still have them) and prepared to
become that race driver I had talked about for so long. We didn't have enough money between us to get
my crew NASCAR licenses so we sort of used the old "sneak in the pits when
no one was looking" scam.
When
they called for practice for the Hobby Division I climbed in, buckled up and
put on my helmet. Easing out of the pits
onto the red clay track saturated from the water truck's continuous dowsing, I
slowly made my way around the speedway.
Climbing through that window the first time as a real race driver was
pretty awesome, but as I circled that track, the feelings ran rampant. As I came slowly off turn four, I looked over
to the infield where so many of my friends were gathered with poster signs to
cheer me on. Every time I went by the
cheers were loud. After all, these folks
had been listening to my never ending talk of this night for almost 20 years.
When
the practice was over, we went to the NASCAR Official (Dan Scott, a truly great
man) to draw for starting positions in the heat race. Dan told me that the Plymouth I had always
ran last every week and was the slowest car on the track so it was best for me
to stay out of the way. I drew sixth
starting position for the heat.
We
made our pace laps and suddenly the green flag waved and I nailed that
accelerator. The car starting outside
front row was hit by the car in front of me which in turn slid down into the
car starting third. I dove for the
inside, missed the entire mess and came out running second behind the '57 Ford
of Ray Cagle. The race was red flagged while they cleaned up the mess and then
we made pace laps and on to the restart. We headed into turn one with Ray in front and
I was in second. I was closing up fast
and when I tapped the brakes, the pedal went to the floor. What a sight it must have been as fans
watched my white Plymouth number 83 bump the back of the Ford of Cagle. I used him for a brake.
This
went on the entire 10 laps and I could see the eyes of Mr. Cagle in his mirror
as we entered each turn and I would bump him to slow myself down. Never really a hard hit, but it had to be
annoying. The race ended with me being
beaten by Ray although I was literally right on his bumper. What a finish!
I
had to take an extra lap to get slow enough to get into the pits and as I
passed the turn four crowd, the cheers were lusty and loud. I rolled into the pits and my crew, those
guys in the pits who weren't supposed to be, stopped me. I was waiting for Ray Cagle to come bounce
his fist off my nose but he never did.
As
I exited the car, I looked behind the pit fence and there was my Uncle Bobby,
the guy who took me to that race when I was five and to hundreds more races all
through the years. He had even helped
tune the Plymouth. I walked to the fence
and he stuck his hand through the fence and said to me "we did it". I noticed the slightest tear in his eye and
if you knew my Uncle Bobby, you would know that was something unlikely to ever
happen again. Yes, "we did it
Bobby". Great feeling.
About
that time Dan Scott (the NASCAR official) came up behind me and spun me around
to face him. I was thinking "oh no,
I'm in trouble". Dan was smiling
from ear to ear as he said "remember what I told you about staying out of
the way"? "Well just forget
that and go race."
When
our feature started, I was inside second row, right behind Cagle. He still had not threatened me with bodily
harm and my crew had managed to tape up the leaky brake line and fill it with
fluid. Still wasn't sure if I could stop
it, but then I had Ray in front of me again should I need him.
The
green flag flew and we raced into turn on with Cagle side by side with Al
Singleton in a Chevy. I was tucked right
on the bumper of Mr. Cagle. We came off turn two onto the back straight and
Cagle and I pulled ahead. Entering turn
three Singleton bumped me, accidently I would like to think, but that Plymouth
held its ground and we were racing for the 25-lap feature in second place.
As
the race wound on, Ray would pull me by two or three car lengths down the
straights, but that Plymouth would pull right to the back bumper in the
turns. That car would really handle. The 25 laps went by so quickly I didn't think
it was fair to end my first feature race so soon so I took and extra two laps
just for fun. I'm glad Dan Scott had
taken a liking to me so he didn't punish me for that.
To
say it was a wild scene in turn four would be an understatement. I lost second place to Al coming off turn
four on the last lap when his experience outpaced my lack thereof. He beat me by half a car length. To the crowd gathered to cheer me on that
night, a close third was as good as a win and I was crazy happy. Not a dent in my car except of a little crimp
in the front bumper from hitting Ray so often.
As
the Late Models got ready to race, I went up to turn four to watch that race
with my friends. Don't think I saw a lap
of that race as everyone was trying to talk to me at once. I had driven a race car and had a pretty
decent finish against some really tough and experienced competition. I was proud of myself and of the guys that
helped me get there. Even that night we
knew it was an effort of love by so many folks that got that Plymouth on the
track.
The
next day, the local sportscaster on the main radio station had great things to
say about my first race. The guy who had
owned the car before me called to congratulate me and ask me what we had done
to the car. The newspaper for the next
week included the sentence "among those with strong victory potential is
Tim Leeming in a Plymouth. I was really
enjoying all the perks, but most of all I was enjoying having finally made it into
a race car.
I
raced for a total of five years, through June of 1973. The years of 1970 and 1971 were still in the
Plymouth and were pretty good years although I could win a race if everyone
else fell out. I finished second so many
times that we finally changed the car number from 83 to number 2 for the 1971
season. In June of 1973 I had a really
bad crash a Myrtle Beach Speedway while driving for a Ford team. I wasn't hurt other than a few bruises and
what the doctors at the emergency room called a "separated
shoulder". The spectator I hit was
very seriously injured and that weighed heavily on me. I gave up driving and worked the rest the
1973 season with Dan Scott as a NASCAR Official. In 1974, the local powerhouse FM station that
carried the races asked me about doing coverage for them. Thus began my commercial radio career that
lasted into 2000.
So,
as the sun magically reappeared today, my thoughts were not so much on the
eclipse but more on that night in my life where a dream was realized and where
so many of my friends came out to support me.
Magically, I still have many friends who support me in what I do and
what I'm doing now is hoping to bring stock car racing history alive, just as
alive as my memories of that night in 1969 are for me now.
Thanks
for reading folks!