The King And I

1/07/2015



J. L. Steele

My mom's dad, my Grandpa, was a racer. Long before I was even a thought, he raced modifieds in the 50's and 60's in West Virginia. He wasn't a star or even a big winner. As a matter of fact, I can only remember seeing one trophy he'd won. I understand he was better known for his ability as a mechanic. He was also part of that "Greatest Generation;" depression era people who fought a World War and didn't show a lot of outward emotion. I don't remember ever seeing him laugh outright. If something was funny to him, he'd shake his head and smile out of one side of his mouth. 

 

He, along with the rest of my mom's family, was a Petty person. I used to hear from an early age about the times NASCAR raced at West Virginia International Speedway. That name made it sound like an impressive facility until I got older and found out it was just a little .438 mile track. It was located just outside of Huntington in little place named Ona; a place that isn't even a town. It's so small, it's just a place, an "unincorporated community." I remember from an early age the story Grandpa told about the night Richard Petty won in 1964. Apparently, just before the race started, there had been a wreck outside the track. A car had hit an electric pole and knocked out power to the track lights. It took a while for the lights to come back on but my mom and her family were there to see their man drive to victory. Just a few years ago, I finally saw some incredible black and white pictures of Richard and his famous 43 that they took that night. 

 

From time to time over the years, that story would come up. The night the lights went out and Richard Petty won. As many of us do, I became cynical and sarcastic about a lot of things in my teens and early 20's. For a while, that story lost its luster to me. After all, the track went out of business. It was just a little, unimportant place and didn't we all know Petty earned a lot of those 200 wins against small fields at second class facilities? NASCAR only raced there in 1963, '64, 1970 and '71. Then I had a chance to meet King Richard.

 

It was at Atlanta Motor Speedway in the fall of 1999. He was sitting on a golf cart in the garage area just before the season ending Napa 500 began. I was there as a guest of another driver and his wife. The wife asked our group if we wanted to meet The King. We approached and he was as friendly and gracious as I always heard he was. As he signed autographs and shook hands, he asked where each of us was from. I started to tell him I was from Nashville since that's where I had been living for a few years. Something made me tell him I was from West Virginia. 

 

He stopped signing, looked at me and said, "We used to race up there near Huntington." I was somewhat surprised that he would mention that considering all the tracks and races he'd been a part of over the years. I told him I knew, I'd heard all about it growing up. Then he began to tell me the story of that night in '64; the night the lights went out at the track, the same story I'd heard from my Grandpa. Only this time it was King Richard telling it; the race winner and Grandpa's favorite driver. It was as if there was no one else around. It was just The King and I and he was giving me his memory of a story that my family had talked about for as long as I could remember. He shook his head and smiled that Petty smile. "Craziest thing I ever saw. Waiting around for the lights to come back on. We done pretty good at that place."

 

Yes he did. Of the four races NASCAR ran at that track, he won three of them. Fred Lorenzen won the other. That night the lights went out in '64, Petty beat Junior Johnson, Ned Jarrett and Jim Paschal in that order. There were 31 cars racing 500 laps on that little track with bad lighting that measured less than half a mile. Other name drivers in that field included Wendell Scott, David Pearson, Darel Dieringer and Buddy Arrington. Regardless of what my youthful cynicism mixed with ignorance once thought, that was impressive. 

 

The next month, I saw my grandparents on a holiday visit to their place. I couldn't wait to tell Grandpa about my meeting with King Richard. As I told him the story, that Petty remembered that night in Ona, Grandpa shook his head, smiled and said, "How 'bout that?" He called my grandma into the room and had me repeat to her what I'd just shared. As I finished retelling it, he looked at Grandma and said, "Ain't that something" as he shook his head and smiled out one side of his mouth. I felt a lot of pride. I had brought back a memory for him from a night I'd often heard talked about. He liked the fact that his guy, his driver, the face of NASCAR had remembered it. It meant something. It wasn't just a story and it wasn't just a list of statistics. It was an event he and Richard Petty had been a part of and now I too, was a part of it.

 

We buried Grandpa in the summer of 2013. After the burial, as is the custom, the family and friends of the family had a big meal. Grandpa's racing buddy Bob had died a few years before. His son Ted was there at the service and at the meal. After we had eaten and visited a while, my wife and I were getting ready to head back home to Tennessee. I don't know when I'll be back in West Virgina. Before I left though, Ted motioned me over to the table he was sitting at. "Tell me that story about you meeting Richard Petty" he asked. He obviously knew about and I knew why he knew. Grandpa had told him and probably even shook his head and smiled to one side as he did so but I retold the story to Ted.

 

Memories, that's what counts. People come and go. Seasons and life all begin and end for all of us but it's the memories we make and the ones that we share that really mean something, even if we don't know or appreciate it at the time.