The Magic Window ~ Closing It Up
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If
you have stayed with us through all 8 chapters of this journey, I appreciate it
and I hope you enjoyed it. The stories
are totally and completely as accurate as my memory can allow. I am "the kid", Tim. I wrote the story as I did because I didn't
want to keep using “I" and "me" all the time. It's time to wrap up this part of my life's
adventure, but I want to let you, the reader, meet the folks who were a part of
all this. Last names are not used for
specific reasons.
The
two folks who took me to my first race in late August, 1952, where my
Grandfather Dewey and my Uncle Bobby.
Bobby was 11 years older than I and was my mother's youngest
brother. Bobby was a mechanical wizard
and loved to drive fast. My first time
over 100 mph was in his 1957 Plymouth Belvedere. My first time driving over 100 miles per hour
was in his 1959 Dodge convertible. Both
events happening on "the flats" which was a long stretch of Highway
215 not far from the house.
Bobby
lived just across the street from my parents and I was a constant companion to
him when he wasn't at work. I tried to
learn all the ins and outs of mechanics but most of it just never clicked with
me. Bobby was patient though. Bobby was such a race fanatic that we were
gone three and four times a week to short tracks and then started hitting the
major speedways in 1957 at the first convertible race at Darlington. We were at the first race at Charlotte in
June of 1960. Our first Daytona trip was
February, 1962. Atlanta, the spring race
of 1963. We were at the first race at
Rockingham in October, 1965. Didn't make
the first 'Dega race because we had our race car
then. My grandfather died when I was
just 9 so Bobby was the mainstay of that side of the family.
My
brother Richard was involved with my team from the start, but got his first
race car shortly after my first race so he was busy with that getting it ready
for the 1970 season. We were competitors
but we were brothers and while we were not the Allisons,
we sure had a lot of fun both on the off the track.
Tommy
and Eddie, the two guys who made up by first crew were lifelong friends. Both went in the Air Force and left just
after Thanksgiving, 1969. Eddie decided
to make a career there and Tommy returned home after 3 years in late 1972. When
Tommy came home he wanted to race so I gave him that 1957 Plymouth we had built
so he could finish it and race, and that he did. He raced Columbia Speedway but his primary
track was Greenville-Pickens. I didn't
get to make but a couple of his races.
He was the cautious Herman Beam type driver but he enjoyed it. Tommy committed suicide for reasons unknown
to anyone after his 1979 season. They found him hanging inside the garage by
his race car. Eddie would be killed in
December, 1999, while working for a bank driving FDIC deposits on the highways
of Florida at night.
Marty,
the guy who had the pickup truck that pulled the car to the track, was a really
super guy. He could do anything with a
hammer and a saw because his Daddy was a contractor and taught him well. I don't know what became of Marty because
after the Plymouth was wrecked in 1971 and there was no race car, he sort of
drifted off and the girl he married was no race fan. Sam, or Sammy as he was known then,
contributed much to our team. He and I
recently reconnected after all these years on Social Media.
Roger
and George, the Chevy and Ford of the Competition Incorporated racing team
stayed around although Roger parked and sold his Chevy after only a handful of
races. George kept at it, with moderate
success. I am social media friends with
Roger and we chat often on line and I'm a little ashamed he lives just across
town and we haven't even gotten together.
George I see more often than I care to. The reason I say that is because
the last five times I've seen him has been at funerals. He lives out of town, but still in South
Carolina, and he does return to Columbia for the funerals of those we all
knew. Sad thing about that is it seems
more and more often now that George and I see each other.
All
the "fans" who assembled inside the fourth turn fence that first race
were folks I grew up with, went to school with, and just met along the
way. Debbie, Bobby's daughter, thus my
cousin and Eddie's brother Randy were both there and had made banners to wave
as the number 83 came around. Randy lives
in Atlanta now and every time I see him I marvel at the fact that he has never
changed. He still looks to be the 17
year old kid in that infield. Debbie and
I are still close and she lives only two miles from me.
The
guy who "loaned" us the trailer to tow the car to Augusta and let us
use it the remainder of the season, Herbert, was as good an engine builder as
there was for the Hobby Cars. His cars
consistently won the Championships and he moved up to the Late Model and did
the same thing. His "gruff"
demeanor was a disguise for the wonderful sharing person he was. I attended his funeral too and was there with
almost every short track driver that ran in South Carolina and Georgia from the
mid-sixties to the mid-seventies.
Dan
Scott, the NASCAR official with whom I became close friends died several years
ago. I didn't hear about his death until
two weeks afterwards as I was out of town.
Dan is someone I will always admire for his honesty and his total
dedication to NASCAR. Our friendship was
one "for the books." I can't
drive by Columbia Speedway or attend the AIRPS meetings in Augusta without
thinking about Dan. I am so thankful he
was a part of my racing life.
The
gentleman who donated his stable materials to build our garage was Pete. Pete
was one very generous and nice man and he knew how to get rid of that stable
and get it all cleaned up. He would
often walk over to the garage and wouldn't say much, but was fascinated by the
race car. He died many years ago and I
attended that funeral. I recall the
church was packed to capacity with some folks unable to get inside. His kindness and generosity was reflected by
all those friends.
Willie,
the guy who led the City of Columbia Police Racing Team on the best car chase
since Steve McQueen in "Bullitt" worked so hard I often wondered when
he slept. After Willie finished as crew
chief on both Tim and Richard's cars, he became simply "Will" and
started driving short tracks. As good as
he was with a wrench he was even better behind the wheel. He had a tremendously successful career on
short tracks before moving to the NASCAR Goody's Dash Touring Division. Will won many races in that division,
including Daytona and was the National Champion in 1994 I believe it was. He had two sons follow in his footsteps and
both were good.
Leonard,
the guy who gave me a chance in the Chevy that didn't work out, was a great
driver. If I had done better that first
run, or if he had seen where he could make money with me driving, or at least
not lost money, I would have probably run the entire season. I have tremendous respect for Leonard and I
was honored to be the Master of Ceremonies when he was inducted into the
Augusta International Raceway Hall of Fame.
The
Menace called Dennis is someone I was sure I would never forget and when I
started writing this piece, he immediately came to mind. Found him on social media and we've had a
couple of good chats since then. He remembers the events we shared at least as
vividly as do I. Was great chatting with him.
Carroll,
a big rotund individual with a Southern Accent worthy of Scarlett O'Hara,
sponsored our car through his heating and air-conditioning company in
1971. Our team had the money to field a
first class car and that's what we did, thanks to Willie and to the
sponsorship. Only problem was the driver
was not up to the class of the car and team.
But we had fun.
The
end of the Plymouth came in the wreck when Al blew the engine in his Chevy and
the right front tire of the Plymouth blew, sending the car into the rail road
track guard rail. Jay came off turn four
and may have seen the two wrecked cars and froze at the wheel, or at least
that's the way it looked to me as I watched him coming at me full steam ahead. When everything was over that night, all of
us got together and were still the good friends we were before the race
started.
I'm
sure you've heard of how it was with drivers then. Everyone was friends and that is as true a
statement as was ever spoken. There was
no blame, no arguments and no fights in our group. I guess it was, for us, a real treat to be on
the race track.
The
four guys who came to the front for the 1973 season were Earl, Glen, Lance, and
the fourth guy I simply cannot remember.
He really wasn't around us that much.
And I can't recall the name of Earl's stepson who helped on that car so
much. He was 16 or 17 then and a really great
kid although shy and soft-spoken. I
sincerely have no idea what happened to any of those guys and my efforts to find
them through social media and other means have not produced results.
There
were so many guys I raced with over those five years at Savannah, Columbia,
Augusta and Myrtle Beach I won't dare attempt to start listing names. Some of their cars I can remember and some
are just fuzzy parts of an old photograph tucked away somewhere.
I
do clearly remember the guy I hit at Myrtle Beach that June night in 1973. I have not seen nor talked to James but I've
heard he was and still is a huge race fan.
Someone even told me he came to Myrtle Beach to see me race so I know
that sometime before that fateful night I have met him and talked with
him. I also wish I remembered the name
of that deputy sheriff who drove me to the emergency room after the
accident. He was/is the epitome of what
a law enforcement officer should always be.
I
will wrap this up by saying my only regret in all this story was injuring that
fan. I had the time of my life every
week, no matter the outcome, because I was doing what I had dreamed of all my
life. I never did win a race but I was
second often which makes me the FIRST loser.
At least that is a first I can claim
My
brother went on to a moderately successful career in Late Models ending in 1978
I think. He ran a lot of good races and
had some amazing finishes against some of the well-known greats such as Harry
Gant, Butch Lindley and even Dale Earnhardt, Sr.
I
am now involved in efforts to accurately preserve stock car racing
history. I co-host a radio show on
Thursday evenings, 7 pm ET on the iCast Media
Network. We bring on the drivers and
engine builders from the early days forward to tell how it was in their own
words. Not by means of advertisement
here but to mention, you can find me at www.ghosttracksmedia.racing and the
show is live every Thursday evening and the archives are all posted to listen
when you want.
It's
been an amazing adventure and an amazing life for me. I hope you all have enjoyed reading about the
kid and the dream. Thank you.
