My first crash was in 1982 at Rockingham. It was first round and I was racing Joe Amato. I was in the left lane and about 200 feet off the line the left rear wheel studs sheared off. A crew member named Butch Horn had neglected to torque the wheels and the car dropped down and tried to turn right.

All I could think about was Jeb Allen and John Weibe crashing into each other. I cranked the wheel hard left and wanted to just keep it in my lane long enough to let Amato get by. He had smoked the tires and was coasting, so as he went by the car ended up shooting across the track and almost straight on into the guardrail.

At some point the front end came off and what was left shot back out into the center of the track and started to barrel roll. After that the engine and drive train left and I realized I was holding on to the roll cage. I lost count how many times I went over but I remember having another flashback to Tommy Ivo telling me about his crash at Pomona in the 70s. As he was tumbling through the lights he stuck his hands up in his arm pits, so I immediately did the same thing.

About then I saw the rear tire go flying by and I remember thinking ‘OK - this is getting old - I want off this ride.’ By the time it stopped and I got out, I glanced down the track and the tire was still going. What was really weird is how it was all in SLOW MOTION. I actually have frame-by-frame stills and a video of it that was given to me by a spectator in the stands. Incredibly, I remember each frame exactly to this day. Oh yeah - that Butch dude later found himself unemployed, but he did live.

My first funny car boomer was in Englishtown in 1984. In the first round I was racing Mark Oswald, I think. The night before the race I had discovered a massive crack in the main web in the bottom end of the engine block. Back then we would weld up blocks and reuse them many times after kicking out the rods. Well, my Dad said it would be ok, but it wasn't.

About 400 feet out it threw the crank on the ground and the blower flew off. I remember seeing rotors flying by my head - one hit the roll bar but just missed me (or maybe it didn’t, because I got back into the car at the next race). The body went at least 100 feet in the air and disintegrated when it landed. When I got the car stopped, I climbed out, stomped off and promptly wailed my helmet. I don't know which went further, the helmet or the car’s body. To add insult to injury, a tech guy saw me throw the helmet and told me I had to get a new one since I may have damaged it in my fit of rage. How mature.

One other fire that I had was actually comical as I look back at it. It happened at the Texas Motorplex back when it was an IHRA track. I blew up going threw the lights - I don't remember why now - they all tend to blend together. Anyway, I was trucking down there and BOOM! I hit the bottles and it didn't phase the inferno a bit. I hit the chutes and I’m yanking on the brakes and can't see any thing but black. I feel the chutes hit and then it takes off again – oops - burnt ‘em off I decide, so I yank on the brakes some more and they finally stop working. I guess between me yanking on ‘em and the heat from the fire the master cylinder blew up. By now I'm out of breath and say to myself *$#* this. When you loose depth perception and can't see, you can't tell whether you’re still moving. I think I'm stopped, so I climb up on the roof and roll off. Ow! Guess what? I'm still going about 50 mph and boy did that hurt, about like getting tossed off a motocross bike except on pavement.

After I caught my breath, I'm not too happy so I take off my helmet and start walking back to the pits ( No, I didn't throw it – helmets are expensive). Well, the funny part is that the car managed to come to a stop just past the guard wall on the other side without hitting anything (on auto pilot!) The track safety guys show up, lift the body and guess what? NO DRIVER! Boy, were they surprised! They hadn’t seen me bail out. Well, I guess you had to be there - I thought it was pretty funny.

Well that’s it for now. If I wrote about all my crashes and blow ups, this column would be as big as "War and Peace." They didn't call me BENNY THE BOMB for nothing!