The drive through the main spectator entrance to Lucas Oil Raceway at Indianapolis, just off U.S. Highway 136, courses over a railroad track and through some sweeping and well-manicured grassy fields.  

And sitting there off to the side, under a sentry-like oak tree, on a brick base, affixed to a slab of stone, is a reminder that this fabled racetrack which has anointed drag-racing careers is equally capable of extinguishing them.

The drive through the main spectator entrance to Lucas Oil Raceway at Indianapolis, just off U.S. Highway 136, courses over a railroad track and through some sweeping and well-manicured grassy fields.  

And sitting there off to the side, under a sentry-like oak tree, on a brick base, affixed to a slab of stone, is a reminder that this fabled racetrack which has anointed drag-racing careers is equally capable of extinguishing them.

On that stone slab is a plaque with an engraved image of a young man with a medal around his neck. It’s a tribute to Top Fuel racer Blaine Johnson.

We see the cold, hard facts: “Blaine Johnson . . . Born May 22, 1962   Santa Maria, CA . . . Died August 31, 1996  Indianapolis IN.   . . . Top Alcohol Dragster Driver 1988-1993  . . .  Top Fuel Dragster Driver 1994-1996.”

But at the top and at the bottom of this plaque we get a glimpse of the impact this forever-34-year-old has on his loved ones: “In Loving Memory . . . A Champion Forever” at the top and one last thought from an unattributed scribe: “It matters not how long a star shines. What is remembered is the brightness of its light.”

Blaine Johnson was laid to rest in Santa Maria Cemetery in his hometown. But this marker, this shrine, is a comfort to the family that lost its Blaine 18 years ago in an astonishingly awful accident that turned triumph immediately into tragedy.

Blaine Johnson had the U.S. Nationals fans gasping in awe at his 4.612-second track-record elapsed time during qualifying that Saturday. In the blink of an eye, though, the engine of his Travers Tools Dragster exploded. That shredded the oversized rear tires, ripped off the rear stabilizing wing, and sent the 300-plus-mph uncontrollable car ricocheting off both walls and crashing into an improper opening in the guardwall in the shutdown area.

Blaine Johnson – a promising racer in his prime, the points leader, the No. 1 qualifier at this prestigious event – did not survive his injuries.

Brother Alan Johnson, his crew chief, has survived, even thrived, earning 11 Top Fuel crowns with Gary Scelzi, Tony Schumacher, Larry Dixon, Del Worsham, and Shawn Langdon. Alan Johnson can claim eight U.S. Nationals victories, including five with Schumacher. But he’d trade all the championships and trophies to have Blaine back.

So this plaque is a palpable remembrance the family gave itself that Blaine was there, was talented, and probably even hadn’t hit his racing stride yet. It’s a spot the family can visit to celebrate Blaine, away from the noise and the focus of the current on-track obligations. It’s a concrete site that suspends time for a rejuvenating moment. It’s an oasis at a racetrack that through the indifferent march of time has moved past that life-changing day for the Johnson family, two name changes, and performance parameters that almost make a 4.612-second E.T. seem a bit sluggish.    

The NHRA’s Mello Yello Drag Racing Series is set to return to Lucas Oil Raceway. Teams are there for pre-U.S. Nationals and pre-Countdown testing. But the 60th anniversary of the Chevrolet Performance U.S. Nationals, the final race of this regular season, will run August 27-Sept. 1.

And, Alan Johnson said, ‘The whole event is an opportunity" to honor Blaine's memory.

Surprisingly, he said returning to Indianapolis has a sense of peace about it.

“We do spend some time on Sunday at my brother's memorial," he said of that race weekend. "It's a time to reflect. There's just a calm about going back there.”

Blaine Johnson began his Top Fuel career 20 years ago this season. And drag racing wasn’t even something the two brothers dreamed about. They had no time for daydreaming. They had cows to milk and chores to do on the family’s California dairy farm.

"I'm not your classic drag-racing-fan-turned-competitor,” Alan Johnson said. “At best we had two television stations. I didn’t watch much motorsports. I didn't watch much TV, period. I didn’t follow drag racing like that. I was probably out moving sprinkler pipes or milking cows.

"I didn't get into motorsports until we sold our dairy and I was forced to find something else to do besides be a dairy farmer that I went to college to learn to do," he said.

Johnson, team manager for the Al-Anabi Racing operation that fields the dragsters of Khalid Al-Balooshi and Langdon, said he doesn’t dwell on the past, whether it’s lamenting Blaine’s accident or feeling proud about his eight victories, when he comes to Indianapolis.

"I use the emotions of 1996 as motivation,” Johnson said. “I try not to dwell on victories in the past or the tragedies of the past. I just use that emotion to build the motivation that it takes to excel at that race. And even as big an event as it is and as much media attention and fan attention, it's amazing how well our team and especially myself are able to focus on our immediate task."

Neither does Johnson buy into the romance of this event. A scientific, cause-and-effect, do-your-homework-and-everything-will-fall-into-place kind of fellow, Johnson treats it like all his other assignments.

"I suppose the magic part of it is just the fact it’s Indy, our oldest race. It's like the World Series for us. But unless you're just flat-ass lucky, it's all about preparation," he said.

“The person who defines Indy for me is my brother," Johnson said. "When I think of Indy, I think of my brother."

His drivers all of them have known that and want especially to perform well for him.

Scelzi's 1998 Top Fuel victory at Indianapolis salved some of the family's wounds.

"That first one with Scelzi, the first one we won after my brother's death, was probably the biggest one for us. That was the most emotional. That seemed like we overcame a huge hurdle in our lives," Johnson said.

And Langdon came through last year, hitting the $200,000 jackpot for winning both the Traxxas Shootout and the event.

"It was very important for me as a driver to continue Alan's legacy, to continue his winning tradition here. This is a big race,” Langdon said. “I've never seen Alan so focused. He had a different mentality this weekend. You could see it in him. He wanted this bad – and I wanted it for him, because he wanted it that bad."

Yes, Alan Johnson wanted “that bad” to win that race. Alan Johnson wants “that bad” to win every race. That’s what has made him so successful.

No one ever will know what Alan and Blaine Johnson would have accomplished together. But it’s clear that drag-racing fans haven’t forgotten Blaine. During the event they’ll leave cards, flowers, notes, candles, and other mementos by the plaque.

Others go right to the spot where Blaine’s dragster came to a halt. They write messages to him and well-wishes to the family on the wall itself. The harsh Midwest winter takes its toll on the handwritten, heartfelt script.

But the memory of Blaine Johnson never fades.

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