BLOG CENTRAL - BOBBY BENNETT
UPDATED 11-05-2008
So you really want to be a reporter? Our publisher/editor Bobby Bennett will compile a blog on the behind-the-scenes happenings with CompetitionPlus. Traveling along with him as he provides the stories behind gathering the stories. You might not get all of the gossip, but you'll get a glimpse of a day in the life of one of drag racing's most persistent reporters.
UPDATED 11 - 5 - 2008
9 THINGS THAT MAKE ME WONDER ABOUT PEOPLE
1. People who point at their wrist while asking for the time.. I know where my watch is pal, where is yours? Do I point at my crotch when I ask where the toilet is?
2 People who are willing to get off their ass to search the entire room for the T.V. remote because they refuse to walk to the T.V. and change the channel manually.
3 When people say 'Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too'. Darn right! What good is cake if you can't eat it?
4 When people say 'it's always the last place you look'. Of course it is. Why would you keep looking after you've found it?
5 When people say while watching a film 'did you see that?'. No, I paid $9 to come to the cinema and stare at the floor.
6 People who ask 'Can I ask you a question?'... Didn't really give me a choice there, did ya sunshine?
7 . When something is 'new and improved!'. Which is it? If it's new, then there has never been anything before it. If it's an improvement, then there must have been something before it, couldn't be new.
8 When people say 'life is short'. Huh? Life is the longest thing anyone ever does!! What can you do that's longer?
9 When you are waiting for the bus and someone asks 'Has the bus come yet?'. If the bus came would I be standing here?
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
 |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
10-14-2008
In our opinion, it was the greatest race the media never covered and in the end you'll see why.
I’m talking about the 1980 Mello Yello Nationals and it was hosted at popular drag strip in Spartanburg, S.C., known simply as “The Strip”.
It was drag racing at its finest, at least in the heart and mind of one competitor.
The racing surface was complex and scaled to an eight-mile.
Not one single car showed for the event; because cars weren’t invited.
Budding promoter Bobby Bennett, 13 years old and a fast-growing expert on drag racing, gathered seven of the local kids for the greatest bicycle drag race in the history of the sport.
There were three-speeds, a ten-speed, one of those newfangled BMX bikes, one chopper framed bike, a starter bicycle with training wheels and even a classic banana seat bike spray-painted black bearing the crude lettering “Blackjack 500.”
There were no entry fees, as most of the kids in the neighborhood were broke and parents weren’t keen on giving up their spare change for such foolishness. But there was a purse if you had the winning bike at the end of the day. The trophy a cold six pack of the new drink on the market – Mello Yello. The runner-up got two cans of Rondo citrus drink.
If you lost in the first or second round, you had to settle for a glass of Grandma Hoppes’ over-sugared sweet tea.
This wasn’t your average drop the flag bicycle drags. This competition was highly sophisticated with each bike required to go through tech inspection and classification; shoe polish classifications on the fenders. Mostly each bike had a unique class to ensure handicap starts but sometimes there were times when two bikes shared the same class.
Here’s a breakdown on how the bikes were classified.
Ten Speeds – This category was known simply as SPEED. Speed carried three classifications based on the speed in which a rider competed in: First through third – A/S, Fourth through seventh – B/S, Eight through tenth – C/S.
Three Speeds – This category was known simply as ECONO PEDAL. Econo Pedal carried three classifications based on which gear the rider chose to race in: First gear – A/EP, Second gear – B/EP, Third gear – C/EP.
Regular Pedal Bike with reverse pedal braking – This category was known simply as PEDAL. This class carried three classifications based on (A) the rider’s ability, (B) the quality of their bike and (C) if the bike was so pathetic and the rider equally as bad.
The new BMX bikes – This class was known simply as ALTERED. These things were the devil, so we put them in a class of their own. Certainly none of us wanted to have to run them heads-up, so we got them off on their own.
Dirt Bike Motorcycles – These were pure exhibition vehicles.
Seven riders made up the competition. Their daily jobs today range from being a drag racing journalist to a barber, a nurse, and a rock band member. Two are unaccounted for.
Bennett, the instigator (not organizer) of the whole event, went on to write professionally for leading drag racing magazines.
Philip, Bennett’s cousin now works at a leading factory and races dirt track cars at Cherokee Speedway in his spare time.
Angie, Philip’s little sister and now a LPN Nurse, works at a doctor’s office in kidney dialysis.
Michael, the neighbor across the street from Grandma’s house, last time contact was made was the manager of a buffet and in a rock band.
Steven, who followed in his father’s steps as a barber, took over his dad’s business several years ago.
Jeff and Johnny, lived alongside of Michael, moved away from the neighborhood several years after the event and haven’t been seen since.
Every rider had to assume the identity of a then current Modified race car or similar combination. When the kids made runs, they had to sound like a race car. Failure to do so would lead to disqualification and the rules were very strict on this procedure.
Riders were also provided a rendering of their car by Bennett so they could get the “feel” of the car they represented. You couldn’t race until your drawing was completed.
Bennett raced the mother of all bikes – a three-speed, straight handlebar with thin tires straight from K-Mart. This yellow bike would pull some nasty wheelies with every simulated gear shift. This bike was based loosely on the classic E/MP Corvette of Bob Earnhardt, the red Corvette in the Classic Video Rewind of the 1978 IHRA Dixie Nationals. This bike was the record holder and the prototype A/Econo Pedal entry.
Bennett also raced a second bike, the black banana seat reverse braking spray painted black was based on a 1967 Camaro F/MP. This bike fluctuated between B and C/Pedal depending on Bennett’s mood.
Philip's bike known simply as the Hombre, was an A/Pedal. One look at this bike had 1971 Camaro written all over it.
Michael's bike was almost identical to Philip’s but orange, was an A/Pedal but often jumped to the B class. His car was a 1968 Chevrolet Nova SS.
Jeff and Johnny, they had some kind of extended front end bike like a chopper or something. That bike was clearly a B/Pedal and to the best of memory was a SS/EA 1971 Ford Mustang because it was so different.
Angie’s bicycle was small and threw the rule maker a curve, so they called it a D/Pedal and likened it to a C/Modified Compact 1971 Mercury Bobcat (a Pinto clone).
Steven was in a class of his own. His BMX bicycle was the class of the completion and was nothing short of a C/Gas or C/Altered 1978 Monza like that of Dennis Mitchell.
Clearly Bennett was the Gene Fulton of the group considering he was the hometown hero. None of the others knew or cared who Fulton was. In fact, none of them cared or knew anything about drag racing. Well, Michael did say he watched the “Cajing” Nationals on television.
If Bennett was the Fulton of the group, Steven was the Dennis Mitchell. In that era, Mitchell used to beat Fulton like a drum. Steven did this to Bobby on multiple occasions.
“I just pedaled as fast as I could and that’s all I did,” Steven recalled. “When I’d look over I didn’t see anyone. I’d win and everyone would get mad at me, especially Bobby. It got to where I missed a few races because they raced when I wasn’t there. Bobby always won those races.”
Bennett denied any knowledge of manipulation in those instances.
“He had every opportunity to show up, I can’t help it if he didn’t get the memo.”
Philip really enjoyed NASCAR at the time, but he always raced with Bennett because he feared for his life.
“Hey, I was only about eight years old and if I didn’t race he’d beat me up,” Philip confided. “He was always lowdown and I’m still hurting from the time he loosened the front tire on the bike and challenged me to a wheelie contest. I got hurt that day but I got him back when I put him in my dirt track car. He crashed on the pace lap. How do you do that?”
Angie was on the edge of five years old when the racing competition was going on.
“I couldn’t even ride a bicycle, and my car had training wheels on it,” Angie said. “They used to push me down the track on the bicycle just so they could have a bike. Even when the bike got ran over, they still made we race with a warped wheel. He’s my cousin but he was really demented in those days.”
The race almost got rained out and the day was awful cloudy for the 4th of July 1980. The purse arrived that morning, six
The race was going to be real.
The group made time trial runs, screaming their way (and we mean that literally) to strong qualifying time trials. World records were strong as both Bennett (A/EP), Steven (A/A) and Philip (A/P) established new records. For their efforts, they received prestigious Peeler’s Milk decals on their bikes similar to the old class winner decals.
The pairings would be determined by a drawing of numbers.
Key first round match ups included a monster out of the gate with Bennett facing Steven; Philip racing arch-rival Michael, Bobby on Blackjack racing against Angie and Jeff and Johnny receiving the bye run.
Bennett left on Steven in a controversial race where it was argued tree simulator Philip “just didn’t do right and Bobby left early,” but the end result was held up by the race director. Steven eventually went home in protest.
The event was marred by a terrible accident in the second pair as Philip and Michael battled tooth and nail to the grass transition. For some inexplicable reason, Michael nailed the natural gas tank, suffering some minor bruising. Since no bones were sticking out and his glasses weren’t broken, he was deemed okay to continue. Michael did lodge an unsuccessful protest citing that Philip crossed the centerline and forced him over.
The second round opened with a match between Bennett and Jeff with Johnny looking on. Once again, Bennett left on another opponent and pedaled his way to the final round. Again, Philip’s tree simulating practices were questioned, but the ruling stood.
Philip took the bye run into the finals as Jeff and Johnny went home to shoot fireworks.
In the final round, Philip left on Bennett and held the lead for much of the driveway until Bennett screamed by at the transition.
For his victory, Bennett won the six pack of Mello Yello, with Philip getting the Rondo.
“This was a battle,” said Bennett, who announced he was stepping up to A/Speed in 1981 with a new Takara ten-speed. Sources indicated this ride would be based on an A/Econo Altered 1981 Camaro.
“I am really glad we beat Steven in the first round and I hate it because he had to be such a whiney-butt about it. He can’t take getting beat. I flat outran him. I knew Jeff and Johnny would be tough, but I knew they didn’t have the top end pedal power we did. I was a little afraid of Philip in the final … not really, but we beat him too.”
Ah, those were the days.
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
 |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
9-15-2008
I once told someone that all we know how to do down south is to make love and fight.
I'm not going to write abut what precipitates the loving, but I clearly have no problem explaining what started some of the fights.
Some of these may be true, some are borrowed and some might be fiction. It's up to you to figure out.
THEN THE FIGHT STARTED ...
My wife sat down on the couch next to me as I was flipping channels. She asked, 'What's on TV?' I said, 'Dust.' And then the fight started.
My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary. She said, 'I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds.' I bought her a scale. And then the fight started.
When I got home last night, my wife demanded that I take her someplace expensive... so, I took her to a gas station... And then the fight started....
After retiring, I went to the Social Security office to apply for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me for my driver's license to verify my age. I looked in my pockets and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later. The woman said, 'Unbutton your shirt'. So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair. She said, 'That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me' and she processed my Social Security a application. When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office. She said, 'you should have dropped your pants. You might have gotten disability, too.' And then the fight started...
My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table. My wife asked, 'Do you know her?' 'Yes,' I sighed, 'She's my old girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear she hasn't been sober since.' 'My God!' says my wife, 'who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?' And then the fight started...
I rear-ended a car this morning. So, there we were alongside the road and slowly the other driver got out of his car. You know how sometimes you just get soooo stressed and little things just seem funny? Yeah, well I couldn't believe it... he was a DWARF!!! He stormed over to my car, looked up at me, and shouted, 'I AM NOT HAPPY!' So, I looked down at him and said, 'Well, then which one are you?' And then the fight started...
Oh by the way, for my buddy Bob Vandergriff Jr., BUCS WIN!!! And then the fight started...
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
| |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
9-6-2008
The odds were clearly against whatever I wanted to accomplish.
I am merely speaking from my point of view but clearly I was not the only one working the event. Obviously, I had a large challenge before me.
My assignment in Indy was to write the notebooks for every single professional division as well as pages for Pro Modified and Sportsman.
Our team consisting of myself, the hardest-working photog in the business Roger Richards and his assistant Brian Cupp, legendary journalist Jon Asher, our managing editor Stan Creekmore and his daughter Kristen Yocum.
I started out the Indy experience by visiting the new Lucas Oil Stadium and I have been to quite a few NFL stadiums but none compares to this one. The folks in Indy ought to be proud.
Friday dawned and as the tape recorder came out of the bag, the overwhelming tasks became less and less overwhelming. They became natural.
Rumors would surface and I'd run to chase them down as quickly as I could. Yes, we actually have a measure of investigation before something is published. We don't throw the rumors against the wall hoping something will stick. Heres a hint, the more vague we are, the more we know.
51 hours in a four day period and the Indy experience was complete. Sadly, on Monday, believe it or not, I was disappointed it was all over.
That was the first time in my life.
As odd as it may seem, the challenges of finding every single news story on the grounds for every class made the experience fun.
Every single member of our team delivered and delivered strongly. We were at our strongest while operating in the most adverse conditions we've ever faced.
At the end of the day, all you can do is smile. I know I am still smiling.
Speaking of smiling, I'd like to leave you with the wisdom of Larry The Cable Guy.
1. A day without sunshine is like night.
2. On the other hand, you have different fingers.
3. 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.
4. 99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
5. Remember, half the people you know are below average.
6. He who laughs last, thinks slowest.
7. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
8. The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese in the trap.
9. Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have.
10. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
11. Change is inevitable, except from vending machines.
12. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.
13. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand.
14. OK, so what's the speed of dark?
15. When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
16. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.
17. How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?
18. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
19. What happens if you get scared half to death, twice?
20. Why do psychics have to ask you your name?
21. Inside every older person is a younger person wondering, 'What the heck happened?'
22. Just remember -- if the world didn't suck, we would all fall off.
23. Light travels faster than sound. That's why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
24. Life isn't like a box of chocolates. It's more like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today, might burn your butt tomorrow.
Next blog I'm going to tell all about the greatest drag race never covered by the media or sanctioned by a major Hot Rod Association.
Tommorrow - BUCS versus Saints. Go Bucs!
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
| |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
8-25-2008
I learned this week that Kelli, the oldest son is majoring in education with plans to eventually become a history teacher and even larger plans to become a high school football coach.
Sabrina has told Christy she wants to become a Junior High school level teacher.
You know, when I was in high school, I had aspirations of becoming a teacher -- wonder how that worked out for me?
I've often considered teaching to be a thankless job with few monetary advantages to make it worth one's while. As I grew older I learned that the reward goes far beyond what any monetary payment could provide.
I never understood why it was that those who shape the future of our kids are so underpaid while those who promote violence and immoral values [legally, I might add] have more money than they could spend in a liftime.
I received the following email from Renee Bingham at Godspeed Ministries and it just goes to show you that you never know what the investment of your time might yield. I remember one time, as a school-wearied senior at Spartanburg High School, I remember a soft-spoken teacher -- I'll never forget him -- Dr. Cooper Smith, lecturing me at the talent I wasted in his class.
I had just turned in what he deemed as one of the best papers in his class. He was more impressed that I turned in a paper. You see, I was a slacker.
Dr. Smith looked at me, through those bi-focals or whatever you call those half-glasses and asked, "What's your problem? You have so much talent and you piss it away. You chase tail and everything else that won't amount to a thing in life. Quit wasting your time and mine."
I made a concious effort from that point forward.
When saw the email from Renee, I thought of Dr. Cooper and every other teacher who took an interest in a student.
As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same.
However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard. Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big 'F' at the top of his papers.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until
last. However, when s he reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.
Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around..'
His second grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mot her has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.'
His third grade teacher wrote, 'His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren 't taken.'
Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.'
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bot tle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, 'Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.'
After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic.
Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her 'teacher's pets.'
A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he h ad finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.
Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honours. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favourite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.
Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favourite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a littl e longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.
The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs.Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several
rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.
They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard w hispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, 'Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.'
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, 'Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you.'
(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)
Thank a teacher today.
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
 |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
8-9-2008
You know, I really wanted a blog because everyone was doing it and I'd never really understood why I didn't do it on a regular basis. After all, I do have a somewhat different life than the average Joe.
This week taught me why I haven't written one.
Let's see, in a nutshell I was mistaken for someone on the "no fly" list, worked an IHRA event where there was more oil than in the Middle East and went on a college road trip. Oh yeah, I had to run the magazine as well.
Okay let's go back to the no-fly list thing. Last Thursday, I was preparing to head North to Grand Rapids, Mich., to cover the IHRA Northern Nationals. I get there at 5 am, walk up to the kiosk and go to check-in. It appears that there's a problem with my flight, but not something that the check-in person couldn't handle.
"Mr. Bennett, I need to see your ID." She said.
No big deal, I thought.
"Yeah, I had your ticket here I had to just check your name againt the the advisory," She added.
When the ticket counter utters the word advisory, that's usually not a good thing. Out of morbid curiousity, I asked her if there was a problem.
"You're not the same one," she added.
I nodded okay and put my license back in my wallet. Then I just had to ask, "What kind of advisory?"
"There's a Bobby Bennett on the no-fly list," she said.
I finally get ready to board when security calls my name over the PA and informs me I need to report there. Evidently the ticket counter printed a new boarding pass for me and gave it to someone else. The someone else tried to pass through security without realizing what they were doing.
After racing down to the checkpoint, I was given the new boarding pass and forced to race to the gate again.
Of course, then my AOL software begins acting retarded which in turn causes my Internet browsers to sour. Soured browsers don't update CompetitionPlus.com.
I guess you can figure out by now, my day is not an easy one.
That's when United Airlines makes my day even better. A 31-minute flight from Grand Rapids to Chicago takes 5 hours and after working through the AOL problems, I am finally able to upload the magazine updates while sitting on the plane waiting to take off. We were delayed for 2 hours with parts breakage on the plane ... lovely. Then we got the bird fixed and as we taxi a storm rolls in.
I never really recovered from the Thursday clusterbump until I was stumbling to the airport on Sunday evening when I was scheduled to fly home.
I have only three days in which to stay ahead of the curve and get as many news/features items written before I must jet down Interstate 26 to Florence, SC.
My son Kelli, second eldest of four, decided that out of four colleges in town he wants to go to one three hours away. Thursday was orientation and for me, that meant I had to upload Thursday's stories on Wednesday night. I worked until 12:30 am on Thursday morning, only to wake four hours later for the three hour drive because the MANCHILD had to be there by 8 AM.
I spent a whole day with parents looking as griefstricken as I was although I was too tired to be anything. I was too tired to be tired. At 5:30 PM, we headed back home. Of course during this time I learned that my beloved Bucs had missed out on the Brett Favre sweepstakes. Boy he's gonna get killed in New York. I even called my buddy Mike Ashley, an avid Jets fan to tell him, "Congratulations, your Jets will be able to do something my Bucs could never do, end Brett Favre's career."
He's gonna get killed in New York.
On the way home, Kelli informs me, "Dad, I'm engaged."
This is the second kid that's told me that same thing this year. I'm hip to the experience now.
So, in a nutshell, now you can see why I've been slack in my blogging.
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
 |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
7-30-2008
I am blessed to have been around this sport long enough to remember when some of my mentors proclaimed that I would be the next generation of drag racing journalists back in the 1990s.
Those who said this the most were CompetitionPlus.com senior editor Jon Asher and another drag racing veteran Davie Wallace, arguably the biggest waste of talent in drag racing journalism. I nicked named Dave that when he left the editorship of DRAG RACING to field an ad agency?
Jon took this "know-it-all" kid under his wing and tried to teach me, but I wouldn't listen. Sometimes in our younger years we really don't appreciate what we have before us. I truly didn't and there's not a day that goes by that I don't regret that. But, hey, we came back around and I got a second-chance to learn from one of the best drag racing journalists to ever pick up a notepad.
Dave also helped me, but I only gained limited time with him. When he was with DRAG RACING magazine, Wallace strapped with a stringent deadline assigned this kid a story on a racer I had grown up with admiration for, Charles Carpenter. Yes, the man who drives the 1955 Chevy, whom I nicknamed Cornbread, was someone I grew up watching race at Spartanburg Dragway in the early 1980s.
I submitted my typewritten assignment and while I was so proud of that first submission, in his shoes I might have returned the item to the aspiring freelancer. My copy was double spaced on letterhead from my company, and was on front and back -- single spaced.
Just one month early, I had submitted my first article on an obscure bracket racer named Scotty Cannon to which the late great Super Stock & Drag Illustrated editor Stevie Collison used, but let me know I shouldn't quit my day job to do this.
Dave, in the midst of his deadline, took the time to write a guideline for submissions to this aspiring writer and delivered in time for my next assignment. He assigned a feature on Lamar Walden's 409 Biscayne.
I remind Dave of his kind-heartedness and he always tell me, "You had the look, kid."
Once upon a time I was the kid, now I am the veteran and I'm searching for the next generation of our craft out there. If you're there, let me know. It would do my heart a world of good to know we are going to have a next generation.
Dave always laughs when he reminds me, and he does every chance he can, of the time he told Jeff Burk, now the publisher of Drag Racing Online, "You'd better be good to that kid, one day he might be signing our paychecks."
Dave and I laugh at that comment, Jeff probably does too, he'll just never let me see it.
I have respect for what Jeff does because, just like us at CompetitionPlus.com, he started an Internet magazine during an era when people felt the Internet publications were rocket science.
We live in the digital age, as we have for many years.
I remember back in 1999, telling Collison he should get a digital camera because print film will one day become obsolete. Collison laughed at me. He laughed at me many times in my road to where I am today.
Sadly he died of a heart attack but not before telling me, I think it was in 2001, "One day I'm gonna end up working for you pal."
I would have hired him in a heartbeat, even though he was my toughest critic.
I've had friends who was close to me, tell me not to take it personal, that was just how Stevie acted when he was threatened. if he'd only know, I didn't want to be a threat -- I only want to be a student.
Right now, I am taking every opportunity to learn from our dearly beloved Jon Asher before he retires to the mountains or becomes the mayor of Mooseport or whatever town he travels to.
Jon Asher for Mayor, now that's a city.
I just want to say thanks to all those who helped a kid become the next generation. And thank you Stevie, you inspired me to get better, only to make you proud.
What inspired all of this? Tomorrow's feature on Marcus Smith (son of Bruton Smith) and Christian Byrd (son of Bristol Dragway Jeff Byrd). They are the next generation who will soon debut drag racing's next generation drag strip in Charlotte.
I'm just glad this is my generation.
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
 |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
7-28-2008
I woke up Sunday knowing the day was going to be a long one. There's something about knowing a day is going to be a long one that fills you with dread. All day you're walking around chasing stories knowing, man I have this long trip tonight.
I chose to fly the redeye out at 12:30 AM Monday. Sunday's are early days anyway because I usually get up early for church at the races and then much of the day is consumed trying to wrap up the loose ends of the event notebook.
Church service was especially good with Pastor Larry speaking on how God intends for us to ignite our passions. This was confirmation of an early message from Joel Osteen that suggested, "If you can envision a dream, then God is large enough to make it happen."
After church, had breakfast with Don Schumacher and that's one of the good things about the media gig is that Judy Stropus and DSR always treat the media to breakfast on Sunday morning.
Then I made my way over to talk to Tim Kulungian, the General Manager for Steve Johnson’s Pro Stock Motorcycle team, and his story of his ailing baby broke my heart. Having four kids of my own, I couldn't imagine and wouldn't want to imagine.
I finished up at the track with the general race results about 8 PM on Sunday. Went back to the hotel to shower and freshen up and repack my bag. I also ate some supper and did some work on the notebook until the alarm went off at 9:45 PM, PST. That was my signal to head to the airport.
Got to the airport at 10:30 and went through security and in time for the flight.
Once the flight took off, I brought out the DVD player and you guessed it -- Miami Vice again.
This time, you had to see it. Willie Nelson was a Texas Ranger in Miami. He had stolen the briefcase of a drug dealer and was holding it hostage. Willie was a bad man. He held his ground.
But at least Willie didn't do like Hot Rod Fuller and recite the words of a Tim Petty song. What was he thinking?
I was sitting there shaking my head when Hot Rod said something like, "I'll stand at the gates of hell, but I won't back down."
I guess that intimidated Tony. I saw the intimidation on his face when he found out they'd be racing in the second round.
Rod must think we've all forgotten the time he had a publicist from the Chicago Carpenters Union [Scott Wies] team try to start a rivalry with him when he first started racing with David Powers Motorsports team. Hot Rod deflected their spin and actually said the issue was a non-issue.
Well we published that and two of our staffers at the time actually received threats from the PR guy. Imagine that.
So, when the monkey shirts come out and the Dark Side talk begins, I can't help but chuckle thinking about hammers, nails and unions.
Well I'm backing down now, because I've been going since 5 am, west coast time on Sunday morning.
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
 |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
7-26-2008
Boy, I woke up Saturday in rough condition. Friday was an extremely long day. I started at 6 a.m. and worked all the way until 11 p.m. No doubt the long day was compounded by the delays caused with prepping the track on Friday. I'll keep the comments to myself on that issue. If you really want to find out what happened check out Saturday's news story AND THE CROWD BOOED.
I spent much of the day compiling feature stories and notebook items and finally wrapped up our coverage at 11 p.m., while simultaneously updating the ADRL race page. Man, did you see Roger's crash sequence from there? Holy Moly.
I said those two words about 2 a.m., when a kidney stone struck in the wee hours of the morning. You have advanced warning. They just notify of their arrival. There was some weeping and gnashing of teeth.
This has been my second stone in as many months, the previous one came during my eldest son Kelli's high school graduation. I prayed and asked God not to make me miss it. I sweat profusely, but I was able to see him walk across the stage as a proud parent. God bless Christy, I don't know what I would do without her.
I passed that stone without having to go to the hospital and did the same thing in Sonoma. I was so sore and weak on Saturday but I still went to work. Hey, I love my job.
The Mountain Dews were replaced with water.
Did I tell you how much I dislike the taste or shall I say, non-taste of water?
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
| |
Click to visit our sponsor's website
7-25-2008
Getting accustomed to Pacific Time is something you have to practice for. I’ve always been an east coast person and believe I will be until the day I die.
Last night, I was ready for bed at 5:30 in the afternoon. I had been going as I mentioned yesterday since 4 A.M.
I chugged Mountain Dews just to keep myself awake long enough to get into some semblance of a decent west coast schedule. I ordered food to the room and I was out like a light by 10 P.M.
Before that, I spent much of the evening getting Friday’s news content assembled. Generally, I have to work a day ahead on race weekends for news content.
I also took some time surfing YouTube.com for some classic drag racing videos and my man Tony Smith found a gem. Tony is the man when it comes to classic videos, although I’m still waiting on him to send over some Diamond P stuff he promised. Hey Tony, bring it Martin.
You see, I have a story written on Len Imbrogno’s famous Gators crash, but I need to find the YouTube.com video footage of it like I did with the Tim Grose crash. Hint … hint … anyone out there has it, please upload, I can use it.
Oh, I’m rambling like Force, back to the topic. Tony linked to some old Modified eliminator footage from the late 1970s and the highlight of the experience was seeing the late Billy Mansell’s H/Gas Corvette, winding the rpms high and running through the gearbox.
I woke up at 3 a.m., not be choice and again at 5:30. I finally rolled from the bed at 6 a.m., and after my morning prayers and devotional time, I went down to the hotel’s gym and ran. Yes, I’m back to working out.
Since the whole Torco fiasco, there’s little time to work out since most of the time is consumed working hard for our readers to deliver stories. I don’t care … I’m making the time.
Seeing the hell my father-in-law is going through with heart issues is enough inspiration to get in better shape. Guys get on me if you think I’m slacking. Maybe I ought to state that I worked out each day so you’ll know.
I ate breakfast this morning with Pro Stocker driver V. Gaines and Larry Morgan along with crew chief Clyde West.
Looks like a great day of racing ahead.
7-24-2008
I love the challenges of publishing CompetitionPlus.com; it’s the 4
a.m. wake up calls I could do without. This weekend, our primary staff
is spread throughout this racing world. I’m in Sonoma and Roger is off
in Budd Creek this weekend. I miss my buddy when we work on opposite
ends of the country.
Roger and I have been traveling the roads since 1999 keeping the
CompetitionPlus.com dream alive. The road hasn’t always been easy but
it has taken us to where we are today.
The good thing about Roger is when he and I cover a race we are on the
same wave length. Remind Roger and he’ll likely tell you how scary that
is. When we cover a race, we pack a pretty powerful one-two punch.
Kinda like Will Ferrell and John Reilly … we’re shake and bake, turn
and burn … you get the picture.
I’m living the dream. Nothing more and nothing less … I’d say.
I just don’t love the early morning to rise days to head to the
airport. I don’t think Diane likes them either. Diane is one of the
behind-the-scenes staff at CompetitionPlus that you never know about
until you call our offices. She always drives me to the airport.
She doesn’t complain much, or at least that I can hear because after
all, I am her favorite nephew. Besides, Diane has to deal with me on a
daily basis and that makes her tough as nails.
We leave my house at 5:20 a.m. and arrive at Greenville-Spartanburg
airport just before 6:00, and check in for my flight. I am scheduled to
leave – at 7:40, so that gives me enough time for breakfast.
I scarf down breakfast as I think about the many stories I have at hand
to cover. I run scenario after scenario through my head and it’s clear
to me, this weekend will be a big one for news and feature stories.
I’m headed toward security when I notice my time to arrive in Memphis
is 7:40, not departing GSP. I depart GSP at 7:05 and the board time is
6:40. I looked up at the clock and it read 6:35.
I raced through security quick, but not before engaging in quick
conversation with one of the security people about the reality of Brett
Favre joining my beloved Buccanneers.
I get to the gate with a few minutes to spare. I text the wife as I
always do, and all the kids to tell them I love them. Wife gets her
text. Kids get their own. Christy and I have an interesting spread of
children. The oldest turns 21 in October, while the next oldest turns
19 in November. Behind the oldest two, we have a 12 year old and 6 year
old. Then there’s a 16 month old grandkid.
I always used to enjoy flying into Memphis, because chances were I’d
always run into my buddy Clay Millican. Clay and I shared many flights
on Northwest airlines. I sure do miss Clay but we’ll get to see him
back out in Indianapolis thanks to the kindness of Mark Pickens.
Let me clue you in on something, flying from Memphis to San Francisco
is a long flight, nearly five hours. It’s a beautiful sight to fly over
the Rockies.
A long flight usually provides adequate time to catch up on the video
watching. I didn’t have any new DVDs to bring, Christy and I watched
the new movie 21 on Tuesday night. Good movie about those kids from MIT
who got rich counting cards in Vegas. Warning – the movie is nothing
like the book.
Without 21, I had to continue working towards the end of the Miami Vice
– Season 3 box set. I got two episodes in, one which featured a kid who
was busted selling black tar heroin and Sonny Crockett (Don Johnson)
sympathized with the kid. The kid was selling the dope because the
needed to buy a new pair of cleats.
Hello? Was a pair of cleats so expensive that he needed to risk drug
trafficking charges? Evidently it was. Crockett befriended the kid and
gave him a football where he caught a screen pass in the Gator Bowl.
Did he say the Gator Bowl? Let’s see, Crockett did tours in Vietnam
with special ops, had a secret past and now we find out he was a
football star.
Hey, it’s entertainment … entertainment from my high school generation.
Boy, we were cheesy because we thought he was the coolest back then.
Land in San Francisco, head to the hotel and prepare for Friday’s first day of qualifying.
| {loadposition feedback} |
