Today's headline wasn't necessarily written to make any sense. I was going to call this blog installment something simple like "Denver Ramblings" and just get right into the odds and ends sort of stuff about last weekend, but once I typed the word "Denver" I thought of an omelet. For the record, a Denver omelet consists of eggs (duh) with onions, red bell peppers, green bell peppers, ham, bacon and whatever other goodies you want in there, on there, or near there. Like cheese. How can you even make an omelet without cheese?
Anyway, let's get right to the ramblings and away from the omelets.
What a weekend. Incredible racing, incredible performance, incredible upsets, and incredible crowds. Bandimere Speedway was basically packed for all three days. From our annual perch up at the top of the lanes, overlooking all the parking lots below, we can keep a handle on how many folks are there just by watching the lots fill with cars. Once the paid parking is full, and the grassy lot below the pit entrance reaches capacity, they start parking cars on the other side of the road. When those lots are packed with cars, the track is basically full. On Saturday, the place was full. On Friday and Sunday, maybe (just maybe) they could've squeezed another line of automobiles out there.
Great work, as always, by the Bandimeres, Jeff Sipes (the track's uber-talented PR guy), and the entire staff at Thunder Mountain. And great work by the NHRA staff and Safety Safari for taking a mile-high track and making it into something record-breaking.
This was the third straight race where we ran in the early evening and at night on both Friday and Saturday. That schedule is great for the fans, and all of us are really behind that, but it can be pretty tough on the crew guys. They're not really trained to sleep in very well, so you hit them with two very late nights and then on Sunday morning you're up at the crack of dawn, kind of sleep-walking for a while until the cobwebs clear. Plus, this past weekend all the lowlanders were working at altitude and in the heat. Everyone survived, I believe.
With all four qualifying runs being made in the evening, Wilk went for the big swing right out of the box, and our 4.02 in Q1 was a show stopper, a jaw dropper, and an eye opener. It was also low for Q1 and got us three bonus points. And, it was still good enough to survive as the No. 2 qualifier after three more sessions. So how big are those bonus points and the qualifying points? A round is 20 points, so if you're 19 points ahead of somebody you're one round in front. If you're 21 points ahead of them, you're two rounds in front. Those bonus points put us into a tie with Cruz Pedregon for seventh place in the points, and they increased our lead over Courtney Force (who is in 11th place and trying to knock one of us out of the Countdown) from 74 points (four rounds) to 82 points (five rounds). When we won in round one, and Courtney lost, we put another round between us.
Sunday, being everyone's first time on the track in the middle of the day, was pretty exciting. We were racing on a track that was way hotter than qualifying, and the 315-foot in-track cooling system really came into play. It used to be that when it got really hot on the mountain, you could barely get off the line without spinning the tires, but with the cooling system it allows the teams to launch hard and get up a head of steam. The tough part is the transition to the rest of the uncooled track out there just short of the 330 block. That's why crew chiefs, who can figure that stuff out, get paid the big bucks. It sure made for some thrilling pedal-fests all day long.
Our hospitality center was at capacity on Saturday, including the annual Denver appearance of Dick Levi and many of his best friends and relatives. It's always a big day for us, and we chose a new way of doing our afternoon raffle, thanks to a great idea and great execution of it by Leah Hook and Shelley Williams. We've always just handed out regular raffle tickets as our guests enter, but this time we simply wrote a number on the hospitality pass that hangs on a lanyard around each guest's neck. Shelly then made up a corresponding set of printed and laminated numbers (about one inch square) and I pulled the winners out of a box. Instead of having to read a six digit random raffle number, I could just say "Number 55" and we'd have a winner. Worked like a charm.
By Sunday, down in the Media Center on the first floor of the Bandimere tower, my PR colleagues were all trying to figure out when they'd have to leave their hotels on Monday morning to get out to Denver International Airport on time for their flights. Or, as Alan Reinhart likes to call it "Western Kansas Regional Airport" because it feels like you're driving that far to get to it.
The timing is hard for all the following reasons: It's a long drive to the airport, it's a lengthy hassle to return a rental car and then ride the bus to the terminal, it's a huge terminal that's earned a reputation for epic TSA lines, and once you get through that you have to ride the subway out to your concourse to get to your gate.
The consensus in the Media Center was the anyone who had an 8:00 a.m. flight on Monday morning should probably just leave straight from the track on Sunday night. Why risk it? I solved part of the problem by getting a room out by the airport and heading there on Sunday night. And I made it even easier by then booking a flight at 12:00 noon. Simple and foolproof…
In the parking lot of that hotel, I was stunned to see a decrepit and apparently abandoned old car just sitting there collecting dust, leaves, and other trash. It was an old Triumph TR7, with a convertible roof that was shredded and an exhaust system laying on the ground. Why the hotel hasn't had that thing towed away is beyond me, because it clearly doesn't run. I know this, because I had a brand new TR7 back in 1976 and like other Triumphs it didn't really run very well then. I owned it for a year and a half and it was in the shop for about four total months, for various ailments. The one thing they couldn't fix was the gearbox, which ground the gears for real on every shift of the four-speed. You had to put in the clutch, pull the car out of gear, and then gingerly ease it into the next one. No speed-shifting the TR7. You had to drive it basically like a grandma, one slow shift at a time.
Seeing that old junker did bring back a few fond memories of my old TR7, which was classic "British Racing Green" in color, with the wedge-shaped silver stripe kit on both sides. I loved the car and I adored how it looked, but it sure was piece of junk. In other words, great to sit in, great to be seen in, but really a mess to drive. In cold weather, you'd have to sit in the parking lot at school shivering while the car barely came to life and sputtered (even with the choke on) for a good 15 minutes. Trying to let the clutch out and drive any sooner than that was fruitless.
And even in the summer there were times I knew well enough to park it facing downhill, in case the starter wouldn't work and I'd have to pop start it by letting it roll and the releasing the clutch. But man oh man, it was a gorgeous automobile, especially for a college kid.
My payments were about $150 a month for that thing, and to make them I went and got a job as an usher at Busch Stadium for Cardinal games and at the St. Louis Arena for Blues hockey, Spirits of St. Louis ABA basketball, and St. Louis U. hoops games. That paid $13 dollars per game, so I had to supplement that income with an additional $2.20 an hour I was paid to work as an editor and paste-up person on The Daily Alestle, the daily student newspaper. That was a lot of work, just to have a car that barely ran.
After leaving the TR7 behind and heading to the terminal, I got an alert on my iPhone that my connecting flight in Salt Lake City was an hour delayed, and I actually thought of that as a positive development. My itinerary had been altered since I made the reservation and it only left me a 35-minute layover, so I had been sweating that. Turns out, that delay was a game saver.
We boarded the small regional jet right on time and then pushed back from the gate. Then we sat there. And sat there. For probably 20 minutes. I had my headphones on but I finally turned the music off because I knew the eventual announcement had to come. Sure enough, the captain came on the intercom and let us know that we had to go back to the gate because the temperature had gone up a couple of degrees and our full airplane was now too heavy to safely take off with that new corrected altitude. Yes, that's the same corrected altitude NHRA crew chiefs are always looking at and analyzing, because that's the altitude at which the race car "thinks" it's racing. The captain let us know to sit tight while they figured out what to do.
What they did was actually pretty impressive. They needed four volunteers to get off the plane, in order to make it lighter, and I figured that was going to be a tough sell to anyone, especially any passengers that checked a bag. Instead, the gate agent came out swinging strong, and right up front made the offer of an $800 credit voucher for the first four people who wanted to be rebooked. I could literally feel the floor of the cabin shaking as five people ran up the aisle to be there first. And the airline was more than happy to let all five of them have the vouchers. Then they had the baggage handlers go into the belly of the plane to find all five of those volunteers' bags. We ended up only getting to SLC about 45 minutes late. Well played.
Under the lights in front of a capacity crowd. Awesome!
So that was Denver. We won a round, we earned some points, and now it's on to Sonoma for Stage Two of the fabled Western Swing. I won't be in attendance, which is too bad because I have many friends in that area and I love Sonoma and the associate grapes in that region. But, next Tuesday I'll get in my own car and drive to Portland, to be there the night before our display at Western Star, then after the display and factory tour it's over to the coast on Wednesday night, and then up the coast to Seattle on Thursday afternoon.
I'll be doing the Sonoma PR from right here at this very desk. Looking outside, I can't say I'm surprised that there is not an abandoned Triumph TR7 sitting anywhere near here. I was frankly shocked to discover there was still at least one left on the planet.
I'll be back after the Sonoma race is in the books. A win would be very nice. Just winning rounds at a rate of one or two per race in Sonoma, Seattle, Brainerd, and Indy would probably cement our playoff spot, but winning one of these races would be way more fun.
Oh, and speaking of Brainerd. I had made the decision to go to that race, even though there's no hospitality and we're not in Minnesota for the summer. Then the big storm hit the track and the resorts on Gull Lake and it became a real question mark for me.
The good folks at Madden's Resort made the decision for me, when they called last week to unfortunately let me know that they would not have the entire resort reopened in time for the race weekend. They gave me a full refund. I still have my plane ticket into and out of MSP though, so I think I'll go still fly back to Minnesota and I'll do the Friday and Saturday PR "remote control" as I always do when I'm not at the track. Then, I booked a room for Saturday night in St. Cloud, which is just far enough away from Brainerd to not be too expensive on the race weekend, if $139 for a room at a Holiday Inn Express is considered not too expensive. Being in St. Cloud will at least allow me to get to the track by 9:00 on Sunday, without having to leave the house at 5:30 or 6:00 a.m. in order to do that. I'll be there for race day, and then after it's over on Sunday night I'll drive back down to the Twin Cities. My flight back to Spokane is the next morning. Pretty hectic schedule for a race I don't have to attend.
I have no idea how they're doing there, in terms of repairs at the track, but I guess we'll all find out when we get there, in a little over three weeks. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. First let's go win Sonoma! And Seattle too! That would work just fine.
Tomorrow: Denver. Today: Blog.
I'm back in Liberty Lake as we near the end of July and I have to say, without reservation, that the last three weeks were easily classified as a whirlwind, despite the fact I never made it back out here to the Inland Northwest throughout the entire trip. It went something like this:
July 1 - Spokane to Minneapolis-St. Paul July 2 - Minneapolis to Detroit then drive to Willard, Ohio July 3 to July 5 - Norwalk race July 5 - Drive to Detroit Airport after the race, stay at the Westin July 6 - Fly back to MSP July 9 - MSP to Chicago O'Hare then drive down to Joliet July 10 to July 12 - Chicago race July 12 - Drive back up to O'Hare after the race, stay at the Hilton July 13 - Fly back to MSP July 15 - MSP to Detroit, meet Lance McCord at DTW July 15 - Detroit to Newburgh, NY, drive rental car to Cooperstown July 16 - Cooperstown and Hall of Fame with Lance McCord, Bob Ricker, James Noffke July 17 - Drive back to Newburgh, take taxi to Hudson River Line station in Beacon, NY July 17 - Ride train down to Grand Central Station in New York City July 17 - Walk toward Penn Station, stop for lunch at Petite Poulet July 17 - Catch Acela high-speed train down to Washington, DC July 17 - Take taxi to Washington hotel July 18 - Tour DC by Metro subway, attend Washington Nationals game July 19 - Meet brother Del Wilber and his wife Kay and have lunch at National Airport July 19 - Fly back to MSP July 20 - Fly back to Spokane
Badda boom, badda bing. That was a heck of a trip. And tomorrow, it's back to the airport again to head to Denver. As noted earlier, I won't be attending the Sonoma race, but next Tuesday I'll be driving down to Portland so that I can meet the team at a display on Wednesday morning. We just took delivery of a gorgeous new Western Star tractor for our transporter, so we'll be stopping at their corporate office in Portland for the display and then we'll get a tour of the factory. Once that's over, I'm heading to the Oregon coast for the night, and on Thursday I'll drive up the coast to Seattle. First road trip for my new car!
So… More details about the Cooperstown trip. The only "racing" involved with the rest of this blog will be the racing we did from city to city or attraction to attraction, so feel free to bail out now if a "guys' trip" with a baseball theme doesn't do anything for you. I won't be offended. Well, I might be offended, but I won't admit to it.
Lance and I met at the gate in Detroit, after he flew up from Cincinnati. By our best recollection, it's the first time we've seen each other since around 2007, when he didn't quite get to Charlotte in time for the race but he did join the Worsham team and me at our hotel, for dinner and a couple of beers. He really hasn't changed a bit, except for the fact I do believe he's in the best shape of his life. Running many miles a day will do that for you. Put it this way, he single-handedly skewed the average body-fat numbers for the four of us.
Bob "Radar" Ricker and James "Oscar" Noffke were flying out of St. Louis, and they went into Syracuse, which is the closest airport to Cooperstown. For some reason, I couldn't find any decent fares into there, though, so we went into Newburgh and drove about two hours up to Cooperstown, getting in just in time to have dinner with the other two guys. I posted a picture from dinner on Facebook, and my witty wife commented "Champagne and chicken wings! That's my guy."
We stayed at the historic Landmark Inn, a bed & breakfast only a few blocks from the Hall of Fame, and Radar and Oscar had already gotten us reservations at a restaurant down on the lake. I hadn't seen those two guys in a much longer span of time, like probably 20 years. Or, in Radar time, I hadn't seen him in particular in the span of two new hips. Both guys are exactly like they were when we all roomed together (other than Radar's hips). The key word would be "Hilarious".
We got up on Thursday morning and headed to the Hall, where our only plan was to tour the place and take many pictures. Our entire plan for the trip was simply "being" in each stop along the way, so it was all very spur of the moment and unstructured, which suits the four of us just fine. We had a great time at the Hall, wide-eyed and mesmerized. I loved the section devoted to the women's league that's featured in the great movie "A League Of Their Own" and the four of us agreed immediately that we all consider it one of the finest baseball movies ever made. Remember, there's no crying in baseball.
We did quite a bit of shopping in downtown Cooperstown, looking for souvenirs and other collectibles, and felt good that we'd done our part to help the local economy. More than our part, probably.
We stopped by Doubleday Field to watch a bit of a youth baseball game, on a perfect day. Then it was dinner in town and another good night's sleep. We had just enough time to wolf down the spinach omelets in the morning, and the split up again as Radar and Oscar went back to Syracuse to fly down to Washington, while Lance and I took nearly the full day to make our way down by car and rail.
We had reservations on the 5:00 Acela train out of Penn Station, so working backward from that we felt like we needed to be rolling by 9:00 out of Cooperstown, to make sure we had plenty of leeway. Our timing was spot-on, but we needed a little luck to make it all happen. We had to drop the rental car off at Newburgh, and then just assumed there'd be no problem getting a cab to head across the Hudson to Beacon. There was one, but another guy had already gotten in. Not another cab in sight, but the cabbie called his dispatcher and said "No problem. One will be here in 45 minutes." That was not good news. If we waited 45 minutes, we'd miss the 1:00 train out of Beacon and that would make for an arrival at Grand Central at about 4:00, meaning we'd have to hustle seven blocks to make the Acela. Then the passenger asked us where we were going and then said "Heck, jump in. I'm not in a hurry." We made the Hudson Line train with 15 minutes to spare. Almost two hours later, we were walking through Grand Central Station and out into the bright light of New York City.
We were hungry by then, and were scouting restaurants as we walked (pulling carry-on bags down the busy sidewalks) and when Lance spotted Petite Poulet (little chicken) we walked right in. Awesome lunch. When Lance worked for IBM, they sent him on a multi-year assignment in Paris, so he's all about French food. Glad I was tagging along.
We got to Penn Station in time to go relax a bit at Club Acela, sort of the train version of the Delta Sky Club. We had bought First-Class tickets, so the lounge comes as part of that deal. My brother Del, who rides the Acela quite often, also gave us the double-secret tip to request a "Red Cap" porter when we checked in. We didn't need him to carry our bags, but when you get a Red Cap he takes you down to the platform early, so you're not fighting the crowd. Cool tip! Worked like a charm.
When you're in First Class on the Acela, it's like being on a plane but with bigger seats and a wider aisle. You also get drinks and a hot meal brought to your seat. I wasn't really hungry, but the Moroccan Chicken Salad sounded too good to pass up. Plus, I had paid for it with the First-Class fare, so why not? Very good.
The train was fun, although there's not much to see. As Lance put it "Lots a blurry trees flying by and mostly industrial areas. You'll notice they don't put the train tracks through the nice parts of Newark, Philly, and Baltimore." Point well made.
On the train, Lance got a call from Radar after he and Oscar had arrived at the Marriott in Foggy Bottom. It turned out that the hotel had messed up our reservations and guess who didn't have a room? Yep, that would be me. That's not a concern these days, though, because I got on my iPad and within minutes found and made a reservation at the Hotel Lombardy, a very historic old place only a few blocks from the guys. Worked out just fine, and it was a really cool old place. A real trip back in time.
Saturday was our "Tour D.C." day, including tickets to the 4:00 Nationals - Dodgers game, but when we woke up it was overcast and drizzly. It was hardly raining hard enough to get you wet, but the forecast wasn't good and we figured if we all ponied up for umbrellas the very act of purchasing them would make it pour for sure, so we hung out in the lobby for a bit and then, quite miraculously, the storm moved through. And the sun came out. And the sidewalks started to steam. And the temperature went up. It was very quickly 90-degrees with about 80 percent humidity, but we were on a mission.
We walked over to the nearest Metro stop, figured out the ticket dispensing machines and each bought a full-day pass, then we hopped on the next train to head over to Arlington National Cemetery. I've lived in D.C. on two separate occasions, and have driven by Arlington a million times, but had never actually toured the place. It was Radar's idea, because he really wanted to see JFK's grave and the eternal flame, so off we went. That's how the whole trip happened. Not much structure, but also almost full agreement on just about everything we did. We were like that in college, and haven't changed a bit.
Arlington was fabulous and somber all at the same time. I'm very glad we went, and we took the trolly around the place to see as much as we could in the time we had. It just so happened that as we arrived at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, they were doing the ceremonial changing of the guard. Very impressive.
I'll just say this about Arlington. If you haven't been there, you need to go. I'm sorry I waited so long to visit, and if you have a compassionate bone in your body you'll be awed by the massive collection of so many heroes in one place, where the headstones line up forever. It stays with you.
We took the Metro back around to the Smithsonian station, and then toured the Mall and the monuments, starting with the Washington Monument, then the World War II Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Vietnam Memorial. That final stop is still young enough to be very emotional, and many families were there finding their relatives' names on the wall.
It was time to get to the ballgame by then, so we hailed a cab and all hell about broke loose. Lance waved at a cab that was empty, and the driver immediately pulled over for us. The tricky part was the fact another cab and another driver wanted our business, too, and he tried to get the nose of his car in front of the guy we'd actually waved at. We then witnessed everything up to but not quite including a wreck, and we all had to jump back as the second car careened up onto the sidewalk just inches from us. Craziness…
It was the first time to Nationals Park for all four of us, and it's a great ballpark. Clayton Kershaw pitched for the Dodgers and he's not great. He's far better than just great. He's frankly unbelievable, and nearly unhittable. Eight innings pitched, 14 strikeouts, three hits, and no runs. Also no walks. And he struck out Bryce Harper three times. And it wasn't close. Truly one of the most dominating performances I've seen in recent history. Much fun was had by all. Hot dogs were also consumed, along with approximately 50 bottles of water. Luckily, when I bought the tickets (just above the third-base dugout) I had no idea which way they faced, so we were all pleased to see that they were in the shade, while the same seats on the first-base side faced directly into the sun. I'd like to take credit for that, but it never even occurred to me to figure that out when I bought them. I just hit "Best Available" on the website and those were the seats we got.
After the game, another cab ride back to the hotel, with no near catastrophes this time. We'd had designs on a nice dinner in Georgetown, but we were all in need of a shower and all very tired. Because we're old.
Instead, we ate at the lobby restaurant at the Marriott and quickly called it a night. Not quite the rambunctious young men we were in college, but still. This trip was GREAT!
You make a lot of friends along the way, and many of my colleagues in drag racing would rate as some of the best friends I've ever had. But college. And baseball. And apartments or rental homes. And classes. And teachers. Those guys are truly the best friends anywhere. Radar was the one who said "This took way too long to happen. We need to do this every year. We can go different places, and meet anywhere, but we need to do this. Life is too short." He's absolutely right.
The Landmark Inn, at Cooperstown. Great place!
I did get to see my brother Del and his wife Kay in the morning, as they acted as my final taxi to get me over to the airport. At DCA, there are many restaurants outside security, so we all went in and had a nice lunch while we caught up on all things Wilber. Very much fun, and also too long in the making.
Now, I'm back in Liberty Lake but still glowing about the trip with my former roomies. The laughs and the memories were as sharp and as heartfelt as they were back at SIUE in the late ‘70s, while the sights and attractions we visited were new and completely enjoyed.
It took us 37 years, but we all finally made it into the Hall of Fame. All we had to do was pay the admission…
Now, time to pick up the dry cleaning, finish my laundry, and get ready for Denver. Saturday will be the big day, as it is every year when Dick Levi and about 125 of his closest friends and relatives descend on our pit for a huge hullaballoo. It's a fun one, and as always our goal is to not just entertain them and feed them well, but to run well for them as well. Having a good qualifying day on Saturday in Denver is always a very good thing.
See you all soon.
This blog installment has potential. There's lots to cover on the track, off the track, in the pits, and on the road, but I'm terribly pressed for time today and tomorrow morning I leave for our "guys trip" to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, followed by a side-trip down through New York City and on further to Washington D.C., where we will take in the Dodgers vs. Nationals game on Saturday. It's going to be a whirlwind trip, covering a lot of ground, and I know I won't be blogging again until I return from it, so I'll see how much I can get written here before I run out of time.
This blog is a look back at one of the memorable Chicago races ever, and one specific day that was so memorable I can't really think of another one that is at the same level of "epic". Plus, as a total bonus, there were no tornadoes or massive thunderstorms at the track, unlike many other previous years. We had some rain, and actually lost Q4 because of persistent drizzle, but no swirling masses of green clouds threatening us. That's a good thing.
I'll dispense with too much detail about qualifying, because you probably already know how that went. I did find it interesting, from a "numbers" perspective, that on Friday a .10 and an .11 would get you a 12. That's because in our two qualifying runs we ran 4.10 and 4.11 and that left us 12th on the sheet. On Saturday, it turned out, a 3 would get you a 2, because on our one run that we made we posted the only three-second run of the day, a 3.982, and that put us in the No. 2 spot going into race day.
The 3.98 was huge, not only because it was the only sub-four on the day, but it was low of the session and worth three bonus points. And it showed that we're fully able to run up front and dominate, even in those stout conditions where we used to be "good" but not "great". That run was nothing short of great.
Sunday then threw everyone a big nasty curveball, because after two days of overcast and cool conditions, running both Friday and Saturday in the evening, we raced at 11:00 and the sun came out, the humidity shot up, and the conditions were totally different. To make life even more entertaining, the sun and humidity didn't really become a factor until we were in the lanes. Once the clouds broke up, you could feel the temp rising by the minute. Tim was sitting in the front passenger seat of the tow vehicle and I walked by and said "Hey man, it's getting hotter by the minute out here…" and he said "I know. We're trying to figure that out right now."
We were first pair, but we still smoked the tires with a car they couldn't calm down enough for the rapidly changing conditions. Luckily, we smoked the tires around half-track and Bob Bode, whom we were racing, had far more serious traction problems and he had them far earlier in the run. It wasn't pretty, but it was a win and those rounds right now are like precious gems. These days, we basically have a good idea of where we stand in the points before and after every round, and that's both in terms of who we're trying to catch and who we're trying to leave behind. The win over Bode was big, because all three drivers right behind us in the standings lost in that first round. That would be Robert Hight, Alexis DeJoria, and Courtney Force. Include Wilk with that threesome and you've got four very talented teams basically fighting for the three spots in the Countdown. I'm not a big math guy, but I know that four won't fit into three. Ever.
We then faced my buddy Del Worsham in round two and basically stunned everyone. It was hot and humid and the conditions were a major challenge, but Wilk ran 4.032 at over 315 mph, and that was impressive. Seriously impressive. No one else was really even close to that.
The win over Del set up a semifinal against Matt Hagan, and we ran great again, running low e.t. of the round for the second consecutive match-up. Our 4.098 was huge, and Matt's 4.127 was really good, but he got the win by about one inch. After two solid and very typical lights by Wilk, he just plain missed on the tree in the semis, and Matt had a huge advantage off the line. Wilk outran him, and Matt was having issues at the top end, so the LRS car was ripping and catching up fast, but by a matter of inches we came up short.
As Alan Reinhart said on the P.A. "If this track had been six inches longer, Tim Wilkerson would've won that round. But it isn't, and he didn't."
Some people watching on "live" TV thought it looked like we won, but we didn't. The camera angle can be a little tricky down there, but the thing most people don't realize is that there's a big wide yellow stripe at the finish line and the actual timer is at the front edge of that stripe. We probably were ahead by the time both cars got to the back edge of the stripe, but he nipped us by about an inch where the actual timing beam is located. Tough one to lose, but another good weekend during what is now "crunch time" for real. For reference, here's the current top 14 in the Funny Car class:
1) Matt Hagan 1,024
2) Ron Capps 846
3) Jack Beckman 835
3) Del Worsham 835
5) John Force 801
6) Tommy Johnson 798
7) Cruz Pedregon 728
8) Tim Wilkerson 722
9) Robert Hight 667
10) Alexis DeJoria 658
11) Courtney Force 648
12) John Hale 503
13) Chad Head 491
14) Tony Pedregon 478
It's going to be nail-biting time right through Indy, I'm sure. Lots of very good cars fighting for far fewer playoff spots than the number of teams contending.
So now, let's move on to the fun we had in the pit area on Saturday. With Route 66 being not too far up I-55 from Springfield, it's one of our biggest hospitality events on the year, and this year we had a great group with us. Shelley Williams, from LRS, came up to help us in the hospitality center for the day, and as she was checking in guests she looked up and saw what she thought was a very familiar face. Each guest has to write his or her name on the card they turn in to gain admittance, and sure enough it was exactly who she thought it was. The name on the card was Christopher Knight, but you all know him as Peter Brady, from "The Brady Bunch" television series. Yes, we had Peter Brady in the house. Oddly enough, we didn't know he was coming and he was there with Cara and Jim (whom I think is Cara's father, although I can't guarantee that). Cara was an actual LRS guest, but none of us were aware of the connection.
Word shot around pretty quickly, but none of us really wanted to hassle the guy. You figure someone as recognizable as a "Brady Bunch" kid must get tired of the attention, over the years. The exact opposite was true, in this case. Krista wanted a photo with him but she was completely afraid to ask and worried he'd be mad that we were getting in the way of his fun anonymous day at the drags, but I introduced myself and we chatted briefly. He was the most gracious, genuine, happy, outgoing, unaffected, down-to-earth guy you could meet, and he was happy to take photos not just with Krista, but with everyone who wanted one. When asked if he got tired of the attention he said "I consider it a privilege, and playing in that show was an honor. I'm always happy to talk with anyone at any time. It's what my life is about, actually, and that's a gift."
Turns out he's a big fan, and has been to many races. We hit it off great, and during the ensuing rain delay I spent a good couple of hours with them, answering all sorts of questions and showing them how the systems on the car worked, and as the evening went on it clear we'd met one of the most likable celebrities ever. Christopher Knight, you might be Peter Brady but you're one heck of a nice guy.
The very next day, once I checked in at the O'Hare Hilton, I got an email from him thanking me profusely for the wonderful day they all had. What a highlight, and if his name had turned out to be Joe Smith and he'd never been on TV because he worked in shoe store, he still would've been a total pleasure to get to know.
At the same time, we had another pair of guests in the pit, who Tim and Krista already knew. Once I was introduced to them, I thought my brain might explode or my head would spin around in circles. Hard to believe both of these introductions happened on the same day.
If you're really into drumming and drummers, this will blow your mind. The gentleman was Gregg Potter, a legendary session musician who is extremely well known throughout the music biz, and his significant other was Cathy Rich. As in the daughter of the massively legendary Buddy Rich, whom most consider to be the greatest drummer to ever sit behind a kit.
Gregg is playing the drums these days with Buddy Rich's band, and Cathy is involved with all sorts of promotion and foundations for her late father's legacy. Buddy Rich's legacy is pretty simple: There was only one Buddy Rich. It's likely there will never be another.
Both Gregg and Cathy were awesome, and very funny. Between the two of them, there probably aren't any star musicians they don't know, but as people they were just two folks at the drags, two big Wilk fans, and two hilarious individuals with many stories to tell. Put it this way, when I wrote my actor buddy Buck Hujabre that night, and told him who I'd met, his mind was blown. Buck is a drummer, among the many things he can do with a wide variety of instruments, and his description was "Gregg is nothing short of a legend. In side-man circles he's known as an amazing rhythmic time keeper. So jealous you got to hang with him. I'd have died to meet Buddy Rich's daughter. I listened to his tapes all the time when I was first learning to play. His command of rhythm was incredible."
If you want to see Gregg doing his incredible work with the Buddy Rich band, just go here:
So, we all had a pretty big Saturday. Christopher and Cara are planning on joining us in Pomona, and Gregg and Cathy are thinking of coming to Vegas, which of course will then have to entail a night at "Jersey Boys" and a get-together with all sorts of amazing people. Can't wait!
It's hard to believe we ran a 3.98, qualified second, and met some of the most incredible people ever, all in one day. Mind blown…
As I mentioned above, I drove up to the O'Hare Hilton on Sunday night, and got checked in just in time to have a little dinner and notice online that a huge damaging storm was rolling through Minnesota, and it looked like it was targeting the Twin Cities. I called Barb and warned her about that (she was in Woodbury while I was in Chicago) so she stayed on alert until it all passed around 2:00 a.m., but as it turned out nothing really bad happened in Woodbury. The same cannot be said for Brainerd.
Apparently the vicious storm was at its peak when it passed through the Brainerd Lakes area, and many of the resorts suffered heavy damage. The worst news, for us, though was that Brainerd International Raceway really got slammed. If you haven't seen any of the photos, just Google "Brainerd Raceway storm damage" to check it out. The roof of the Media Center was torn off, as was the roof of the main maintenance building. A scoreboard was knocked down, but most amazingly the biggest most stunning damage was with one of the aluminum grandstands on the pit-side of the track. That section of seats was torn up, twisted around, and thrown over the wall almost onto the track. Big time damage at a track we're due to visit in just five weeks.
The entire town of Brainerd has a lot to clean up, but the track was already clearing downed trees by Monday afternoon. Here's hoping they can get it into some sort of reasonable conditions before we get there. They have a ton of stuff to do in a very short amount of time, and we wish them (and everyone in the Brainerd region) the very best.
That same storm came through Chicago in the wee hours of the night, waking me up on the sixth floor with a good thunder and lightning show, but there was no real damage to any structures, as far as I know. What was heavily damaged were the flight schedules at one of the busiest airports in the world.
Staying at the Hilton, I'd already turned my car in and could walk through a tunnel to get to the Delta terminal. My flight was at around noon and I was already bored by 10:00 so I figured I'd stroll over there and get through security, then kill some time in the Sky Club. You can imagine the look on my face when I stepped off the escalator and saw nothing but an endless sea of humanity, stretching all over the terminal building. There were, quite literally, thousands of people standing in lines that stretched out of sight, winding back and forth across the building.
I found the Sky Priority line, and compared to the main counter it was much shorter, as in maybe 25 people. Typically, on a normal day at any airport, I can walk right up and not stand in line for more than a minute, using Sky Priority, but this was not a normal day and O'Hare is not a normal airport. Let's just say it was a good thing I went over there early.
The problem wasn't the length of the lines, it was the heavy technical lifting the agents were having to do because all sorts of flights on all sorts of airlines had been cancelled by the storm, so every engagement with a customer was a long drawn-out affair instead of a quick check-in. One hour after I got in line, I was finally within four people of being at the front. That's when the fun really started.
I was looking around when I felt a slight punch on my arm and I turned around to see Allison McCormick, who does PR for Alexis DeJoria. With the line being so dense I never saw her standing a few people in front of me. She just said "Good luck" and smiled as she walked away. A few seconds later, here comes Sadie Floyd, who does PR with Kelly Topolinski for all sorts of teams and organizations. They are two of the best in the business, and two very good friends.
A big weekend at Route 66, for sure
Sadie had been stuck in one of the longest lines, and when Allison passed her she said "Hey, Bob Wilber is up in the Sky Priority line, go see if he'll let you cut in…"
Sadie "worked it" beautifully, and although I was taken by surprise for a second I knew how to play along. She ran up saying "Hi Sweetie!" and gave me a big hug. Sold. No one behind us in line said a thing, because her acting ability made it clear we were together (except we weren't). The funniest part was the guy directly behind me in line, who only a minute before had heard me talking to Barbara on the phone, when I signed off by saying "Goodbye, Sweetie. I love you!" And then Sadie ran up shouting "Hi Sweetie" and gave me a hug. I glanced at him and he just shook his head and smiled.
I didn't know until later that Sadie was already eight hours into her travel day when she came running over, so she was a bit desperate to get home. Glad I could help. Sadly, I think she got stuck in Atlanta and I'm not sure if she ever got to Charlotte, where she was headed.
All kinds of NHRA people have the same stories to tell, because O'Hare was simply a zoo and a mess and a very large hassle. My flight ended up only being 30 minutes let, so I got off easy. By 3:00, I was in Woodbury. Sadie was still in Chicago.
And now I have to sign off. I actually got a lot further with this blog than I thought I would, so I'm happy for that. Tomorrow morning, it's off to Cooperstown, where Wilbs, Lance, Oscar, and Radar will reunite for a very fun weekend. Should be epic, and there will indeed be planes, trains, and automobiles involved.
See you next week…
Norwalk is in the books, and it was a good weekend for us. A semifinal finish moved us from 10th in the points up to eighth, but the truth of that particular matter is that from seventh to 11th (otherwise known as "from Cruz Pedregon to Courtney Force") we are all so jammed in there with only a few digits separating us, so the pressure stays on to keep winning rounds. I'm not a math guy, but my theory is that winning rounds is the key to being in the Countdown. I'm pretty sure of that.
Right now, it looks something like this in the bottom half of the potential Countdown field, and I draw that arbitrary line because John Force is in fifth place with about 100 more points that we have: 6th - Tommy Johnson (680 points). 7th - Cruz Pedregon (657). 8th - Tim Wilkerson (642). 9th - Robert Hight (633). 10th - Alexis DeJoria (626). 11th - Courtney Force (621). 12th - John Hale (472). 13th - Chad Head (453). 14th - Tony Pedregon (437).
As you can see, we're only two rounds out of sixth place, but we're also only two rounds out of 11th, and depending on the "little points" you can earn during qualifying, we could be just one round ahead of Courtney by the time Sunday rolls around at Route 66. I'm not sure I've ever seen anything like this. It sure keeps your attention, that's for sure, and I seem to be in a constant update mode with my points spreadsheet at the track.
So now I'm sitting here in Minnesota preparing to jet down to Chicago O'Hare tomorrow evening. I've taken the afternoon flight that gets in around 5:00 a few times, and each time I try to remind myself to not do that again. Chicago traffic wins every time. This time, I actually did remind myself so I booked a flight that doesn't leave MSP until around 5:30 and it gets into ORD around 6:50, so we'll see how that works.
I got a little confused writing that last paragraph because on my iCalendar I show the flight leaving MSP at 7:30 and getting in at 9:00ish, but then I looked at Delta.com and it shows me on the 5:30 flight. Finally, I saw the little exclamation-point icon on my Delta page and I realized they changed the flight altogether, making it two hours earlier. Good thing I'm on a non-stop, because that would cause a world of hurt if it was a connection. Also, I'm glad I looked that up. It would not have been a good thing to head to the airport at the same time my plane was actually taking off.
Norwalk ramblings, looking backward…
As always, the great fans around Ohio came out in huge numbers for the Norwalk race. Friday's crowd was very good, Saturday's was incredible, and Sunday's was very fine as well. Saturday was, though, the biggest day and think everyone had a blast of a great time, and the fireworks show after qualifying was over was a fine way to cap off two great days of qualifying. The Bader family certainly does nothing "halfway" and once again it was phenomenal. I actually ducked out to the reserved Media parking area and watched the opening salvos from my rental car before beating the crowd out of the track.
And for as many people as we had in the stands on Saturday night, there were thousands more lining the roads in all directions, getting their dose of fireworks for free. As I drove south from the track, toward Willard, they were literally parked in every possible place for two solid miles.
We were a little fortunate to get out of the second round on Sunday, when we were racing Cruz. At around halftrack, a line came loose on the ignition timing system and all of a sudden it was like the car threw an anchor out. It dropped two cylinders on the right bank, which caused it to make a sharp right turn toward the center line, but Wilk managed to muscle it back before it got to the stripe, and at the same time I guess Cruz smoked the tires pretty hard. I guess that because I really never saw him in the video camera until Wilk got the win light. I sometimes have the best seat in the house, and sometimes it's the worst, because I see every lap on a little tiny monitor inside the camera. My view of the racing world is extremely limited, in that regard. Mostly I just try to hold the camera steady and then I hope to see win-lights.
Our little country motel in Willard was actually great. Clean, quiet, and no traffic. They also now have cell service (at least Verizon, which is my carrier) so you don't have to walk to the highest point in town to make a call anymore. Basically, it was all good!
Other miscellaneous yet noteworthy items…
Here's a really cool story, that I want to share with all of you. I got an email last week about a non-profit organization called Ainsley's Angels, and in particular the person who sent me the link (Thank You, Jill!) mentioned an amazing cross-country trip that is happening right now. On foot. Running. With a child in a rolling chariot!
Shaun Evans is what as known as an ultra-marathon runner, and his son Shamus was born with cerebral palsy. To raise awareness for the great work they do at Ainsley's Angels, Shaun is actually RUNNING from Seattle to New York City, pushing Shamus the whole way. Yes, you read that right. Amazing. Bookmark this link, and you can follow along as Shaun and Shamus make the 3,186-mile journey, all the way across America, and maybe you can even see them come through your home town, if you're on the route. At this link you can read all about the great stuff the charitable organization does, giving people with challenging disabilities the freedom to be included in so many ways they otherwise could not:
Great stuff. And the concept of not only running across the country, but pushing your son the whole way just blows my mind.
And, there's also a 13-year old girl we know from our races, who is about to face open-heart surgery. Leah's a fighter, there's no doubt about that, and Tim wanted me to share this link with all of you, so that all of us in the drag racing community can show our support for this brave young lady. The drag racing family is one of the best and most supportive groups of people I've ever had the pleasure to be a part of, and I know young Leah is feeling the support.
I'm buying my "Team Leah" t-shirt right now.
In my last blog I wrote about how Facebook allowed Vince Bienek and me to reconnect and eventually reunite a couple of weeks ago. There's a lot of fairly useless stuff on the internet, and a lot of people spend an inordinate amount of time doing some fairly useless stuff on Facebook in particular, but the one thing Facebook does better than anyone has in history, is allow those sorts of reconnections between people who have totally lost track of each other. That's truly the beautiful thing about Facebook.
And now it has provided another reconnection for me. The first Funny Car driver I ever represented, on my own and not working for someone else, was Norm Wilding from Essex, England. Norm was such a character, and basically a one-man show back in the days when you could actually do that and stay afloat from race to race. We often didn't have two dollar bills to rub together, but we worked at it as hard as we could and every little bit of success we had was something of which we could be proud. Norm finally had to face the fact that after nearly 10 years of effort, the money just wasn't there and he had to stop driving. That was roughly 14 years ago.
We lost track of each other then, after I had I gone to work for Del and Chuck Worsham, and for the last decade or so I hadn't talked to Norm at all. He now builds fabulous custom motorcycles (of the two-wheel and three-wheel varieties) and has his shop in Columbia, Missouri. Just days ago we found each other on Facebook and today I called him on the phone. That was stupendous, and he's still got about 100 percent of that English accent he had when he put his old Baretta Funny Car into a container and shipped it to the USA to run with the big boys. The last time I talked to Norm, Barbara and I were still living in Austin, so that had to have been 2000 or 2001, but within a second it was as if we'd just talked last week.
Times were tough for Norm back then, as they were for a lot of guys who were still trying to make it as fully independent racers with a very expensive hobby, but he's doing great now and he and his wife Linda (whom I also remember from way back then) are closing in on being married for 14 years. Looking at Norm's website, it's fantastic to see how successful he's become. And, we're aiming at getting him and Linda to the St. Louis race for a day. That would be another fantastic reunion. Thanks, Facebook!
Lots of folks in Norwalk!
Check out Norm's awesome bikes and trikes (and it's cool that he even has a pic of his old Funny Car on the page, too):
I guess that's about it. Time to head up to the gym and get some exercise. Thinking about Shaun and Shamus running across America is enough to get my lazy butt off this chair and go work out. Push those weights. Walk those miles.
It's off to Chicago tomorrow, then down to Joliet for the weekend. And, like Norwalk, the schedule for Route 66 features two days of nighttime qualifying. Friday's Nitro sessions are slated for 5:15 and 8:00 and then Saturday's are 5:00 and 8:00. Be there! We'll have plenty of Illinois support all weekend, especially from so many of Wilk's Warriors who always attend this race. It's a blast to feel all of that attention and support. Thanks everyone.