7/7/06
When we last saw our
pal Bill, he was hare-
brained busy feeding
a phalanx of Junior
Stockers. As drag racing
became the hook for ad
campaigns designed for the
emerging muscle car, the
mix tipped heavily to the stock-
bodied sedan, territory Jenkins had been cultivating for years. “We were responsible for as many as 35 records at one time that year and I went on an ego trip,” Bill remembered with a
smile and a grunt.
Simultaneously, he prepared and drove the ’65 Super Stock Hemi “Black Arrow” Plymouth which was the property of Doc Burgess, a veterinarian from upstate New York. Bill loved the fact that as an independent he tore down Super Stock with it at the Winternationals that year. He annoyed the Chrysler boys with joy and enthusiasm as the underdog. The bleachers had erupted and cheered him on.
Back in Berwyn he was showering people with kindness and knowledge, giving away priceless information and nearly all of his days. He redoubled his efforts, got mouthy, grumbled and grunted and dipped into a box of skuzzy, half-smoked White Owl butts, which was never far from his left elbow. He’d pull one out, give it the fish eye, and have it in his yap in one smooth motion. He’d fire it up, cackle, and puff mightily. Did he see his future in those great, noxious clouds?