I wandered the pits, taking photos of everything with my Brownie camera.
Where was my Uncle? In the tech line! He'd gotten so pumped up when
he saw what was going on he decided to give it a try. When I got back
to the car, there numbers and letters written in shoe polish on the
windows, and his prized possession, phony wire wheel hub caps were removed;
he was ready to race! Now I was really tipped over! I was gonna ride
in the staging lanes to the starting line in my Uncle's "race car."
No longer was I just an average kid at the drags, I was part of a race
crew.
When Carl's time trial came up, I hopped out and watched as he smoked
the right rear tire for what seemed like half the track. When he returned
to the pits, he said that he was out-classed and decided not to run
eliminations, so we spent the rest of the afternoon into the evening
watching every run down the track. We returned home and on the way Uncle
Carl and I decided that we should build a real race car.
The next week a 1951 Ford Tudor with a flat-head was in our family's
barn and we spent most of the summer getting it ready for the track.
We had decided to build a gasser so we stripped out everything we could
remove and ordered a tri-power manifold from J.C. Whitney. After a considerable
amount of time was spent getting it to run right, we were ready to hit
the track.
Now there weren't a lot of drag strips in Jersey back then, but there
was an "Outlaw" track in Manville that we picked to make our debut.
We flat-towed our Gasser behind one of my father's delivery trucks (he
owned a flower shop) and used it to hold all our tools.
First time trial good, second time trial bad. The first pass was OK,
it made it down the track in a reasonable amount of time, I don't remember
the ET or speed, (it was 45 years ago, OK?). The second run was the
beginning of the end for our flattie. Something broke in the engine
and caused it to backfire and backfire it did. Our leaky Strombergs
fed what seemed to be a Hindenburg-size fire. Uncle Carl got out fast
and we watched as the car burnt to the ground as the track crew feebly
tried to put it out. After the flames subsided we decided that there
wasn't anything worth saving and sold the remains right then and there
to a junk dealer who was at the track.
The fire, by the way, burned a hole in the track about 50 feet off
the line that had to be repaired before racing could resume in that
lane; needless to say, we weren't the most popular guys there that day.
The ride home was ugly, both Carl and I were broken-hearted, all our
time and money was burnt to a crisp. But did I let it get me down? Noooooo!!!
I went on to build a 1960 Chevy stocker that I ran with a little success
in the early '60s until shipping out for Viet Nam. When I returned in
'68, I started my "career" at Englishtown, working my way up from laying
numbers on windshields to becoming the track's announcer/manager until
I left to "pursue other opportunities." After a stint with Mazda Motorsports
IMSA GTO and GTP teams, I now am the coolest satellite dealer in Charlotte,
NC. Old friends can contact me at berserkobob@earthlink.net
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