Sometimes it seems as if things just sort of build up to the point where one has to get them off his chest; that is what has happened over the last week or so around the world of Nascar.
I’ve seen it reported that Kyle Petty is coming to New Hampshire to race this weekend. Then someone else reports that he is not, but then again he may, he isn’t sure yet. As a lifelong, miserable, die-hard, damn old Yankee, I sure would love to have Kyle and Patti at least come up here to spend some time. Perhaps just to visit, perhaps to race, but at least make the trip. There are a whole bunch of Petty fans up here in the wilds of the frozen north, some who, like myself, can remember when Richard used to come north in the old days of the Grand National northern tour to race on a whole bunch of tiny bull rings during the hottest part of the summer. From every one of them as well as from myself, I would have to say; Kyle, you and any members of your family will always be welcome here in the Granite State.
I would also be the first to understand the reasons if you choose to stay away.
The thing that worries me about a trip of this nature is the complete disregard of the press and the fans for the feelings of the family.
Questions about their loss a little over a year ago are unnecessary, certainly not called for, and indeed, are in rather poor taste. It would seem that lately, some of the media folks have made poor taste a part of their ongoing process to eliminate healing and keep the ugly side of the sport in the limelight, showing complete disregard for anyone but themselves.
When are the fans and the media going to come to grips with the fact that people die every day; that it happens to every living thing in its own time, and that continually dwelling on death is certainly not the way to find closure, nor will it allow anyone to put their loss behind them and continue on with their lives.
Let’s stop all the crying because these drivers are gone, stop, reflect a bit, then smile because we were fortunate enough to have shared their talents and a small part of their lives, while they were here.
Racing is now, and, since the first auto race in this country in 1895, has been a dangerous sport. Drivers lose their lives. How many drivers and passengers will die on our highways in the time I am spending writing this latest dribble for you folks to waste your time reading? A lot more than have died on the racetrack in a long time. Are those lives any less important to the family and friends that are left behind? I think not.
I wrote a while ago about Ed Hinton’s article concerning the treatment of the families of some of the drivers who lost their lives in the past. I’m not going into what I wrote then, but I must question the purpose of bringing that article back up a few weeks later. I can see no reason for it, no purpose is served by it, this is an obvious attempt to stir discontent amongst the fans and fuel that particular writer’s hatred of NASCAR.
The only people who are making an issue of this are people who have no knowledge or understanding of the relationship between the sanctioning body and the competitors and apparently have no wish to educate themselves on the matter. Of course, the writer posting this article on his site has admitted to writing for another website using a fictitious name and misleading the fans about his involvement in the sport. From all that I can gather, his involvement consists of writing for a couple of websites and indulging in some sim racing on his computer. Perhaps “journalists” of this nature are part of the reason racetracks and sanctioning bodies are reluctant to issue credentials to the “electronic” media?
In fairness to this writer, I have seen some excellent material from him at times. Unfortunately, his actions cast a pretty long shadow over his credibility; he has a lot of work ahead of him to regain that which he threw away in his desire to mislead the fans and attempt to discredit Nascar. I personally don’t think that putting articles such as this piece of Hinton’s up on his website is the way to regain that which he tossed away so carelessly. Then again, who am I to think anything about anything at all?
Enough of the grouchy, complaining stuff for now:
Have any of you ever wondered what a couple of old-timers who wasted the better part of their youth chasing others, just as foolish as they were, around in circles, would talk about if they got together? Well, last Friday afternoon I took the opportunity to look up one of the legends of supermodified racing from the early days, a fellow named Bill Murphy, got lucky and found him at home. We had crossed paths several times years ago, I recognized him right away, but he had no idea who I was; we do share some mutual friends, I’d helped out a bit with one of his old supers after he had sold it, and it didn’t take much to get the conversation started. A little about the old car, swapped some tales about different incidents at different tracks, some taller tales about a couple of drivers and owners and some of their finer moments, both in and out of racing, and even a few stories that I’m sure may have had a some details added over time. Then the obligatory trip through the shop to check up on the lasted streetrod and restoration projects and a walk out back to look over future works of mechanical art which are currently awaiting their turn for attention.
That was all in the first few minutes.
Then we got down to the really important things in our lives nowadays. Who has the best ambulance drivers? Which hospital ICU’s treat you the best? Where do they have the prettiest nurses? How do you handle the finer points of using a bedpan? Which doctors have we both had the pleasure of enriching in the past few years, and what pills are we taking for which ailments and what are the side effects of those pills?
It seemed as if the afternoon was over before it began, we had only started to talk and it was time to leave; indeed, I had stayed longer than I planned and found it necessary to exceed a few speed limits to get back to pick my wife up on time. (My Taurus wagon doesn’t handle all that bad but it sure ain’t no sports car, nor will it ever set any speed records. But, we made it without getting any tickets.)
It also occurred to me on the way home that we now have prescriptions for the pills we carry, we’ve got legal bills of sale, proper titles, and registration plates that belong on that vehicle, actually have a valid license without any points on it, and neither one of us is still supporting the breweries or the tobacco industry. I hate to admit it, but I guess that things like respectability and responsibility do catch up with all of us at some point in our lives.
But doggone it all; it sure was fun getting here.
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