Keep The Shiny Side Up!
And now it's race time! The weekend was always busy but the race was the biggest adrenaline rush I could imagine. You would have slow moments when you just stood there, foot on wall and watched the cars go by but when the cars stopped for a pit, it was all out mayhem for 30 seconds.
Like I mentioned in the previous article we were required to leave the gas cans at the Union 76 pumps and they would inspect and fill them, tagging them with that races name and the car number. I would be standing at the pumps with my three wheeled cart, approximately 2 feet by 4 feet with a rack bolted on top to strap the gas cans to. As you heard the roar of the engines when the cars took that first green flag you elbowed in and grabbed your three gas cans, pulling a bungee cord around them to hold them in place for the mad dash to your pit.
Now, being the low man on the totem pole I did a lot of gas hauling. This involved a walk of anywhere from a few hundred yards to about 3/4 mile at Pocono. You did this at as quick a gait as you could stand to make sure you had gas in the pits and you were there in case there was a quick yellow. Most of the big money teams had extra people to fetch gas so that none of the actual pit crew had to leave the pit stall area. We had 7 men most of the time, just enough to do a pit stop. So if there was quick yellow and one of us were fetching gas we were short a man on the stop.
The biggest pain (besides the long distance) about gas running was the spectators. Now I love the access that many people can obtain for NASCAR. No other sport allows the people right there on the playing field or court but when you are trying to drag a low set boxy cart full of about 150 pounds of fuel at a brisk walk, well, you have a tendency to say "S**** 'em". You end up just going full speed ahead and more than a few times I sent spectators home with some very sore ankles. The rear wheels had a triangular brace sticking out to protect the tires and it was exactly ankle high. The spectators that did not heed my repeated "excuse me!" shouts risked the possibility of having their feet pulled out from under them. And I didn't have time to stop and say sorry.
So after returning to the pit after that first green flag allowed me to, I usually got a relaxation period and could lean on a jack or a while, watching the race. Now for the pit crews, "watching the race" involved seeing a few hundred feet of front stretch. You would memorize the car in front of yours and the car behind, then hope next time the car in fron was behind rather than the car behind being in front. That's race watching from the pits. But, at a track like Dover it didn't often take long for the first holler of "CAUTION"!
Now like I said, the adrenaline rush was just absolutely amazing when that one word was screamed. I can't really tell you what many of the guys were doing on my crew during the next 30-40 seconds. I was the catch can man. The guy at the back end of the car that put a can over the overflow spout to catch any extra gas. As the car turned down pit road I would help the gas man to hoist the first can up on his shoulder then grab my catch can. We would "attack" the car immediately upon it's stop, I stepping behind the car and placing the can, which was made to be the same heighth as the distance from the top of the bumper to the overflow, onto the bumper and over the spout. I would lean my weight forward to trap it there with my body as I grabbed the handle of the gas can and held it tight to the filler neck. This allowed the gas man to turn and receive the second can and me to toss the empty first can to the man behind the wall.
I would then watch through the clear butyl-vinyl hose that fit over the spout for the first splash of gas, signalling that the tank was full. I would then tap the gas man on the shoulder, he would step back over the wall and I would stand with my hand in the air, catching the last of what I could from the overflow and if the jackman saw both tire changers done and my arm in the air he dropped the jack. I was usually the last man off the car and would turn to look to see if the coast was clear before dashing around to kick lug nuts over to the pit wall. Someone with gloves, usually the tire changers would pick them up and drop them in an empty paint can we kept. We would usually pour a splash of gas into the can then I would strap the gas cans on my cart and repeat the gas run.
Now, as I mentioned before on my site, I didn't know much about cars so I figured I'd be a "tire specialist". One of Roger's full timers was his tire man so I kinda hung out with him and learned all I could about them; tire pressures, measuring, setting up stagger. etc. So upon returning to the pit with full gas cans I would pull up a tire, set my butt down and take an orange shop towel and wipe all the remaining glue off the lugnuts we had soaking in gas in the paint can. We kept an old army ammo can to store lugnuts in and probably had 50-60 of them in it.
After cleaning the lug nuts the tires we just took off were usually cool enough to handle. If, after inspecting we decided there was enough tread to run again I would take a putty knife and scrape the bigger of the "marbles" (the melted rubber build up) off the surface of the tires before they hardened completely. Next it was reglue new lug nuts to the wheels and get them ready for the next time if they were needed.
Most of you know that the big teams of your favorites have 10-14 new sets of tires in their pits. The majority of the independents would start the race with 2 or 3 new sets and maybe a set or two from a previous race where they ran the same code tire. Roger, being from North Wilkesboro, was friends with Junior Johnson. We got most of Jr's hand me downs. At the time DW was driving for Jr and after running a few practice laps on a set of tires he would decide he didn't like them and tell Jr to get rid of them. Roger would purchase them at about 1/4 the price and they would only have a few laps wear. At other times testing would show that "scuffed" tires were faster and longer lasting at the track. If Jr's team had not had enough time to scuff all their tires, he would send them down to Roger after we fell a few laps down and we would run some laps on them and then send them back up to Jr's pit. So throughout the race I had plenty to do messing with tires.
On very hot days (seems like they all were) the tar would start to melt on the surface of pit road and behind the wall. If you stood anywhere for too long you would end up sticking to the asphalt and burning your feet. So we would keep moving even when we didn't have to. Check the air pressure again on the next set of tires. With the heat the tires would build up pressure just sitting in the sun. I'd sit with a used set of tires, use a wire brush on a drill to clean the old glue off the wheels and glue on some more lug nuts. Grab a shot of free gatorade (every race day a Gatorade rep walked down pit road and dropped off 2 gallon powdered gatorade mixes to mix in your water jug). Step back and check out the pit lizards, maybe watch a few laps of the race.
Then that call of "CAUTION!" to get the adrenaline flowing again, the heart pounding and the 30-40 seconds of your instant "star-dom". As the car left the pit stall you glanced over to Buddy Arrington or JD McDuffie's pit next door to see if you "smoked 'em". Once in a while you'd get that car out and see Bobby Allison or Richard Petty going back out after your car had left.
That gratification of knowing that you beat the full time, well rehearsed and practiced teams, with matching uniforms, "the big money teams", was a win in your personal battles. That feeling of knowing that this "rag-tag", "pick-up team" of weekend warriors beat the "big guys" was always a proud moment. We knew a top 10 was a "win" for our team. We knew we'd never get to spray drinks in victory lane. We knew passing one of the hot dogs on the track wasn't going to be easy. So when we were able to give the driver a few positions back on the track, well, I can say we did a bit of back slapping!
One more thing I wanted to cover, which was brought up again on the message board the other day; did I worry about the danger? Back in the early and mid 80's when I worked on the team there was no pit road speed limit. More than once I watched a car come in too hot and take down a crew member or slide sideways into pit wall. When I stepped over the wall I always looked up pit road to see if anyone was coming fast. After that the next 20 seconds were a blur. Did I think about being the guy on the back of the car that would get cut in half when that car behind you came in too fast and couldn't stop? Did I constantly look back up pit road? I really can't tell you. I guess I was young enough at the time to not think of mortality. Counted on them "eyes in the back of my head". All I can say for sure is I never really paid attention to what I was doing other than to complete my duties on the pit stop. Life was too good at that moment to think of anything but NASCAR racing and the fact I was involved in it.
At the end of the day (hopefully at the end of the race) we waited on pit road while Donnie Disharoon, chief mechanic and truck driver, pulled our truck out on pit road and we spent an hour loading up the truck. There was always the feeling of pride and glory as the fans who stuck around to try to get a few autographs would stop and chat with you, ask for a hand out fan post card of the car, and just "ooh and aah" over being up close to the races. And I could smile inside knowing that I didn't have to "ooh and ahh" anymore because I was part of the sport I loved.
Got a story from another "weekend warrior" coming at you soon. Anybody else that has an interesting story, write it, send it and I'll post it. Lots more of Tiny's pics coming up, tshirts to give away and fun to have. So stop by again, tell your friends and hurry back. But always
Keep The Shiny Side Up!