ABOUT ME & WWW
This is my story
I would like to begin by saying please take a few minutes to read this. The story is true, and the names are the same because I am not going to protect anyone. It won't take long and it might amuse you. If you enjoy it just a little, that is partially why I wrote it. Ok I am going to try and make this as painless as possible, so let us get started.
I was young and didn't know what was about to hit me. Who figured it would last over 28 years. In February of 1969 I was all of 15 years old, and just starting to find out about boys. From out of no where this older man walks into my life. He was 19, and to a girl of 15, he was considered an older man. He was the brother of my x boyfriend, so I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. Well, little did I know, this was the beginning of 28 years together. Some good some not so good, but for the most part it has been great!
This older man's name is Dave. He raced cars. Boy if I knew then what I know now, I probably would have ran and hid (although I did try that in the beginning). He was, and still is, a very persistent guy. In September of 1969 we were married. We had known each other only 8 months, so it was a very short courtship. One thing that always tickled me about Dave was, we had to be sure our destination was where we wanted to be. Because when he turned off his car, it was usually a given, that it wasn't going to start. I mean here we've got this mechanic as well as a racecar driver, and I was always pushing his cars.
Our first date was in February, at the Irwindale Drag Strip in Irwindale, California. Oh boy that was a night to remember. I might have left, had it not been for the fact that I was enjoying my first time at the drags, and I had no way home. He was not exactly what one might have called "Joe Cool" back then, although he tried. Even to this day, he hasn't got the hang of it. The drags were great. As we walked up the stairs to our seats, he stepped on the back of my shoe (strike one). Every thing was beginning to look up, when he tried to put his arm around me and hit me in the forehead (strike two). He felt so bad, that when he pulled his arm back to see if I was ok, he hit me in the back of the head (strike three). It was quite comical. Well, maybe not at the time, years later it was. As you can tell, I will never let him forget it. After three strikes, we managed to get through to the rest of the night, watching the remainder of the races. This began my love affair with the "drags". Ha! Fooled you! I'll bet you thought I was going to say that I was in love with Dave. Nope, this was only the first date. After the races were over, we walked down the bleachers. About half of the way down, he stepped on the back of my shoe again. Had it not been for his best friend, who is 6 foot 4 inches tall, I would have taken a header all the way down the stairs. I thought I was never going to make it home alive that night. Well I did. "Mister Joe Cool" dropped me off at my house. I stuck my hand out figuring he would pull me over to him and give me a kiss good night, WRONG. What did he do you ask? He shook my hand. Well, stunned, I told him good night and thought to myself, "This is the last time, I am going to go out with this guy." Ok, so I had myself fooled. (I found out later, he wanted to kick himself for doing that.)
The very next day, he shows up on my doorstep and wants me to go to the beach with him. This time I took a friend, just in case I was knocked unconscious. She could go for help. Having already had the experience of my life the night before, I was taking no chances. He had a 1957 Chevy. I loved that car, although, it was a little loud. You had to have your cars loud back then. It was the cool thing to do. Although, I'm not sure which was louder, his car, or his stereo. We got to the beach and we placed the towels on the sand, he lied down, and went to sleep. I looked at my friend. We just laughed, and walked up and down the beach for a few hours.
Well, Dave finally woke up, and it was time to go home. What a date that was. By the time I got home, I had such a bad headache. I think it was a combination of the sun, the stereo, and his car. I went inside and slept until morning. Guess who showed first thing that morning? You got it, it was Dave. Well, I did not want to seem rude, so I told my mom to tell him I had gone out with my friend. She did, and he left. I went to my friend's house. And guess who arrived within 5 minutes of my arrival? Right again, it was Dave. Well, like they say, you can run, but you can't hide. Boy they're not kidding. The last real date we went on, before we were married, was to Muntz Car Stereo place so he could make 4 track tapes. Yes, I said 4 track tapes. This was the winner of all dates. I sat for about 4 hours, and said nothing the entire time. I thought that if you "talked" it would be picked up on the tape. Well, he didn't say a single word to me the entire time we were there, so I assumed you were not suppose to talk. Hey! I was young and unworldly, that's not my fault. So many stupid, silly little things happened to me during our courtship, that if I were to tell you all of the things that he did, you would end up reading an equivalent to "War and Peace". I'll spare you. The month before we were to get married, I had to go to Michigan for a preplanned family trip. My parents invited Dave to go along, but he had to work. And we were going to be gone for 2 weeks. That was a long two weeks. I will never forget the night we returned home. We were late getting back and Dave was worried. The neighbors told my folks, that the poor guy had been circling the house all day. We stayed up the whole night and talked like there was no tomorrow.
In September of 1969, we were married. Within a year our marriage, I had given birth to our son. (And, no, we did not get married because I was pregnant. We really loved each other. He grew on me.) He gave up drag and stock car racing to be able to provide for his family. My parents really approved! They loved him very much and treated him as if he was one of their own.
When our son turned a year old, we went out to the local racetrack, "Saugus Speedway", to watch the races. Saugus Speedway, which has since closed, was the track where Dave raced before I met him. They had stock car racing and a demo derby that night. Boy could I ever kick myself, for suggesting that we go there. That was all it took to get the racing fuel flowing through his veins again. He said, "I am only going to drive in the destruction derby, and nothing else". That worked for a whole year. It was not enough. And when they announced the formation of a new street stock division, and the end of "DD" cars, well, you can figure out the rest.
In 1971 we moved up to the new Jalopy Stock Division. We were now among the real racers, and he was in lust again. It was a bumpy ride, a lot of hills and valleys. And it lasted until 1981, the last year he raced. At times, I thought we would have to eat boiled tires for dinner. Although I must admit, we never starved and we always had a roof over our heads. The carpet and the walls, on the other hand, were another story. We had carpets and walls, but you know what happens when grease and men get together. I never owned anything that wasn't black, and if it was originally another color, it was black within a matter of days. The phone, that was the best. You couldn't use the darn thing without having to take cleaner and wipe it off. The showers, oh they were fun to clean. And as far as laundry, the best thing to do was to take his clothes to the laundry mat, so as not to ruin any other clothing. Oh, those were the days. The only way to see or speak to him was to go out to the garage, or wait until he came to bed. For about 11 years we did the same thing. Saturday you race, and Sunday you start getting ready for the following Saturday's race.
He even figured out a way to make sure that we go to the racetrack, on the weeks when his division was not racing. I thought we would be able to have a night to our selves and do something else. Silly me. He came up with this bright idea…another car. This one was to be used for Figure 8 racing. So on the nights when there was no oval stock car racing there was Figure 8's. Then he acquired a Sportsman division car, so he had all the bases covered. He even did the occasional destruction derby. That was fun, especially on the nights that all three of his class cars were racing. You start early in the day, taking all the cars to the track. And then, it's not until the following morning, when you're bringing them all home. There was never a night that he would be able to stay home with the family. It's not that he wouldn't have, but racing was his life.
It was just before the racing banquet, at the end of the 1975 season. Of course, I had to go and see Dave receive his trophy. I was not at my best, but I found myself becoming just as involved in racing as Dave was. And I was not going to miss the grand finale of the season. You see I was seven days from giving birth to our daughter. And true to form, her timing was perfect!
Well as the years went by, our children thought there father was just eyes and a nose. The only time they got to see him he was sitting in the racecar on the track with his helmet on. They went to the races with us, and we would sit in the stands, and watch Dave race. I hated sitting in the stands. Whenever Dave would crash or win, depending on the night, I was unable to be with him. The night he earned his nickname "Wrong Way", I really wished I had been down on the track with him.
It was the first night of the new class called "Figure 8's" and Dave was really excited about this new class. He had been having a little bit of a rivalry with one of the other drivers in the oval stock car class, for a while. So when they lined up for the figure 8 race, the same guy that he had been having the little tiff with, was right beside him. Dave had drawn the pole position that night, so he was the first car in the line up. They dropped the green flag and the race was on. As they entered the first turn Dave hit the guy on the outside of him. I don't know where Dave's mind was, but when he looked in his rear view mirror, halfway through the turn, all he saw was a cloud of dust. He was sure that the guy had spun out and the race would have to be restarted. To his surprise, the green light was still on. So he went down the back stretch of the track, just as fast as the car would go. At this point, the officials figured that Dave was having car troubles, and would sit out the rest of the race, on the backstretch of the track. During figure 8 racing, that part of the track is not used. All I could figure was, Dave was so excited about it being the first night of figure 8, that he forgot to turn with the rest of the drivers. All the dust and dirt that he saw in his rear view mirror, was all of the other cars going the right way on the track. Dave did not stop at the backstretch, as the officials had assumed, so there was no red or yellow flag's thrown to stop the race. Dave continued racing the oval track only to meet the rest of the car's head on, in the middle of the next turn. It was the most horrific crash that he had been in so far. There he is, facing 18 other figure 8 racecars. They're going, god only knows how fast, and they had no time to do anything but crash into him. Some of the vehicles missed him some went over the top of his car. The rest hit him straight on. Well, then the officials threw a red flag. They did not know if they should bring me an ambulance, or Dave. Well thank God for strict vehicle safety standards. The car was a total loss, but miraculously, he jumped out of the car. The next thing he does, is throw his helmet at the car. I guess you're required to beat up your car after you total it.
They rushed the ambulance to him. All he had was a fractured nose and a small fracture in his forearm, from the windshield falling in on him. He also had sore shoulders and ribs from the belts and harnesses. I still after all these years can not believe he was not more seriously hurt. The track and safety guys were yelling not to 'light a match or spark anything around his car'. They were afraid that it would explode. There was nothing left of the car to salvage. The other cars managed to make it out of the crash without a lot of major damage to their cars or themselves. No one went to the hospital that night. Thank god! I am hoping some day to find the pictures of the totaled car to put on my page
After the cars were cleared from the track, and everything was back to normal, the announcer said, Dave reminded him of "Wrong Way Corrigan". From that day forward, Dave was known as "Wrong Way Willard". It was a traumatic experience. Not enough to keep him from acquiring another car though, to use the following week.
So the next week we were back out with another car. Painted on the roof, was the infamous name… "Wrong Way Willard". This pleased the announcer, and from that day forward, Dave was introduced as Wrongway Willard. To this day, his friends and family still call him Wrong Way. Funny thing is that it seemed to have started a pattern for him. We always get lost going places. He goes the wrong way wherever we go. Even if we have been there before, he still gets lost. When we go to Disneyland, he always takes the wrong exit. There were times when I thought that maybe those cars hit him harder then anyone knew, and knocked a few marbles loose. But the doctors say he is all right. They obviously don't know him. (hee hee).
One day on the radio there was a "NASCAR" driver (I do not remember which one) being interviewed, and he said that; "Figure 8 drivers must stand and bang their heads against the wall for fun when they are not racing". I tend to think that this man was right! Dave loved the figure 8. The other drivers had a weird respect for him. You see, once a person goes the wrong way on a racetrack, you can never be sure what that person might do. It was known around the racing circuit, that Dave would not stop at the "X" for other cars. Especially, if he was in the lead. If Dave was coming to the "X" on a figure 8, you could take your chances that you would beat him, or you could back off and save your car. Dave just figured he was out there to race, and that is what he did. Stopping at the "X" was not racing, and he did not stop unless he knew, with out a shadow of a doubt, that he could not make it with out totaling his car. There were many crashes in the "X", but not many involving Dave. When Dave did crash at the X, it was due to another driver's error, or Dave's car flat quit.
I must hand it to him he was an excellent driver no matter what class he was running in. He just needed better cars than he had. Most drivers had people to sponsor their cars. Dave only had one sponsor, and that was at the end of his racing career.
In 1981, the very last season that Dave raced, the owner/sponsor of the car, thought it was best that the driver didn't work on the car, and focus on driving. Well Dave was not a big fan of that idea but, he had to do it the way the sponsor wanted it. So he did. It was "hot lapping" time, for the drivers to warm up their cars. So Dave put his foot into it, and the next thing we know, he is into the wall. That happened to be the time when I was in the "pits", standing right at the wall where he hit. The owner and sponsor of the car had been so upset. I was scared that Dave was hurt real bad. Little did I know, the owner's reaction was toward the car, and not toward Dave. Funny how people see and feel things differently. The sad thing is, if Dave had been the one working on the car, this may not have happened. Apparently, the pit crew had been drinking. And when they put the air cleaner back on, they bent it. On the track, when Dave put his foot into it, the accelerator stuck on the bottom of the air cleaner and held it wide open. He went head on into the wall, straight at me. This proves that even drinking and working on cars does not mix. The owner decided to get another driver. And Dave, he got out of racing and never got back into it again.
Dave raced for 13 years, 11 of which we were together. We enjoyed the great past time of racing, and my only regret, was that Dave never saw fulfillment of his dream to race on the "NASCAR" Winston Cup tracks.
I guess everything happens the way that it does, for a reason. I miss the days when he raced. I am truly thankful, that he managed to get through those years, without serious injuries. And I am thankful that he is here today to spend the rest of his life with his family. I swear the TV picks up racing broadcasts spontaneously. It always seems to be in the foreground, echoing off the walls. I can live with that, so long as I have him, to watch the races with. Today, we go to the races from the safety of our living room. One day, we'll take a weekend to relive the "Days of Thunder", and go to the "California Speedway" in Fontana California. No, he won't be racing this time. He'll be right where I can keep an eye on him, next to me, in the stands. We'll stick to fishing when we can, as well as camping. It is not as exciting as racing, but I think it is safer at this point in or lives.
Our kids are grown now. David Jr. is 27 and married to a real nice lady named Barbie. And our daughter Vanessa is 22 and seeing the love of her life, a great guy named Jim. Both of our extended family members fit right in. And I hope they have found, as I have, a true love that last's a lifetime.
Well thank you for taking the time to read this page, it has been bottled up inside me for so many years. I just wanted people to know how I felt about my husband and his racing. At times, I was not the biggest fan of racing. But I knew if I wanted a happy man, this was something I had to let happen, and not stand in the way of. I did a lot of worrying and praying that he would be all right from week to week. Someone up there must have been listening to me. Thank you! Really the whole reason for this page is so that I can thank my husband for being who he is. Soon as I can figure out what that is, I'll let you know. (Just kidding Dave.) Don't get me wrong, he's no saint. He has his faults like any other man, but he has taken care of me. Sometimes I might have to hit him in the head to remind him, but he's had to put up with a lot in his life. And, not once walked away and said, "That's it! I am out of here!" HEY WRONG WAY, your OK in my book. Thank you for the great memories, and there have been some "doozies". I would also like to thank my two kids for putting up with us, as parents, and for turning out as good as they have. We are very proud of both of you, and love you very much!
For all you young ladies out there, if you meet that man of your dreams, and he races or works on cars, don't think because you get married he is going to change. Because once a racer always a racer. Oh one more thing, always buy dark furniture and dark colored carpet, because if it's not, it is going to be by time they get through.
That's My Story and I'm sticking to it.
JODI (Mrs. Wrong Way Willard)
This is just one of the cars that he raced. You can see more pictures like this in "Our Racing Days" page. I hope to find more pictures of his cars and place them in my site very soon.
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