June 16, 2008 - Expensive Proposition

It’s no secret that rising gasoline prices will make lots of folks think twice about their travel plans this summer, but to be honest I hadn’t personally given it much thought. I suppose I’ve been in denial, but it’s mostly that I’m an independent sort who doesn’t like any restrictions on travel or recreation plans.

However, I must admit that I had the first such revelation this past weekend. It was early Saturday afternoon, and I was thinking about my racing plans that night. USAC sprint cars were at Eldora, about 100 miles east of my home, and all week long I had planned on making the trip.

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and I spent much of the day working on my old Camaro. Around 3:30 I washed up and headed for home from the shop, and realized I was tired. I began having second thoughts about Eldora; the lawn chair out in the shade looked awfully inviting, and I could imagine sitting out there with a cool drink, relaxing and watching the evening come and go.

Plus, I rationalized; I would be saving gasoline if I stayed home. I started doing the math. I figured a trip to Eldora Speedway would use about eight gallons of gas; that’s $33.20 at our local price of $4.15/gallon.

For a moment or two I was shocked. All my life I’ve had the mindset that if I wanted to go to Eldora, I jump in the car and go. No big deal. But $33.20? For a tightwad like me, $33.20 seems like a little bit of money.

Even though I was tired, even though I was getting a later start than normal, and even though I was thinking about that $33.20, I went to Eldora anyway. My son and I piled into my car and soon were rolling across the countryside, happily talking about a wide range of subjects.

You know what? We had a great time. The racing was exciting, and I truly enjoyed the time with my son. He’s 15, and soon he’ll be going off to college and then he’ll be a man, with his own life and a limited amount of time to share with me. I’m of the mindset that every hour spent with him is very worthwhile.

The next day we took my father-in-law out for a Father’s Day dinner, visiting a nearby “fancy” deli. The food was very good, and the tab for the five of us was $47.

I immediately thought about that $33.20 for the Eldora trip. Yes, $33.20 sounds like a lot, but compared to what? When a “cheap” dinner—I’m talking sandwiches and maybe a couple of salads—for five runs $47, maybe that $33.20 isn’t so outrageously high after all.

I’m not trying to justify today’s gasoline prices, not at all. It still shocks me to see four bucks on the gas station signs. But before we all panic and decide we’ll stay home all summer, maybe we should step back and do some reasoning. Frankly, I’d give up the $47 dinner before I would the enjoyable trip to Eldora. We all have a limited amount of money, so it’s a matter of deciding what really matters to us, and how we want to spend it.

So I’m going to cut back some of my dining out this summer, in order to justify some of the racing trips I always enjoy. I’m just not ready to miss some of the racing traditions I’ve enjoyed for many years. Plus, I’ve already begun car-pooling to the races when possible, and have enjoyed rediscovering racing conversation to and from the track, instead of me driving alone and listening to the radio.

June 9, 2008 - It's A Different Game

It’s been a significant change in the landscape, but it’s taken me a number of years to understand it or even realize it was happening.

When I began writing about auto racing in the early 1980s, I was a 20-something guy who had been a lifelong fan. I had my personal “heroes,” racers I looked up to with great respect. Dick Gaines, Bob Kinser, and Butch Wilkerson in sprint cars. Johnny Rutherford, Parnelli Jones, and Rick Mears in Indy cars. Bob Senneker, Bobby Allison, and David Pearson in stock cars. Among many others.

The consistent element was that nearly everybody in racing was older than me. So I looked upon them as senior, wiser, and more experienced in life. It seemed natural that I would be in awe of someone older; kind of like a big brother syndrome. So when I had the privilege of meeting and writing about those people, there was a special inspiration and motivation to tell their story in the strongest way possible, because I respected them very much.

Today, I’m older than most people actively racing. Of all the guys in racing when I began my career, almost all have retired from driving. I’ve worked in this sport long enough that I personally saw many careers literally play out from start to finish. In essence, I witnessed their complete tenure as a racing driver.

When I started, many of the drivers I interviewed were longtime veterans, and were old enough to be my father. Now I find myself chatting with kids who are easily young enough to by my child. Naturally, there is a completely different dynamic than I experienced at the beginning of my career; there isn’t the same sense of “awe,” largely because it seems weird to be in awe of someone much younger than you.

I was recently riding back from a race at Kokomo Speedway — a track that has enjoyed a great renaissance in recent years under the O’Connor family — with a fellow writer. We talked about the great change in our sport, and the fact that we’re now interviewing kids who are 13, 15, 17, 20 years old.

He said he wasn’t sure if in, say, 10 years, he would still be interested in writing about racing. He wasn’t sure if a completely new cast of characters could sustain his interest.

I understand completely what he’s saying. As time passes, old friends retire or move on, while new people come into the sport. As the lineup changes, you find yourself gravitating to the people you’ve known for many years, because that feels natural. Pretty soon you realize that you’re acquainted with only half the people in the pit area, when just a few years ago it seemed you knew everybody.

The natural tendency is to assume the sport has “passed you by.” But that isn’t really true; you’ve put yourself in something of a self-imposed exile. What you have to do, as a professional writer, is to take it upon yourself to get to know more of the newcomers to the sport. Not only does that make you better at what you do, but it also makes it more enjoyable.

Yes, it seems weird to interview somebody who is still just a kid, hardly even shaving yet. But we simply have to change our approach, and think of fresh new topics and questions to flesh out interesting angles and facts.

Frankly, it’s a joy to be a professional writer, and cover a sport I still love. It isn’t easy, and in fact is sometimes discouraging because there are many challenges. But at the end of the day, racing still inspires and interests me, and I guess that’s what keeps me coming back, talking to all these young kids.

June 2, 2008 - Black Hat And All, Busch Rides In Just In Time

Kyle Busch is wearing the black hat these days, winning races and wading through a chorus of boos and catcalls each time he climbs from the car. Right on time, NASCAR has another bad guy.

He isn’t really a bad guy, but don’t tell that to the general audience. That’s their perception of Busch, and of course perception is reality. I met him at Winchester Speedway last fall, when he raced with the CRA Super Series on an off Sunday afternoon. He was pleasant to everybody who approached him, and greeted fans and signed autographs. I didn’t notice him shoving any old ladies to the ground, or bawling out little kids who asked for an autograph.

But he’s the man who has inherited the black hat for 2008, and he’s wearing it proudly. He’s outspoken, he’s young, he races aggressively, and the package is perfectly capped off by the fact that he’s arguably the hottest driver in big-time stock car racing. Nothing inflames the boo-birds like a winner.

Fact is, I’m happy that ANYBODY is willing to be the bad-guy these days. Racing began to change in the late 1990s with the rise of squeaky-clean characters such as Jeff Gordon, and was in danger of becoming too sanitary. This is not a knock on Jeff or anybody else; his image is squeaky-clean because that’s his personality; Jeff is a genuine good person with a kind heart and pleasant disposition. But any sport needs that natural conflict between players, allowing us to form our own opinions on who is “good” and who is “bad.”

Tony Stewart broke away from the “sanitary” mold earlier in this decade, but he was never viewed as a “bad guy.” Rough around the edges, outspoken, his own man, yes; but the crowd still loved him.

But the role Busch has assumed is much more important. In any sport, you need good-vs.-bad. It’s critical to draw us into caring about what happens on the court or on the race track. It elevates personal conflict to a powerful level, and frankly racing has been missing that element for the past few years.

I hope Busch continues to run well, and I hope he continues to be booed. From what he’s saying in post-race interviews, it seems that he’s grown comfortable in this role, and that’s important.

If Busch continues to run well, and has enough savvy to wear the black hat properly—that is, you can be slightly bad and that’s okay, but if you’re blatantly bad you’re over the line—he could become one of sport’s most compelling and fascinating characters.

Some people think of all this as contrived entertainment; I don’t agree. These guys aren’t pretending to race, and everything you see on the race track is absolutely real. The stakes are too high for anybody to be just driving around, complacent to run around at the back of the pack. The cut-throat competition for sponsor dollars won’t allow that. When Busch is getting yelled at by another driver, it’s real. And it makes us all watch the proceedings all that much closer.