Bob Frey, the National Hot Rod Ass’n track public-address announcer, truly is gifted, filling hours and hours at every race with relevant information, intriguing anecdotes and clever ad-libbing.
But when Scott Kalitta’s burning Funny Car skated off the end of the race track at slightly more than 300 miles per hour June 21 at Englishtown, N.J., to a violent end, all Frey could say was “Wow.” The moment defied any words, any explanation.

Plenty of people have said way more than “wow” in the ensuing days about every aspect of this incident. The talk has been shameful.

Plenty of people have said way more than “wow” in the ensuing days about every aspect of this incident. The talk has been shameful.
Kalitta’s death has had tongues wagging. Both the New Jersey State Police and racing officials have conducted or still are conducting investigations, and NHRA announced Friday afternoon some initial findings from its own examination.
Yet, without verified information, drivers, “journalists” and armchair crew chiefs started publicly babbling about all aspects of this incident.
And you all need to stop it.
Furthermore, before making your next comments, answer a few questions to yourselves:
Do I have the facts from a credible source? You know the saying: All things are possible when you have no clue what you’re talking about.
Am I being a hypocrite? One Top Fuel driver told an Internet publication, “I consider myself to be one of the toughest drivers out there. I was scared to death for myself and every racer on Sunday.” Come, now. Were you really? Then why did you get in your car?
Your colleague Alan Bradshaw had the courage of his convictions, stepping from a Top Fuel dragster June 11, citing safety issues. When he parted ways with Tuttle Motorsports, he said the car “met all of the minimum requirements as required by NHRA,” but that he personally “felt the current rules represented the minimum safety standard, and I will always lean toward making the driver’s cockpit as safe as possible within reason.”
So, Bradshaw followed through on his instincts. Tough drivers make tough decisions. Talk is easy. Action is tougher, especially when you’re denying yourself something you love.
Do I understand the structure of authority in this case? Top Fuel veteran Bob Vandergriff is quoted as saying, “The facilities should give a driver the opportunity to walk away instead of putting everything in his path to prevent that.”
No one should argue with his intention, but Vandergriff has the monkey on the wrong back. NHRA has the authority at a national event, not the track.
Bill Bader, whose track hosted this past weekend’s Summit Racing Equipment Nationals at Norwalk, Ohio, has a motto. He says all that the tracks have jurisdiction over are “The Four Ts: tickets, trash, toilets and traffic.”
Notice he left out those other two critical Ts: TV camera cranes and top-end conditions. Want to complain? Direct your comments to NHRA and not Old Bridge Township Raceway Park, or any other facility.
And while we’re on that subject, where did all this Raceway Park-bashing come from? Never once before Kalitta’s accident did anyone publicly mention that the shutdown area is too short there. Perhaps some of them said it in private, but this never, ever was a public issue.
However, drivers have mentioned the shorter shutdown area at the storied, NHRA-leased Pomona, Calif., facility — though no one has demanded any improvement.
Drivers vigorously criticized Pacific Raceways several years ago — and effected change. Nobody waited for an accident to happen before such dialog began. So boys and girls, it’s time to lay your cards on the table. Tell NHRA your grievances right now. Don’t claim after another accident that you objected to something for years. Have the courage to speak up right now and identify any nagging or potentially dangerous problems. Address all of these safety issues today.
What’s the hold-up?