Bob Scott was a lettered athlete at Gardena High in Gardena, Calif., and got his first taste of racing with the tough, competitive CRA roadsters in 1948.
Not long out of high school, he faced incredible talent like Jack McGrath, Andy Linden and Manny Ayulo. Yet, in only two years, Scott had made his way “back east,” graduating to the daunting high banks of the Midwest. His ability there was quickly noted and, although he missed the show, by 1951, he’d already taken a shot at Indianapolis. 
“Scotty” was well liked by his competitors for his obvious potential, but also for his quiet, modest demeanor. Too reserved, some thought. They believed that his hesitation to boast had cost him the better rides he deserved. So, several came to the talented kid’s aid. Mauri Rose, McGrath and especially Johnnie Parsons, who helped Scott land a ride in Ernie Ruiz’s top-line sprint car.
In the Ruiz car, Scott stood out on the AAA Midwest tracks, and returned to Indianapolis in 1952 to make the 500. He repeated in 1953, and seemed set for an eye-opening run at Indy in 1954 with the Ruiz, Travelon Trailer, Kurtis 500B roadster. He qualified early and fast. But, 1954 was a year when the qualifying speeds jumped up unexpectedly as the month wore on. What initially had seemed a safe speed, was not. Scott was bumped.
Desperate, he pursued a ride in another car. Any car. And, with only 20 minutes of qualifying remaining, he took to the track in the lightly regarded Ray Bradley Special.
With no practice, he was quick. Very quick, 138 mph. Then above 139. He would easily qualify. But, inexplicably, on his last lap, he slowed. His run was ruined. In trying to qualify in those last, tumultuous, moments Scott had mistaken the white flag for the checkered. Disconsolate, he sobbed in the garage area.
Those who had supported him encouraged him. His attempt, although unsuccessful, opened the eyes of many to his latent talent. The future seemed limitless, with more, even better opportunities ahead.
But, it was not to be.
Within weeks Scott was dead, killed July 5 in a Champ car race at Darlington, S.C.
Only 25, his accomplishments during his brief stint at the top of the sport today are but a blip on the radar screen. Lasting fame wasn’t his contribution to the rich history of auto racing. What was is the manner in which he pursued the sport he loved. With enthusiasm, zest and, always, hope.
That remains yet as a memorial to him, and the many others who, like him, make racing the great sport it is because they race on, ever dedicated, ever committed, even when their hopes of success and stardom often go unrealized.