A Few
Days I'll Never Forget...
by Darryl Clarke
In 1964, when the division director of the NHRA
for the Pacific Northwest, Terrell Poage, learned that I would be in
California just before the WinterNationals would be held, he asked me if I
would be interested in working in the fuel check booth. You bet! It was
arranged, that I would work all three days, and for this, I was paid
$60.00. (I would have paid them...)
A motel in downtown Pomona had been rented, and
only people in the NHRA, (I was an Area Advisor for Anchorage) and people
who were members of the L.A. roadster club, and a few racers, were
there. "Racers" only. Each morning, the L.A. Roaster Club would
caravan to the fairgrounds where the race is always held, and each car
would carry one of us. My ride was a bright yellow "T" roadster
pick-up. On the way one morning, we were following a black high-boy model
"A" which slowed almost to a stop, and the fellow driving the T I was
in was not much more awake than I was. When I realized that he had not
noticed the A getting closer quickly, I "Ah!!" kinda loud, like a
bark. He hit the brakes, (rear drums only, no front brakes at all)
and we slid to a stop, about 30 inches from the "A". He turned to me,
and said, in a very heart felt way, "thanks..."
When the roadsters arrived at the track,
they were all parked in a roped off area, to protect them as much as
possible.
On the way to the track, we would stop at
every gas station within a certain radius, and take samples of the gas
available from various brand stations. White Pump Chevron was the gas of
choice at that point in time, but we sampled all the other locally
available fuels, and when we got to the track, we put every sample
through all three tests that we were going to use during race days. That
is to say, a specific gravity test, a litmus paper style test, and a
spectrometer test, with a tool which was similar to a microscope.
The gas samples had to pass two of the three
tests, and be within a certain percentage of the sample which was the
same brand the racer said he was using. Doctor Dean Hill was in charge
of the fuel check booth, the same fellow who later started making and
selling H & H Racing Gas. The April 1964 issue of Hot Rod Magazine (page
31) shows a staged photo including Dr. Hill, a co-worker who had his
arm in a sling, and me, trying to look very serious, but looking more
like a guy trying to eat his hand...
At one point in time, a policeman named
Ron Root had won his class, all he had to do was pass the gas
inspection. I was alone in the fuel check booth at this point, down almost
at the other end of the drag strip. Ron removed the fuel line fitting with
the wrench I provided, and a sample of his fuel drained into my sample
bottle. I ran all three tests, and the fuel was fine. However, being
me, I went back to that total stranger racer, and said, "Sorry, Ron,
this stuff is just too "hot" and I can't pass it." He looked at me
completely blankly for perhaps three seconds, and then I said, "No, it's
ok, I was just kidding..." He smiled widely, and said "The reason
I did not look very surprised, was because I am pitted beside the Ford
Motor Company ( the debut of the "Thunderbolts") and I borrowed gas
from them, thinking that If anybody had anything special, it would be
them....." (I think he won a car, that day...)
That year, The Weekly-Rivero-Fox-Holding
single A fuel dragster, was quicker, and I believe faster as well,
than any double A car. Don Garlits had towed from Colorado to Pomona,
and during tech inspection, he was asked to remove a heavy weight
from under the seat. When it came time for his run, he smoked the tires
so hard, the engine popped. (due perhaps to the lack of ballast). With
a broken car, he was offered the W-R-F-Holding car, and when he ran
it, the engine popped on that one as well. ( 30 min engine rebuilds
were still a fair bit into the future.) On my lunch break, I happened
to walk past Big Daddy, sitting on the rear slick of one of the cars he
had been driving, and I asked him, "What's the matter, Big Daddy" ?
In his high pitched voice that I had never heard before, he said, "IF
I KNEW, IT WOULDN'T BE...."
Later in the day, the race for Top Gas
Eliminator came up. Earl Poage, (son of Terrell) was out, as was Tony
Nancy, John Peters, and others. Ongais had been head and
shoulders quicker all day than anyone. Come time for the final, the
Ongais car seemed to "run out of steam" at about 1/2 track, and Mickey
Thompson got past him. Then, the Ongais car seemed to "wake up" and was
gaining on Thompson but could not catch him.
The Pontiac "Hemi" (using custom heads that
Thompson hoped to sell GM) had won.
Both drivers stopped their cars, and one
hopped out and went to the other, and they shook hands. Just Danny
Ongais, Mickey Thompson, and me. And I had a camera in my hand. I took
a shot of a very meaningful hand shake, but I learned that I had not
enough film in my camera. I had used up several shots on bikini
photos, one too many, as it worked out...
During the A /Gas Supercharged war, I got
a surprise at the fuel check booth. When I was holding the sample bottle
for gas, from both the Stone-Woods- and Cook Willys, and the John
Mazmanian Willys, my hand got very cold when it filled with gasoline. I
was perhaps one of the very first people to learn of the development of
the "Cool- Can"
I don't know to the day, if I was more
impressed with the chilled gas itself, or the fact that both cars had
it, which meant that good close racin' was more important to those
guys, than who actually won! (or else only one car would have
contained the new "speed secret..."
This little tale would not be complete, without
my WinterNationals Car Show. segment.
I was walking around the building, trying to
see every car first, when a fellow tapped me on the shoulder. He said
he had noticed my club jacket ( Ghost Riders, Anchorage Alaska) and he
wondered if I would like to be a judge later that day... I was talking to
Leroi "Tex" Smith but I had no idea who he was. I said I had never been
a car show judge in my life, and he said, no problem, it is easy... He
explained that you did not try to compare all those cars and truck to each
other. You simply used a check list, and rated (one to five, or one to
10, I forget now) how high you think each part of the car deserves.
Say, seven for paint, nine for interior, like that. After you have
done all the cars in each list, hand in your sheet, and the totals
would be counted up. OK, why not.
Sooo, instead of just looking at the best
car show I had ever seen in my life by far, I was now a judge!
I took it very seriously, and even with
the loud live music playing, and the crowd going wild over several
fellows about my age playing fast music and wearing shirts that looked
like peppermint sticks, I went about my business, rating cars, and
ignoring the Beach Boys. Their music had not yet reached Alaska, and
it would be quite a while before I became a life-long Beach Boy fan...
So, there is the story of a few days in my life,
and memories I would not trade for anything.
Very Truly Yours,
Darryl Clarke
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