Recently, my family and I relocated. It wasn’t a huge move in terms of distance – we moved about 10 miles. Same school district. Same county. Same area. But as anyone who has moved their family and belongings will tell you, it’s an undertaking. My wife and I had lived in our previous home for fifteen years; it’s amazing how much “stuff” a family can accumulate in that time frame!
One of the biggest undertakings in our move was gathering, cleaning, organizing, and physically moving all of our racing accolades and memorabilia. Photos. Jackets. “Happy Gilmore” checks. Trophies. It’s something I didn’t give much thought to as we planned to move, but the simple truth is that we have a lot of trophies. I don’t share that to boast necessarily (although I guess it’s a not so “humble brag”); I’ve been racing since 1993, with very little hiatus (and to be honest, not too many weekends off!). And I’ve always kept every trophy, plaque, and keepsake I’ve ever been awarded – anything from a Wally to a cheap semi-final trophy from a Jr. Dragster race that might’ve only had six entrants (I have several of those too!). I just never felt comfortable getting rid of that stuff, because every time I was handed one of those trophies, it felt like an accomplishment. Every one of them was hard to earn, and every one has a story.
More than anything else, that’s what I was reminded of in this moving process – the stories. It wasn’t so much an examination of my greatness (I think that’s the superfluous vision we have of a trophy case) as a trip down memory lane – a glimpse back into the days, the stories, and maybe most of all the people that I shared them with. That’s the beauty of a trophy – whether big or small, whether one of hundreds or the only trophy on the shelf – it tells a story. And as someone who has dedicated the better part of my days to this game, those stories make up a lot of my life – they’re something I don’t want to forget!
As a small-time race promoter (my wife and I host the Moser Engineering Summer Door Car Shootout at our home track each year, an event that we’ve dubbed accurately as the “Biggest Little Door Car Race in the Midwest”), I’ve struggled with this. We strive to have unique keepsake trophies that will help cement those incredible memories – sort of a catalyst to capturing a moment in time. From the promoter end, cool trophies are a lot of work and cost a lot of money, and for what? We hand them to the winner, take a picture, and that’s that.
I have to admit, I went to my wife recently and pitched the idea of eliminating trophies at our event – we’d save some money, the winner’s already get the big checks… Is it really necessary? This is where my wife, in her infinite wisdom just looks at me and shakes her head, reminding me that as a racer I’ve never parted with even the smallest keepsake or trophy – assuring me that these momentos mean so much (yes, we awarded trophies once again this season – and not just any trophies, some of the coolest trophies you’ll ever see)!
As I look through my own collection, there are the big ones: the Wally’s, and the Iron Men, and the Spring Fling Million trophies… There are relics from another time: the old B&M series shifters, and a few trophies from the Winter Series in West Palm and Bradenton. There are some unique trophies, too. When Scott Lemen promoted the DragRaceResults.com series, they handed out trophies that my son Gary affectionately dubbed the “Spark Flake.” These were designed by the team at Cold Hart Art, and feature nothing but automotive components, topped off by a bunch of spark plugs welded together like a snow flake or perhaps a firecracker. There’s the toilet trophy I got for winning a points championship at an event in Arizona that was sponsored by Ron’s Fuel Injection. I don’t think many racers have a full-on Ron’s Flying Toilet mounted to as a trophy, but I do!
Again, more so than the hardware, these keepsakes tell a story. The biggest trophy in my collection didn’t come from the US Nationals or the Spring Fling Million. No, the tallest trophy I own came from my only trip to a little track in Southern Alabama. I was racing at an NHRA divisional event in Reynolds, GA, and in my younger days I’d get restless waiting out the long events. So I packed up my beloved Vega Saturday afternoon after my Super Gas time trial and drove four hours to this little track. I lost in the quarterfinals of Super Pro, but managed to win the Footbrake class – I think it paid $1500, although I wouldn’t swear to it. I walked up to get my prize money and was presented with this trophy that was taller than I was. I literally had to disassemble it to get it into the back seat of my pickup before driving back to Reynolds as the sun came up (no, I didn’t win Super Gas that day on no sleep!). Just writing that story now – nearly 20 years in retrospect – brings back so many memories from that day and night, and the people that I met along the way. In fact, the memories are so thick that I couldn’t possibly tell the story within this column – you just had to be there!
And that’s why I want to follow up on this column by experimenting with a series of videos on our Facebook page (Luke Bogacki Motorsports). I think we’re going to call it “The Trophy Case.” It’s just an opportunity to tell some of these stories. I like telling stories, and I’ve accumulated quite a few of them! Maybe it’ll take off and we’ll do it every week for a year or two; or maybe no one is really interested but me, and it’ll die out after a couple episodes. Either way, we’ll give it a shot – if you’re up for a fun recollection or two, tap over and check it out!
Until then, maybe I’ll see you at the track as we both attempt to collect another trophy, make another memory, and live the days that we’ll talk about in the decades to come.
