When asked about my introduction to the sport of drag racing, I will always lead with my father. My Dad was a racer, and my Dad was (is) my hero. In his racing, it appeared to me at a young age that he controlled this seemingly uncontrollable machine. I wanted to do that, I wanted to be like my Dad, for as long as I can remember.
I almost always follow that obligatory opening, giving rightful credit to my father, by saying something to this effect: “I was extremely fortunate to grow up where I did, when I did.” More specifically, I “grew up” at Texas Raceway, as much literally as figuratively!
My parents moved from Southern California to Arlington, TX when I was eight years old. While it wasn’t a factor in the move (at least not to my knowledge), our landing spot placed us about 3 miles from the 1/8th mile facility in Kennedale. Texas Raceway not only became the foundation for my racing education – watching and ultimately befriending the nationally successful racers who called our little track home, like Scotty & Edmond Richardson, Jeff & Jeromy Hefler, Tommy Phillips, Frank Kohutek, Nathan Martin, Darrell Goza, Robby & Jeff Lopez, Charles and Jimmy Paul, and more – the Texas Raceway community also became my extended family.
I loved everything about being at the race track, and for as long as I can remember, I couldn’t get enough. My days checking Dad’s tires and operating the calculator (yes kids, there was a time before “crossover” delay boxes became a thing – prior to that we’d subtract the difference in dial-in’s and add it to the four-digit delay box manually) led to a short but successful Jr. Dragster career. One summer morning I rode my bicycle to the track and asked if there was anything I could help with over the summer. Impressed by initiative (or perhaps sympathetic to my lack of another place to be), I was offered a job mowing grass and picking up trash. That led to another position, working the fuel station on race days. I spent every race day, every non-school day at the track in some capacity. I eventually saved up enough money to buy my first race car – which led to even more nights at the track: racing there 2-3 nights a week (and eventually venturing out to a couple other area tracks to make sure I could get my fill… At 17 it wasn’t uncommon for me to race 4-5 days a week. Every week).
When I listen to other racers talk about their upbringing in the sport, many have a similar story. We got introduced, we got intrigued, and ultimately we fell in love with racing. And I’m still in love. I love the game. I love the people. I love the competition. I love the challenge. But in the context of this writing, I really challenged myself to pinpoint what catalyzed my passion initially. Without question, it was the culture surrounding that little eighth-mile facility in Kennedale, TX, all that it stood for, and the opportunities that it presented.
A lot of that made up that culture was intentional. Our track owners, “Hutch” and Sallie were very hands on. They hired a man named Larry Croft to manage the facility, which he did alongside his family (current Division 5 director Nick Duty is Larry’s grandson – we used to race Jr. Dragsters together before he took over more responsibilities running the facility). Larry did a tremendous job, even if I often took it for granted at the time. Together, the Hutchison’s and the Croft’s created a culture of family and competition. That family took in my family early on – and the bond just grew over time. Texas Raceway wasn’t just a place we all met on Saturday nights, it was the center of our social culture. When the races were over, seemingly the entire facility gravitated to the local IHOP for dinner. The track printed a monthly newspaper, and I would anxiously go to the mailbox to review the results and stories of the month that I already knew (because I rarely missed a round). Simply qualifying for the Texas Raceway E.T. finals team (The “Killer B’s” as we called ourselves) was an accomplishment in and of itself – and the Texas Raceway family made that event unforgettable, year after year. The annual track banquet wasn’t just a formal affair – it was an all night party (complete with country line dancing). The track even facilitated an offseason bowling league. Most of us weren’t any good at bowling (I certainly wasn’t), but that wasn’t the point: it was just another chance to be with our racing family.
Only as I got older and ventured out to other race tracks did I realize how unique, how rare that culture was. Most race tracks didn’t put that kind of dedicated effort into cultivating that sense of family… And most groups of racers aren’t as universally welcoming and fraternal as that group seemed, at least to me, to be. Today, while I still think of that atmosphere at Texas Raceway as a bit of a unicorn, my heart is occasionally warmed to see and hear about facilities, series’, and groups of racers who have developed a similar sense of togetherness and belonging.
This isn’t necessarily a call to race tracks and track operators, although I think most could learn a thing or two from spending a few weeks at TXR in the 1990’s. The responsibility of ambassadoring our sport does not fall on race tracks, personnel, promotors, or even sanctioning bodies alone. It falls on us, as racers.
In my travels, I first came upon a sign at Kil-Kare Dragway in Ohio that I’ve since seen at other facilities as well. It’s a gentle reminder of where most of us came from, and our responsibility to the next in line.
I moved away from Texas more than 20 years ago. The little race track that was so formative in my growth – not just as a racer, but as a human being – closed its gates for good in 2017. And yet, on the rare occasion that I’m surrounded by a significant group of that racing family, it feels like no time has passed at all. It’s a group of people who understand me better than most, a group of people who not only watched me grow up, they were instrumental in my formative youth.
My point is, we all come from somewhere. We’re all the product, not so much of some place, or some age, but of the people we’re surrounded by. Sometimes, like me, we grow up and life takes us in different directions. We don’t see those people often. Even then, we’re reminded that those individuals are still intertwined in the fabric of who we are.
I’ve heard that we’re all the sum of the five people we’re closest to. I think I’d expand that. We’re the sum of the five people we’re closest to today. And the five people we’re closest to tomorrow. And the next day. The individuals in that circle change with our seasons of life; but once someone is included, their impact remains… forever.
Typically when we think about that idea, it drives us to be mindful of the people we allow into our inner circle. As I get older, and I raise children of my own – growing up in perhaps a similar way, albeit at a different race track – I think about flipping that perspective more often.
We can also be mindful of the individuals that have let us into their circle. Especially the young, impressionable ones! When I look back on my upbringing, I wasn’t only blessed to have amazing parents. I also had a LOT of incredible ADULTS whose fingerprints are all over not just the racer that I’ve become but the man I’ve become.
We have the potential – we have the power – to be that for the young people in our lives – even those (perhaps especially those) that don’t share our name.
