Fun on the California Pro Fuel Circuit

By Carl Olson

The California Pro Fuel Circuit was part of an experiment Bernie Partridge and I cooked up to give more Top Fuel racers places to go where they could be assured of getting some money for every run made, qualifying included. I was basically the event organizer, promoter and Chief Steward of the events. We ran at some pretty obscure places, and Ventura was just such a place. Most of the tracks we ran on had seldom or ever seen a legitimate Top Fuel drag race. For them, it was a big event for a reasonable purse. For the racers, it was a modest, but guaranteed payday.

Of course Kuhl and I brought along the race car too.

On that most memorable day, in the first round, I raced a guy named Bob Ivett. After the burnout, Kuhl gave me the subtle, but unmistakable signal that we had zero oil pressure. He always put the oil pressure gauge where I couldn't see it. He said he didn't ever want his driver to be distracted. When mike gave me the "OK" signal, the "O" made by his forefinger and thumb actually meant "zero". If everything was alright, he'd always give me the thumbs-up. I knew we were in a heap of shit.

In our own unique brand of body language, as Mike pushed me back from the burnout, we quickly devised a plan. Stage and see what happens. Then immediately pull the plug. I pulled into both staging lights quickly, and the starter waived Ivett in. With the old five bulb tree, on about the third light, I whacked the throttle once, and pulled the fuel shut-off valve as Ivett redlighted off into the distance. I won. Yippee.

Only one problem. Back then, it was common practice to require a driver to push his or her car through to the finish line to secure the win. So I leaped out of the car, which was still firmly planted in both staging beams, and implored the starter not to reset the system until I pushed the car out of the beams, and on down the track.

After installing the clutch pin, scrawny (then) Little Boy Blue leaned his back hard against the parachute pack, and facing backwards, started the long and quite arduous trip down the quarter mile.

The cutch was dragging (new discs), the brakes weren't completely releasing, and I was making progress at a very slow rate. In spite of being in Ventura, near the ocean, it was a very hot afternoon. I was determined to make it to the finish line, but it was going to take a while.

What gave me great inspiration was Kuhl driving alongside in the pickup. He obviously had the air conditioner on full blast, and he'd only crack the driver's side widow a few inches every hundred feet or so to ask if I was OK. As soon as I was able to utter or nod a determined "yes", he'd quickly roll the window closed again, letting as little cold air out as possible. Bastard. I don't think he'll ever know what an inspiration that was to me on that day.

California Pro Fuel Circuit Assistant Steward (and only other official), Robert Goodwin, saw that I wasn't going to give up, and the sun was getting close to the horizon. With absolutely no lights anywhere in the place, in the interest of sheer expediency, when I got to about the 1,000 foot mark, Robert instructed Kuhl to use the truck to push the car on back to the pits. I spent the next 30 minutes flat out on the tailgate of the truck trying to catch my breath. Kuhl just laughed his ass off. Bastard. I would have pushed that heap across the finish line. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Being a three round, "everybody races all three rounds" format, the winners of the first two rounds matched up for the overall win. We raced the Simpson Skyjacker in the final. I'm pretty sure Norm Wilcox was driving. They beat us fair and square in a very good race. After my exhausting "push from hell" in round one, and having the throttle stick wide open at the finish line in round two, I was glad to just damned glad to be alive.

As it turned out, shortly after this event, the last of the 1972 CPFC season, Mike and I made the decision to capitalize on our Winternationals win, and venture out on tour to make our fortune in Top Fuel drag racing. After a few events in 1973 that Robert Goodwin organized and promoted virtually on his own, we all realized that it was too much for a guy with a full time job and a family to feed to handle. Without anyone else stepping forward to help, the California Pro Fuel Circuit quietly disappeared into obscure drag racing history.

In retrospect, I think the little circuit accomplished some good. For about a year, it gave racers without substantial sponsorship or financial resources compensation for a "one shot" qualifying round, with the eight quick cars guaranteed three rounds of racing; winners racing winners, and losers racing losers. The format produced a unique "one-through-eight" result, with purse money being paid on an ascending scale for every place.

Robert Goodwin was a saint for all the hard work he put in to the deal. Neither of us took any financial compensation other than direct expenses. We did it for the sheer love of the sport. Years later, we reminisced that the payoff had been the experience we encountered and overcame in numerous aspects of the sport that we'd previously seen only from the racer's perspective.

I have very fond memories of the Ventura Drag Strip. Shortly after the CPFC event, the government which owned the property cancelled the local club's lease. Just like that, drag racing was over at Ventura forever. What a damned shame. Taxiways serving as very efficient pit areas and staging lanes. Right off Highway 101. What a great place to race. A full mile of flat pavement to race on, much of which I covered with the only stuck throttle I ever had while racing with Mr. Kuhl.

Yeah, I remember that race.

Carl Olson