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Drag Racing Story of the Day!
"All Aluminum Self-Destructing Hand
Grenade"
(a.k.a., "Who was that
driver?")
By Frank "Root Beer" Hedge, Fred "Bikester"
Vosk,
and Walt "Thumbs" Stevens
Thanks to Tom "T-Slick" Shelar
Well, as I recall, it was in the early to mid sixties. We were at Long
Beach and had qualified early. We were just sort of killing time and fooling
around. Now, it was almost time for qualifying to finish (it was open until
5 or 5:30, I think) and I look up and here comes Dick Stahl through the
gate, open trailer in tow as fast as he could go. He unhooks, unloads,
throws some fuel in the tank, and heads for the starting line with his
driver dressing and trying to run at the same time. You had to know Stahl,
he was 6 ft. 9 in. tall and a gangling sort of guy, made the car look small,
like a kid pushing a toy car as fast as he could, covered in grease and had
been up most all night putting this thing together. Dick was usually late
back then and always in a hurry; I don't think he ever caught up. He wasn't
much on finishing the small stuff ether.
So anyway, C.J. lets him in line right behind Zane Schubert who was
pushing out as Dick's driver is getting in and bolted down. Dick squirts
it with a load of alky and they push off right behind Zane. The thing fires
and it had oil pressure. Dick and driver are looking good. They turn around,
and Dick runs over and twists the barrel (Why? Because he liked to do that,
need it or not), gives it a whack, and sends it to the line. Zane's in the
left and Dick's in the right and I am standing there to root for him. The
light goes green and off they go, tires smoking and fire out the pipes. Zane
was out first, Dick's thing was right behind, and it looked like it was a
nice pass. I was saying to myself, "Cool, he did it," and about
then the chute comes out.
Well, it was down hill from there. In all his hurry
to finish the car and get to the track, Dick forgot to do one small thing -–
well, four of them to be precise -- he left the motor plate bolts out. The
392 zips right down the frame rails, takes the fuel tank along, jumps over
the left front wheel, hits the ground a time or two, then bounces clear over
Zane's car and beats him to the return road in a pile of smoke. All this is
going on and Dick and I are in the truck hauling down the strip. We get
there, and Dick runs over to the car where the driver is picking up the
chute and putting it in the seat. Dick asks, "What happened?" and
his driver says, "Felt good to me." The truth was, I think, that
he didn't have a clue the 392 was gone.
Dick was a good guy and a lot of fun to be around at times. I miss him.
God bless. But I sure wish I could remember that driver's name.
Frank "Root Beer" Hedge
I don't know who the driver was and I wasn't there that night, but I
remember hearing about it. The word was that seeing that '92' bounce across
and right in front of his face, still running (it even had flames coming out
of the headers) had a profound effect on Zane. He woke up the next morning
-- and his beard had turned white! And that's the truth. It must of been a
couple of years later, when Stahl was running the old M/T Hemi Fords -- and
blowing up a few -- that my partner, Staats, did some cowl art on one of his
cars. It was a Hemi Ford shaped like a hand grenade (pin out). The lettering
under the artwork read ... "ALL ALUMINUM SELF-DESTRUCTING HAND
GRENADE."
Fred "Bikester" Vosk
OK, guys, we were at the other end and just starting to push back down
the return road. I heard the cars start and wanted to see who that was. We
sat and waited. Both cars left the starting line, and it looked like a very
good race. The small block Chevy was ahead. The next thing I know -- here
comes the motor. A big ball of fire and it's about ten feet in the air. It
hits right in the back of the Zane's car, then bounces right over him,
missing Zane by about three feet. It's still a ball of fire and keeps on
going, all the way to the end of the drag strip. It ends up next to the gate
at the end. I think there was some guy driving down that street and seeing
this thing coming. He most likely messed his pants.
I ran over to see if the driver was OK. He wasn't looking too good. He
had more oil on him than was in the engine. He still didn't know that the
engine had come out of the car. The left front wheel was gone. The fuel tank
was gone. This was one of the funniest things I had ever seen. Right about
that time, big Dick and the gang come wheeling up. The driver still didn't
know the engine had come out of the car. I remember Dick running over and
asking the driver, "What in the Hell happened?" The driver looks
at Dick and says. "Man, this mother was on a good pass! When we got
right next to Zane, all Hell broke lose. Did we win?" Then Dick tells
him that the engine came out of the car. The driver sits down on the
tailgate of the truck and looks at me. I don't think he still knew what
had happened. His name was Wilson. John Wilson, I think. You know, after
that deal. I never saw him at another drag race.
Walt "Thumbs" Stevens
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