One Bakersfield story: I was driving for Rocky Childs in about '64. We ran at the March Meet and were starting the long losers tow back to the Valley. You know, the REAL quiet type. We're on 99 southbound in town just starting through an underpass, when I look over my shoulder, and here comes the race car and trailer, passing us on the right shoulder! I can't get over or stopped as the rig takes an off-ramp, sweet as you please. We had to go around the block, expecting to see one hell of a crash by the time we got back to 99. 

We get back to the scene and can't find any sign of the rig. It took the off-ramp and went up the driveway of a welding supply store, stopping when the hitch dug into the pea-gravel next to the dock. About four old boys were just standing there looking at the car. We hooked up, said, "Thanks for watching our rig," and drove off!

Typical conversation followed: "Hey -- I thought you hooked the latch!"

"You @#*hole, I thought you did!"

The ride home was spent in disbelief as to what had happened. Boys and their hot rods -- it's a wonder any of us are here to tell any stories!