Recollections of the Last Drag Race
By Carl Olson
My recollections of the Last Drag Race at Lions included much more than just winning in Top Fuel. Some of my most vivid recollections include:
So many race cars that the pits were jammed to the max. There were even a few cars that had to pit along the return road, 'cause there just wasn't another square inch of space in the pit area.
So many spectators that the Sheriff made Steve Evans close the gates at around 6:00 pm. No problem for those locked out, though; they just pushed over the chain-link fences, and swarmed in like ants. Security initially tried to stem the tide, but quickly threw up their hands and walked away. I don't know how many fans attended the Last Drag Race without purchasing tickets, but it would have to have been in the thousands. Suffice to say the place was packed like a can of Sardines.
For the Kuhl & Olson team, it was a bit of an unusual outing. We'd recently returned from a nine month tour, and we'd crashed our first rear engine car at the IHRA Nationals in Dallas. As a result, we brought a relatively new Woody car to Lions that was very much untried. The good news is that it hauled ass right out of the box. If I recall properly, we qualified second (to Cerny & Moody) with a 6.0 something... just short of the magic five second barrier.
As the night wore on, and we kept going rounds, the place got more and more out of control. The entire length of the return road was lined with cars and trucks, and the party was on. Everyone in the place was in a strange mood... somewhere between having the time of their lives, and attending a funeral. Mixed emotions abounded everywhere, and the K&O team was no exception.
On one pass back up the return road, I remember running over a football that had gone astray from a pick up game in the field behind the return road. Fortunately, there was no serious damage to the car. The football, unfortunately, was trashed. I thought we were going to be attacked by the players whose game we'd obviously cut short.
In the final, we were supposed to run against Cerny & Moody for the money. Unfortunately, they broke a motor in the semi final, and Evans inserted Jeb Allen (whom Moody had beaten) back into the show on the break rule. Jeb had lost a very close race to Moody, so we knew we'd have to be on our game.
When we got back to the pits following the semis, we made a very disturbing discovery. Due to severe tire shake, the motor plate was broken from top to bottom on the left side. The left wing sta rod was also broken, although the main uprights looked OK.
Without a spare motor plate, Kuhl worked some of his "shade tree" magic. He drilled a series of holes in both pieces of the broken plate, and used bailing wire to fasten them back together. This lash up wasn't tight by any means, but at least it would keep the motor somewhere close to the proper location. Suffice to say it wasn't very sanitary, but we were not going to let a little thing like a broken car stop us from running the final.
Mike then used a large amount of bailing wire (he always kept a big spool of it in the trailer) to wire the wing back into place. As I recall, he used four or five wraps about four feet long each to keep the wing from folding back.
When we went to the line for the final, the scene was absolutely surreal. By now, all attempts to control the crowd had been abandoned. I honestly think the security staff took a look at what was happening, and headed for the hills! There were hundreds of people in the staging area, and as has been mentioned before, spectators were actually sitting on the single Armco guardrail all the way down to the finish line.
As Jeb and I maneuvered onto the roller starters, the thought crossed my mind that if our heap made it all the way to the finish line under power, as soon as the parachute deployed, there was a very good chance that the motor was going to jerk loose from its bailing wire connections, and hit me in the back. There also was the prospect of the wing supports failing, and causing the car to swerve out of control.
I quickly put these concerns to rest, as I concentrated 100% on the task at hand. Just getting off the rollers and to the pre-stage was a challenge, thanks to the dozens of drunks and dopers who were pushing in for a more profound nitro experience. A few of the starting line crew finally managed to push the crowd back enough for Jeb and me to stage, and the race was on.
I distinctly remember several things:
The car was on a decent pass.
There were people where only the guardrail should have been, and I really didn't want to pick any of them off, so I stayed as close to the centerline as possible.
I ran over several beer and wine bottles on the track, and I can vividly remember the crunching sensation as I hit ‘em. I just hoped that they weren't doing any damage to the car. Later inspection indicated that there was damage, but not enough to affect the handling or structural integrity.
If I recall correctly, we ran a 6.20 E.T. in the final at around 220 MPH. Jeb was right behind in a very good race. We were both very proud of the fact that the last Top Fuel race at LADS had been a good one. I held my breath as the chute deployed, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when the engine stayed put. Then, and only then, did I begin to appreciate the fact that I'd won the most important race of my life. Other races were more prestigious (WINTERNATIONALS, Bakersfield, etc.), but this was definitely the sweetest victory of my drag racing career. I'd practically grown up at Lions, and I couldn't think of a better way to bring my personal experiences there to a most memorable conclusion.
Given the mayhem that was taking place in the pits, on the starting line and on the return road, both the K&O and the Allen Family teams had decided that we'd stop on the track, and when the push trucks and crews arrived, we'd simply wait in the shutoff area until the smoke cleared (literally). Between the marijuana smoke, the outhouses being torched and the bonfires, the whole place looked like the Watts riots.
After about a half hour, the fires were starting to subside, and both teams pushed slowly back up the track to the starting line. There were people there with pick axes digging up chunks of the track for souvenirs. All of the signs had been torn down, and people were even unbolting sections of guardrail to take home. It was the most insane scene I've ever experienced at a drag race, and I've experienced more than a few!
Evans brought over our complimentary bottle of Cold Duck (I guess Champagne would have exceeded the budget), which we opened and passed around to the crew for a swig in celebration of our victory. After a round of congratulations from friends and fans and the obligatory photos, we pushed the car back to the pits, loaded everything into the trailer, and went home. By that time it was too late for dinner, as all the restaurants were long since closed. I finished off the evening with a stout Bourbon & 7 at the house, and ran through a litany of emotions.
The good news was that we'd won the race. The bad news was that Lions was gone forever, and with it a way of life I'd embraced since my youth. On that day, a lot of things changed for a lot of people, me included.
In retrospect, I'd have to say that the Last Drag Race at Lions remains one of my very fondest memories, if more than just a little bit bittersweet. I'll never forget the sounds, sights and smells of that place. The "rare air" that would flow in from the harbor after the sun went down. The odors of the oil refinery, shooting range and landfill (all of which bordered the facility) were quite obnoxious, but boy how I miss them now. The good times (of which there were many) and the bad times (of which there were too many) came flooding back. I'd watched my first drag racing hero, Leonard Harris, perish before my very eyes there a few years earlier, and saw far too many other good men lose their lives or become horribly injured before modern safety equipment and systems had evolved.
Still, whenever I think of Lions, I get a very warm and fuzzy feeling. I'll never forget that magic place, or the dozens of friends I made there over the years. Every once in a while, I drive by the site on the San Diego Freeway, and the memories come flooding back. To me, Lions was drag racing's Camelot. I've been to and raced at a lot of tracks around the world, but none had the magic that Lions did. Sad to say, but there will never be another place like Lions Drag Strip. It's just not possible in this day and age, and never will be again.
Thank God we were able to have such a wonderful place to celebrate life during those formative years of our beloved sport.
Carl Olson
