This past weekend I was over in Augusta, Georgia for both the HOF induction ceremony Friday night and the all day event Saturday. Being in the same dining room with Jack Ingram and Sam Sommers, two guys I watched race for so many years and admired for not only the way they handled an automobile but the way they handled themselves. Friday night was just a pleasure watching these gentlemen receive their Hall of Fame jackets from the Augusta International Raceway Preservation Society. Dinner was excellent and the company all around was outstanding. What great memories I will have from that night which includes meeting one of the Tuskegee Airman, Lt. CMDR Alfonzo Jackson.

Saturday I arrived at the Diamond Lakes Park at 9:30 for the opening ceremonies to begin at 10:00 a.m. Little could I have anticipated the parking area for the complex would be completely full. No place to park, not even along the road. I went down and attempted to turn into the area where the race cars were being parked and a young man at first was reluctant to allow my mini-van access to the area until he noticed the vanity plate on the front of the van. I had no problem then, it was fine to park under the shade tree there along what was the pit road for the Augusta Road course on which Fireball Roberts won the last race of his career in November, 1963.

As I got out of the van and started to walk toward the building, probably a quarter mile away, I was walking down that pit road. I was fortunate enough to have attended that ONLY race ever run by NASCAR on that track and as I walked I could almost hear the engines and see the number 22 of Fireball or the number 8 of Joe Weatherly pitting against the pit wall which is now mostly trees and concrete blocks. Funny how my imagination can play tricks of me like that. Or maybe it’s just that such memories are such a part of who I am that it takes very little to take me back through a time portal to hear the sounds, smell the racing fuel and hot tires, and see the cars of old roaring by in front of me. It is a part of me, and I a part of all that. Sometimes separating the memories from reality becomes more difficult than other times.

As I walk, I encounter Robbie Green with Free American Racing. Free Pennington hasn’t arrived yet because he’s at his daughter’s soccer game. Suddenly, the mist the past rolls away and the present is there before me. I met Free Pennington and his group three years ago at this very event in Augusta. From my point, and, I think from Free’s point as well, it was instant friendship. We seemed to hit it off from the first six words, although I don’t remember what those words might have been. It is the common bond we have in our love for God, our families, our country and, of course, racing. Free and his team are great folks to hang around and are a very present part of racing today. They are both fun and an inspiration to be around. We don’t get to spend nearly enough time together, but yet we have a bond between us only good friends could have.

Little did I suspect the opening ceremonies would be so inspirational . The official program billed is as a “Welcome Home Celebration 2011: A Salute to Veterans and Service Members”. Several members of the military and the Augusta City government and Augusta International Raceway Preservation Society spoke to the assembled crowd and many remarks evoked emotions of pride in our country and the men and women who give so much to keep us free. When the lone bugler sounds taps near the end of the ceremony those without tears in their eyes surely had a lump in their throats.

During the course of the day, I met and talked with folks of all ages, and all were fired up with the enthusiasm most race fans seem to come by naturally. I am always amazed by the dedication of race fans. Case in point, one young man is on a mission to obtain autographs of all of the 50 greatest drivers as determined by NASCAR. He has been scouring e-bay and is getting far along in his process. If I’m not mistaken, he actually has an original Red Byron autograph for which he paid $40.00 on e-bay. He’s missing a couple but he’s still working. I have at least one or two of the ones he needs in my collection. He has agreed to purchase those but I will never reveal the agreed upon price.

I usually do not mention folks by name here without getting their permission first. But, in the case of Fred Harper, I will make an exception. Mr. Harper will proudly tell you he is 86. He has been around racing since greasing the axle on Ben Hur’s chariot. He appears to be in his 50s and he gets around like he’s in his 30s. I could not believe he is 86 but he gave me his birthdate and offered to show me his drivers license. Mr. Harper is a man with a contagious personality. You can’t spend 3 minutes with the gentleman without feeling a zest for life that so many people miss in the process of living. Mr. Harper has done it well and continues to do it well. The dude still works!

I had not intended to make this Legendtorial a report of my adventures in Augusta, but it sort of came to be as I thought of the two young boys, one maybe 9 the other 11 maybe, who stopped to talk to me as I was walked to my van. They asked me for an autograph so I put down my briefcase and got out a couple “hero cards” which feature my 1959 Plymouth number 83. I autographed one for each kid and the 9 year old kept staring at the card like he couldn’t believe that autograph. Ok, I admit my signature looks like a cross between a doctor with an injured hand and a lawyer scribbling notes, but when I asked him if something was wrong, he says, “that car has wings”. Guess it never occurred to me that young kids have no conception of the huge tail fins of cars back then. Have no conception of racing back then. But, thanks to folks like Bruce Brantley, Sam Sommers, Jack Ingram, Harvey Tollison and others involved in that preservation society, these kids, along with dozens of others, have the chance once a year to see what it was like. Some are race fans, some are not, but they come. They come out that one day a year to share in the memories of those of us from the old days who love the sport and cherish the memories. I hope that many will become like our own Cody Dinsmore and learn as much about the history as they can. I keep repeating it, as do so many of us here, like some kind of mantra not to be lost, that we cannot let the history of stock car racing disappear into the trees of the old road course in Augusta, the river at Occonneechee or the walking path trails of Cheraw Speedway. Sure, times change, but memories don’t really change. Oh sure, memories get enhanced a little as time goes by and that’s good. Ask Johnny Mallonee how that works!!!! It does sort of amaze me that race drivers and fans have this ability to recall events from 20, 30, or 40 years ago as if it just happened. Talk with some of the older drivers and listen to their stories, then go read the actual reports of the events. Uncanny how accurate those memories are. It also amazes me that when Jeff and I went to Randleman, NC a couple of years ago to do the interview with The King, his memory on races up to the late 80s was absolutely detailed to the point of watching it on dvd. Almost poetic that starting in the 90s, his memory sort of runs the events together. I understand that. We lost part of what was the inspiration to remember. But that is a topic for another Legendtorial.

Thanks to all the folks in Augusta for holding the event and for making The Legend feel so at home there. Making memories is an awesome way to spend a day.