Gut Punches, part 2
Dennis Schalm
Tuesday May 1 2018, 9:15 AM

Getting to know James Hylton was pretty easy for about anyone. It's even easier when you are the one that has to do the under car inspections, and you know his driver because he lives in the same part of Michigan as you.

During one of the cold, rainy, and/or foggy days you are likely to get at least one day of the race weekend at Pocono, I was "doing my rounds". That's when there is nothing else to do, you walk around, be visable, take a peek over someone's shoulder occasionally, so they don't get "creative" while they are working on their cars. About the most exciting thing that happens is constantly being asked if I know if or when "we" will be getting on the track. Errrr! Racers have a hard time with rain, they think we are expert meteorologist, and don't seem to realize when we tell them "No decision is even going to be discussed until it stops raining, and no, I don't know when that is either." Going frim competitor to official shows you just how annoying you probably were in those days.

 As I said, walking around the garage area in the rain that day, I don't know if it was the weather, if I was coming down with something, or if I was just  plain tired. We weren't supposed to sit down as in we may miss something, show the series sponsor we are human too, or we would make it too much a habit, or what. But I couldn't take it anymore. I had to at least rest my feet for a minute, or two . . . or five. Then I saw it. An empty chair in the middle of one section of the garage. I decided that it was good  enough to what was going on around me, and still rest my cold wet feet. Maybe I'll rest my eyes for a minute too. Bad idea. I was  on the verge of dozing off, and the next thing I felt was ice cold water running down my back, and not just a little.. I swung my head around in every  direction to see who looked guilty. Nope no one looked guilty.

Now I had something to focus on and I was on alert. Find the practical joker!  By the end of the day, someone ratted himout. My buddy, James Harvey Hylton . . . Thanks Bud.