That night in the mid sixties was like most others; after the
dinner dishes were done and put away, it was time for the "beetle
factory" to open. The "beetle factory" was the left side of the two-car
garage at our home in suburban Toledo, OH., where numerous race cars of
varying types were built then raced over the years by my dad and his
racing buddies. Building sessions usually lasted the length of one load
of wood in the pot belly stove that was the heating system for the
garage. This night was particularly cold and while the heart was
willing the hands never warmed up enough to do whatever it was that I
would assist with that night. I was after all one of the best light
holders and tool fetchers around.
While waiting for the temperature to get above freezing there was talk
about yesterday's Wide World of Sports segment of the Daytona 500 and
who was the best driver. Lee Roy Yarbrough was my guy and he could do
no wrong. My dad was an AJ Foyt man. I tried in vain to convince him of
the error of his thinking for about an hour, until the cold wouldn't go
away and that night's work on the race car in progress was abandoned.
We went into the warmth of the house where mom asked what we had
accomplished. "It was too cold. We just did some BENCH RACING" dad
replied. BENCH RACING--huh? That's what you call doing nothing but
standing around talking racing with your friends?
Charlie and I have been bench racing for 7 years "ON PIT ROW". We encourage YOU to join us.
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