Yeah, that was Willard A STORY WORTH TELLING
“Real winners don’t stand alone in the winner’s circle. They help others get there.”
—author unknown
I was drag racing before the ink on my driver’s license dried, including at tracks like Stracner Drag Strip at Bettie.
I was working my way through college and supporting my loud and fast car addiction at Sandlin Chevrolet and Olds in Mount Pleasant. I was fascinated when Dick Smothers (of the 1960s TV comedy duo) fielded a team of Oldsmobile muscle cars.
The perfect storm emerged when I bought one and entered the 1970 National Hot Rod Association’s SpringNationals event, competing in the same class with one of the Smothers Brothers cars. A professionally prepared example from California was driven by Willard Wright, a drag-racing champion in his own right before being recruited by the Smothers Brothers.
True to his skill, Wright held the national record for the class and was a consistent winner in every event across the country.
Some might have called it “a bummer” to have been paired with the national record holder in final eliminations. It turned out to be a story still worth telling, however, with the bonus of a lesson I never forgot.
I harbored no fantasies of taking out the national record holder.
We both left strong, and in less than 13 seconds, it was over. To no one’s surprise, Wright advanced to the next round, and I headed for the trailer.
To some, that might have seemed like a great disappointment.
But to this “workingmy- way-throughcollege” kid who loved loud and fast cars, I got to play with the “big boys” at a national event — a long way from Friday nights at Bettie.
Back in the pits, good friend and race car mechanic Oscar Elliott was waiting.
Our plan? Load up and watch the rest of the races as spectators.
We came, we saw, we got to play, we had our moment on the big stage.
However, this story wasn’t over yet.
The smell of hot rubber and exhaust still hung heavy over the car when I saw someone walking toward us.
“There you are,” he hollered. Extending his hand, he added, “My name’s Willard Wright.” Momentarily astounded, I could do no better than stammer, “H-hello.”
“Great race,” he said.
“Tell me what you’ve done to the car.” I looked at the national record-holding driver who had just defeated me.
“Well, we ….”
Then I detailed everything I could think of about how we dismantled a new car and put it back together in compliance with NHRA’s deep rule book and my shallow pocketbook. After listening intently, Wright had questions: “Did you (do this), have you (done that)?”
He added, “Sounds like you’ve done all you can do without factory backing and sponsorship cash. Good job.
You ran me as close as anyone — right there with me at the finish line. Not bad for a couple of ‘East Texas boys’ independents.”
With that, we shook hands again.
“Nice to meet you, good luck, you’ll do well,” he said.
Then he was gone as quickly as he had appeared. We stood in awe, watching him disappear into the crowd.
“That was Willard,” Oscar finally said.
“Yeah,” I drawled.
“That was Willard.”
That was more than a memorable racing experience. It was the day a national recordholding champion tracked down a loudand- fast-car loving kid from a small town with a big dream to say, in essence, “Good job, how can I help you become better?”
And …well, that’s a story worth writing about.
Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com
