There are times when writing these stories that it is difficult not only to remember everything but also to convey how hard it was to juggle the boys, college, the house, the race car and a husband who nothing seemed to make him happy. It was an odd coincidence last Sunday while attending a concert of the SWOSU Music Department that sort of brought it all back. There was a girl somewhere in her twenties playing a flute while a small child slept on her chest in one of those papoose carriers. I was extremely proud of that girl even though many probably did not feel the same way.
I can remember back then telling friends who questioned how I went back to college, ran a small business, took care of the boys and tried to be the perfect wife that I wished I was the kind of mother who enjoyed staying and baking bread. Life would have been a lot easier although I knew that just wasn't me. In truth, looking back now, I wonder how I survived 1976.
When racing season started in the spring Wes was a very active 5 1/2 year old. He operated at high speed from morning until night, racing up and down the street on a Big Wheel or bicycle with a vivid imagination and non-stop talking. Wally was 2 1/2 always happy and I think rather quiet trying to take in all the commotion around him. We spent a lot of time together on the drive to Denton to college everyday and I think he enjoyed the quiet without his brother and the children his same age at the TWU Child Care Center.
I loved going to school but I think I loved going to school from the age of six. Something in my personality requires me to never go to class without being prepared as I never wanted to appear stupid. That probably comes from being told too many times that I was stupid and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. When Dr. Chandler, the plastic surgeon and my cheerleader on going back to college, would demand to see my grades at the end of each semester it was fun to show them off.
At the end of three semesters of Chemistry, Math and Biology I had managed not the 4.0 he said I needed but a 3.5 grade average I was really proud of.
The weekends leading up to the first drag race in March were a flurry of activity in getting the car painted and ready to go. Watus, his girlfriend Sam, Jimmy Parker and Dennis and I all got along well together but privately I had to put up with constant complaints from Dennis about this or that. The first race at La Place in New Orleans I could not go due to an art show and it ended up with Jimmy Parker departing from the team. Watus bought Jimmy's engine and a friend of Watus's, Bill Burns started helping on the car. Bill and his wife, Pam, were a great help and fun to be around. Since Dennis knew very little about blown Chrysler engines and Watus was driving we needed Bill and his expertise.
My Ford lease vehicle for that year was a nine passenger van which doubled as a tow vehicle for the race car. Many weekends all six adults and sometimes my two boys ran down the highway going to places like Carlise, Arkansas, Jackson, Mississippi, Houma, Louisiana, Houston, Tulsa or Amarillo. Every race had it's funny stories and memorable events. It must have been bad luck to make reservations at motels in advance but it was at times difficult to find rooms at midnight after driving half the night and racing all day. Then there was the time Dennis backed the van over the front of a Corvette. Or the night Dennis and I left Dallas after a company party we had to attend and drove all night to meet Watus and Bill at the track in Amarillo. The fun part was that the car came close to winning or won every race we entered. This was drag racing at it's best for me.
As the summer flew past Dennis became increasingly unhappy with situation with the race car. I used all my positive powers to try to keep the waters smooth but when it was decided that the car should move out of our garage and down to Reeder Row in Dallas where all the top area racers were Dennis was very unhappy. It only made sense to me as everyone who had cars on Reeder Row also had the knowledge to make the car a consistent winner. Besides the knowledge there was a lot of parts trading and fine tuning that went on that kept us winning races. In truth the car moved to keep Dennis from tinkering on it as he made no great effort to learn or understand the workings of the Chrysler engine. It was then that I realized that Dennis did not care as much about winning as he did about simply owning a car that he could spend his time just tinkering on, bragging to his friends about and just sitting in the garage so he could look at it.
As with all racing engines which are just waiting for a chance to blow up ours did right at the end of the racing season. It was good timing from the aspect that it happened before Dennis, Watus and Bill came to words about the partnership that would not have been pleasant. We had entered the National race in Indianapolis a couple of weeks after the engine went kaput and no time to repair it. We already had tickets and even motel reservations for the six of us and we all went together but it was not a very pleasant weekend. After that weekend Dennis ended up selling the entire car to Watus and was quitting racing forever. Needless to say I was not a happy camper. Racing Top Alcohol with Watus and Bill was really fun even with all the ups and downs. It was worth all the time and effort, worth all the extra hours of no sleep to stay caught up in school, worth all the money and things we had given up through the years to go racing. I probably tried to get him not to sell the car but I had never learned how to argue with anyone and successfully make a point. Instead I just added black stars on my imaginary chart every time I thought about it for years.
So, now what?
I can remember back then telling friends who questioned how I went back to college, ran a small business, took care of the boys and tried to be the perfect wife that I wished I was the kind of mother who enjoyed staying and baking bread. Life would have been a lot easier although I knew that just wasn't me. In truth, looking back now, I wonder how I survived 1976.
When racing season started in the spring Wes was a very active 5 1/2 year old. He operated at high speed from morning until night, racing up and down the street on a Big Wheel or bicycle with a vivid imagination and non-stop talking. Wally was 2 1/2 always happy and I think rather quiet trying to take in all the commotion around him. We spent a lot of time together on the drive to Denton to college everyday and I think he enjoyed the quiet without his brother and the children his same age at the TWU Child Care Center.
I loved going to school but I think I loved going to school from the age of six. Something in my personality requires me to never go to class without being prepared as I never wanted to appear stupid. That probably comes from being told too many times that I was stupid and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. When Dr. Chandler, the plastic surgeon and my cheerleader on going back to college, would demand to see my grades at the end of each semester it was fun to show them off.
At the end of three semesters of Chemistry, Math and Biology I had managed not the 4.0 he said I needed but a 3.5 grade average I was really proud of.
The weekends leading up to the first drag race in March were a flurry of activity in getting the car painted and ready to go. Watus, his girlfriend Sam, Jimmy Parker and Dennis and I all got along well together but privately I had to put up with constant complaints from Dennis about this or that. The first race at La Place in New Orleans I could not go due to an art show and it ended up with Jimmy Parker departing from the team. Watus bought Jimmy's engine and a friend of Watus's, Bill Burns started helping on the car. Bill and his wife, Pam, were a great help and fun to be around. Since Dennis knew very little about blown Chrysler engines and Watus was driving we needed Bill and his expertise.
My Ford lease vehicle for that year was a nine passenger van which doubled as a tow vehicle for the race car. Many weekends all six adults and sometimes my two boys ran down the highway going to places like Carlise, Arkansas, Jackson, Mississippi, Houma, Louisiana, Houston, Tulsa or Amarillo. Every race had it's funny stories and memorable events. It must have been bad luck to make reservations at motels in advance but it was at times difficult to find rooms at midnight after driving half the night and racing all day. Then there was the time Dennis backed the van over the front of a Corvette. Or the night Dennis and I left Dallas after a company party we had to attend and drove all night to meet Watus and Bill at the track in Amarillo. The fun part was that the car came close to winning or won every race we entered. This was drag racing at it's best for me.
As the summer flew past Dennis became increasingly unhappy with situation with the race car. I used all my positive powers to try to keep the waters smooth but when it was decided that the car should move out of our garage and down to Reeder Row in Dallas where all the top area racers were Dennis was very unhappy. It only made sense to me as everyone who had cars on Reeder Row also had the knowledge to make the car a consistent winner. Besides the knowledge there was a lot of parts trading and fine tuning that went on that kept us winning races. In truth the car moved to keep Dennis from tinkering on it as he made no great effort to learn or understand the workings of the Chrysler engine. It was then that I realized that Dennis did not care as much about winning as he did about simply owning a car that he could spend his time just tinkering on, bragging to his friends about and just sitting in the garage so he could look at it.
As with all racing engines which are just waiting for a chance to blow up ours did right at the end of the racing season. It was good timing from the aspect that it happened before Dennis, Watus and Bill came to words about the partnership that would not have been pleasant. We had entered the National race in Indianapolis a couple of weeks after the engine went kaput and no time to repair it. We already had tickets and even motel reservations for the six of us and we all went together but it was not a very pleasant weekend. After that weekend Dennis ended up selling the entire car to Watus and was quitting racing forever. Needless to say I was not a happy camper. Racing Top Alcohol with Watus and Bill was really fun even with all the ups and downs. It was worth all the time and effort, worth all the extra hours of no sleep to stay caught up in school, worth all the money and things we had given up through the years to go racing. I probably tried to get him not to sell the car but I had never learned how to argue with anyone and successfully make a point. Instead I just added black stars on my imaginary chart every time I thought about it for years.
So, now what?
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