The editor’s Blowin’ Smoke – 1-Jan-2010
Forgive the blurred status of this week’s mug shot, but when you run into one of the idols of your youth, you take what you can get.
In this instance, a crappy cell phone and shaky user conspired to fuzzy up this picture of me with NHRA Hall of Famer, Tom “The Mongoose” McEwen.
A few weeks ago, I attended the SEMA Motorsport Parts Manufacturers Council Media Trade Conference in Los Angeles. It’s three days of 14-a-day meetings and one day as I was hurrying to my next meeting I caught a glimpse of this somewhat familiar looking guy out of the corner of my eye. It took a second to register who it was but when it did, I knew I had to get a photo and relate to Mr. McEwen a story that happened almost 30 years ago at the U.S. Nationals in Indianapolis, IN. The photo didn’t turn out so great, but the story is kind of cool.
In 1978 I was a scrawny 12-year-old who loved two things — baseball and cars. My dad’s Super Stock & Drag Illustrated magazines were one of my favourite things to read and when he was done, I’d pull out the posters and hang them on the wall in my room or even in my “cubby” at school.
For some reason that summer, my dad decided he was going to rent a motorhome and spend Labour Day weekend with me, three of my friends and my younger brother, Jason, at the U.S. Nationals. My buddies and I were stoked. Avid model builders (and I guess dweebs) we decided we had to have a club and since there were four of us, the club became the Modelers Four. One of us decided we needed club T-shirts and on a popsicle run to the Mac’s Milk cornerstore one summer afternoon we discovered you could buy iron-on letters for T-shirts for just a few bucks. To earn the funds for the letters and the T-shirts, we collected pop bottles and coat hangers for the deposit money. (You could get a penny a coat hanger from the dry cleaners in those days).
In short order we had our T-shirts and in just the nick of time for our road trip. I don’t know how my friends or brother remember it, but I remember it as one of the best trips of my life. My dad owned his own business (Denomme Automotive, still going strong after 40 years) so time off was rare. Hanging out with him at the drags was time well spent.
Before the trip, I had purchased an autograph book hoping to nab the signatures of guys I had only read about until that time. In short order I had the signatures of Buddy Martin, Ronnie Sox, Raymond Beadle, Tommy Ivo and Roland “The Hawaiian” Leong. The first signature in the book, however, is that of Tom “Mongoose” McEwen. At the time he was running the English Leather Corvette and I was a big fan of Corvettes and “The Mongoose” (Never did like English Leather much). Of course, McEwen and his match race nemesis, Don “The Snake” Prudhomme, were well known to any kid who collected Hot Wheels in the early 1970s so a “Snake” signature was also high on my list that weekend.
But as we wondered the pits during Day 2 of the U.S. Nationals, it was “The Mongoose” trailer we first came upon. McEwen was sitting in a lawn chair inside his car hauler. I stood at the end of the ramp a little shy to walk right in, but McEwen beckoned us with an easy smile. “What’s that on your shirts?,” he asked. Of course we all wore our club T-shirts that day. I probably mumbled something about models and wish I could remember his response. I know we were all thrilled he showed any interest at all.
He signed all of our books, gave us some decals and told us to have a good time at the races. We had no idea his son Jamie had died of leukemia only days before the event, telling his dad to “Go to Indy and beat Prudhomme” setting up what would be one of the most emotional and epic funny car finals of U.S. Nationals history. Later in the day, I saw Prudhomme walking across the pits talking animately with a member of his crew. It seemed like a good time for an autograph, so as he passed I said “Snake, can you sign my book.” He almost passed me before he reacted. He stopped, grabbed my book and aggressively scratched his signature, actually tearing through the paper — see above pics — before bruskly giving it back to me. I was a little stunned. I got the feeling I had done something wrong, but wasn’t really sure what it was. Prudhomme took a few more steps away, then stopped and turned around. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just trying to explain something to my chief.”
As a competitive adult, I understand Prudhomme’s intensity that weekend and that it really wasn’t that bad. But as a 12 year old, “The Snake” had suddenly dropped a few places on my favourite’s list.
In their many years of racing each other “The Snake” usually got the better of “The Mongoose”. In fact, Prudhomme would win his NHRA fourth funny car title in 1978.
But that year, in the final round of the U.S. Nationals, it was McEwen who took a bite out of Prudhomme knocking off “The Snake” in the F/A final, fulfilling Jamie’s request.
Sadly, we weren’t there for the race. We had to leave Monday morning so dad could get back to work on Tuesday. So, 30 years later, in a hotel hallway on the other side of the country, I related the story to McEwen and thanked him for his kindness that weekend. He simply looked at the guy with him winked and said “Did you hear that, Snake was mean to him and I was nice.” Then they both laughed wryly and walked away.
Even today, the “match racing” continues.
So does the idol worship.