World’s Fair...Continued

Our tent was an Army pup tent.  The back of it was enclosed and was held up by a stake pounded into the ground.  The front was open.  We tied it to the Porsche.  There was no stake.  This was okay because it was a security thing.  If someone was messing with our car, we got a warning.

Some of our camping places have been lost from our memories over the years.  A few of them were special for one reason or another.  Those few we will share with you. 

We can remember driving into Winnemucci, just about in the middle of nowhere Nevada.  It was before the Interstate went through that part of the state.  When we got there, after dark, we were directed to the City Campground.  It was completely unsatisfactory for a little tent like ours, or any other size, for that matter.  The campground was grown up in huge tumbleweeds.  There was not a bare patch of ground in the entire area.

That night we slept in the Porsche.  It was an experience we hoped we wouldn’t have to repeat very often!

We went to the coast of Oregon.  At that time we thought it was one of the most beautiful places on earth...and we still do.  It is a drive we make whenever we get the chance.

We stayed at Sunset Beach State Park, outside of Coos Bay.  The ocean was especially beautiful at sunset.  The campground was really nice, with vegetation on three sides of each camp site.  Ours had lots of blackberry bushes, with lots of fruit.  We ate our fill.

It was about 9:30 or so when we set our tent up and went to bed.  At a little before 10:00, an Oriental family moved into the camping spot just across from us.  There were a mom and dad, plus two small boys.  Their tent was quite large, the kind with floor.  Wow, that was really uptown, compared to ours.  They first staked each corner in place, and then all crawled inside.  The wire structure inside must have been difficult to assemble.  Each time the tent would start to go up, the little boys would run across and hit the other side.  And down would go the tent, on everyone inside.  We laughed so hard, it is a wonder I didn’t wet my pants.  This “circus act” went on for over half an hour...the parents putting it up and the kids knocking it down.  It was so funny, and the parents not once raised their voices.  The experience is one of our favorite to tell over the years.  It still brings laughter into our lives.

We went further north on Hwy. 101 to Florence and stopped at Honeyman State Park.  It is at the north end of the Oregon Dunes National Rec. Area.  After getting our camping place we hiked up a dune at the edge of the lake.  It was a tough climb in the sand, and we were surprised at the number of people that climbed up, and ran down as fast as they could onto the lake to see how far they could slide across the water before they stopped.  Some of them were out in the water fairly far.  I can’t remember the two of us taking part in the “lake insanity.”

As we drove on north the next day we went off Hwy. 101 to Pacific City.  This area is home of the Dory Fleet.  It is made up of flat bottomed boats with tall sides.  A small motor pushes the boat out through the surf of the ocean.  When it come back to shore, it comes as fast as the waves and motor can bring it.  As it slides up onto the beach, someone on board raises the motor.  They can come quite a ways up onto the beach, at which point a person at the front jumps off and secures the dory with a rope.  It was very exciting to watch.

We took the road along the ocean to Tillamook, where we were able to tour the Tillamook Cheese Factory.  After the tour where we saw the cheese making process “up close and personal.”  (Remember this was 1962, when we were allowed to get close to the operation.  It has changed over the years.), we sampled the different kinds of cheeses made in Tillamook.

And then it was on to Portland!

Seattle World’s Fair

In the summer of 1962, we decided to go the World’s Fair in Seattle, Washington.  Our plans were to camp out all along the way.  That meant the Porsche had to have room for two people and their luggage, but also a tent, bedrolls, pillows, and an absolute minimum of other camping gear.

Our solution to the problem was a luggage rack.  Since accessories for the Porsche were very expensive and I had access to an acetylene welder, I decided to make a rack.  

The Porsche was rear engine so the rack had to be about four or five inches off the air intake grill.  I accomplished that with spacers.  We couldn’t chrome it so we painted it a light gray.  It was at a 45° angle so I put a small lip on the bottom for things to ride against.  It worked well, and solved our problem.

When we left Lubbock, gasoline was 19 cents a gallon.  That area of Texas was notorious for its gasoline price wars.  As we got further away we began to pay more, but it was a nice way to start a trip.

The first time we stopped for gasoline we had a catastrophe.  The fuel tank was in the front trunk where we stashed our camping gear.  The opening for the nozzle was very large to make it fast to fuel when racing.  The station attendant put the nozzle in, turned the pump on, and walked away.  When he came back, the trunk and our gear were full of gasoline.

The term, “not a happy camper” was first used that day to describe Bill.  Until then, I had never seen a guy with smoke coming out of his ears.  Fumes were not only coming out of the the trunk, but out of Bill’s ears.  From then on, he took care of the gasoline duties himself!  

Scuba Diving

Bill and I both liked to scuba dive.  Back in those days, there weren’t regulations concerning equipment or use of scuba gear.  

We made our own tanks.  There was a huge Army surplus place in Pecos, Texas, about 240 miles southwest of Lubbock.  Our air tanks were from a WW II bomber.  I think the material we used for the straps to hold the tanks on came from there.  We had quick release buckles that were Army issue, also.  We attached our regulators to all of this, filled the tanks with air, add our masks and swim fins and we were ready to go.

One of our favorite places to dive was at Balmorhea, Texas.  There was a clear lake with fish and interesting rock formations.  Several years ago we stopped by the place, which is now a state park.  It had expanded, but was still very nice.

Several times we drove to Santa Rosa, New Mexico, to dive.  One time we went with Bill’s friend, Roy Gladson.  He drove a Buick that loped down the road.  Add that to the fact that he wasn’t a very good driver.  He would speed up, take his foot off the gas, let it slow down, and then race back up in speed.  We both suffered motion sickness and never rode with Roy again. 

There was a place in Santa Rosa that had clear water.  It was a great big hole in the ground surrounded by large rocks.  It is now developed, with restrooms, picnic tables benches, etc.  

Also, at Golf Lake, a few miles out of town, was an interesting place.  We had to walk for about 1/2 mile to the best place to get in the water which was shallow and clear.  We were swimming along when all of a sudden, we were over a black hole.  I was so startled I nearly bit my mouth piece in half.  Bill said I was thrashing around in the water so wildly, he thought I had been attacked.  If sheer panic can be considered being attacked, I was...attacked!

We also enjoyed diving at Possum Kingdom, now a state park west of Mineral Wells, Texas.  We liked to dive toward a cliff, go down and into a cave.  People without air tanks would go down and to an air pocket, stay there until they had enough oxygen to swim back to the surface.  The first time Bill came upon legs dangling in the cave, he thought he had found dead bodies.

...And In Between...

Believe it or not, there were many other aspects in our lives beside driving around in little bitty cars.  A few of our extra activities included our cars, but not necessarily.

When we would have a free Sunday, which wasn’t often, we might drive around town with Zan and Carolyn.  She and I, with Tracy, their baby boy, would be in the Porsche.  The guys would be in their Austin Healey, following us.  If we came to a stop light and there happened to be boys in a car next to us, Carolyn would put Tracy on the floor, so two girls in a sports car could talk to the “hunks” in the other car.  Then Bill and Zan would drive up and claim us as their wives!

We also went on a camping trip with Zan, Carolyn, and Tracy.  We went up into the mountains of Colorado to the Cripple Creek area.  By then, Tracy was just learning to walk.  The slope of the terrain was quite a challenge for the little fellow.  While on that trip we went to the melodrama in Cripple Creek.  You know the kind where you boo and hiss the villain and oh and ah the damsel in distress and cheer wildly when the hero appears and saves her from the villain's dastardly deeds.  It was a fun trip.

Bill was on a bowling team, sponsored by Paul Ellis Automotive Parts, who paid for their shirts and bowling fees.  His team members were his dad, Harold, plus Roy Gladson, and Paul Ellis.  I was the score keeper.  Way back then the electronic scoring machines hadn’t been invented.

Every week, they would each put a dollar in the “kitty.”  Whoever bowled the most over his average won the “pot.”  Bill won every week, but always made sure not to raise his average too much.  It was our “eating out” money.

There was a Mexican restaurant that had a Monday night special...one enchilada dinner for $1.00, a second one for free.  That’s a “back in the good old days” story, eh?  We usually met Ronnie and Roberta there for dinner.  Wow!  What a deal!  And the food was really, really good.

Phase Three...Racing (again)

At some point in time, an event was held at Rattlesnake Raceway.  It wasn’t a sanctioned race.  It was a team event, with two drivers per team.  I signed up to be Bill’s co-driver.  I didn’t have a competition license, but could drive in this event.

From the back, it was hard to tell who was wearing the racing helmet and driving at that time.  I was in a very difficult part of the track when Peewee, driving an AC Bristol. came up behind me.  His car was more powerful than our little Sprite.  He was trying to push me into the corner.  I kept my foot on the “go pedal” and stayed in front of him to the straight-away.

Peewee said when he saw the Sprite in front of him he thought, “I’m going to push Bill into this corner and see if I can make him spin out.”  When he passed and saw me in the car instead of Bill, guess who spun?  Right...Peewee!  I think that day, he learned not to mess with me!

Some weeks later, we were back at the Midland track.  I was at the side of the track, watching the race with Ronnie Rone.  Just as Dave Fawcett, owner of the foreign car dealership in Lubbock, and a friend of ours, came into view.  Another car drove over the top of his open car, killing him instantly!  It was a sight I will never forget.  From then on, I had no interest in driving a car on a racetrack.

Bill drove in two more races that spring, but we can’t remember when or where they were.

Phase Three...Racing (continued)

We started the 1963 racing season in March at Green Valley Raceway, in Fort Worth.  Bill had his first DNF in the Sprite.  He had a broken rotor cap that sidelined him.  Shucks!

It wasn’t a weekend without excitement, however.  Our friends, Ronnie and Roberta Rone were at the race, also.  Roberta and I would watch the races from the stands for awhile and then go down to the hair pin turn, which was the last turn, and watch from there.  

We took Mother’s car and drove about a half mile to find a good spot.  There were about four dips, probably for drainage, and I drove very carefully down and back up each one.

We were watching one of Ronnie’s races when we saw a cloud of dust where his car should be.  The yellow flag went out and an ambulance went onto the track.  Needless to say, Roberta was stressed big time!  We jumped back in the car and took off for the pits.  Later, neither of us could remember any of the dips.  We must have been airborne.

We got back to the pits just as the ambulance arrived.  Ronnie had flipped his car and put his arm up to keep the ground from hurting his race car.  Dah!  Not a good idea.  We took him to a hospital where they set his broken arm.  

He was still in a world of hurt the next day, so Roberta and I drove the Dodge, towing the Sprite, back to Lubbock.  Ronnie lay in the back and moaned and groaned all the way.  Bill drove their car and towed their wrecked race car back.  Ronnie was about 6’5” and wouldn’t fit in the back of their car.  That’s why we used the Dodge as a make shift medical vehicle on the way home.

What a weekend!

Bill’s sixth race was back at Fort Sumner, New Mexico.  Because of the remoteness of the track and the fact that many of the drivers were single guys, Carolyn and I decided to poll the group to see how many of them would buy lunch from us.  We took all the makings for ham and cheese sandwiches, condiments, chips, homemade cookies, and a large cooler of sodas.

Our work station was the trunk of the Dodge.  I can’t remember how many lunches we served that day, or how much we charged, but we made enough money to pay for the trip, and feed the four of us.

Bill and I had purchased a slicer (kind of like an “As Seen on TV” thing).  We used the slicer for the tomatoes.  Peewee, who always had a comment, said we sliced the tomatoes so thin you could read a newspaper through them.  In spite of that, he came back for seconds.  

By the way, somewhere along the way, we got rid of the slicer.  Over the years, we have both wished we still had it.  It was a great little gadget and I think we paid a dollar for it.

Denise McCluggage raced at Fort Sumner, also, that weekend.  She had raced at big tracks like Sebring, but she drove at small places, too.  She also wrote article on racing for newspapers and magazines.  I can’t remember much about her except that she had a white helmet with dots on it.  Peewee, in his usual fashion, called her Dirty Knees instead of Denise.

The race was fun that weekend.  Bill was a very good driver and won both his Saturday and Sunday races.  He liked to experiment to see which lane on the track was the fastest.  In the process, he siked Zan out.  Zan thought he was as good a driver as Bill, but he wasn’t.  On every lap, Bill would be ahead on the last corner, but would let Zan pass him at the finish line.  When it was time for the last lap, I would signal Bill from the sideline and he would race across the finish line with Zan in second place, never knowing how Bill had set him up.

Phase Three...Racing

Phase Three...Racing

In the spring of 1962, Bill started driving the Sprite at the Sports Car Club of America level.  SCCA was the major sanctioning group for amateur racing  in this country.

Bill’s first driver’s school was in Midland, Texas, at Rattlesnake Raceway.  The track was built by Jim Hall where he developed the Chaparral, among other things.  It was fiberglass and had a wing on the back to help hold it down on the track.

Rattlesnake Raceway was a road course, built out in the middle of a sand dune area.  One time, another car went off the track and threw sand onto the pavement.  When Bill came around, being in the lead, he got into the sand and slid off the track  He rolled the Sprite.  The yellow flag came out and everyone else slowed down. The only damage I can remember was a scratch on top of his racing helmet and the radio antenna was broken off.

Bill had to have three driver’s schoosl before he would get his competition license.  The second one was in June at Green Valley Raceway in the Forth Worth area.  The school was on Friday and races were held on Saturday and Sunday.  Bill was allowed to drive the races as a novice.  The Sprite was marked with an “X” on back, to let other drivers know he was a ”newbie.”  The “X” wasn’t for “X marks the spot, hit here.”  It was to warn the “pros” this guy was new.  Watch out!  

There were 41 Sprites in Bill’s class (HP).  Because he was a novice he started from the very back of the field.  He couldn’t even see the front of the group.  The flagger dropped the green flag and everyone took off.  So did Bill!  He finished 17th one day and 19th the other.  Not bad for a beginner in such a large field!

For his last Driver’s School, he was back at Rattlesnake Raceway.  Jim Hall was a celebrity in the racing world and shared his facility and his knowledge with other racers.  And he was always in the pits with the rest of us.  One time, years later after we had moved to Colorado,  we went to see him race at a track north of where we lived.  When he saw us, he said, “Hi, Bill.  How are you?”  He was definitely a “people person.”

Bill’s second race was also at Green Valley in September.  

To say we were racing on a shoe string would be a gross understatement.  We bought his helmet, and his racing suit had to be fire proof.  They were expensive so we made some flame retardant powder out of Borax and a few other things, put it and water in a bucket, and soaked his suit in it.  My, how things have changed!  Bill remembers the suit being short sleeved.  It was the kind of one piece thing an old man might wear to work in his yard.  His shoes had to be leather so he wore his bowling shoes.  We towed the Sprite with my mother’s Dodge Dart.  She generously let us use it to go to all those races.  I think she secretly liked to have an excuse to stay home and work on her craft projects.

The third race was in Fort Sumner, New Mexico in October. It was at an old airport.  The course was set up on the landing strips.  All I can remember about the place was the remoteness of it.

The last race for 1962 was in November.   It was once again in Midland at Rattlesnake Raceway.  We enjoyed being there and it was the closest track to Lubbock.  The little Sprite had performed flawlessly all year long.

(To be continued.)