Great job Darr, thanks. I loved the comparison that Snake made between the early days, and nowadays. I think if I were able to rewind my life to the 60s, but exclude going to any drag races, and just start going now, I'd never go a second time. It's the old days, the history, the legend, the mystique, the way it sounded and smelled and looked back then, that keeps me going back today.
Drag Racers were the cowboys of the mid-1900s. They barnstormed, they raced at every dangerous, short-shut-off-dump of a track and packed the people in 10 deep at the fence, and filled every sun-whitened set of bleachers in the country!
I'm so honored to have been part of that, so grateful to have those memories and experiences logged away in memory! When Snake ran his Final Strike Tour in 94, I approached his souvenir trailer. He was signing shirts and hats. I'd just purchased a black Final Strike t-shirt. He said he'd sign it. Then he looked for the gold-ink Sharpie. "Where's that damned gold pen?" He yelled at one of the girls in the trailer. The pen appeared, he signed, and handed the shirt back to me. I looked at him and said, "What I'd really like is to say thanks." I offered my hand, he smiled and shook it . He made my day, and I think I made his, just a little.
