SEE YA, PAL

Jim Hunter, RIP

In one the modern world’s pains of reminding one as to the things they have missed, my cell phone’s unrelenting, generally disliked missed-call list displayed Herbert Ames’ name.

Herbert is a proud Palmetto State boy who years ago was introduced to me by another proud South Carolinian, NASCAR’s Jim Hunter.

Although the damnable cell phone’s ability to remind also included Ames’ voice-mail message, it was ignored in favor of immediately dialing his number.

“DC, Hunter’s visitors have been restricted to family. He’s only got days to live,” Ames said earlier this week, choking his emotions.

Though sad, the news that our friend, Jim Hunter, was about to cross into the great unknown wasn’t surprising.

It had started a year ago at this race weekend when Hunter, suddenly short of breath, sought help at Talladega Speedway’s infield medical center.

Soon, heads were spinning with the rapid pace undertaken to fight the cancer which had invaded his chest and neck. Bombarded by radiation, veins filled with drug concoctions that future doctors will surely think as primitive as bloodletting is thought today, every means available was deployed in the fight to rid Hunter of what he and I would come to simply refer to as “The Demon.”

Still, I was nonetheless accepting of almost anything but the inevitable word that my friend had reached the end of his fight because I didn’t really wish to be the one to further pass along word of his imminent demise.

”Hunter’s death only days away, hospital visits restrained,” were the words of a text message I soon sent.

My youngest daughter, Camille, is a wonderful golfer. Anyone who plays or who has attempted to play the game marvels at her grace, strength and accuracy on a golf course.

Hunter was one such soul.

If anyone could truly love something other than another human being, Jim Hunter loved golf. So much so, in fact, his chosen daily business footwear were de-cleated golf shoes.

The common, everyday golf shoe has a funky look that can be easily spotted at 100 yards by even the most detached non-golfer. Hunter didn’t care. In fact, he reveled in it.

As many hours walking on a variety of terrains had taught him, “They’re the most comfortable shoes I got,” Hunter would say.

His love of golf didn’t stop there.

Honestly, I don’t know why Hunter so loved the game, especially as cruel as it could be and as cruel as it’d become as Hunter’s aging body ever more restricted his ability to play the game, even long before The Demon struck.

At first I was wary of pairing Hunter and Camille on the golf course, or even in the same neighborhood, so deep was Camille’s dislike of cigarettes.

Headstrong on nearly everything for as long as I can remember, Camille saw every smoker as among the lowest, most vile humans to be found anywhere.

Jim Hunter’s infectious laugh, his zest for life and his love of golf soon changed her point of view and taught her a lesson to look within that soul for the good to be found, cigarettes or no.

It wasn’t long before the two started playing golf on a moment’s notice.

I don’t know exactly what Camille saw in Hunter, maybe he was the Grandfather Camille never really had, her maternal and paternal grandparents having all died while before she was really old enough to remember them.

Whatever, she ignored his smoking and before long the two would play pickup golf matches.

Not long afterward, Hunter bought a house next to LPGA International’s practice facilities, where after a long trip to a faraway track or a tough day at the office could be countered in a matter of a few minutes in the quiet that usually surrounds a golf course.

Before moving away to Louisville and an awaiting college golf scholarship, Camille practiced every day at LPGA International and like every other golfer itching to play the perfection gained through practice, Camille often headed out for nine or 18 holes after practicing. Hunter often went with her, too.

Camille and Hunter soon became regular golf buddies, so much so that I can remember once being a tad envious. I loved ‘em both; wanted to play golf with both of ‘em. But, in the end, after all is said and done, parents just want to see their kids happy and healthy.

By sheer coincidence the 2006 NCAA Division I Women’s National Championship was slated for LPGA International at the end of Camille’s freshman year.

Sure enough, when Camille and her Louisville teammates played their way into their first national championship, Hunter was there for Camille.

Cheering her on, Hunter carved at least a little time each day she played, walking with her as she finished her last round.

I think Camille was saddest this past week because she wasn’t alongside Hunter for his last round, the one in which The Demon finally prevailed.

But she had no clue.

Oh, for sure, Camille was aware of his fight. After all, the two frequently communicated. They last spoke just last week. But Hunter wouldn’t let on – a benefit of being hundreds of miles apart and using a telephone to convey glad tidings – which Hunter did until his very end.

That was Hunter, too. Yes, Hunter could be cross with others, as would a fellow even named Earnhardt learn many years before, but Hunter really had one of the best souls I’ve ever known. The man embraced everyone first.

With golf one has many chances to share much time, Hunter’s and my matches were filled with his wonderful insight and of stories about days long passed along with shared knowledge of present headlines.

Recollections of those, though, now are best left for another day.

Today, this father grieves for a daughter who for the first time in her life has been deeply touched by another human’s passing.

Today, now, this father grieves for himself, because he lost one helluva a friend and, perhaps, knowing his daughter’s age of innocence is now passing, washed away with her tears for Hunter . . . or, perhaps, oneself.

See ya, Pal.

DC

TESTING CONTINENTALS AT VIR

LEAPIN’ LIZARDS OVER HERE! AGAIN!

Flying Lizards’ Seth Neiman and crew were on hand for the Rolex Series’ Continental Tire test at VIRginia International Raceway Tuesday and Wednesday.

Well, Neiman and company were on the track and pit-side Tuesday, huddling in the garage Wednesday as an early morning fog slowly turned to mist and then to slight sprinkles which turned to rain by mid-morning.

Still, Neiman put in some serious time Tuesday on the 3.27-mile, 17-turn VIR road course, often emerging with a smile on his face as the Daytona Prototype became more familiar to him – posting admirable times, too.

Driving a Porsche Flat-Six Riley Daytona Prototype which took Brumos Racing’s David Donohue, Darren Law, Buddy Rice and Antonio Garcia to victory in the 2009 Rolex 24 At Daytona, some say Neiman has begun a familiarization process that’ll lead to his competing in the Jan. 29-30. season-opening endurance race.

For his part, Neiman says, “I’m just having some fun.”

Oh, those drivers!

BRUMOS CALLING

“To get a call from Hurley Haywood, asking if I’d consider driving for Brumos, almost bowled me over,” Andrew Davis, most recently of Stevenson Motorsports, said as he undertook a Tuesday afternoon stroll of the VIR paddock.

“How could someone not want the Brumos name on their racing résumé?”

Davis got the call after Haywood and Brumos Racing decided “to get closer to its roots and run a 911-based car for the 2011 Rolex Sports Car Series,” Haywood said when reached by telephone Tuesday because neither he nor the new Brumos car were on hand for the VIR test.

“We’ll start testing it as soon as we can get the car,” Haywood said. “Our first official test will be at Homestead-Miami Speedway (Dec. 1-2).”

Davis will be paired with Leh Keen, former co-driver of James Gue in Dempsey Racing’s No. 41 Mazda RX-8. The pair finished fifth in the year-end 2009 Rolex Series GT standings, 32 points out of first.

Keen captured the 2009 Rolex Series GT championship co-driving a Porsche GT3 with Dirk Werner, the team shortly thereafter splintering in the wake of Federal fraud allegations made against team principal Greg Loles.

“Plainly, I believe we’ve got the driver talent to do well in our return to GT,” Haywood said, noting the team is in the final stages of choosing the team manager.

“We’re looking to win races and a championship in our first year in GT and we’re carefully putting together the pieces that will facilitate that,” Haywood said.

Davis said he’s leaving the Stevenson team with mixed emotions, noting the friendships he’s forged with team members and, especially, that of Johnny Stevenson and Robin Liddell.

“I put Mr. Stevenson in the loop as soon as I got the call from Hurley,” Davis said, adding that Stevenson was supportive and understanding.

“I’ve gotten really close to Robin. We’re good friends and I’m going to miss not seeing him as often but going to Brumos is huge and it just wasn’t an opportunity to miss.”

IT’S A GAS FOR KAISER

Ross Kaiser, here as a result of the 2011 Sunoco Rolex 24 At Daytona Challenge, which put the driver into a Rolex 24 At Daytona competing Daytona Prototype as part of his British Radical championship winner’s package, was hard at work on the 3.27-mile VIR track acclimating himself to the No. 77 Doran Racing Ford Dallara.

Most folks on hand for the test thought VIR’s slightly overcast sky and 70-degree temperatures to be acceptably cool, whereas Kaiser compared it to a “hot, sunny day in England.”

Kaiser put in most of the Doran’s available seat time (though Brad Jaeger captured second – more on that later), settling into a 1:46 lap of the 17-turn, terrain-changing course by day’s end.

He was one tired British race car driver, too.

“This car’s a bit heavier and harder to turn than my Radical,” Kaiser said. “Also, I’m used to being in an open cockpit car and the air flow helps keep me cooler. I’m in need of some better airflow through my helmet.”

Already on the way by Tuesday afternoon was the means by which to provide such, though with Wednesday’s cooler-still temperatures and doubtful sight of the sun, extra cooling may not be necessary, just yet.

GAINING PERSPECTIVE

“I tell you, seeing a young mother and father put their faith and weeks-old baby in the hands of doctors for a heart operation kind of puts life into perspective,” Michael Gué said Tuesday.

The team manager of Dempsey Racing’s No. 41 Mazda RX-8, Gué and son James Gué, who also happens to drive that RX-8, had just returned from a visit to Seattle Children’s Hospital – for whom the team help raise funds – to witness the procedure as well as speak with all involved.

“The parents are usually first-time parents and to look into their eyes and simultaneously see hope and almost sheer desperation really strike at the heart,” Mike Gué said.

“The doctors are so incredibly professional that what they undertake seems almost routine, yet a little life hung precariously in the balance. It really was quite incredible.”

Nonetheless, racing helps pay the bills – for the Gué family as well as those Seattle Children’s Hospital babies – and attention inevitably returns to finding a compatible, competent driver to fill the RX-8 seat Leh Keen vacated.

“Fortunately, this year we’re not lacking for applicants,” Mike Gué said. “We’ve yet to work it down to a short list but we’ll start on that after this (VIR) test.”

The team likely isn’t hurting for candidates for a couple of reasons, among which would be a new team driver’s increased appeal among the fairer sex, albeit as a result of the appeal generated by yet another team driver and sometimes Hollywood star, Patrick Dempsey.

Imagine the pressure a potential driver recruit would get from his significant other to “sign now, dammit!” so that she and perhaps a cadre of her best girlfriends could possibly hang, even if but for a moment, with Dr. McDreamy. Heck, the economic benefits probably are good, too – one being able to sign a driver for less money just to regularly hang in the same driver’s lounge as Dempsey, certainly saving the team $20,000 or $30,000 worth of salary, don’t you think?

Perhaps more importantly, though admittedly a stretch by comparison, is the team’s demonstrated ability to win, as it did at the Crown Royal 200 at Watkins Glen International, or the ability to post an additional three 2010 podiums: a third at Homestead; second at Lime Rock Park; and, another third-place in the Sahlen’s Six Hours of The Glen.

Nah, surely such pales in comparison.

THE MEISTER, JAEGER

Brad Jaeger, who with Memo Gidley co-driving, had eight 2009 starts and 13 starts in 2008 in Doran’s No. 77 Ford Dallara, will apparently be seeing action in the No. 77 for the Jan 29-30 Rolex 24 At Daytona and the June 3-4 Sahlen’s Six hours of The Glen.

Jaeger was the car at the VIR test and was in the seat late Tuesday when the Doran crew alternately hung a couple of new Grand-endplate designs on the car.

“Nah, we won’t be able to tell any difference here,” team owner, manager, chief bottle washer and sometimes truck driver Kevin Doran said while the test was underway of the extra hoped-for downforce the plates might produce. “You’ll really not see much here because this really isn’t the best environment to actually measure whatever is produced. Grand-am asked us to put ‘em and we complied.”

Also complying with the endplate test was Michael Shank Racing’s No. 60 Crown Royal Special Reserve Ford Riley with Jon “Hairless” Pew at the wheel who insisted the most telling bottom-line result for him and the new endplates was his not wrecking the car.

Helping Pew were newly installed paddle shifters on the steering wheel centerline’s left and right horizontal sides.

“They’re nice, especially helpful when you formerly had to shift going into a corner,” Pew said.

Pew explained that a number of corners are encountered where one must shift a gear but the throw of which will result in net loss of time.

“There are some corners where you have to downshift earlier just so you have the right pull going through or coming out of a corner. With the paddle shifter, I can keep both hands on the wheel and shift at the optimum moment.

Plus, there’s the added advantage of preventing a mechanical over-rev, because the paddle’s electronics won’t activate the change unless the engine revs and selected gear are in an acceptable range.

“I like it. The paddle shifter’s a good idea that’ll ultimately save a team some money in the gearbox.”

And, maybe, time on the track.

“I just look at Scott Pruett and know if he can do it, that maybe there’s hope I can do it too,” Pew’s co-driver Ozz Negri said of his potential for driving when he’s 50-years old.

LET THE FORCE BE WITH YOU

Some people along VIR’s pit road suggest a certain U.S. Government-associated car manufacturer had taken the Federal Health Care (ObamaCare) methodology to heart, saying the carmaker’s racing arm issued an “or-else” ultimatum to a couple or three active and, now, possibly former series teams.

The unconfirmed story goes something like this: “You, Mr. Two-Car-Team-Owner, must rid yourself of one car – even though you’re making money with that gentleman driver in it, or we’ll cut off your funding for the one with the professionals in the car.”

“And you, you silly Mr. Other-Team-Owner, we don’t care that you overcame tremendous odds and performed admirably on what didn’t even come close to a shoestring budget, you must rid yourself of that car or we won’t be playing in your sandbox at all, either.”

Left confusing this poor old writer is that Mr. O-T-O then wouldn’t have a car, any car whatsoever needing funds of any sort if he doesn’t have a car to fund in the first place. Right?

Is this another case of how diabolical government minds function? Then again, maybe it’s another 2012 apocalypse warning sign? Perhaps both.

(Post Script: A GM Racing representative called this author Friday, Oct. 22, 2010, to convey that GM Racing wasn’t they who weren’t named above.)

I ONLY WANT TO DRIVE

Paul Edwards, with whom a reporter briefly crossed paths last Sunday in Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jones International Airport , (learned only today) was returning from a one-day familiarization of the Spirit of Daytona No. 90 Coyote-Chevrolet at south-Georgia’s Roebling Road.

Yes, it appears Buddy Rice is out of the No. 90 seat he shared with a continuing Antonio Garcia.

This is the time of the year when yours truly and his brethren must start putting two and two together so as to have any hope of totaling three inasmuch as no one is really saying much of anything for fear of anti free-marketers entering the picture and telling everyone they must purchase racing insurance.

Huh?

Yep.

By the way, Wayne Taylor Racing’s No. 10 SunTrust Dallara has traded its Ford for a Chevrolet, too.

DEUTSCHE TOURENWAGEN MASTERS

Talking about hot topics . . .

A certain longtime BMW-associated driver can’t wait for 2012 (yes, yes, but they’ll start testing in 2012) and another longtime BMW-associated driver can’t wait for 2012 (yes, yes, but they’ll start forming teams over here in 2012 – or 2010 if this guy has his way).

This is a deal which started brewing early in 2009 and one which has had more players, is slightly more involved and, perhaps, convoluted than appears at present.

But in revealing it in grand fashion is Grand-Am’s David Spitzer, who’s done a credible job of raising the ire of at least two of NASCAR’s highest-level but closed-mouth types and to which another high-level NASCAR type retorted . . . um, well, actually, it’d be best not to repeat it herein, what with family members of all ages tuning in.

But he retorted a good one. Um, supposedly, of course.

Lastly, does anyone perchance remember David Bowie’s “Young American? What about you, John?

Later,

DC

WALKING ABOUT CHARLOTTE

CHARLOTTE, N.C. (08 Oct., 2010) – What comes to mind when someone throws a “North Carolina” reference into a conversation? Tar heels? Tobacco Road? Southern Bells with Southern drawls? Basketball and Michael Jordan? NASCAR?

While undertaking a short 20-or-so-block downtown Charlotte walkabout, seen by your faithful scribe Friday was a cosmopolitan-looking, 40-ish business-type smartly dressed in clothes that weren’t even remotely close to everyday dollar-store closeouts and, perhaps more telling of Charlotte having become something other than what it was even just a couple-or-three decades ago, the dude was looking at the world through blue-colored compact glasses.

Then, there were the urban shoulder bags. Lots of ‘em. Not your momma’s shoulder bag, a.k.a. “purse,” mind you, because when in a male’s possession they’re variously named “messenger” or “laptop cases” or, perhaps, “satchel,” but they darn sure weren’t “urmamma’s” bag – though it’s reasonable to expect within many men’s bags today are found a tissue pack or two, some spare change and, maybe, a nail file or, given “male liberation,” a pacifier here and there (whether his or a child’s is a tossup, for sure).

Be assured of one thing: 30-years ago a male Southerner wouldn’t have been caught dead with something hanging from his shoulder, other than, say, a shirt, a golf bag, a holstered .45 or a plow horse’s reins.

But an influx of folks from faraway lands – which Charlotte and the surrounding area surely have experienced over the last three decades – brings different folks having different strokes.

Backpacks – by contrast assuredly in Charlotte’s downtown minority Friday – at least had a reasonable chance at acceptance when, after all, John Wayne wore ‘em, too.

Still, chalk up yet another computer-age change.

HALL MONITORING

The NASCAR Hall of Fame is the site of Saturday’s 2011 Continental Tire Sports Car Challenge Awards Banquet.

Also in Charlotte’s downtown, NASCAR’s HOF opened in May.

On the first floor of the three main floors within are the Belk High-Octane Theater – wherein the pretty trophy girls will strut Saturday evening – and an incrementally increasing “racing surface” named “Glory Road” – that starts from flat and runs to 33-degrees and upon which are a dozen or so cars made famous over the years by NASCAR’s drivers and “wrenches.”

Bobby Allison’s famed No. 22 Buick LeSabre/Regal is there too, with a glaring error that surprised this viewer. A usually fastidious museum historian, Buzz McKim, who has lived and breathed the tiniest of NASCAR history details for decades, appears to have missed.

Ranging from a Red Vogt-prepared, Red Byron-driven pre-World War II Ford Coupe, which won NASCAR’s first national championship in 1949, to Jimmie Johnson’s No. 48 Lowe’s Chevrolet (Car Of Tomorrow ver. 1.0), found between are famous NASCAR race cars of the equally famous drivers they carried. Dale Earnhardt’s No. 3 Richard Childress Racing Chevrolet is there along with Bobby Isaac’s winged, 1970 championship-winning Dodge Daytona – a car that would also the same year set a number of still standing Bonneville Salt Flat records.

To this exhibit-wanderer, though, the real goodies were found on the Hall’s second and third floors.

The second floor contains a dedicated exhibit room for the Hall’s most recent inductees (soon to be replaced by the 2011 batch) and some objects – personal clothing, cars, trophies, rings, fishing gear and a conference table (Bill France Jr’s) – most associated with the first class of inductees.

With no intended disrespect shown toward the Hall’s first class, the third floor was this writer’s favorite.

Dedicated to both the famous and a little less famous – but every bit as important – members of NASCAR’s racing community since its founding, one exhibit is video roll call of well-known and not-as-well-known, but nonetheless significant, NASCAR “contributors” – from track owners to race officials, a few surprisingly young when they passed.

Also found on the third floor is found Jim France’s 1992 “Carmichael’s Downtown Daytona” drivers suit, in which he won the 1992 Legend’s National Championship, and ½ of a Union 76 Ball shell – this writer having spent the better part of the last century within a similar one (he knows it isn’t the same Ball, because his didn’t have a fire-sprinkler system).

The biggest glaring omission of all: not a single word about NASCAR’s Grand-Am community or championships! Surely such addition would bring at least a few folks down from VIRginia International Raceway (where a new DP endplate will be introduce later this month, Oct. 18-20).

The Belk High-Octane Theater offers plush, comfortable high-back rocking chair seating, and it will at the least provide a very comfortable place to watch the pretty trophy girls, listen to acceptance speeches, see tears, hear giddiness and those who’ll vow of “even better racing next year.”

Frankly, one wonders how the Continental Tire Sports Car Challenge can top its 2010 action.

Later,

DC

WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

 

Over the last day an avalanche of inquiries (thank you, Brad, you’re quite prolific), were fielded as to this author’s disposition, wondering if he’d “fallen off” Earth’s face (again, thank you, Brad) or, alternatively, expressing concern for Ol’ DC’s health (you’re a helluva guy, Brad).

The answers: “yes,” “no,” “maybe,” “yep,” “uh-huh,” “nuh-uh,” “you’re so funny,” “go suck an egg” and “You never call me anymore, Wayne” (not necessarily in order, respectively, to the above inquiries and, indeed, the answers may not have anything at all to do with any of the above).

FEELING ALRIGHT?

I’m Not Feeling Too Good Myself (thank you, Dave Mason)(uh, for the lyrics, man, not the “upset”)

Considering an ensuing reaction, longtime Grand-Am engine builder RoushYates Engines’ sports car program manager John Maddox was likely feeling a little shell shocked in the days and weeks after the company’s Aug. 6 announcement of its 2011 American Le Mans Series venture.

Misery loving company and all, Mason likely felt far better late last week when ALMS president Scott Atherton offered a “. . . traditional State of the Series address with an exciting crescendo announcement on Friday as he made public the plans for Riley Technologies to deliver an all-new design for the LMP2 category starting in 2011,” according to the series’ media department (an “exciting crescendo announcement?” Oh, well, I guess it’s kind of like “Mr. Whipple” – the Charmin-squeezing “grocer” most everyone disliked. Whether intended by the marketers, the advertisement made an indelible mark on those who repeatedly suffered through it).

Nevertheless, one easily read (rhymes with “red”) between the series’ lines, “. . . with the help, Atherton took sheer delight in sticking and twisting a couple of knives in former (1998-2000) employer International Speedway Corporation and, consequently, cousin-company NASCAR’s Grand-Am . . .”

An original Grand-Am constructor, Riley Technologies, a division of Sea Star Group, Inc., designed and built the Rolex Series’ dominant MkXI Daytona Prototype chassis – the winning numbers of which are unlikely to be broached anytime in the near or, perhaps, far future.

Playing in two especially acrimonious sandboxes will, at best, be politically difficult because principals in each series will at the least seek information concerning the other series. To deny such or even think otherwise goes against Human Operations Manual rule nos. 09 and 10.

Such a road – where one can be nailed coming and going – is fraught with awaiting “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” political landmines.

On one hand, RoushYates and Riley Technologies’ move is at least superficially understandable when seen through Mason’s eyes, who noted that keeping his RoushYates employees employed meant having to explore every available business opportunity.

The other side: unquestionable is that either entity would today exist absent a certain family’s early, frequent and timely efforts, whether beginning 8-years or 20-some-odd-years ago.

SHAFT, CAN YOU DIG IT? (thanks, Isaac Hayes; post Tina Turner)

RoushYates’ early August announcement admittedly left this writer confused; last weekend’s Riley announcement positively, assuredly dumbfounding.

This author and a near-lifelong buddy – a well-respected jurist clearly possessing a professional and personal stature well beyond my own – as youths at times became so agitated with the other that blows were exchanged more than once.

Still another friend has in recent years repeatedly reached deep to provide this too-often grating, sometimes bumbling fellow a reason to press on in life – despite needing to at times seriously chew on this writer’s posterior.

This fortunate soul and his spouse have been married since 1979. Over that time we’ve had our fair share of disagreements and faced relatively difficult times. Indeed, probably like others, our union today is under one of its greatest strains, given her nearly nonexistent income production and the resultant trial by fire.

(By the way, the “little woman” is one of those “greedy corporate” types, a business-owner who for at least two years has taken all but no pay so that loyal employees may continue to bank paychecks. Not alone, there are many others personally known to this writer doing the same.)

For the sake of debate: would not bigamy or divorce – for whatever reason – conceptually be the same as joining with a detractor who has all but sworn the destruction of that which brung one to the dance?

Even though time and again we – that is, all of the above – have respectively been driven to the abyss by the other, never has the point been reached of casually dismissing as inconsequential that which brought us to the present, deciding as “unimportant” the very considerable contributions made to the other.

Besides, my Momma never promised me a rose garden.

Later,

DC