HEAD GAMES #54

June 18th, 2011 by Drag Illustrated

What’s in a name? The possibilities are endless. For many of us, it’s an identity. For others, it’s a product, a label, a trademark. “Big Daddy” Don Garlits is probably one of our most recognizable “name” players in the drag racing world. “Big” has been an icon longer than most of us have been alive. Although he’s physically not a large fellow, his reputation and impact on this sport we love is immense. I’ve been a fan since his 1967 Top Fuel win at Indy after which he shaved, as promised, the beard he grew that season.

I’ve not yet been fortunate enough to visit his museum in Ocala, Florida, but it’s on my motorsports bucket list. I do have a cool piece of “Bigorabilia” though – a camper’s pass from the 17^th annual World Series of Drag Racing held at the venerable Cordova Dragway back in 1970. Believe it or not, about 10 years ago, one of my patients – a 50 year old guy with schizophrenia – came in and told me he had an autograph of the famed drag racer Don Garlits, which he pronounced Gartlits. Of course, I quickly corrected him. “I’m pretty sure it’s Gartlits,” he argued.

A month or two later, sure as the world, in comes the guy at his next visit and out of his shirt pocket he whips this camper pass. I’d seen “Big’s” signature before, so validation wasn’t required. Honestly, it was a bit like looking in a time capsule. I imagined my not-yet-mentally-ill car guy patient at the drags, and being able to get close enough to one of the stars to score an autograph. I have to give my guy credit, though, he hit me up for a hundred bucks for the thing, but I offered a cool 10-bucks for beer money and it’s been on my shelf ever since. I’m hoping one day I’ll tell that story to “Big Daddy” himself, but if you’re reading this, Don, it’s all yours – courtesy of Dr. Ron and the DI guys.

Getting back to names, my good friend “Big Ed” Buck has always been the master of monikers as he nicknamed every race car, street car, driver, tow vehicle, or otherwise motorized vehicle he has ever owned or been involved with. When I first met Ed in 1983, he had a white Chevy step-side pickup truck that he affectionately dubbed, “The Dream Truck”. Recentely, I borrowed a trailer off Ed to move one of my daughters to Texas, where she’ll be starting medical school this summer. After I returned, he asked if I’d mind if he’d just go ahead and use my truck to tow his trailer over to Chicago to get a race car body for his brother. How could I turn down my good friend?

Well, I told Ed about the various quirks, smirks, and idiosyncrasies of my tired old (but still good towing) Ford Super Cab diesel – it has about 240k on the clock. It’s a stick, so you know how they get with age. I put a new clutch and flywheel in it 95,000 miles ago, and at this point, will not do it again. It shifts hard, I’m sure something is broken in the transmission, but you just sort of herd and double clutch it down the road. Oh, and then there’s the brakes. The towing brakes work well, but the truck’s brake booster went south this winter and I haven’t had time to get it fixed. So, we’re talking a super-sweet manual disc/drum combo. No big deal, though, right? I mean, hey, I never had any trouble stopping it, and it’s got brand-new windshield wiper blades.

He made it back safe, but it’s taken heavy medication and counseling to get “Big Ed” back to normal, but that didn’t stop him from naming it the “Nightmare on Elm Street”.

Not surprisingly, I’ve digressed a bit. Our family name – the one we get from our fathers, and from their fathers – is a big piece of our identity. Wear it with pride, and honor your ancestors. If you’re related to Jesse James or someone famous, what the heck – exploit it. Make a name for yourself by being a man of your word. Do what you say, and say what you’ll do. Your sponsors will love you and hold you to it.

Speaking of sponsors, even though I know we wouldn’t be where we are in the racing world without them, I do sorely miss the days when the cars (or the drivers) all had nicknames. Some guys have their family name on the door of the car (unless they drive an odorless dragster or a motorcycle) like Don Clark and Gary Klavon of the Ozark Mountain Super Shifters. Same goes for budding Pro Stock ace, Dave River.

Some have named their cars using their own nicknames at the same time – “Grumpy’s Toy” comes to mind. “Big Daddy” always named his cars “Swamp Rat” – in numerical order. How about the sport’s first big and successful stars Don “The Snake” Prudhomme and Tom “The Mongoose” McEwen? The legendary match racer “Jungle Jim” Liberman parlayed his moniker into a successful road show as long as the asphalt, hamburgers and nitro held up.

I recently suggested to my partner, Larry Puff, that we should consider naming our cars a la the days of old. Maybe I’m waxing too sentimental in my old age, but we can all understand the story behind some of the names on the cars we race. “Obsession” – Yeah, it is. “Berserk” – that’s what my neighbors went that night prior to the national event when I fired the car at 3AM. “Mistress”; “Second Mortgage”; “Bad Habit”; “Time Machine”; “Brute Force”; “Money Pit” – the list goes on, and each one strikes a chord. One that I always loved I caught on the side of a fuel altered a couple years ago: “Cheaper than Therapy”. Give me a blown big block on nitro over an hour on my couch any day.

I’ll go out on a limb here and say that a comeback is on its way. If it happens soon, I’m taking credit for it, and if it doesn’t – I’m going to push harder for it. Be proud of your name, and know that it defines you. If it’s a nickname that makes you stand out, then do it proud. Look your competition in the eyes, focus, and then go all Paul Bunyan on ‘em and chop down that tree

See you at the track!
Dr. Ron