Hi everyone –

I have just returned home from a three day trip to Knoxville (a “hard-working” trip) and did something that I want to share with you all.

As I drove by dear old South High I became very excited when I saw a new roof was being installed and doors were open. I pulled around back and discovered workmen there. Nosey me, I asked what was going to be going in and it turned out I was talking to the new owner of the building. He (Ben) invited me in to tour the building — he didn’t have to twist my arm. He is planning condos! The Home Ec room and an adjoining class room is to be a condo for him and his family. The Library is to be a condo for his mother. Either the library is much smaller than I remembered or else there had been an additional class room made out of part of it. On each end of the hall (where the two side doors are located) water features are being installed and will also have planters.

The old gym/cafeteria will remain a large room to be used for social events. Remember the hardwood floors in there? Where the roof was so damaged, all the floors are completely destroyed except for one room. Does anyone remember a choir room where the steps were leading to the “new” building? That room still has the terraced floor with the original hardwood in fairly good condition. Ben is planning to leave that room as is (except for the broken windows). He has plans to keep as much original items and parts as possible.

Most of the lockers have been pulled off of the walls and are laying in the hallway. Ben told me I could have any of them that I wanted — he is just going to be trashing them. However, I was driving my car so I couldn’t get any of them. I wanted about three to put in my garage. Even thought they look like very large units, the lockers are screwed together and can be separated. If anyone is interested in lockers besides me, please let me know. I have Ben’s telephone number and he said if I called him he would put lockers aside to be picked up and he wanted an answer this week. Does anyone have an interest? Does anyone have an SUV or pick-up?

Was there a downstairs in that building? If so, what was down there?

Hope I haven’t bored all of you to death, but I just wanted to share. Hey, maybe I should buy a condo there when he is all finished. Wouldn’t that be a hoot!

Hope to see all of you this Fall.

Big hugs,
Judy

See ‘An Elementary Problem’ – the black-and-white group photo in the ‘Gallery’

Left to Right:
Front Row: Mary Catherine Nichols, Mary Jo Hill, Gloria Wallace, Martha Markham, Darlene Houser, Gerri Simpson, Doris King, Linda Bean
Middle Row: Mrs. Stern (apparently she was), Kay King, Linda Rose, Mary Lou Newman, Billie Hunt, Leonard “Red” Jones, Lillian Miller, Jeanette Jones, David Ross
Back Row: Eloise Lowery, Sue Silver, Betty Lawson, Ben Williams, Amos King, Everett Norris, Wayne Judd

Life is like a bank. We can deposit our experiences into our bank of memories and, at a later time, withdraw these memories as re-runs, as it were.

At Dan Trimmer’s suggestion, I shall make a few withdrawals and share with you some highlights (or lowpoints!) from my years as a “Knight of the Roaring Road”.

In 1949, an uncle took me to an auto race at the Broadway Speedway, just north oof Fountain City. I was totally smitten by the action, the sounds, and the smells of racing automobiles. From that evening onward I vowed that I would, someday, drive a race car.

Fast forward through South High, Maryville College, marriage, the rearing of three children, and divorce in 1984. My life was a shambles. I was 47, broke, drifting rudderless in life, and so I said to myself, “It’s now or never”.

In a weed-covered lot near Maryville, I found an ancient 1967 Chevelle race car.
In its heyday, it had been a track champion at Atomic Speedway. Despite its sad appearance, it was essentially complete, save for an engine and transmission. From a junked truck, I bought an engine and transmission and prepared to go racing.

In 1984, at Smokey Mouontain Raceway, the rules allowed the use of older, full-bodied cars in the Late Model class, although most, at that time, were the tubular framed, lighter, pure race cars. The Late Models were the top class, driven by the best and most experienced drivers. Now I could not afford to wreck my car, so I reasoned that I would be safer in the Late Model class instead of a beginner’s class. So I began my career at the rear of the field in the top class.

My first timid start went well, but I had much to learn. I was told that my car would turn better if the right rear tire was larger that the left rear. The tire could be enlarged by raising the air pressure and leaving the tire and wheel in hot sunlight for several hours. In the afternoon of my second race day, I put about 50 psi in the tire and left it in the yard to expand. At the track, I put the tire on the right rear and got ready for the first practice of the evening. Remember, I am finally living my dream and, in my excitement, I completely forgot about that rock-hard tire.

Prior to racing, a dirt track is soaked with thousands of gallons of water in order to control dust and to promote tire adhesion as the race program progresses. For the first practice, the surface will be akin to a table top smeared with chocolate pudding. The flagman waved the green and I accelerated down the front straightaway. I went down low into the first turn but my car, perfectly sideways, slid up the banking and whacked the concrete wall. That rock-hard tire had no traction what-so-ever.

Now a friend had given me an aluminum seat from a 1950′s era F-86 fighter plane. It had no upholstery and a part of it overlapped the lower part of my rib cage. On impact, my body moved to the right, but the seat did not. For ten days I did not draw a pain free breath due to those two cracked ribs.

Had a lot of fun with that old car. Started 32 races in it and finished 29 of them with a best main event finish of seventh.

The 1993 season found me racing at Volunteer Speedway, near Bull’s Gap. I now had my second true race car and I was building my engines from junkyard parts. My strategy was to start the race, avoid trouble, and let attrition move me up in the standings. At that time, mechanical failures were numerous and it was not uncommon for half the field to drop out during the competition.

Saturday, July 3rd, and the holiday weekend featured the $10,000 to win Oakwood Mobile Homes 100. My crew, which consisted of my best friend and my oldest son, had other commitments so I went to the track alone that evening. I started the race two rows up from the rear. We got through the first turn but, coming off turn 2, I was hit from behind on the left rear, which turned my car sideways. I was then struck simultaneously in the driver’s door and from the rear (again!). The impact slammed me straight into the inside guardrail.

A 2,400 lb. car traveling at racing speed, and then encountering an immovable object head-on, provides an interesting demonstration of physics in action. Both the human body and 3 inch wide nylon shoulder straps will stretch to a surprising degree. My head struck the steering wheel, jamming my helmet down, splitting my forehead and my nose. With blood running into my eyes, I tried to push up my helmet but my right arm was not co-operating. Peering down through a red haze, I saw the broken ends of both bones in my right forearm and my hand in my lap, still attached by the skin on the inside of my wrist.

Following a difficult and ticklish struggle by the rescue crew, I was placed on a back board and into the ambulance. The crew asked me where I wanted to be taken. I replied, “To the nearest hospital with a first class orthopaedic surgeon on staff!” Off we went to Greeneville where, in God’s providence, there was a silver-haired, gifted surgeon who spent three hours re-attaching my hand.

The following morning, he told me that mine was the second worse arm fracture that he had seen in twenty-five years of practice.

Epilogue to the above. In 2005, I was thrown from a horse, landing face-first with my legs above me. Extensive x-rays of my spine and neck revealed a years-old fracture of the seventh vertebra in my neck. Interesting.

All forms of sport have inspiring tales of the “Never quit until it’s over”
theme. Auto racing offers prime examples.

In 2003, I was racing a 1934 Ford sedan Legends car at 411 Speedway. As we took the white flag for the final lap, I was running in 9th position. Near the end of the backstretch, the first and second place cars crashed together, knocking themselves out of the race. Entering the final turn, the cars which had been 3rd and 4th wrecked each other. I wove through the destruction and crossed the finish line in fifth place.

And on that positive note I shall return these memories to my bank. But remember, even at our age, don’t quit until you reach the checkered flag!

My fellow Rocketeers, I read with interest the communications from Joan Miller and her husband about life in Texas. Now Texas is a large state and I have rarely traveled beyond the Erath county line, but I have to wonder just where in Texas they live.

On my place, Last Stop Ranch (so named because it will be the last stop before the nursing home), I look out at sunrise and see an old coyote trotting toward his lair where he will hole up for the day. On my road, leading to the county stage coach road, I see the road-runners and the armadillos going about their business. All sounds very tranquil and bucolic, doesn’t it? But wait until you get to town, the county seat. That there is a whole different world!

When I finished the buildings on my ranch, I was poor. Having no money to buy cattle, I went to town and took a job as a deputy town marshall. And let me tell you, it’s something all the time. One night it’s a bunch of drunken cowboys, passing through with a herd going to the Ft. Worth stockyards.  Next might be a robbery at the Cattlemen and Farmers Bank. It got so bad – we were sometimes having one, sometimes two shootings a week – that the town council (made up of the leading business men) passed a law that no one BUT the law could carry guns in town.

Just last week Evil Roy and his gang came riding into town, bent on taking over. The marshall and his deputies faced them in the main straight, right in front of the Mercantile and Dry Goods Store. When the smoke cleared, the forces of law and order (and clean living) had carried the day. Now if you think I’m making this up, look at the accompanying photos taken by the editor of the Weekly Bugle, the town paper.

So Joan and Mort, I don’t know about life in your part of Texas. All the same, this old cowboy won’t step off the porch without his big-iron on his hip! A man just never knows.

Contributed by David Ross, Deputy Marshall of Museumville, Texas, from 1879 to 1886