Clinton, South Carolina, Wednesday, April 8, 2015, 12:42 p.m.
The first race driver I ever considered a friend was Jason Keller. He drove No. 57.
I am 57 today. Small world, huh? No. Not really. It’s just the first one that occurred to me.
I was working mostly desk at the Greenville News, but they indulged my desire to write by letting me hobnob with the racers at places like Greenville-Pickens Speedway, I-85 Raceway (long gone, once located near the airport), Cherokee Speedway, and I’m not sure if I ever went up to Travelers Rest or whether that was strictly when I was enrolled at Furman University.
Keller was then racing in the All Pro Series and preparing to make his first Busch (now Xfinity) start. His shop wasn’t too far from Furman, and it was near Associated Grocers, which had supplied my grandfather’s market while I was growing up. As a matter of fact, I worked on the farm for nothing save, I guess, room and board, but I got my spending money “putting up the grocery order” at the store every Thursday after school.
Small world, huh? No. Not really. It’s just what I remember.
The trip out to the Air Products shop – I laughed at “products made of air” – was also when I first met Steve Addington, who went on to become a journeyman crew chief who made his name with Keller and then went on to head up many Sprint Cup crews. He outlasted me on that circuit, at least in the traveling department.
Fifty-seven is also the number of a steak sauce I’ve always liked. The first race car I ever noted wearing that number was a purple Dodge Charger driven by Johnny Halford in the Southern 500. I remember it slightly because it was purple, which wasn’t too common, and mostly because my father, brother and I were sitting on the back (now the front) straight, and that car was pitting in front of us, and several times, the driver climbed out and changed a couple tires himself.
It wasn’t easy being a Boy named Sue, either.
I’ve always liked ’57 Chevy BelAirs. It seems to me that very few didn’t. I’d have to say, though, that I liked the ’55 a little better. I liked it better without the fins.
Hut Stricklin later drove a No. 57 Pontiac that was sponsored by Heinz, though if memory serves, it was the ketchup (or was it catsup?) advertised on the sides and hood.
Tom Jackson wore “57” in the NFL. Steve Howe wore it in the big leagues. Mainly I wore “50” in high school football, but I wore “58” and “71” in junior high. The year before I was born was ’57. The first time I played golf, I shot 57 on the front nine, but I skied to 61 on the back. I was about 13, maybe.
That’s all I know about “57.” I’m expecting to go to school on it in the coming year.
My short fiction is available at www.wellpilgrim.wordpress.com. My long fiction available here: http://www.amazon.com/Monte-Dutton/e/B005H3B144/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1415634579&sr=1-1