An Amazing Story: Part 2

[Master Oil Racing Team]

After our meal, we went to Carlos & Charlie's or someplace like that to discuss the next day's races. We had a problem getting horsepower out of our motors. We didn't originally have a plan. We were just going to have fun and duke it out on the race course. Now, we had to put on a good show but we were down as much as 20 miles per hour or more. We liked the idea of more races in Acapulco. It was beautiful, relaxing and good food and entertainment. If we could get their interest, maybe we would be put on the program for a full race program for a couple of classes.

The speeds were way off, so we decided instead of showing how fast the 700cc motors could run, we would dice back and forth down the straights and into the turns. The lead boats would have to back off so the others could challenge. Maybe the spectators wouldn't notice the lack of speed because of the intense competition. They didn't have anything to compare to the speed we were capable of anyway, so that's what we decided to do.

Early the next morning as we were just getting ready to prepare to head to the race course and do our exhibition, Artie gave me a call. He said the sink in his bathroom just fell out onto the floor and cracked. He wanted me to take a picture. I had to laugh when I looked at it. A typical Pro racer's bathroom with the batteries on charge.

One thing I always remembered from that morning that helped put things into perspective for me was a comment from one of Artie's pit men. It was the first and only race I ever saw him. I just put on a pair of jeans when I went to the room to take the pic. Afterwards, all the guys were standing out on the balcony admiring the view, and some were drinking coffee. It was a cool morning and we were all excited about the upcoming race. Artie's young pit man was about 18. He asked me "How old are you?" I thought a minute and said "Thirty two." He replied "I hope I am in that good of a shape when I'm that old." Up until then, I had never thought of how old I was getting. It kind of took me back when I remembered how bummed out my cousin was when Bob Dylan turned thirty.. Funny how some little things stick in your brain.

We got into our uniforms shortly, and our guide (maybe his name was Guillermo) took us to the pits.