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"Probably
the high point of my brief Cup career. We qualified [our #29
Ford] fourth at Richmond in 1978, right behind Bobby Allison
(15), Neil Bonnett (5), and just ahead of "King" Richard
Petty." (Dave Dion Collection)
When qualifying ended, the track went
quiet. All the other teams were busy swapping their cars
over from their qualifying set-up to their race set-up. Our
qualifying set-up was our race set-up, so we went out and
started practicing.... Finally the good cars started
straggling out, and Darrell fell in behind me. He did
everything he could to get by me, but I held him off. This
went on for quite a few laps, until finally I spun the car
coming off turn four. He juked and jabbed trying to miss me,
and, as I slid to a stop halfway down the front
straightaway, he drove past with a finger alongside his head
as if to say, "You idiot."
I pulled into the pits,
and [my brother] Paul gave the car the once-over. I said,
"It feels pretty good," but he looked at the right-rear
tire. I climbed out of the car, walked over to the right
rear-corner, and saw nothing but canvas. There was no rubber
left on that tire at all. We had more than 100 laps on our
tires, and we were just as fast as Darrell Waltrip was on
new rubber.
I felt like we had finally arrived. They
presented me with a jacket right before the race for being
the fastest rookie. They interviewed Richard, asking how he
felt about being out-qualified by a guy in a school bus, and
he said, "He ought to run fast. The guy never lifts in the
corners."
Glen Wood obviously knew what we [Ford]
guys had for parts and pieces, and he said we were giving up
more than 100 horsepower to most of the field. In his words,
"I guess that says a lot for turn speed."
On race
day, we had a good car all day. Benny [Parsons] came to me
before the start and said, "Listen kid. Darrell's on the
pole, and he does jackrabbit starts. He will get you caught
between gears, then leave you in the dust. So be ready."
Sure enough, that's exactly what happened, but Neil
Bonnett didn't fall for it. They went side-by-side all the
way through turns one and two. Coming off two, Neil's car
got sideways, caught the wall and spun right across the
track in front of me. I checked up to miss him, and Cale
Yarborough--the defending Grand National champion--drilled
me in the left-rear corner. I tried to save it, but all I
could hear was Cale--nose buried in my driver's door--wide
open. He was trying to spin me all the way around and
continue on, and, when I heard that, I locked up the brakes.
I thought, "You sonofabitch, if I'm going, you're going
with me!"
All three of us--Neil, Cale, and I--slammed
the inside wall. Cale's car was wrecked, but I bounced off
and kept right on going. I came down pit road under yellow
at about 100 mph (no pit road speed limits back then), and
we got the fenders pried back off the tires pretty quickly.
Everything else looked pretty good, so I hustled right back
out, trying to beat the Pace Car.
Just as I got to
the end of pit road, there was Cale's wrecked car, with
Junior Johnson himself trying to beat the sheetmetal back in
place. Junior saw me coming and shook his fist at me. I flew
by like I was shot out of a cannon, and just as I got to
Junior, I stuck my hand out the window and gave him the
finger.
I'll never forget the look on his face if I
live to be 150 years old."
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