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Local Boys
By Steve Wingate, TCGOB Publisher
Originally Published on Mike Calinoff's "Stock Car City"

It's hard to say why the Allisons and other Alabama racers have been on my mind so much here lately.  I've found myself re-reading some of the books I have on the Allisons, pulling out old newspaper clippings and even watching some of the races I taped so many years ago.  I've found myself transported back to a time that now holds a near-magical quality in my memory.  Magical not only because Davey Allison was my favorite driver, but magical because Davey was one of us-- Davey was an Alabamian.

Any kid growing up in Alabama in the seventies and eighties knew about Hueytown-- that tiny community just outside of Birmingham that was home to real race car drivers.  The names Allison and Bonnett came up in everyday conversations between little boys when I was in elementary school, and we talked about them with reverence, pride, and probably quite a lot of exaggeration.  In the same hushed and reverent tones we would talk about Talladega and how fast the race cars could go on that track.  The fact that the Allisons and Bonnetts actually lived in the same state was like having a local legion of super heroes, and Talladega was The Hall of Justice.  After all, as far as pre-teen boys were concerned, Alabama had no other claim to fame.  We didn't have a Hollywood like California, a Disney World like Florida, or an Empire State Building like New York-- but we had some guys who drove fast cars and we had a BIG race track.  That was cool enough for us.

I myself didn't pay much attention to racing until my late teens, other than the usual interest anyone of the male gender generally shows for things that go fast or make loud noises.  There were so many other distractions for my generation, such as the rock band KISS and Star Wars movies, but I never truly lost sight of the fact that we had legends in our midst.  

In 1988, when I was nineteen years old, I started taking a more serious interest in Winston Cup Racing.  That was the year that Davey Allison finished second to his dad in the Daytona 500, and the year that Bobby Allison suffered career-ending injuries during a race at Pocono.  Bobby's injuries were grave, and nearly every Alabamian was praying for his recovery-- it was almost as if Bobby was a beloved uncle of everyone in the state.  Businesses everywhere had signs up that read "Get Well Bobby" or "Our Prayers Are With The Allison Family".  It seemed that everyone felt some kind of vital connection to Bobby Allison.  As most of you know, Bobby did get better, but parts of his memory were lost forever and he never drove in Winston Cup competition again.  This kind of sentiment was repeated in 1990 when Neil Bonnett was seriously injured in a crash at Darlington.

If you ask anyone from the Birmingham area about the Allisons or the Bonnetts, they will probably be able to tell you of some close encounter or some connection with Alabama's First Family of Racing.  I once worked with a young man whose parents had a lake house close to the Allisons, and would tell stories of Davey ripping around in a speed boat.  (This fellow was sixteen at the time I knew him, so I don't know how much of this was true and how much was pure exaggeration.)  One of my neighbors when I was growing up was a good friend of Neil Bonnett's.  My sister-in-law worked at Lakeshore Rehab while Bobby Allison was recovering from his 1988 accident, and claims to have seen Paul Newman visiting with Bobby in his room.  These type stories are (or were) everywhere at one time… a time before the dark period of Alabama's racing heroes.  

It all started in 1992, when Davey's younger brother, Clifford Allison was killed in a Busch Grand National practice crash at Michigan International Speedway.  The news hit hard back home, and all of those signs started showing up on area businesses again.  Even though Clifford was not yet a big star like his brother, he was still an Allison, still an Alabamian, still one of our own.  The very next day, a somber Davey Allison, still hurting from a horrible crash a Pocono two weeks earlier, qualified third for the Winston Cup event at Michigan, then went on to finish fifth in the race that Sunday.  After the race, Davey was reported to have simply climbed from his car and pushed past the usual throng of reporters and well-wishers, saying only that he had to get home to family.

July 12th, 1993.  With the racing world still reeling from the death of 1992 Winston Cup Champion Alan Kulwicki, news of a helicopter crash involving Davey Allison began to spread.  The evening news reported the tragic incident, telling us that Davey and Red Farmer were seriously injured, but no one believed anything would happen to them.  After all, if Hueytown was home to a legion of super heroes, then Davey must be the Superman of the bunch, and nothing could hurt Superman.  The next morning, we all woke to the news that Davey was gone.  The state was thrown into deep shock, and that evening, as I left work, I saw something that I have never forgotten.  Although it was a bright summer day in Alabama, every car on the roadways had their headlights on in remembrance of Davey.  City buses, police cars, service vehicles, cars driven by white people, cars driven by black people, every vehicle I saw had their lights blazing.  Many flew #28 flags out the window, many had slathered sentiments on their windows with shoe polish-- it seemed that everyone was doing something to honor the fallen hero.  With a hard lump in my throat, I switched on my own headlights and joined the somber drive home. Until the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001, I never again witnessed such an outpouring of togetherness.

Just two weeks later, another Alabama driver, Stanley Smith, met with misfortune at the 1993 Die Hard 500 at Talladega.  Smith's Ameritron Batteries Chevy was t-boned by Ritchie Petty in a lap seventy crash.  Smith sustained major head injuries in that crash, and he never returned to Winston Cup competition.  Oddly enough, this race also marked the return of Neil Bonnett, who drove a Chevy prepared by Dale Earnhardt's team owner, Richard Childress.  Bonnett crashed, but was not seriously injured.  It seemed that Alabama would still have a champion in NASCAR, after all.

Daytona, 1994.  We lost that champion.  Neil Bonnett lost control of his #51 Country Time Lumina during a practice session and smashed into the turn four wall.  It appeared that Bonnett had gotten down onto the apron, then was slung head-on into the wall.  After being cut from the car, he was rushed to Halifax Medical Center.  Thirty minutes later, 47 year-old Bonnett died from massive head injuries.  I'll never forget the pictures on the front of that morning's Birmingham News… a grainy photograph that showed Bonnett's smashed car sliding down the track, smoke billowing from the tires, and a clearer photograph showing the rescue crew working to extract him from the wreck.  Again, Alabamians were in mourning for one of our own.

We still have yet to have a source of "hometown pride" in NASCAR.  Hut Stricklin, married to Davey's cousin and Donnie Allison's daughter Pam quickly faded into obscurity after losing his ride with legendary car owner Junior Johnson after the 1993 season.  Mike Harmon was set to enter Winston Cup in 2000, but a sponsor reneging on a deal forced the team to shut down.  There is no glimmer of hope for Alabama in NASCAR.  Or is there?

Hut Stricklin, after having some good runs with Junie Donalevy in 2001, has secured a ride with Bill Davis Racing for 2002.  Davis, who has fielded winning cars for Ward Burton, is the first decent ride Stricklin has had since 1993.  Could he restore Alabama's racing pride?  Or…. There's a young man in Nashville, Tennessee who has just begun his career in racing.  He's just ten years old, but I can see him moving into Winston Cup (and hopefully moving back to Alabama) in the next ten years.  His name?

Robbie Allison.

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