Two Worst Days in Bed

Bobby and I have spent the whole day in bed together twice. Neither was for a romantic reason, but both resulted in romance. I’ll share the other story at the end.

This time was in 1997 and was the day after one of our worst days racing.

When we decided that we were going funny car racing, Bobby called Harry. Harry was an acquaintance at the time but became Bobby’s mentor and in many ways, just like a dad. He was an NHRA national record holder and knew his stuff. He gave Bobby advice like “Sit in a funny car with the body down first. You’ll know right away if you don’t like it in there.” And, “Never use bill money for racing.” Harry knew about a car that was for sale, and it was a good one. It was already built, already set up, and made for consistency. It had a Dodge Daytona body and a 468 Chevy engine with Brodix heads. It was forgiving and perfect for newbies.

This car did well for us, and we wrung every possible mile per hour from it with very little breakage. Six years later, we needed more. We wanted to competitively race in NHRA’s Top Alcohol Funny Car class. Our sponsor, Chrysler Corporation, was on board with this goal. The year before, they had provided us a brand new Dodge Avenger body with a killer paint job designed by the best in the sport. We built a brand new Keith Black 526 Hemi engine to put under it. Now this year, they had shown their confidence by doubling our budget.  This was huge. We purchased a brand new screw blower for more power. Now, we had the same stuff as the Big Boys. Of course, we only had one of each and the big teams had several of everything in their six-figure trailers. But Bobby would say, “They can only bring one race car to the starting line.”

We spent all winter preparing the car. I remember many evenings going out to the shop and finding Harry lying under it fast asleep. He got up so early for his job, but he was faithful. And, Bobby’s dreams have always fueled him to work harder than most. Competitive funny car racing is haaaaard. But these underdogs had heart.

Testing day finally came, and we were psyched. My key roles included packing the parachutes (Harry taught me) and driving the tow vehicle (Um, yep. Harry). Any time a funny car is moving, but not racing, it has to be pushed or towed.  So, I helped Bobby into his safety gear, and Bill strapped him into the car. Everyone piled into the tow vehicle.

I towed Bobby to the starting line, and we all got out to follow our starting line routine. Unhook the car. Point it straight down the lane’s center. Check the tire pressure again.  Turn on the CO2 bottle so the car will shift. Remove the pins from the parachutes so they’ll open. Position the portable starter on the car. Remove the fire extinguisher clips so it will work. Check things over one last time. Cover ears with protection. Get ready to take the body pole and the starter.  Inside the car, Bobby is following his own routine, quiet and proficient. There are no wasted words, only “pins out” and “CO2 on.” Then, “Ready?” from the Track Starter followed by a quiet nod from Harry. I meet Bobby’s resolute gaze, and I know he’s ready to go.  Start the car. Remove the starter and the body pole. Put starter in the truck. Lower the body until it locks. Bobby lines the car up, does his burnout, stops the car, then backs the car up over his burnout tracks. Guide Bobby to the starting line. Turn on the computer. Say a prayer.

The sun was setting over the track. The engine sounded crisp and clean. You could hear the extra power. So far, everything had gone according to plan, and after six years, this was a well rehearsed dance.

But what happened next had never happened before.

Bobby left the line hard, then suddenly I heard the pop of the burst panel, and the car caught fire. I will never forget what I saw and felt in that moment. The flames were stark against the darkening sky. The car was hurtling down the race track farther and farther away from me on fire with my beloved inside it. I jumped into the truck, not knowing nor caring if anyone else was in it too. I put it into drive and took off as fast as it would take me. My eyes never left the car until it disappeared out of sight over a small rise at the top end of the track. I was praying hard. I never saw the parachutes open. I couldn’t see him anymore. Only smoke.

The truck was dead quiet, very unusual with our boisterous, fun crew. Harry said quietly, “Slow down.” Of course, I ignored him. Even more quietly he said, “We don’t know if he’s laying on the track.” My foot could not have come off that gas faster if the pedal had been a glowing hot coal.  I took a steadying breath, said another prayer, then continued driving. The doors were open before I even made it over the rise, and men went running. I saw him! Bobby had gotten out using the escape hatch. The car was ablaze, and he was standing in front of it holding the body up and out of the flames as best he could. I ran over, and he looked at me mournfully and said, “Oh…my body.” I swear! Now that I knew he was fine, I really wanted to murder him. His car is on fire, I didn’t know if he was alive or dead – and – all – he’s – worried – about –  is  – his funny car body?

The track personnel showed up to put out the fire, then set about figuring how to get it off the track. I had to walk away for a minute and figure out how to get my Funny Car Driver’s Wife Face back on before more people showed up. If you’ve ever watched racing, you’ve seen it. But you might not have known that it’s A Thing for us. It’s that face that says we’re fine. Nothing to see here.

I got up the next day tired, but I was expected at the office. I walked into our bedroom after my shower and discovered Bobby awake and distraught.

We talked for a bit, then I made the only possible decision I could make right then. I called in a personal day to work, and got into bed with my darling.

Bobby was not at all upset in the way that I was. He had not been afraid in the car. As a matter of fact, he had learned something very important about himself, something that would become an integral part of his reputation as one of the great drivers in the sport. He was calm, and did all of the right things in those moments. He was able to explain to me everything he experienced and every resulting decision and action. It was obvious that he had been “in the zone” the whole time, and his mind had sped up in those few seconds as he made multiple wise decisions. Good judgment is vital in a driver. That comforted me, and I was just literally happy he was alive and in our bed. He did not share my sentiments. By this time, he knew what had happened. The screw blower drank A LOT more fuel than the old roots one. It sucked the fuel right out of the car, literally collapsing the fuel tank. Not enough fuel ran the engine lean, blew the burst panel out of the car and this started a series of events that led to the fire.  It was just a lack of knowledge on our part that made it happen. That really bugged him. Plus, how was he going to call Chrysler and tell them that the new body and engine were not new anymore. Where were we going to find the money?

Everything turned out fine, of course. Our sponsor was incredibly supportive, and Bobby, Harry and Crew got the car fixed eventually.  Bobby went on to run more races, continue his climb up the ladder and yes, drive more cars that caught on fire. That’s what funny cars do. I’m still not a fan of that part.

But that day in bed – and the other one too – did something that a lifetime of good times together cannot do. We trusted each other with our biggest hurts and fears. And we learned that we could. We didn’t judge. We didn’t try to say everything was OK. When the mood took us, we talked about it. When we needed a break, I spoiled him a little. I brought him food in bed, and got movies for us to watch. That day in bed was hard. And beautiful. And incredibly important. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I was thinking about how to explain the difference between how healthy and unhealthy couples handle hard times. I had a hard time (pun definitely intended) trying to figure out how to explain. Then, I found this article that says it better than I could, I think. If you are in a healthy relationship, like mine, this may bring clarity to one of the reasons that it’s healthy. If not, see what you might learn from it. It’s not too late, I promise. You’ll go into the battle armed better than before.

It’s OK to have tough times. In fact, it is inevitable. It’s the decisions you both make in those times that will determine the state of your relationship the day after. And the one after that. Choose well.

Here’s the story I wrote about the other worst day in bed – Perichoresis.