Machinations from the Michigan Madman (Part One)

By EJ Potter

Hi, My name's EJ Potter. Never mind what it stands for... You'll only cause yourself to undergo the pain of denial if you ask.

Starting in 1960 I got involved in drag racing, or let's say running on drag strips. What I did was stick a 283 Chevy in an old Hogly-Davidson frame and haul the thing to the local drag strip in central Michigan after the local Gestapo let me become aware that I was not appreciated for trying to operate such a contraption on the streets of the town of Ithaca. Can't say I ever blamed them, I did have a lot of anti-social attitude at that time.

Anyway, having become notorious for constructing this apparatus it was necessary for me to continue the development of the thing so as to avoid the fate of being known as the '60s equivalent of a "turkey."

Eventually I got the thing working and spent 13 years making exhibition runs at tracks across the country, with trips to England and Australia for good measure...

During my so-called career, I saw the corruption of boat racing, stock car racing, drag racing, and tractor pulling. All these initially noble institutions were degraded into a state of prostitution and sleazy phoniness by the corrosive effects of sponsor money. Ironically, most participants of all these motor sports were all knees and elbows rushing pell-mell down the road to hell in a handbasket by their lust for the dollar, the very instrument of evil that would inevitably seal the doom of the sport they all loved to the point of fanaticism.

The evolution of stuff like this goes as follows: There is in the beginning a mechanical contrivance, which evolves from a practical, useful machine, intended to make mankind's work easier. A certain kind of tinkerer can't leave his car, boat, tractor etc. like it is. He has to improve it a little bit. Then somebody sees his work and has to do better. The ensuing spiral generates a vortex of rivalries that escalates all the participants to the point of formal competition or racing...

People like this can never leave well enough alone and eventually someone gets hurt in the process of proving that he is smarter and more daring than the next guy. Word of this gets around, and people want to watch this competition to be on hand when the next accident happens.

Now we need a place for official contests to take place and a promoter to advertise the events and collect the admission fees. So the contestants need to organize themselves to establish rules and standards for the competition, because the promoter ain't the teensiest bit interested in conserving the participants. He wants more gate revenue.

So of course, the smartest and boldest competitors get to be the loudest and most respected when it becomes time to set these rules in stone. By purely natural processes, the rules just happen to fit these guys like a glove, and soon they are winning a majority of the marbles every time.

This gets the attention of the promoters, who are out there beating the bushes for Yankee dollars under and over the table to benefit any sponsor they can find, with publicity.

Of course any money that trickles down the food chain will stop at the feet of the top guys in each class of competition who will consequently become unbeatable and a vicious loop will come into being that will cause any competitor with even half a brain to fade out of competition before he becomes bankrupt trying to keep up with the big boys.

Now we have less guys getting more money and the spiral escalates way beyond the point of sportsmanship and the reason for the sport (fun) is completely lost to everyone concerned.

What? You don't agree? Well, just think about what you saw at the last race you were at. No matter where you were, the pits were full of huge semi trucks with lavish trailers and race vehicles that were mobile billboards for everyone who would give anything to the owners, or even more obscene yet, maybe the giving was done to the promoters or the sanctioning group. The participants had all modified the looks of their creations to please those with the big bucks to throw around in the name of a tax write-off. Artificial environments and garish costumes have denoted the red light district everywhere in the world that I have ever seen. Phoniness and how-can-I-impress-you-now pervade the atmosphere so bad it chokes you.

Anybody connected to motorsports today because he loves engines and wants to see how his mechanical skills stack up is invisible in such a perverted atmosphere of people who have sold out everything for the almighty buck, which is therefore the lifeblood of the community that has completely lost its reason for being.

Ingenuity and originality are completely discounted to the point of being shunned and seen as a threat to the peace and progress of the establishment.

WHAT? Joe Schmerd has made an innovation that lets him win?

• It doesn't cost anything?
• Nobody in California manufactured it?
• No contingency prize money?
• Well to heck with him.
• He's disqualified.
• Who does he think he is, anyway?

Thousands of years ago somebody got famous for saying that the love of money is the root of all evil, and he looks smarter and smarter as time goes by. Since I think I'm so smart, you'll suppose I claim to have some remedy for this situation. It so happens I do, and next month I might tell you what it is. This ain't what I think; it's what I know.

EJ Potter

Machinations from the Michigan Madman (Part Two)

By EJ Potter

EJ Potter, the Michigan Madman, ran this bike at the 1965 AHRA Winternationals at Beeline, Arizona. Photo by Paul Hutchins

Ok. In the last installment of my ramblings I described the sorry state of motorsports from my own distorted, insane perspective. It will naturally follow that the main evils to be exorcised from a purist mechanic's point of view are:

#1 - Sponsors
#2 - Prize money
#3 - Promoters
#4 - Race track owners
#5 - Sanctioning organizations
#6 - Spectators

At this point you understandably want to know what kind of idiotic nonsense I am babbling. Unless, of course, you have simply tuned me out altogether. If you will bear with me for a couple of minutes it might look different to you.

#1 - Sponsors. The source of the most corrosive form of problems because they always demand, and rightly so, that your machinery look like the kind of equipment that will be worthy of their name, which will be prominently displayed on the machine itself. So you will spend gobs of money to spiff up the iron beyond what you might consider sufficient under normal circumstances. If you are a chrome lover this will not be any inconvenience, but if your stuff looks all that great, why do you want to let somebody else reap the benefits of your efforts instead of having your name there as the centerpiece of this jewel of perfection? I will further submit that most of the successful racers look like a clown car with all the logos and lettering so who can claim it's more dignified to go along with the crowd? And never forget that the sponsors don't reward the guys who need help, only the ones that are already out in front.

#2 - Prize money. It's never enough, in fact it only makes you put more of your own money with it for the next improvement, which again you don't need as bad as the last place guy. Of course it's nice to win money, but nobody wins enough to pay his bills because the nature of competition is that you are bound to spend as much as you can get your hands on anyway, win, lose, or draw. Furthermore, the bigger the pot, the farther competitors will come after it which makes it tougher on the also-ran guys.

#3 - Promoters have their own ambitions, which do not include making the racer's life easier, only making their own pile higher. They are not humanitarians or they would be over in Bombay helping out Mother Teresa. They are businessmen and if their efforts happen to benefit the competition, that's really great but it doesn't happen that much.

#4 - Race track owners are usually pretty good guys, working hard at building up the business, which helps out all racers, of course. They usually have racing experience themselves and can relate to the little guy's problems, but don't forget his problems are his own and not yours. He has to be a businessman or the track will close its gate. He will help you as much as it helps himself but not to the point of sacrifice.

#5 - Sanctioning organizations seem to spring up with the loose alliance of sponsors and promoters, sometimes with the help of track owners and guidance of the top runners of the day. They are of course a necessity given today's legal and insurance climate, and they can do a lot for the sport. They also do a lot for themselves. They have the power to make or break a sport in a given area of the country and they have been known to accidentally step on most of the eggs in the nest while looking out for themselves.

#6 - Spectators are the bread and butter of any motorsport as structured in today's world, and deserve a lot of sympathy for the way they are continually milked by the promoters in cahoots with the sanctioning bodies. I have been in the shoes of the spectator and it gives me the feeling of being a cash cow being led around by the nose.

So now I have got just about everybody in the motorsports world behind the 8 ball and got myself on every hit list there is. How come? The reason, as Art Arfons told me one time, is because I have a big mouth and I'm always running it off at the wrong time.

Anybody in the world is entitled to think that I am a lunatic and I am sure that a lot of them already think so. Just before you start to think in terms of a lynch mob, ask yourself what I have said that I don't believe to be true. A padded cell might be more appropriate. So if I'm done running off at the mouth, what do I suggest? OK. Did you ever see an engine running on a dynamometer? I've run engines from 1 horsepower up to 15,000 horsepower at the end of my arm with my hand on the throttle and I can tell you there is nothing in the world like it. Especially if you have built the engine in question from the crank on up. This is having a motor up close and personal to a degree that you can never understand until you try it.

I have also built dynos capable of absorbing everything up to 20,000 horsepower and they were all portable units that could fit in the back of a dually pickup.

So what?

So this.

If we all built any kind of engine whatsoever and mounted it on a little 2-wheel trailer of some standard height off the ground, we could have a real power contest anywhere the noise was acceptable. We would not need any of the above-mentioned evil influences and we could all have our jollies to the max.

This would not be an affair designed for the promoters, spectators, sponsors, or anyone else except for the competitors. Before you snort so hard that a booger hits the wall, just think of the opportunity to see your engine work it's butt off right there under your nose without worrying about tires, streamlining, roll cages, or any of the other stuff that complicates all motorsports.

You wouldn't need to win any money because you wouldn't need to spend much. When is the last time that you had a racer that paid for itself? When is the last time you could really enjoy your motor screaming away without watching for walls, finish lines, other cars, and all of the other nonsense that goes with it? How do you like the boots, fire suit, helmet, etc. and 95 degree heat?

You would miss the trill of driving a car? Don't say that until you feel your very own motor doing it's thing right in front of you and impressing the other guys who have all come there for the same reason and their motors are not as strong as yours. Think about it. The thrill of victory without the agony of the accident. The thrill of the motor without the agony of the car that's wrapped around it.

I can testify that once upon a time, in about 1965, I had already run my alky small block bike several hundred times and I was familiar with it to the point of boredom. I rode that thing with my knees resting on top of the valve cover and my chin right above the Hilborn stacks. You can see that I already had become quite used to that motor screaming at me, but with the distraction of riding the motorcycle thrown in. I happened to install the bike motor on a dyno to do some tweaking on the mag timing. Let me tell you right now that after 4 healthy dyno runs I was still shaking at the supper table. It's a real experience, guys. You will never understand it until you try it. Running my 15,000-horse turbine will be with me until I croak.

If everyone used the same output shaft, you could back the trailer up to the dyno and hook on in less than a minute.

The contestants could be grouped any way you want, either by engine type, brand, or displacement.

The contest could be based on a run of a certain length of time and the guy in control could set the rpm limit to whatever he dared, so here is the boldness factor.

Or the placing could be determined by the time required to accelerate a certain load up to a certain speed.

I can also tell you that it is just as satisfying to make a motor run as good as it can, whether it's a stocker or a nitro burner. You can still compete against the others of the same kind or even against your previous attempts.

Naturally I don't in my wildest dreams expect you to think this is a good idea. But I'll tell you what, if you just think about everything I said here you will be surprised where you might end up eventually. It's easy to see how motorsports got the way they are, and really hard to see the remedy. Quitting is the normal way to solve your problems but what if there was another way? It could happen.

And if you think this is some kind of treachery, let me tell you what I saw. Thank you.

In the 60's I was in California running my Chevy bike. I was pitted beside the dragster area and during the course of the night of racing I was able to see some of the goings-on. The eliminations proceeded quite spectacularly with tire smoke showing up stark and dramatic under the lights and the smell of burnt nitro was everywhere. One of the railers, a plain black thing, lost a piston in the lights while he won his round. Things were proceeding along while the crew (owner/driver and two buddies) scrambled to yank off a head and jam in a fresh piston. Panic reigned among the group fighting long odds and short deadline and the announcer cheerfully kept the crowd informed of the proceedings in the pits.

Those guys just managed to get to the fire-up lane in time for the final showdown and the driver was pulling on his helmet with slippery, greasy fingers while the two helpers were installing the fresh spark plugs. There was a coat of oil all over the car, from the engine on back, from the blowby of the lost piston. They got the motor started and lined up against the opposition, a really slick and shiny rail with color matched tow truck and all the rest.

It was really suspenseful when the 2 opponents made the U-turn and lined up under the lights with both engines making that no-nonsense sound out there on the apron and you could tell that both motors were really biting off big chunks of that crisp night air. When a fuel motor is set on "kill" it has a crackling noise that makes your neck hair tickle unless you are a complete weenie.

There was no one in the whole packed place that didn't want to see if the underdogs could pull it off, and the flag got the race going with the most even start you would ever want to see. How the driver of that patched up car did such a good job was a real wonder. I bet he didn't even care if he ran or not because he must have been exhausted by now, but he was there to race and it was race time. So he was gonna race.

Anyway, those two cars left perfectly and the tire smoke (there used to be tire smoke, kids) was coming off the four tires in a wall that angled up about 45 degrees and then blended into a cloud that had the most delicious smell and taste you would ever want, with just the right mix of hot rubber and nitro.

The headers of both cars were naturally quite close together and the flames were really a show all by themselves. The right front pipe on the black car was shooting a really long and weird flame just to add to the drama of the hurt motor making a final desperate run for the night and the noise had to be something that only a real brave pair of drivers could manage.

Needless to say the spectators were on their tiptoes and they nearly blew a gut screaming when the underdog took it by inches. Even the loser looked happy when he pushed back into his spot in the pits. That was a helluva show.

I was impressed.

By way of contrast, I went to the drags at a big strip in 1998 to see what was going on. When I walked in there was a little girl in just the cutest little pink dragster lining up to run against a real live railer. She got the light first and started down the track with that 454 Chevy just working that Powerglide to beat the band while the real car had to wait a scandalous amount of time for his green so he could start. Finally, he got the go and took off to catch her just before the first light and went by her like she was stopped. No tire smoke, of course. I went home with a feeling of wasted time. This wasn't a show. It was an obscene joke.

I don't really know the ins and outs of modern drag racing politics but it looks like you can build anything in the book and there will be a place created for you somewhere in the program so there will be an excuse to collect your entry fee even if you are the only one there with such a bastardly rig.

Now, tell me this is a really great way to run a sport. What's to ruin?

E J Potter
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