Thinking Back on Indy
May 24, 1998
11:46 a.m.
 remembering J I M M Y -- C L A R K    It's Indy 500 day, and the sound of engines rumble through the basement as I type this. It's a sound that reminds me of bar-b-que on the porch. Of soft drinks in tin cans that sweat in the heat of the sunshine. It reminds me of the smell of my grandfather's pipe. My grandfather loved this race. He owned a filling station with his brother (who I get my middle name from) in South Bend, Indiana. And every Memorial Day weekend (if he wasn't at the race) he would host a gathering where we would eat corn or roast or whatever would fit on the grill. And we would huddle around a heavy transitor radio and listen to the thin voices describe the race. Mario Andretti was a young guy in those days. Dan Gurney was driving, and Bobby Unser. Roger Ward. And family favorite, Lloyd Ruby. But the driver I remember the most was Jim Clark. He was part of the first wave of guys that drove strange cars with engines in the rear. And he was dashing, with a big toothy smile. His car was green. His black helmet with the trademark white bill was classicly slick, yet understated. When I grew up, my five-year-old dreams went, I wanted to be like Jimmy Clark. I was seven when he died in a racing accident. I still remember the vacant feeling when I heard the news. I remember being struck with an odd sense of guilt--why should I feel saddness at someone I didn't even know dying? Heck, I was seven, you know? What did I know? So when I came across the page I've got tabbed on the sidebar, I found all sorts of emotions running through me. Memories. Those of my grandfather were especially sweet. And when I found the quote I've chosen to highlight, I knew I had to write this entry. The history you'll find at Jimmy Clark's site will highlight the type of man he was, and I highly recommend you spend twenty or thirty minutes learning a little bit about him. If you do, you'll find that he was a champion in every definition of the word. He was, perhaps, the greatest race driver the world has ever known. And, yet, you find that he had times in his life that he doubted himself. Yeah, it's human nature. But when I'm stuck in a funk about my writing, when I'm struggling over how to tell a story that's being particularly persnickety (like the Europa thing), I find it comforting to know that someone who was a boyhood idol to me, and who was acknowledged as the best in his profession by those who should know, said that he only made it through the rough moments because of a couple people who cared about him. So on this Memorial Day weekend, I find myself thinking of my Grandfather, and of Jimmy Clark. But mostly I find myself thinking about the people in my life that allow me to do the "scary" things in my life, the things that I know I want to do, but that stretch my self confidence. I think of Lisa, and of Brigid. Of my parents. I think of the small group of writers who share my silly insecurities and send me little notes telling me I'm good, and to keep my spirits up. And I find myself itching to put words on the page, if for no other reason but to prove them all right.  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"I feel sorry for people who are obviously keen on racing but who don't race because they can't afford to, or feel they do not have the ability. Anyone who is really interested in racing deserves to have the chance to at least try driving a car round a circuit as quickly as he can, if only to put his ability into perspective. It is true that many people become completely disillusioned with their first attempts at racing. I know exactly how they feel, for I went through these spells to begin with, and the only difference was that I had at least two people behind me pushing me on when I began to lose interest and faith." Jimmy Clark |
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