All of it, p.13
All of It, page 13
Since Alan didn’t have a wife or kids, his dad Gerry was the beneficiary of Alan’s race team and its assets. Felix Sabates, a successful businessman and NASCAR team owner, was named the executive of Alan’s estate. Sebates was now helping run the day-to-day operations of the team. Felix approached me on race day at Bristol and asked me if I would have any interest in purchasing the team. I knew I wanted to own a NASCAR team someday. I knew I wanted to be my own boss and race for myself, surrounded by a solid group of guys. But this was all happening way too fast and in unfortunate circumstances. I had a great opportunity with Bud, but would this offer be an even better one if it were to all work out?
Felix also mentioned that Alan’s father wanted a racer to take over the Alan Kulwicki Racing team. I told Felix I would have to really think about this and would have to talk with Kathy about it. In the meantime, Felix would be running the team until a buyer would come in and take over. It felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Kathy and I started to talk about the deal. At first, she thought it was a good idea, but we got talking about it more.
“If you buy the team, it will cause us to get a divorce,” Kathy told me early on.
“I’m not going to be spending any more time away from the family,” I reassured her.
The biggest value of the team was the people and the property. The cars and equipment were the least valuable when it came to purchasing a team. The Kulwicki team had proved that they had value by winning the 1992 championship with Alan. The one thought I really had was, do I really want to do this? Do I want to be a team owner and driver? Other Winston Cup drivers had expressed interest, and pro golfer Payne Stewart was in the works of putting an offer together.
Meanwhile, things weren’t getting better with Bud Moore and his race team, so I had to make a choice: stay with Bud and get the Motorcraft team running better, or make a move to owning my own team. It wasn’t long before the rumors started that I was thinking about putting a deal together to purchase AK Racing. Even through that, the Motorcraft team and I continued to try and win races.
I didn’t visit the team’s shop often, as it was a multi-hour drive to Spartanburg, South Carolina. But I had trust in our guys leading the team, Donnie and Travis, and with the upcoming race at Sonoma, I had an idea that could help us in our efforts to win there.
I had the idea to install an anti-roll bar in the rear suspension of the racecar. I ran one in my modified car, so I had a pretty good idea of how it would help the Motorcraft car through the corners at the Sonoma road course. I felt like it would help me go faster through the carousel corner and through the Esses down the backside of the racetrack. NASCAR had no rule that said we couldn’t do this, so I figured we had nothing to lose. But I knew Bud would never let us install the part.
I called Donnie and Travis and told them my idea and how to install it in the racecar for Sonoma. Of course, we all knew we couldn’t let Bud in on the rear sway bar story. One night after the shop closed, Donnie and Travis went back to the shop and installed the new rear anti-sway bar. I coordinated with them over the phone from my house on how to build and install the part. Granted, it took some patience and some thorough detailing, but in about an hour, we had the part installed on our racecar, ready to tackle the Northern California road course in a few weeks.
In the meantime, I was sitting down with my family, Felix, Gerry, and close associates on what it was going to take to purchase AK Racing. The final number was $2.5 million, but not all at once. Some money was paid upfront, but the rest of it would be paid over time. The rumblings were that Stewart had offered more, but ultimately, Gerry wanted to make sure the team would be taken over by someone already in the industry.
After Alan was killed, journeyman racer Jimmy Hensely was called up to drive the car. After I had purchased the Hooters-sponsored team, my plan was to keep Jimmy driving the car for the rest of the season. I was still obligated to continue driving the Bud Moore No. 15 and complete the season for him.
My plan was to keep their team running seamlessly while I finished out my contract with Bud Moore. Don Hawk, who served as Alan’s business manager, would keep serving in his day-to-day role. Danny Glad would continue working as the engine builder within the team. And Paul Andrews, the championship-winning crew chief, would continue to oversee the shop and lead the team on the race weekends.
The deal to put an offer on AK Racing came together rather quickly. I received a phone call from Felix during the week leading up to the Sonoma race that my deal would be chosen, and the team was to be mine! It was very exciting, but stressful too, knowing that I would be responsible for the employees during the uncertain times.
To thicken the plot, after I purchased the team, Hooters announced it would withdraw its sponsorship from the team because of a disagreement over the driver. The company had sponsored up-and-coming driver Loy Allen Jr. and had wanted him to take over the ride. Because Hensley was named the interim driver, Hooters bowed out and left the team without a primary sponsor. How troubling. I took over the team and lost the main financial backer over a decision that was already in place. I was gutted to find out the restaurant was backing out of the sport because of that, and it certainly added a new level of stress. How was the team going to continue in the short term? The marketing folks at the team were lining up sponsorships for Jimmy as he continued to race in the No. 7. However, taking over the team didn’t let it distract me from finishing out the year with Bud.
For the Sonoma race, our racecar was great. The installation of the anti-roll bar made the car great to handle around the left-and-right turns, and I was able to push the racecar even harder. Qualifying backed up our speed by me posting the third-fastest lap time. Only Ricky Rudd and Dale Earnhardt were faster. I started right behind Dale for the Sunday race. When the green flag dropped, I dropped a few positions, but after an adjustment on pit road, my car got dialed in, and by lap seventeen, I surpassed Dale for the lead.
Dale and I swapped the lead a few times, and with twenty laps to go, I got back to the lead. Surviving a few yellow flags and restarts, especially the last restart when Ricky Rudd ran into me in the carousel in an attempt to pass me, I held him and Ernie Irvan off to pick up our team’s first win of 1993! After making it back to the start/finish line as the winner, I paid tribute to Alan with a backward victory lap, a Polish Victory Lap, as he called it, where the driver’s side is closer to the fans and is easier to wave to the crowds in the grandstands. I had tears in my eyes.
It’s always exciting to win, but this was extra special because of becoming the owner of the No. 7 team just days before. There were more tears in my eyes when I drove the car towards the winner’s circle. When I pulled into Victory Lane and celebrated with the team, I had Kathy by my side and talked to ESPN about the victory. Despite an announcement scheduled for later in the week, I spilled the beans on national television that I had purchased the race team and gave Bud and my sons a shoutout. Bud Moore wasn’t at the track that weekend, and in my excitement during my post-race interview, I said, “Bud, you need to stay home more! We do better when you’re not here!”
After I said that, I knew I was going to have to apologize to him. I didn’t mean to offend him, but that statement did. And I made sure to apologize to Bud.
The win would be the last for Bud Moore’s race team. The victory got us to fifth in points, just over a full race’s worth of points behind the championship leader, but it would be the closest I would get to the points lead. After Bud had retired from racing, they had a retirement party for him in Spartanburg, South Carolina. I was invited down and to say a few words. That’s when I presented Bud with the trophy we had won at Sonoma. I felt like he deserved it more than me, the trophy that represented his last win in NASCAR.
After the win at Sonoma and another top-10 in the Coca-Cola 600, the summer stretch of races was plagued with bad luck, bad finishes, and frustration.
In preparation for the 1994 Winston Cup season, NASCAR was going to sanction a race at the famed Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the first time in August. The race, to be named the Brickyard 400, was going to be an instant classic. In August of 1993, NASCAR held its first official test at the track, with thirty-five teams showing up and many more fans packing the grandstands to see stock cars take on the historic 2.5-mile racetrack.
This would be the first time I would get behind the wheel of the No. 7 Thunderbird, and I was excited to start building some chemistry with my soon-to-be full-time team, including crew chief Paul Andrews. Our Geoff Bodine Racing No. 7 for the test session was painted white with logos featuring Miss Indianapolis and a bright-red No. 7 along the sides. The reason for that paint scheme was that during that same time period, I was building the bobsleds for our American bobsled teams, and Tony George, who was running Indianapolis Motor Speedway, donated $200,000 to our project to help us continue building the bobsleds for our athletes.
On the first day of the test session, teams were unloading their racecars from their haulers in the garage area, and when it came time to push our cars to pit road, I told Paul Andrews to make sure our car was sitting first at the exit of pit road. Having Miss Indianapolis on the car, I wanted to be the first car on the track. Plus, I wanted to beat Dale Earnhardt as the first NASCAR driver to make a lap at Indianapolis.
I got my wish and was the first driver to leave pit road. I shifted the car into first gear and then second. How cool. It was a dream to race at Indianapolis someday, and here I was, getting my own Winston Cup racecar up to speed at the most historic racetrack in America. Usually, during a test session, it is normal to see drivers make a couple of slow laps to get a feel for the track before going 100 percent. While along the backstretch, I noticed a familiar sight in my rearview mirror that was getting larger and larger. My eyes got bigger, and my heart dropped into my stomach. That black No. 3 car was trying to get around the track and be the first one to cross the finish line. Not on my watch.
I dropped the pedal down to the metal. It was on. It was going to be close. Through Turns 3 and 4, I kept Dale at bay, and as we got through Turns 3 and 4, pushing our cars to their limits, I made it back to the line first! It wasn’t a race win, but it sure felt good. I may or may not have let out some excitement on the radio back to crew chief Paul Andrews. Dale wasn’t happy about coming in second. But to that point, he had won five championships. I had Daytona, and now Indianapolis, over him.
The two-day session saw us make mock race runs and a twenty-lap race for the fans. It gave all of us—and NASCAR—an idea of what to possibly expect next year. Todd and Brett were there testing for their respective teams as well. Perhaps the second-best highlight of that session was doing a three-wide photoshoot with my two brothers as we drove down the frontstretch.
My original plan was to finish out the year with Bud, but we started to talk about an early exit. Ford and Bud were good with me taking over the No. 7 car before the end of the season, and they would get veteran racer Lake Speed to take over the No. 15. I also wanted to showcase how good our team could be, and get a head start on 1994 as my team was searching for sponsors. Richmond in mid-September was my last race driving for Bud.
I would now finish out the last seven races of 1993 driving for my organization. However, I had a more hands-off approach, as the guys Alan had hired were good at what they did. Danny Glad continued to head our engine department, and Paul Andrews was the leader our team needed for our crew guys. But the attitude of the team was still very somber. After all, no one could have ever expected the cards they were dealt at the beginning of the season.
When I took over the team, there were no candles on a cake or balloons. It was business as usual, and I wanted the ownership transfer to be as seamless as possible. The team’s headquarters remained the same in Concord, North Carolina. In fact, the shop is still used to this day by the current NASCAR team, Spire Motorsports. Alan had an office at the shop, and as a tribute to him, I left it untouched. His photos, trophies, and desk were in the same place, frozen in time. It would bring a smile to my face to see his office, and I’m sure others would find solace in seeing his office intact.
I could feel the sadness and the emptiness when I walked into the shop. I needed to do something for all the guys and gals working for me. Even if it was something small. Maybe we could all bond on a night out and have a great team-building night. So I called up a close friend who happened to be a musician with a gig not too far from Charlotte. Another one of my employees knew her, too, so we figured she could give us a hand.
Country artist Tanya Tucker was having a weeknight concert one night in the fall of 1993 at Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, about a four-hour drive west of Concord. I was able to arrange an event to bring our team members and their families to come see her perform and meet her. Before she started her set, she met with the team, took a few photos in her leather jacket, and mingled with all the team’s families. It was a great start to the evening.
Our team loaded up a black No. 7 Ford Thunderbird show car with Tanya Tucker decals on its sides on a trailer to bring to the concert and unloaded it backstage, and I was going to give Tanya a ride. A show car can still have the engine and setup of a race-ready vehicle, but the tires are typically not racetrack-ready. This car had a fresh engine, new brakes, and a setup that could tackle a short track.
We both got in the racecar. I was in the driver’s seat. Tanya was on the floor next to me. I fired up the engine, and with the help of a Tennessee State patrolman, we got an escort off the Dollywood campus to the state highway nearby. We followed the state trooper closely on the two-lane highway at a blazing thirty-five miles per hour, with the two of us waving to cars and people nearby. It was like driving behind a pace car during a NASCAR race, except there were no grandstands or a sea of fans. There was nothing but lush green grass, trees, and the occasional twist and turn on the road.
It was time to turn around after driving about a mile up the road. Tanya needed to take the stage for the concert.
“Hey, it’s my turn,” Tanya told me.
“You want to drive us back?” I asked. She nodded with her long, blonde hair and a big grin on her face. Tanya is very talented. She’s ridden horses and driven different cars. I had my reservations, but with us having the policeman bringing us back and with me riding shotgun to help guide her if need be, I figured, what the heck, let’s do it. I turned the racecar around, we both climbed out, and I jogged over to the officer’s patrol car to let him know we were swapping seats and told him that Tanya would be driving back.
“No problem!” the officer exclaimed. “Let’s go!”
She strapped in, now this time in the driver’s seat, and I was in already unfamiliar territory as the passenger on the floor of my racecar. I was already wondering how this would go as we sat idle, parked along the state highway. The trooper’s vehicle started to move, so I walked Tanya through how to get the racecar rolling. She shifted into first gear, and off we went. Phew. Now, all we needed to do was make sure we all got back in one piece.
We continued to trail the trooper. Tanya navigated the twists and turns, but as I looked through the windshield, the trooper was getting smaller and smaller. Tanya, who was driving the racecar conservatively and holding a consistent speed, wasn’t driving as fast as she could have, and eventually, the trooper’s vehicle dropped out of sight. My heart was falling into my stomach. I didn’t have a good feeling about what was going to happen.
“Don’t worry, I know my way back!” Tanya said. We were still a ways back to where we started this journey, and now, Tanya shifted the racecar into second gear and was getting more confident driving the car around the state highway’s turns and was going way too fast for my comfort zone.
“Be careful!” I shouted from the passenger’s seat, with a helpless feeling setting in. Tanya turned onto an access road that would take us back behind the stage. In the distance, I saw our team members, her tour bus, our trailer, and the kind patrolman and his vehicle, waiting for the No. 7 Thunderbird to return from its maiden voyage on the public roads of east Tennessee.
On the final stretch of the road back, we climbed up a small hill, around one more turn, and then a straight road on a decline back to where we started. Tanya’s driving around the turn had the back end of the racecar slide around a little, and then, all of a sudden, the engine roared the loudest it had been all day. Tanya gassed it down the final stretch back to where we started. And I was along for the ride. For the first time in my life, I was scared in my own racecar.
“Slow down, slow down!” I shouted. But Tanya carried on. I could see her eyes with a look of focus and determination as she gripped the steering wheel tighter. My hands gripped a crossbar inside the vehicle. We had to be going a thousand miles per hour back towards the stage and people waiting for us.
When you’re behind the wheel of a racecar, you’re processing countless thoughts every second, trying to gain any edge over your fellow competitors. When you’re in the front passenger’s seat of your racecar with a country star hot, rodding and barreling down toward a group of people, you’re praying to God the brakes are warmed up and nobody would get hurt or killed.
As we got closer, people started to scatter. They all knew I started as the driver and thought I was still behind the wheel until they saw Tanya’s long, blonde hair flopping all around out the driver’s side window.
We were about a hundred feet away before Tanya’s lead foot let off the gas. She pressed the brakes, locked the car down, and we came to a perfect, complete stop near our starting point. No one was hurt. There wasn’t a scratch on the car. I may or may not have needed a change of underwear. God had answered my prayers!
Cheers erupted from my team members and the people who were backstage. We climbed out of our seats, and we were swarmed with the group of about forty people who were now around the car. Tanya did a great job; she knew what she was doing.
