VICTORY DELAYED
by Mark Hutchins
(first published in May 2004 Exhaust Notes)
For my son and my dad on father’s day 2003
Dad, or “Hutch” to everyone who knew him, loved cars, and racing. He and a friend traveled to Indy in the mid 30’s, saw Ralph DePalma, and got Jack Dempsey’s autograph. He took me to the Orpheum Theater in Omaha where we saw the closed circuit telecast of Indy, 1964. Jimmy Clark ran away from the field, I was 12. He told me many times that given the chance, he could have been a good racing driver.
My father died in 1992, Derek my son was not quite 4. Dad had suffered a stroke nine years before and was left without speech. With the exception of the Exclamatory phrase, “goddammit” and a “no, no” or “yes, yes” he could not bring forth any voluntary speech. And of course, the “no” or the “yes” had no relationship to the affirmative or negative in any true sense, voice inflection meant more than the word itself.
So, when Dee was pregnant with Derek and I told my dad to “keep quiet” about it, I felt pretty confident that he could keep the secret. But when my older brother casually commented in 1987, as we watched his son play football on a cold October evening in Gordon Nebraska, “Mark, better get busy if he and Dee are going to have any kids” my dad used his one and only word in such a way that left no doubt in Joel’s mind that Dee was already pregnant.
I started racing after a wholly unsuccessful four years of autocrossing, where I was regularly humbled in my ‘84 corvette, by what seemed lesser cars but better drivers. Then Peter Egan’s column, “Dreams Delayed” crossed my desk. I decided to sell the Corvette, go to drivers school and eventually I ended up in the relatively new class called Sports Renault. I did not know then that I had chosen the most difficult class in the SCCA to win races.
Many will find it hard to believe that I drove for 15 seasons, probably 75 races before finally achieving the honor of holding the checker for a victory lap. During those years I have made many good friends, people of like mind, positive people who are acting on their dreams to the extent they can, and not complaining about what they can not do, simply doing what they can. I have had the experience of driving on the last truly open road race circuits in Ponca City, Okla., and Lake Afton near Wichita, Ks., and dodged the walls on street circuits and even some one mile oval events. So this little car and I have lived out some dreams that my dad never had an opportunity to pursue. Five kids, and a world war, and bad breaks in business plotted a different path for him.
So on this father’s day in June 2003 at the Mid-America Motorplex, with my son in the paddock, I sat in my car gridded behind my friend and competitor Bill Allman, the thought of winning crossed my mind. Success or the thought of it brings on a different kinds of pressure. So, I decided that I simply wanted to drive up to my potential. Drive my best without error, what more could I do. The first two laps were, well, “event filled.” At one point it seemed that with Bill’s nose pushing me out of his way through the inside loop, it seemed to me that I would watch the finish from the sidelines. Miraculously the car was in one piece.
So after catching up and spending some laps stalking, an opportunity presented itself and from that point on, the only thing that could stop me from seeing the checker first was failing myself. Around the last corner, jumbled disorganized thoughts of my dad, all his struggles, my son Derek watching me win, finally after all these years swirled around in my head.
The moment was fleeting, Steve Fenske who knew my dad, laughed at my story of dad spilling the beans about Derek, told as We waited for the impound to pass. The other drivers gave me well meaning congratulations, The drive home with the windows open, through the silky air of a summer evening was serene, filled with a sense of accomplishment, respect, and appreciation for all those, whose efforts contributed to this opportunity.
Mark Hutchins on his victory lap. Photo: Jerry Doctor
