Chapter 16 (first draft)
Dad's Article
Even though I understood, then and now, that Dad was using my racing "accomplishments" to sell Swoopsters, my conflicted feelings remain. I did not assemble or maintain the karts or engines. I did not work hard to become a better driver. I was a kid who hung around and drove. I prefer to leave out most of what Dad wrote about me, but this memoir is about him, so I cannot. Dad tweaked my racing timeline to make my supposed age of thirteen in fall 1961 to justify me being eligible for the TWIKA World meet. I have added notes and made edits to Dad's story.
“92 POUNDS OF SKILL, DESIRE...AND SUCCESS
The thrilling sport of kart racing has produced a staggering number of competition drivers in a surprisingly short span of time. With ability widely varied, only a tiny segment of these karters possess all of the ingredients needed for championship performance. Unquestionably, young Bobby Cowling ranks high within this gifted minority. He is a very intelligent driver with accurate judgement, beautiful coordination, lightning fast reflexes, and a wonderful sense of sportsmanship. Bobby herds a fine handling Swoopster kart powered by a fully modified McCullough (racing engine) that really cranks on potent fuel. His laps are smooth and infallibly consistent, and he has an inherent knack for finding the quickest way around any strange track so promptly it's hard to believe.
The fun and excitement of karting began to unfold for this talented youngster when he was barely nine years old. (BC: I started racing the month I turned 8.) On Christmas Day, 1958, (BC: 1957) he became the delighted owner (to put it mildly) of his first kart. It was an early Swoopster, custom built for his junior stature.
From the outset, karting has been a father and son affair in the Cowling family, with Bill entering senior competition while Bobby races in junior classes. In this first magic year of mid-western karting, a newly formed club held sanctioned meets at a large parking lot which was available each Sunday. Portable markers were set out to define varied course shapes and everyone ran pretty much stock. No trophies were awarded but winning was nonetheless important. Crowds of appreciable size would gather to spectate and many attended just to watch the "little boy in the red jacket" running out front week after week. It was quite some time before they knew the red jacket belonged to Bobby.
This trophyless winning in the junior needle-bearing class continued for a year and a half. Then, in July 1960 (BC: 1959), an excellent asphalt road course was completed...and, at last, trophies were presented to the moto-cross winner in each class. Bobby and his Dad, each with a new Swoopster kart, graduated to highly modified alky burning engines and didn't miss a race at their new home track that season (BC: ...or the next). With no other permanent, hard surface kart layout within 200 miles at that time, more than half of the entries were from neighboring states. Many came to challenge the Cowling's growing reputation, but none of them succeeded. Naturally, there were a few individual heats which Bobby failed to finish due to mechanical problems, but his general pattern of winning was most impressive. When the final major event, a 100 lapper, closed the racing (BC: 1960) season on October 30th, Bobby owned the big first place trophy, high points for the year, and the class A track record which was .06 slower than the best B time. His Dad matched each of these accomplishments except that, in Senior A, the lap record was somewhat slower.
By spring of 1961, Bobby was old enough and sufficiently experienced for major championship competition, so father and son decided to go after all of the big ones they could find. Their extensive travels took them to most of the important kart races from Missouri to the East coast and as far north as Wisconsin...for serious racing at state to world championship levels. When the busy year of tough competition concluded, Bobby had won first place trophies WITH PERFECT SCORES in all but one of the big races he entered. In the process, he established new lap records at various race tracks which are located in seven different states, and which have often been the site of noteworthy karting events. Considering the constant nemesis of mechanical failure and the bad breaks which lurk wherever karts compete, this marvelous record is truly astounding.
The big IKF (International Kart Federation, formerly GKCA) events brought both happiness and disappointment to Bobby...disappointment that he was considered too young to compete in them. But he enjoyed watching his father set a new overall track record at the regionals in Louisville, Ky. Although junior drivers definitely were not to be eligible for IKF National competition, there seemed to be some hope for a class which would include these young tigers at the twelve state IKF AREA CHAMPIONSHIP held at Hickory, North Carolina. So Bobby and his kart made the long journey through the Smoky Mountains to attend. (BC: Barney drove our truck full of karts through the mountains. Dad and I flew in a small private plane.) Nearly 300 karters were entered and most of them had won at the regional level. Well no junior classes materialized, but Bobby was allowed on the beautiful thirteen-turn track during practice sessions. When, on his fourth lap out, he flashed past a pair of twin-engine B-class karts
which were charging side by side down the chute (straightaway), he was put on the clock for a time check. Our young champion was breaking the single engine (actually held overall record for five hours) record by well over a second per lap (on a track which was completely strange to him) and only two–a Super B and a Super C class–machines were able to match his breathtaking speed. He was pleased with the opportunity to drive the fine smooth road...and glad to see his dad become an Area Champion, but he would have given plenty for a shot at the checkered flags that day. He felt the same way at the Grand Nationals.
In the major NAKA competition, Bobby had his chance at a national championship, but first he had to win in the regional and sectional meets to get to the NAKA Nationals. The junior field was full of seasoned young veterans. He had heard about one boy in particular, Chuck Puckett from Decatur, Illinois, who had been winning every race he drove by an impressive margin.
After qualifications at the regional event, these two arch rivals, who have since become good buddies, sat side by side in the front row on the grid with Bobby in pole position. When the starting flag dropped for the pack of charging juniors, this pair of young challengers gave it their all and put on a beautiful show of driving ability. They finished one-two in each heat with Bobby first all three times.
At the six-state NAKA Sectional which was composed of first and second place Regional victors, plus the winner of STATE CHAMPIONSHIP races, Bobby again qualified for pole with a new track record and again won all of his heats with a perfect moto-cross score.
Bobby could hardly wait for September to come. He was never happier or more enthusiastic than when they arrived in Dousman, Wisconsin,..site of the NAKA NATIONAL ROAD RACE CHAMPIONSHIP.
During the first day it appeared that Bobby's ambition, to win at the nationals, might well be fulfilled despite the vaunted champions who would be driving against him. Pre-race preparation had been more thorough than usual and pit equipment included an extra engine and a multitude of spare parts. In the bushing time trials, Bobby set a new track record. Then in the last practice run before the junior needle-bearing screamers were to qualify, his engine had to be feverishly replaced. With his unstroked spare engine, he managed outside front row, just a fraction off the class record. With his better and quicker engine repaired for race day, he knew he had an excellent chance of winning.
Bobby was forced out of the first bushing race by the melted plastic ball in the breather hole of his fuel tank cap. Starting at the second race at the back of the twenty kart field, he finished third. At the start of the third heat, he was nudged off the course. Dad rushed out to restart him but the leader was a half a lap ahead. Bobby drove his heart out to finish fourth, which put him fifth overall for the day. The trophy was quite handsome, but fifth place to this particular young man was tantamount to dismal failure, especially after earning pole position.
In A Junior class, Bobby was out in front, lapping slower cars, when he encountered a patch of dust on the track kicked up by another driver and slid off the track. In the second heat he started from the back of the pack and SET A NEW JUNIOR AND ALL SINGLE ENGINE TRACK RECORD as he stormed to the front. But one young racer could not hold his line as Bobby passed him on the outside, pushing him off the track and out of the second heat. The hex of the nationals became complete when Bobby blew his engine in the third heat.
At the big MID-STATES CHAMPIONSHIP in Danville, Illinois, many of the racers showed up who ran in the Nationals two weeks earlier. After winning the bushing class in a walk, Bobby
also emerged victorious by a narrow margin in the JUNIOR A MODIFIED DIVISION over the NAKA CHAMP. This pair of important wins netted Bobby the honor of OVERALL CHAMPION for the seven state meet.
Then came Bobby's biggest week of glory, the TWIKA WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. He set lap records for bushing, A, and single engine, wining both his class races by wide margins. Thus he received top individual honors for the entire event and his dad was a member of the winning three man Swoopster kart team, so father and son enjoyed the big WORLD meet to the fullest and Bobby seemed to forget his poor showing at the national level. Lady luck was with him again.
Bobby's most recent effort in major competition came at the very important Governor's CUP CHAMPIONSHIP held in Mattoon, Illinois, where top karters from a broad geographical area arrived in force for one of the most colorful karting meets ever. Here, in an extremely impressive bushing class field, Bobby had a couple of national champion drivers to beat if he was to achieve success. Five of the karts in his class shattered the existing track record and, when qualifications were terminated, Bobby was happily in pole position from which he went on to victory three times in a row for one of his patented perfect (moto-cross) scores. His dad won over all of the tough competitors in "A STANDARD", too...by inches.
At the conclusion of the thirteen action-packed hours on the track, an even greater honor was bestowed upon the deserving shoulders of our young champion. He was named recipient of the GREAT LAKES AWARD, having won more consistently in major karting events than any other driver in the central states. In recognition of this outstanding achievement, Bobby was presented with a magnificent trophy four feet tall. From the smile on his face, he looked like he had just become champion of the Universe. (End of story.)”
One Friday in late October, after he picked me up in Mt. Carmel, Dad and I walked into his apartment. The white background paper was rolled out in the living room. A silver trophy, medium-height, sat in the middle. "What's that for, Dad?" I asked.
"It's your Overall World trophy."
"Cool!" I kicked off my shoes, carefully walked over in my socks, and picked it up. Through trial, error, and being yelled at, I learned to keep the white backdrop paper clean and undented. The trophy had a large square wooden base, a silver neck going up to the largest silver cup I had ever seen. My Great Lakes trophy sat on the back corner of the white paper. I stepped back to look at it, remembering the day I got the trophy. Looking at Dad, I said, "Are we going to race again, Dad?"
"Not sure, Son. Will have to see how things go with the shop this winter."
"Well, if the last race was when I got this trophy, it would be okay. It's my favorite." I looked at it again. My name was now engraved below a cup in the middle of the base. Around the edge of the white middle section were small blue plates that listed the seven races I'd won. "Best trophy ever."
"We will get some pics soon," Dad said.
ABOVE: My Great Lakes trophy on the left, and the World "Overall" trophy on the right. Photo taken outside Dad's apartment on N. Main Street.
BELOW: Two of the pics Dad sent with submissions of the article:
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