Friends

HOME / Friends

November 3rd, 2016

I have always deeply valued friendships. I stay in touch with people who are long gone and out of my circle of life just because I valued our friendship many years ago, and I don’t want that connection to break. Friendships are my roots, my foundation, and my soul, I think you could say. I couldn’t fathom the concept of life without dear friends.

This past weekend illustrated that value vividly. I went to Las Vegas, where I was surrounded by friends.

I spent two days with Team Wilkerson at The Strip. The Strip as in the race track of that name, not the brightly lit canyon of casinos. I didn’t stay on that Strip because it always feels soulless to me. There are no friends there unless you bring them with you, and even then you feel the crush of greed and crookedness draping over you like a filthy suit.

I stayed, instead, someplace totally new for me. I reserved a room at the JW Marriott on the west side of the Vegas metro area. It was a solid 30 minutes to the track on the Highway 215 loop, but getting down to the bright lights can take longer than that. Plus, it was in a marvelous part of town, it was classy, serene, and welcoming. It really felt 180-degrees from the Strip. When I passed other guests in the hall or shared an elevator with them, I spoke up. It was almost like making friends. Down on the Strip, people have blinders on, to other individuals and to the boisterous drunken groups that are stumbling around 24 hours a day. It was a great decision, and it made my time in Vegas much more enjoyable.

At the track on Saturday, it started with Laura Contreras-Rust at the VIP Credentials trailer. She never fails to get up from her seat inside the black trailer, just to meet me at the door with a heartfelt hug. That’s an enduring friendship that always starts my weekend off right. Inside the venue, I was surrounded by my racing family. Handshakes and hugs were common, as were the questions about my progress on the book. It always surprises me that so many people already know exactly how things are going. They keep an eye on me, here via the blog and through other means, to make sure I’m moving forward.

In the Media Center, my PR colleagues were joined by a number of longtime reporters and National Dragster editors, whom I consider friends as well. The PR gang is evolving, as new people enter the room each year while others go off to do other things, and it won’t be long before hardly anyone knows me, or even remembers me, in there.  But, for now, the many smiling faces and genuine hugs are precious to me. Those are good people. They’re good friends.

During an oil clean-up, I walked down the hall to the announcer’s room and caught up with Alan Reinhart. Alan can be as goofy as the next guy, but this year our conversations have always been more serious. He genuinely wants to know how I’m doing, and he asks most of the questions before I can even get to “How about you?”

In the pits, longtime blog readers who have become friends knew where to find me. Despite the fact the Wilk team didn’t have the hospitality area set up, we still had room up by the “back” of the pit to socialize, with no team parked nose-to-nose with us. And I put the word “back” in quotes because I always find it funny that the “back” of the pit is the “front” of the transporter. Why is that? It’s all perspective. From the ropes, at the back of the rig, you’re looking forward to what appears to be the back, but it’s the front, not the back. It’s the front. But it’s the back. Get it?

On Saturday, I made the rounds quite a bit and saw as many people as I could. I knew Sunday was going to be the big day, in terms of friends. Gregg Potter and Cathy Rich were going to be there. Gregg is a world-renowned drummer, who plays the drums for the Buddy Rich Band. Cathy Rich is the late Buddy Rich’s daughter. The two of them are an absolute hoot, like a nonstop comedy show, but it’s also an honor just to hang out with such percussion royalty. And again, really good people.

Buck, Mary, Gibson, and Hudson Hujabre were also coming to the track on Sunday, so I was doubly excited about that. Plus, with Buck being a musician who is “fluent” in many instruments, including the drums, it was cool to know I could introduce him to Gregg and Cathy, as well. I knew they’d all hit it off immediately.

And then Gregg and Cathy showed up on Saturday! Bonus time with two great people.

I ducked out as the final qualifying session was about halfway done, and was pleasantly surprised to get back to my room with it still going on. I saw Tim’s final run on my laptop. Then I headed someplace I had originally not planned to visit.

When I made my reservation at the resort, I was under the impression it did not have a casino. For the first time in forever, I planned to wager not one dime. And then when I arrived and checked in, I had to walk through the casino to get to my room. Plan foiled. The gravitational pull was too great. I won $300 and went to bed. Take that, slot machines!

I’ve been to six races so far this year, and at each one of them I relived the “morning memory” in exactly the same way. I wake up at sunrise and think, “I’m going to be late. I have to go!” Then I realize I don’t have to hurry. I can go whenever I please. I wanted to make it to the track around 10:00, but soon discovered another thing I’m not well versed in: Incoming traffic.

Since I spent the last two decades making sure I beat the traffic getting into the track, I rarely sat in any. Even at Gainesville, where we arrived at the track before sunrise. I think the only place where incoming traffic could slow us down, even if we left the hotel at 7:00, was Reading. Those narrow two-lane country roads can stack up with just a few cars.

As I drove around the 215 loop, heading for I-15, I sensed more cars on the road than should be typical for a Sunday morning. When I got to I-15, merging onto it just two miles from the LVMS exit, my first thought was, “There must’ve been a wreck.” Traffic going northbound, toward the track, was completely backed up. Looking south, toward Vegas, the line of cars went on and on. It wasn’t a wreck. It was traffic all heading to the NHRA race at The Strip at LVMS. Saturday’s crowd had been enormous. Late in the afternoon, they announced it was a complete sell-out. Clearly, Sunday’s was going to be huge as well.

I finally got to the pit around 10:30, just in time for driver introductions. I decided however, to hang out at the pit to find the Hujabres. They arrived moments later. For the record, the boys are getting huge.

April, 2011. Gibson takes his first steps
April, 2011. Gibson takes his first steps with the famous Pond Cam pond behind him. (Click to enlarge)

In late April of 2011, when the Jersey Boys touring company came back to the Twin Cities for a three-week run in Minneapolis, Buck, Mary, and Gibson lived with us at our old house on the pond. Gibson was a bit over one year old at the time, and he took his first steps not long after they arrived and unpacked. By the end of their stay, he was walking around like a pro. It was an amazing thing to watch, and I’ll never forget it. Now, he’s playing flag-football and is a star running back and quarterback. It’s stunning how fast that all happens. It’s also stunning that one of his assistant coaches is his dad. I wonder if he designed a play to be an “end sweep, stage left.”

When Gregg and Cathy arrived, I introduced all these friends of mine to each other. It took them all roughly 4.5 seconds to connect about two-dozen dots, making those mutual friendship connections. Show-biz people know everyone. So do musicians.

New friendships being born. Cathy and Gregg meet Buck and Gibson
New friendships being born. Cathy and Gregg meet Buck and Gibson

I then let the new friends mingle and head to their seats for round one. And Tim smoked the tires at the hit of the throttle. As disappointing as that was, it did provide the benefit of a much more relaxed pit area for the rest of the day, as the guys serviced the car and Tim huddled with Richard Hartman to figure out “why it did something goofy like that.” Tim said it absolutely should not have done that, and he was more afraid that they had it too soft. Race cars can be such brats. Petulant brats, at that.

New TV show concept: "Hangin' With Hujabres"
New TV show concept: “Hangin’ With Hujabres”

We all reconvened and laughed for hours, with Krista Wilkerson being right in the middle of it. She’s my best friend at the track, and she makes friends so easily with people she meets. It’s a joy to make her laugh, although I’ll also admit it’s not that hard to do. But, when people like Buck, Mary, Gregg, and Cathy are there, she just beams.

With no actual work to do, I could also spend quite a bit of time with my PR peeps up in the tower, and I made sure to do just that.

Seeing Elon Werner, Kelly Topolinski, Sadie Floyd, and everyone else in the room is always a treat, and it was fantastic to get brought up to speed on what everyone else is doing while answering all their questions about the book.

And since I was only at my sixth race (which still seems like a lot for a guy who officially “retired” last year) it was the first time I could get a sense of just how everyone feels this time of year. It’s been 10 months of travel for all of them, and when I was in that mode I knew I was tired by late October. To varying degrees, mostly based on age and experience, I think, I could see it in many of them. Just one more race. One more hotel. One more flight. Then the banquet, and then a week off before all the prep for 2017 seems overwhelming.

I went back to the pit to socialize just a little bit more, and then it was time for a major presentation.

When Tim slammed his Funny Car into the wall at two different races, earlier this year, it was a major financial hit for the team. That’s a lot of money crunched in just a second. The wall always wins.

Gibson and his little brother Hudson saw both races on TV, and they immediately wanted to help. They emptied their piggy banks and asked their father to send it to Tim. And they were very serious about it. Also insistent.

Buck told me what they’d done, and he made it clear that the boys did not want their money back. They wanted to help Tim buy some new stuff. Both Tim and Krista were really touched by the generosity, so in Las Vegas they gave the boys two connecting rods and a box of used spark plugs, telling them they wanted to share the parts the boys had paid for. Their eyes almost came out of their heads.

And they’re such smart little guys. Buck asked Gibson if he knew what the rods connected to, and he said, “the crankshaft” without hesitation. Blew me away.

Gibson, dreaming of going very fast.
Gibson, dreaming of going very fast.

To make it all even better, Tim went and got two used pistons and gave them those, as well. Then it was time to sit in the car. Gibson went first, and he could hardly contain the joy.

I could relate to it, as well, considering my baseball upbringing. My dad was always introducing me to his friends, who just happened to have last names like Musial and Williams, and I got to do the equivalent of “sitting in a Funny Car” a lot as a kid, except it was a dugout or a mound or a clubhouse I got to be in.

When it was Hudson’s turn, he got bashful. He grabbed onto Buck’s leg and said he didn’t want to sit in the car. And I found it heartwarming to listen to Buck talk with him, saying, “You don’t have to buddy, but if you really do then let’s put you in there.” He declined once again, and Buck put no pressure on him whatsoever. He and Mary are parents of the highest order.

When it was time for the family to go back to the stands, Hudson finally changed his mind. He asked his daddy if maybe could it be possible for him to sit in car now. Buck smiled as much as he did, and then helped him sit in the cockpit.

As Buck said, “Heck, I got a huge kick out of each of them getting the chance to do something really special like that. It was an honor for me to let them do it, and to help them get in and out.”

Hudson gets his chance!
Hudson gets his chance!

Hudson happily sat in the seat and was grinning from ear to ear. I love seeing stuff like that. It warms my heart.

After the semifinals, I beat the traffic but not until I’d shared one last hug with everyone. Well, not everyone. The Hujabre family was going to meet me for dinner.

Since the boys were coming along, we let them pick the restaurant, although Buck was kind enough to limit them to the ones they liked in the part of town where my hotel was. They chose The Cheesecake Factory. My wife Barbara swears we went to one of those many years ago, but when I heard we were going there on Sunday I could’ve sworn I’d never been. Buck just kind of winked at me, saying, “You’re gonna love it.”

I went back to the hotel and got cleaned up a little, and Buck kept me posted as to their status. I was back in the room keeping tabs on the final round on my computer when they left the track, and we planned to meet at the restaurant.

It just happened to be about a block from the hotel. It took me longer to walk down the hall and take the elevator to the first floor, than it did for me to drive over there. And we all arrived within seconds of each other.

At dinner, I marveled at how well behaved these two kids are. And when Buck showed me a video of Gibson scoring a touchdown in the championship game of his flag football season, I heard him ask Gibson what the play was. He said, “A double-reverse, and I just ran it in.”

A little later, Gibson asked me where I lived. I said, “Minnesota, and you were at my house there once. I bet you don’t remember that, though.”

He didn’t, of course, but we got to talking about the small park just around the corner from that house, and how Gibson was so fearless on the curvy slide there. He had just started walking a couple of days before, and when we got there he went straight to the top and slid right down, giggling the whole way. When Buck and Mary were talking about that, his eyes lit up.

“Is that the slide from the picture in my ‘Why I Love Daddy’ book?” It was, and he made the connection.

And for the record, Buck was right. I loved The Cheesecake Factory. The food was fantastic and the company was 5-Stars. And post-dinner, the siren call of the casino beckoned one more time. I was playing with house money by then, so why not? I made about $500 on the same machine and called it a night. There is no truth to the rumor I threw all the hundred-dollar bills in the air and laughed maniacally.

Gibson's slide!
Gibson’s slide!

Yesterday, I was running some errands and I dropped by the park just to take a selfie next to the slide. I texted it to Buck, with a request to show it to Gibson. What great memories.

And what great friends. What a fabulous couple of days with many of the best friends I’ve ever had, laughing, and talking, and just having fun.

You can’t have too many friends. Seems simple enough, but I’m not sure everyone realizes that. Some people close themselves off to others, as if they’ve reached their friend capacity and can’t sell anymore friend tickets.

I think great friends are the most valuable thing in life. If I had a billion dollars but no real friends, I’d be miserable. I’d be rich, but I’d be miserable. It wouldn’t be worth it.

We moved back here from Washington for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is that this is where are friends are. They’re some of the best friends we’ve ever had. This is home.

And home is wherever great friends surround you. In September, home was my alma mater, SIU-Edwardsville, when he had our 1977 baseball Hall of Fame induction. This summer, for one weekend, home was Target Field when my college roomies Lance, Oscar, and Radar came to town and we went to the Twins game.

This past weekend, home was Las Vegas. Barbara gets back here from Spokane tomorrow. Home will be Woodbury.

Until next week, this is Bob Wilber at your service. With friends.

Leave a Reply