by
Timothy Kast

If you have ever gotten sucked into an episode of Entertainment Tonight or Extra, you’ve probably heard about some of the latest escapades of the rich and famous. Cat fights with Shannon Doherty, DUIs with Robert Downey, Jr. and Halle Berry—Ad Infinitum. It all seems like ‘anything goes’ when you finally get that platinum card, doesn’t it? Well on close examination the Hollywood folks share quite a bit with us common-place heroes at the race track. Namely, we’re all on the gas and in the limelight. If you have ever had anything to do with racing, then you quickly comprehend that winning really is everything. Sponsorships are gained by placing in the top ten consistently and nobody really remembers who was who when it comes to the backmarkers. When you’re on the winning team, even if you’re just a crew member, everyone wants to be your friend. Life is sweet, the food is great, the drinks flow like water, and your money never seems to be any good no matter what club you’re in. Pretty good deal, huh? It might surprise you, but it is a short drop from being on top to the fall from grace you’ll find if you don’t manage all of the fame and fortune like a professional.


The first part of the problem is that once you’re going fast, you draw notice to yourself as being a possible contender. Now you don’t want to be screaming like Marlon Brando outside of some Southern chick’s house with your muscle shirt in shreds, so you do the only true and decent thing, --you win. Now what? Because you could be worth a few thou in contingencies, people want to talk to you. Lavish restaurants, banging bars are all places where you can see your peers, talk racing and crunch some numbers. “Geez, National Privateer, all this sound pretty darn groovy so far, what’s eatin’ you?”


Ever look at the crew members and even some of the drivers at a NASCAR event? Whew, that’s a pretty heavyweight crowd, seems like those boys really know how to party, huh? True fact is that Hollywood stars, NASCAR crews and motorcycle folks are all bucking the same system, FAME. You have to literally carve yourself into a virtual super hero in order to survive this grist mill in one piece. You can talk business in the trailer at the track. The food you can buy at a grocery might not go immediately to your waist. Drink bottled water. If you want a glass of wine to relax with, sip it in your hotel room out of the public eye. Clubs are trouble no matter what. Want to go clubbing and get in a fight? Stay home and do it in your own town. Forget about racing and motorcycles. Buy that ’73 Trans Am from Calgary Gene’s lot and give him your race bike in trade.


Success depends largely on you, but the publicity machine tends to ruin the very people it builds up. There generally is no ill will involved, but all those meals at Hooter’s will eventually make it difficult for you to perform your job.


We live in a society where food and drinks are used as the lubricant to keep everyone happy. The carrot at the end of the stick. When the team wins, the crew goes out for drinks. End of a hard day, ice down a case of beer in the cooler. When the season winds up, you’ll see all of the crews at the banquet. The culmination of these weekends finds you, the racing guy, somewhat bloated and woozy. Flash back to those NASCAR boys and scrappin’ Shannon outside the Pink Pony. “Gosh, Master Splinter, I’m not eighteen and a flyweight anymore?”


The odd thing about all this is that there’s really not any ready answer to keep anyone from going down in flames. Hollywood has re-hab, the NASCAR guys just keep gettin’ bigger and as long as we have Roadracing World we know all the dirt on our favorite throttle jockeys, but the best idea is to have a strategy before the freight train gets to you. I mean, how good do you look in handcuffs? You didn’t seriously think they were gonna put you in the same cell with Shannon, did you?

Chuc Mung Nam Moi

(Happy New Year)