Watching Snakes Run

The release of the new movie Ford vs. Ferrari  reminded me of a sunny day, the first of March in 1964, and I was going to see my first sports car race. I was a big fan of all forms of automobile racing,  a regular at the Thursday night stock car races at Greenwood County Fairgrounds and Sunday would find me the Starlite 25 Drag Strip  in Ware Shoals, South Carolina. But that day would find me at the Augusta International Speedway just across the state line in Georgia. I had only seen a few sports cars other than in magazines.  There was something strange and maybe a little weird about the small and fast cars. They had strange names like Ferrari, Lotus, Maserati, Porsche, and some I could not pronounce. There was one I could pronounce though, Corvette. It was the only American made sports car. There was one in my home town and I had seen it a couple of times.

We arrived, my buddy and me, right after lunch. Admission was four dollars.  Lunch only cost about a dollar.  MacDonald's hamburgers were only fifteen cents then. I think I was only making a couple dollars an hour in an iron foundry in those days. If you had a "1-A" draft classification. Most employers thought you wouldn't be around very long. The Vietnam War was hitting it's stride. We found us a great place to watch the race near the pits. The pits were where all the race cars were  and where repairs and tuning was done on the cars. We noticed the Cobras right away. Numbers 15 and 16 painted in a white circle on the doors. The open cars were blue with a white racing stripe down the centerline. There was a hubbub of activity around the cars.  The mechanics were dressed in white coveralls. I don't remember if Carroll Shelby was there or not but I don't recall anyone in a black cowboy hat. We weren't familiar with many of the drivers except for those we had read about in hot rod magazines. Augie Pabst was there, the great-grandson of the founder of the brewery bearing his name. I would serve in the Navy with a sailor who said Augie Pabst was his uncle. Buck Fulp of Anderson, South Carolina was there in a new Ferrari. We were familiar with the Cobras though. Carroll Shelby, a retired race driver, had

put a small Ford V-8 engine in a light weight AC Bristol sports car.  It was exciting to watch the cars race. They were very quick!  We were pulling for the Cobras. After all I was a Ford guy.  Jim Hall was there in his Chevy powered Chaparral, but I did not point that out to my bowtie loving buddy! With every passing lap the Cobras would be closer to the front of the pack. They finished first, second, and third, and  Dave MacDonald of El Monte, CA was the winner. He had flown from Daytona, FL where he had raced directly to Augusta. The gray-haired Englishman, Ken Miles was the Shelby-American Team manager.  Miles at 45, the older of the two Shelby Cobra, drivers finished in second place.  MacDonald at 27 had a short but very successful career as a driver. He would die later that year in the Indianapolis 500 and Miles two years later in an accident while testing Ford's GT40. But on that day March 1, they put on a great show of driving skill while driving what would become a great American sports car: the Shelby Cobra or Ford Cobra.

I was in heaven. Ah-h-h! The smell of exhaust, burnt rubber, and  perfume of a long-legged girl in a miniskirt.