| Biographical Non-Fiction posted October 18, 2023 |
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This is my opening exposure to offroad racing in Mexico.
The Badass
by Frank Ball
Early on in my off-road experience, I planned to provide pit service for the pitting group Mag 7 in the 1973 Baja 500 at Laguna Chapala, Mexico. I was eager to participate, having pitted for Carl Scholl in some minor races at Plaster City and camped out in Baja several times, but Laguna Chipala, a new reach for me, was half way down the Baja Califorina peninsula. Since I had agreed to pit there for Mag 7, Carl asked me if I would help him with some tires and fuel on the side. When I agreed to that, Carl asked me to help with service for his friend in the same situation. Well, eagerness prevailed over good sense; they asked me to attend a pit meeting at Clark Williams' shop. Clark ran the show, going over the pit locations and what was expected at each pit. Then he went into an intense monolog describing how important it was for the pits to be correctly located and equipped. He raved about how damaging it would be for a pit to be missing and what would become of a pit captain if that happened. Clark was not older than me, but he was about twice my size. I thought he was a real badass. The whole prospect began to weigh on my mind because anyone in command of their senses would have given me no better than a 20% chance of getting there in my Datsun four-door pulling a 12-foot travel trailer. At that time, the pavement ended at Camalu, leaving more than half the trip on dirt roads of questionable location, not to mention condition.
My nephew John Gregory, with his Chevy pickup, agreed to go along. Strange as it may seem, we did get there in time. John, my wife Josie, and I, with two pre-teenage daughters, were the entire pit crew. We set up the pit in the center of the smooth, hard, dry lake. The weather was good, and the air was still. The stillness became a liability when the racers churned the dry mud into an opaque dust blanket floating over the ruptured surface. Many racers arrived at Laguna Chapala, and most continued to Gonzaga Bay, but neither Carl Scholl nor the badass Clark Williams were among them.
Early on in my off-road experience, I planned to provide pit service for the pitting group Mag 7 in the 1973 Baja 500 at Laguna Chapala, Mexico. I was eager to participate, having pitted for Carl Scholl in some minor races at Plaster City and camped out in Baja several times, but Laguna Chipala, a new reach for me, was half way down the Baja Califorina peninsula. Since I had agreed to pit there for Mag 7, Carl asked me if I would help him with some tires and fuel on the side. When I agreed to that, Carl asked me to help with service for his friend in the same situation. Well, eagerness prevailed over good sense; they asked me to attend a pit meeting at Clark Williams' shop. Clark ran the show, going over the pit locations and what was expected at each pit. Then he went into an intense monolog describing how important it was for the pits to be correctly located and equipped. He raved about how damaging it would be for a pit to be missing and what would become of a pit captain if that happened. Clark was not older than me, but he was about twice my size. I thought he was a real badass. The whole prospect began to weigh on my mind because anyone in command of their senses would have given me no better than a 20% chance of getting there in my Datsun four-door pulling a 12-foot travel trailer. At that time, the pavement ended at Camalu, leaving more than half the trip on dirt roads of questionable location, not to mention condition.
My nephew John Gregory, with his Chevy pickup, agreed to go along. Strange as it may seem, we did get there in time. John, my wife Josie, and I, with two pre-teenage daughters, were the entire pit crew. We set up the pit in the center of the smooth, hard, dry lake. The weather was good, and the air was still. The stillness became a liability when the racers churned the dry mud into an opaque dust blanket floating over the ruptured surface. Many racers arrived at Laguna Chapala, and most continued to Gonzaga Bay, but neither Carl Scholl nor the badass Clark Williams were among them.
In the passage of time, I built a race car of my own.
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