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Editor's
Note: A few Months ago, NSSN's Dave Argabright asked Hall of Fame midget driver
Kevin Olson to guest-write an American Scene entry. A few days ago, Argabright
received the following entry from Olson. But after looking it over, he felt K0's
story deserved special placing. After reading it, we bet you’ll agree. Dean
Billings was seriously injured in a midget accident at Angell Park Speedway at
Sun Prairie, Wis. A trust fund has
been established for his family at: Dean Billings Family Fund, Attn: Cher
Breunig, Bank of Sun Prairie, PO.Box 29, Sun Prairie, Wis., 53590.
By KEVIN OLSON, For National Speed Sport News
ROCKFORD,
Ill. - At Sun Prairie the other night, I retired from racing for 38 1/2 minutes.
After 30 seasons of racing midgets all over the world, I became angry at auto
racing, and it was no longer fun. Nobody knew I retired,
and probably wouldn't have cared, but I was mad at racing because it tried to
take another one of my friends.
It was on the third lap of the B main when Dean Billings hit
the front stretch wall and harmlessly turned over, ending up in turn one on his
side. I was sitting on a trailer watching the race, studying track conditions
and getting ready for the feature.
I had a direct view of Dean's flip and saw he was okay. As he
moved around in the cockpit, he was just beginning to loosen his belts when
another car desperately tried to spin to avoid hitting him, but couldn't. As he
slammed hard into Dean's cage, the unmistakable sound of metal-against-metal
horrified me as I strained to see if he was once again all right. When he failed
to move after a few seconds, I knew the lives of Dean and his family would be
forever changed.
Dean Billings may not be a household name like a Gordon or a
Foyt, but the open-wheel community knows and respects him-as a driver, builder
and as a person. Dean is a two-time champion of a club he helped organize, The
Dairyland Midget Ass'n.
Always looking out for the little guys in racing, Dean helped
form Dairyland for the guys who couldn't afford a new car or motor every year.
Dean won numerous feature events all around the country,
including a race at Lincoln, Neb., and he even spent a winter racing in
Australia. Although he was often under-funded, he never let that stop him from
going racing anywhere, any time with his midget or sprint car.
He is a real grass-roots racer who knows how to race and have
fun while doing it. He knows how to live in a van if necessary, eat hamburgers,
drink beer with the boys after the race, or pull an all-nighter fixing a crashed
race car to run again the next night.
A few years back he formed Quick Change Specialties with the
help of his son, Brian (nicknamed Donut by his dad and family). With a few
helpers they have built the business of building and repairing rear ends for
midgets, sprint cars and stock cars into a growing and successful company.
Incidentally, my son Kevin, Jr. and Donut have become the best of friends, with
Kevin spending weeks at a time at the Billings residence during the season.
As I got up from the trailer at that moment, I knew I
couldn't go to the crash site. As I saw Donut sprinting up the race track toward
his unconscious father, I ran out to stop him from going there. I told him he
might want to wait a few minutes because his dad might be knocked out. But he
continued, as I expected.
At this point the scene at Angell Park was like a bad dream.
All work stopped on all the cars, and all the crews stood silently in little
groups, saying very little. We were all hoping for the word that Dean was all
right and we all could continue on with the night. I walked over to a stack of
our tires and sat down. I just wanted to be alone, I didn't feel like talking
with anyone. I sat and waited far some good news on this hazy Wisconsin night.
The crowd and pit area was eerily silent. Then what I feared most came next, as
it was announced that an area of the infield needed to be cleared to make room
for a Med-flight helicopter.
I hate the sight of that machine, because every time it shows
up at the race track it usually takes away a fellow driver, fighting to survive.
I felt numb and dazed as I sat and watched what was going on all around me. It
gave me time to stop and think of some of these same situations I have seen too
many times over the past 30 seasons. Right now, racing didn't seem like a good
deal.
Dean has raced for 21 years and he and I have become pretty
good friends. I think the thing I admire most about Dean is his closeness and
devotion to his family. His two daughters, Stacey and Lorrie, along with his son
Brian, are all part of his race team as well as his number-one fans.
Dean, who is divorced, lives with his mother and son in
Greenfield, Wis. about a mile from Hales Corners Speedway. His mother can be
found in the grandstands at Sun Prairie in her checkered flag shirt and hat.
Over the past few summers their home ended up a home and work-shop for wayward
racers, whether it be touring Australians or helpers on Dean's crew. They were
always welcome at the Billings home. This is a real racing family.
From my perch atop our tires I could see Stacey and Lorrie huddled
together, crying. I will never forget the pain and anguish in their faces as
they waited for the helicopter to arrive to take their idol and hero to
safety.
My heart was lying on the ground, and I felt at an all-time
low. I reflected on my many friends and fellow drivers I've seen in this same
situation. I thought of guys who I was very close to, and other guys that I
wasn't so close to, who had been in a similar situation. Whether they were my
friends or not, all of them were part of the same racing family as I.
I thought of famous racing names like Rich and Don Vogler,
Page Jones, and Wayne Weiler. I thought of other names like Mike Fell,
Bob Carey, Ron Hughes, Jr. and Pepi Marchese,
all friends of mine. I thought of my close friend Stan Fox, and his struggle to
get back racing after his devastating crash at Indy. I know I have been lucky
throughout my career, although I have survived a broken neck, back, ribs, and
third-degree burns, along with being knocked out a few times.
After about 20 minutes (although it seemed like an eternity),
we heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. You could hear a pin drop in
the entire place as it landed and all eyes and ears were pointed to the infield.
After about 5 minutes the helicopter shut its engine off and everyone in the
place feared the worst, that it was no longer needed. Fortunately, they were
trying to stabilize Dean for the trip to University of Wisconsin hospital.
Finally, some 38 minutes after the crash, the helicopter
lifted off with Dean aboard, battling for his life. I couldn't watch him leave
the track, so I stared at the silent grandstand crowd. As the Helicopter lifted
over the stands the crowd stood and cheered loudly. I heard fans yelling,
“Good luck, Dean! and "God bless you, Dean!"
I have to admit the lump in my throat felt like a golf ball.
Being as vain as I am, I quickly rubbed away the tears welling in my eyes. To
steal a famous line from a Tom Hanks movie, "There's no crying in auto
racing."
As the sound of the helicopter faded into the night, it was
almost like someone turned on a switch. All of a sudden pit crews were picking
up wrenches, fans were talking, and racers were getting ready for the A-main. I
got up off the tires and walked back to my car and crew. I knew that after 38
1/2 minutes, my retirement was over.
I guess I was no longer mad at racing, or just too stupid to
quit. But I knew that, just like in the movies, I had to go out there and win
this race for Dean. But I was not Billy Coy tonight, and I ended up about six
places short of victory.
Racing is a tough business made up of tough men. Some
basketball or baseball players (who make millions of dollars each year) will sit
out for months at a time with a sore ankle or hurt finger, but a racer will
ignore a broken leg, wrist, or worse to drive for 2,000 to win. I've seen Jack
Hewitt drive with his helmet taped to the seat to help hold his head up after he
broke his neck. I couldn't trade one Jack Hewitt card for 10 Michael Jordan
cards.
Dean Billings is a real racer and a tough guy who will
survive this crash. In fact, he'll probably think about getting behind the wheel
again. He has a long, hard road to recovery ahead of him, but he'll do it. He
needs our prayers, and if you can spare a dollar or two, he can use it.
For those of you who wanted to hear about light bulb repairs
or shoelace retipping, we'll do that next time. Get well soon, Dean, the light
bulb repairman doesn't want to get a reputation for being serious too long.
This
one's for you.
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