Fast Cars

Fast Cars and times in
Atlanta, Georgia

Both Johnny and I had a great work ethic and saved up money to buy our first cars, a Plymouth Fury and a Ford Mustang.

I worked at the Colonial grocery store in Skyland shopping center and pretty much did it all.  I started out as a bagger and the ladies liked me since I did not put the heavy items or can goods on top of the bread.  I also double sacked everything as this was when you used paper bags to put the groceries before plastic bags came out for use.  I stocked shelves at night and worked every two weeks on a crew who stripped the wax off the floors then refinished them before morning.  Two things that paid better was being a cash register checker and working in the produce department.  I became assistant manager working there while in high school as the manager had a little drinking problem and management could not get rid of him because the union always stepped in.  I placed all the orders and received much of the stock so I worked hard and saved money to pay for a car.

Johnny did the same thing, working hard so he could afford a nice ride.  He bought a 1966 Plymouth Fury with a 318 cubic inch V8 engine.  It had a 3 speed manual transmission was Dark Blue in color with mag wheels.  It was a beautiful car and it could go fast when we took them out to several places to drive them full speed.  Johnny took the 383 emblems off his dad’s station wagon to put on his Fury.  It looked great and people thought his car had more horsepower than it actually had but Johnny could drive it fast as any other like vehicle out there.  His dad discovered the emblems were missing off his car and got after Johnny about pulling them off his car and swapping them.  We thought it was funny but his dad was not amused in the slightest.

There were a couple of places the kids from different high schools would meet up to race cars either against each other or in timed runs.  One that was close to us was in Brookhaven on the road that went around Silver Lake by Oglethorpe College.  It had several dozen sharp curves and wound its way through a nice neighborhood.  The people that lived along this road hated all of the teenagers who drove it, especially at night.  We both loved it day or night as it had a nice groove and feel to the road with all the curves.  There were two outlets that led you out of the neighborhood if the home owners called the police.  I think the name of the road was Inman Drive which came off Lanier Drive by Our Lady of the Assumption Catholic School which was at the end of Lanier.  The trick was to start at Lanier Drive and make your way through to the end of Inman and Woodrow Way, turn around and haul it fast back out to the starting point.  Many times there would be several cars running the road approximately 30 seconds apart.  Everything worked pretty well if you were in the first three or four groups but if there were more you would meet them on the way out and that was where the real danger came in with the blind curves and meeting another fast car head-on could mean disaster.  If you made it back to the starting point, you left the area before the police came in to check it out.  If the police came then you scrambled to exit from one of the two ways out of the neighborhood.  Everyone would meet up at the Shoney’s Drive in Restaurant parking lot and plan out the next time the gauntlet would be run.  I think the police knew what we were doing as they made several drives through the Shoney’s parking lot on the weekends and would look at our cars and let us know they were watching us.

I bought a 1965 Shelby Mustang 2+2 fastback, blue with hood lock pins which were cool.  Ford marketed it as the “Pony car” and I bought it for $ 2,200.00.  It had a 289 high performance engine, 4-speed on the floor transmission and the rally-pac instrumentation package.  Both our cars gave the Pontiac GTO’s and other muscle cars of the day a run for their money.  When the 67 Camaro and Firebirds came out both the Fury and Mustang kept them in check in performance and a good driver could make the cars sing.


 The other place to race was in downtown Atlanta.  Before the Interstate Highway system was finished Johnny and I heard of speed runs on the unfinished part of I-20 east from downtown at the connector out to the Candler Road exit out by Misty Waters.  That was where the road ended before it made its way to I-285 going to Augusta.  It was about a five or six mile stretch of road with some curves and small hills so it was a nice wide run for two cars to go side by side starting out and one would typically leave the other in his dust.

People would meet up after midnight on Friday and Saturday nights, bypass the barricades and go to the Hill Street ramp to coordinate the speed runs.  We ran pretty well but the Corvettes with their 427 cu in engines would out run most everyone.  Johnny and I would take our date’s home then head out after midnight to downtown Atlanta and the closed highway.  It wasn’t long before I-20 opened and everyone could drive that highway.

There was another road close to Piedmont Park that had a great hill for jumping your car through the air like Steve McQueen’s 1968 Mustang in the movie Bullitt.  My sister showed me the road while she was out with her boyfriend and occasionally Johnny and I would take turns driving our cars down there to jump the hill.  Once you did it a couple of times the thrill was gone but it was pretty neat to race up the hill or down the hill with the car coming off the ground for a bit.

My senior year a small group of friends got together and bought several $ 75 cars which we used for partying so no one damaged their “real” car.  There may have been drinking involved on occasion so there was a need for a trash car.  Someone’s dad worked for an insurance company and we would buy totaled out cars from the insurance company for seventy five bucks and drive them till they either quit or were further damaged hitting mail boxes or trees while off road driving.  We were in good hands with Allstate, lol.  Once the cars were either trashed or no longer needed we would give them proper burials.  If the car could still make it to Lake Lanier we would drive them down boat ramps.  There were several cars that made it to different boat ramps on the lake.  One vehicle was T-boned on the driver’s side door and we had to use bungie cords to tie the door closed so you didn’t fall out of the car.  You had to get in on the front passenger side and crawl over to drive it.

There was a girl in my home room Lynette, whose dad and his brother were well known in the drag racing world with Hubert Platt driving his Ford Mustang “Georgia Shaker -The Going Thing” and Huston Platt driving his Chevrolet Camaro “Dixie Twister”.  After I got my Mustang Lynette introduced me to her father Hubert and his brother Huston who took an interest in my Mustang. Hubert put one of the older blueprinted engines in my Mustang that he couldn’t use to race.  It ran like a scolded dog with all the new power.  It was a Stroppe-blueprinted 428 Cobra Jet engine that had been bored out and could easily beat any Corvette.

Hubert and Huston were kind and generous with me and I hated when Huston had the tragedy at Yellow River.  Here is an old account of that spring day.

Huston Platt and his Dixie Twister – Yellow River Drag Strip

In spite of many years of flawless career service, the impact of a few errant seconds can forever shadow a life, and that’s exactly what happened to Huston Platt on March 2, 1969.  A split-second intervention by fate’s darkest hand over shadowed his lengthy and admirable career as a builder, tuner, and driver.  Fate forever tagged him as the man at the center of the deadliest accident in American motorsports.
The incident weighed heavily on Huston Platt until the day he died.  His family and friends said he struggled with the tragedy, overcame the events, and finally moved on to regain his life.  That he was able to rise above the tragedy will remain a testament to the man’s fortitude and courage.

His date with destiny came as he made a run at the Yellow River Drag Strip, east of Atlanta.  Closed for many years now, the track became a mobile-home park, located off Interstate 20 at Exit 88.  In the 1960s, Yellow River was well known for staging F/X and Funny Car match races.  It was also notorious as an outlaw track.  No national sanction.  No rules.  Yellow River was always a substandard facility that, without major improvements and investment, would never have satisfied the minimum requirements for sanction.  Its inherent danger aside, Yellow River attracted a steady stream of race cars and spectators who ignored the obvious danger and were eager to flirt with disaster.

Time Bomb Ticking

The lanes were narrow and the shut-off area short, requiring good brakes and an early parachute release.  The track was barely capable of accommodating 150-mph speeds, let alone 190.  The River was a sort of drag-racing bullring, a term commonly applied to sub-basic dirt circle tracks that dotted the Southern landscape.  Its inadequacies were well known, but the track paid well, consistently booked top traveling pros, and was a favorite of Atlanta-area drag-racing fans.
The spectators were a core problem.  Save for a few strands of farm barbed wire drooping from weathered posts, there was no fence and the fans crowded perilously close to the action.  These hard-core whoopers bolstered their courage with cold beer often combined with white liquor, gulped from brown paper sacks.  It was not uncommon for hydraulically emboldened spectators to run out to the edge of the track to experience a 190-mph rush within arms-reach proximity.  Such antics usually earned the applause of colleagues followed by an unheeded, “Get back, dammit!” warning from the announcer.

Huston’s Dixie Twister 1969 Camaro was current by all standards.  A dedicated hands-on racer, Huston built the car and the blown 427 Chevy in it.  Many other Funny Cars had gone to the 426 Hemi or 427 SOHC, but Huston’s loyalty and parts bin remained with Chevrolet.  His engines were powerful and reliable.  Traction at most tracks in the Southeast was marginal, but Huston’s tuning and wily driving allowed him to master sandy, slippery surfaces while opponents helplessly spun their tires.

Like many of his peers, Huston’s chassis was built by Mt. Clemens, Michigan’s Logghe Stamping Company.  Its cars had a great reputation for being fast, well-handling, and safe.  Logghe pioneered the modern chassis and fiberglass flip-top body that dominated the Funny Car ranks.

The Dixie Twister was running against Frank Oglesby, a journeyman driver, in “Dyno” Don Nicholson’s Cougar.  Oglesby had only recently taken over for Nicholson, who had moved to a SOHC-powered A/MP Maverick.  After several close calls, Dyno had called it quits in the increasingly hazardous nitro Funny Cars, so Oglesby was driving to fulfill Nicholson’s prior match-race commitments.  Also on hand was Malcolm Durham, Jungle Jim, Arnie Beswick—all of them Funny Car vets.

Huston and Oglesby did the usual smoky burnouts, followed by a couple of dry hops. Both cars were off on the green.  At the 1,000-foot mark, Huston heard what he thought was a “bang,” and lifted off the throttle, at the same time deploying the parachute.  The preliminary pop chute was quickly followed by the main chute, which filled quickly.  Witnesses reported that a spectator ran to the edge of the track and was swept up in the fully blossomed chute.  Some reports had him trying to retrieve a beer can from the track.  He was killed instantly.  The car jerked to the right and into a group of spectators sitting or standing just 20 feet away. There was no time to escape.  Police reports said that 11 spectators died at the scene and that 40 more were injured.  A 12th victim died a few days later in an Atlanta hospital.  The Yellow River incident remains the deadliest accident in American motor racing history.  (Taken from Hot Rod Network)

Fast cars and good times, we were so innocent back then.


Ice

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