The King: It's the new idea.

I have found that I have been struggling with ideas about what to write another poem about.  I kind of stumbled in to the idea of writing about my mentor.  I have also been thinking of righting about viewing the ISS with the naked eye. Those thoughts have been running through my mind.  I also have been thinking about other passion I have.  I love racing.  I think that I might be able to write disguise a poem about racing as something else.  I have been reflecting back on my childhood.  I’ve been thinking about this idea of “painting a picture.”

When I was 6 years old, we were at Daytona for the July race.  I can distinctly remember leaning against the fence in the tri-oval at the racetrack.  I was looking toward turn 4 and Richard Petty came cruising around the corner at nearly 200 mph.  The car drifted up toward the wall.  He drove about 6 inches off of the wall when he raced.  His philosophy was that if you were closer to the wall when you lost control, it would hurt less than if you traveled farther to hit the wall.  Anyway, I vividly remember the silver grill of the Dodge Charger coming right toward me.  Because of the slight curve in the track he was literally lined up on me. 200 mph is FAST!  The squares in the fence were about 6 inches square.  I found fit my 6 year old face through the fence.  When he zipped passed me I could have reached out and touched the car.   The suction the car created tugged my tiny little frame tighter up against the fence (Bernoulli).  I also experienced the Doppler affect as the motor grew louder and louder as he quickly approached, and went screaming by only to have the sound soften as he drove away.

Petty Blue, Blaze Orange, Red Stripes.  STP, #43

The man had 200 victories, 7 championships and 7 Daytona 500 victories.   They don’t call him The King for nothing.

As much as I respect what he did, and that cherish that moment, he wasn’t my favorite race car driver.  He was one of them, but not the one I liked Best.  I liked this cat named Buddy Baker.  Baker won only 19 races and one Daytona 500.  He never won a championship.  But when he raced a car, he ran it as fast as it would go every single lap.  HE was hard on motors because he pushed them so hard.  He would lead 75% of a race, only to have the motor break.  I loved everything about this guy.

So anyway, I’ve been toying with this idea of just painting the picture of the Petty Memory.  But I also have been thinking of righting the poem from the point of view of Buddy Baker; forever trying to dethrone The King.   I also started thinking of Petty being The King and the Lion being the king of beast.  Engines roaring, Lions Roaring.  Petty’s crew was made up of mostly family members.  They did all the foot work behind the scenes.  He capitalized on their work; much like the male lion doesn’t do the hunting, he relies on his pride to do all of the hunting.

The trick is to figure out if Buddy Baker is another lion, or is he more like a cheetah.