| Fast High School Cars by Joe Pruitt |
| I think I met Billy Willard the first time in our senior year Electronics Class, taught by Mr. Ralph Stegall. It was the first year electronics was offered at RHS, and we didn't have books or lab materials until about the last month of class. I remember Mr. Stegall as a fine basic electronics teacher, and I wish I could tell him how much I appreciate him giving me a good foundation before I went into the military electronics program. I am not sure if Joel was in that class, (no, I wasn't) but I do remember Willard and a distant cousin of mine, Robbie Hale. I do remember Willard's best friend was in there, but his name will not come to me. (It was Harry Sellars) They were always together. Willard and I would meet every once in a while making the laps around Tom & Sarah's, and of course we had a couple of trials for whose car was faster. I was driving a 1962 Plymouth Fury, canary yellow with chrome fenderskirts. It was my Mom's car, and she hated the fenderskirts, so I had to put them on when I drove it and take them off when she drove it. She didn't like me putting a large black electrical tape V on the front grill either, so I had to take that off. I loved the car because it was cool (who else had Canary Yellow) and ran pretty good for a 318 cubic inch with a four barrel carburetor. I have figured out over the years, though, that it was one of the ugliest cars ever made. Willard had a 1955 or '56 Chevrolet that he had modified with a floor shifter, and I don't know what else he did to the motor, but it ran pretty good. One night, we pulled out end to end from Tom and Sarah's, and made the U-turn back toward town, came side by side, and floored the gas. I pulled away a good bit, possibly because of my car's push button transmission. I stayed in the right hand lane, and was fixing to start slowing down from the 80 mph I had reached. I had a deadly fear of getting a ticket and walking for the rest of my life, if I could walk after Dad got through with me. Suddenly a 1951 Chevrolet pulled directly in front of me onto Hwy. 74. It was smoking blue oil and traveling the speed of a one-horse wagon. I didn't take the time to see where Willard was or which lane he was in, I just locked up the brakes and hoped I could stop in time. I actually looked at the speedometer and it said about 80, then 0 when I locked them up. I slid to within about 10 feet of the old smoker, and Willard came by us in the left lane like a shot from a cannon. When I caught up with him later, I asked him what would he have done if I had changed lanes. I don't remember his answer, but I am sure he had that Chesire cat smile of his when he answered. One night there was another race. I am pretty sure it was Joel in his 396 Chevelle with maybe Billy Willard, and maybe even Marcus Comer in the car. I don't remember for sure. I think I had Dennis Lee or Vance Hinson with me. We probably met up at Seago's Restaurant, but we ended up on Prison Camp Road to the best of my recollection. We turned around in a little dirt road off on the left so we were headed back towards Five Points. I was still driving the 318 Plymouth, and had heard of the speed of the 396's, but you just have to see it once, don't you. Someone gave the signal to go, we hit the gas, and before I pushed the button for 2nd gear, it was a lost cause. Joel's 396 was leaving me behind like I was towing an anchor. I went straight into drive and we headed on to wherever would give us our next adventure in Rockingham. I am sure Joel will agree with me that Rufus from the Five Points Gas Station crowd had the baddest 396 in town, though. He had such a big cam in it, it would just LOPE around Tom & Sarah's or Seago's. I can remember it going through the gears leaving Tom & Sarah's one night, and it was monstrously beautiful. Someone told me later that he had slipped the tires going around the Pee Dee curves one night and blew the motor. Maybe Joel will be able to remember who it was, that on a bet, spun his rear tires at one of the gas stations at Five Points until they blew out. Of course it was on a bet for two new tires. Maybe it was the hot 58 Chevy he talked about in his memories. (I don't remember that bet but the '58 Chevy was called the White Elephant and belonged to Alvin Blackmon.) |
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