Bill's Stories about Things and Stuff

[crossmember]

Bill Powell Why, that was the day of the great truck wreck, the truck wreck to which I had a front row seat. Cheat river hill, in West Virginia, was 6 or 7 per cent down grade and two or three miles long. Just as I started down the hill a major air line ruptured, bleeding off all air on the truck. Result, no Brakes, none, nada. 6 or 7 per cent down grade and no brakes can make a truck gain a lot of speed, in my case 80 or 90 mph. At the bottom of the hill, doing my 80 or 90 mph, I came to s 90 degree right turn. Right inn front of me was the only flat spot in W. Virginia. What I didn't see was a stump about two feet in dia. and about two feet tall. When the bumper hit it the cab was ripped off the frame and flung forward. When I crawled out of the cab and stood I could rest my elbow on the tallest part of the truck. Now, Mom's first first indication something had gone wrong was when she got a bill for ambulance service from a funeral home in Maryland, about two hours before I phoned her telling her I was okay.

[crossmember]

The day I almost crashed our ride.

Adventures in a little Piper Cub, one of those that if pull the doors off and leave them on the ground it's like riding in a flying arm chair.

We were flying about 1300 feet above a dirt road running South from Cutter. Jack told me to do an S turn over the road and finish the turn lined up on the road. Well, I'd seen every John Wayne fighter pilot movie ever made so I picked up my massive engineer boot shod foot and stomped the right rudder right to the floor. At the same time I turned the wheel far too fast to the right. The poor little ole plane farted, and went into a stall. Jack used used up almost all of our available 1300 feet of air getting that plane out of that stall and flying again. I found out then why Jack wore thin soled shoes to fly.

[G19Tony]

On 10/19/2017 at 9:01 PM, crossmember said:

This is chassis 118 of 120 built for the military.  You should have seen the rent a cops when we showed up at the Reliant Arena for a car show.

You can't go wrong with twin .50's!

[XSIV4S]

4 hours ago, G19Tony said:

You can't go wrong with twin .50's!

They are fired with gas, Bill has scared the hell out of a lot of people with them.

[crossmember]

We were living at the old Snelgrove homestead when a guy showed up one day and tried to sell Mom a fine new Maytag washer. She told him if he would look around he would see there was no electricity within a half mile of the house. He begged her pardon all over the place, and left. A day or two, or three later he showed up again with a fine new Maytag washer. She let him know that, based on his last trip, he must be about half ignorant. He smiled, got up in the truck, and stomped a foot lever and fired up a little gasoline engine which powered the washer.

When he left his truck was empty an we had a new Maytag washer sitting on the porch along wit two square rinse tubs, plus a twenty foot flexible exhaust pipe to take the fumes out of the house. Mom no longer had to use a rub board to do laundry for a family of ten.

Now comes Mrs. Cameron, my mom's arch enemy, a woman she hadn't even spoken in over a year.

Mom had been in possession of her fine new Maytag about a week when who shows up but Mrs Cameron and part of her brood. They pull into the yard, back up to the porch, get out and commenced to visit. After about ten minutes, after all the pleasantries were out of the way Mrs Cameron says to Mom, "Since we're here how's about we load up the washer and take it home for a week or two to catch up on our laundry.

Mom told her that if she didn't get her fat ass off her property she'd take the shotgun and widen that crack in her ass with a load of birdshot. Some things stand out in your memory, this did in mine.

[crossmember]

I had a case of grenade simulators one time. They were about the size of a small soft drink can and had a pull string for an ignitor. It was a four or five second fuze, I neve timed it. I surprised a lot of un-suspecting cactus with them; not the kind protected by law, but the other kind. Loud as hell but not terribly damaging to anything.

For any of you FBI guys that might be monitoring this, that was forty years ago. I'm much better now.

I also had a box of some kind of 12 ga shotgun sized exploders from hell. They were not a mortar porpellant, cause they had a carbon disc instead of a primer. The amount of air they displaced with their pressure wave was amazing. The was I got them to detonate was lean the head of a big kitchen match against the primer disc and light the other end. When it burned up and ignited the head of the match, the heat was intense enough to penetrate the carbon disc. They may have been tank gun simulators, cause the main gun on a tank was electrically primed.

In Tulsa I worked for a truck manufacturer and one of themany things we tried was an onboard weighing system like they use on some of the airliner suspensions. One of our guys was bringing one home that failed, and the airline crew refuse to allow it on the plane cause it looked like a WWii German anti-tank mine. They thought the wires coming out of it might be an antenna. The pilot finally solved the problem by saying he would carry the device under his seat. Go figure that one out. If it had been a remote activated device I can think of all kinds of places I'd rather it be that under the pilot's seat...................

[crossmember]

1951 Ford coupe X51, Crosley wagon

[crossmember]

CRAWFISH HUNTING

My son-in-law and his son set off on a crawdad expedition on Lake Conroe, Tx this last saturday. You have to paint a mental image of this adventure. Two guys, the smallest of which will go 220 lbs, two motors, crawdad traps, some big coolers, one full of beer, a battery for the trolling motor, life vest (worn by neither of the crewmen). The image you paint may be of an overloaded and top heavy container ship, because all this meat and hardware was in a 14 ft aluminum John Boat. To compound the problem the intrepid crew decide to go straight across the lake, and the lake was almost white-capping. 

If you have one of those Texas waterways fishing maps of Lake Conroe, the met their Waterloo between the K and the E where the map is spelling out lake Conroe.

Right between the K and E one wave hit em this-a-way and one wave hit em that-a-way, and then God stepped on the bow of the boat and it became a submarine. They spent about half an hour waiting for someone to tow them to shore. Meanwhile someone saw their cooler following the lake current and call the lake deputy. Their rescuer towed the boat, upside down to shore, and the deputy showed up about the same time. He asked about it and my son-in-law told him what kind of boat and he said he didn't need to hear any more.

I renamed the boat the Poseidin cause it floats upside down in the water.

On a more serious note, they were very lucky, and more importantly they realize they were lucky and are taking steps to make sure it does not happen again.

[crossmember]

 

How many of you have had what you would consider a narrow escape? I was thinking about that earlier, and decided I've been lucky on more than one occasion, or luck had nothing to do with it. Luck is falling off a cliff and have a root or rock catch your clothes and hold you there. Quick reflexes and a keen sense of self preservation is when you see that root or rock and manage to grab it, and hang on. I've decided that a couple of times I've been lucky, but usually is was things happening by me that didn't happen to drag me in, and a couple of times my sense of self preservation was a factor in saving my butt. Good luck is normally preceded by stupidity.

Good luck, preceded by stupidity.

The last copper mine I worked at was Duval Corp, in Battle Mt., Nev. The mining engineers had missed a large body of ore when they mis-read their maps. To rectify the problem they blew the top off a small mountain to expose the ore. They drilled, and buried 275,000 pounds of ammonium nitrate, complete with Scott's oil ratio formula. We wanted to watch the shot, so we parked where we now know a way to close to the shot. We were in a service truck with a steel deck above the cab. When that shot went off the thing almost as impressive as the noise were the geysers of dirt that shot a thousand feet in the air. After a bit rocks started raining down on our truck. They got larger, and we became more nervous. When they got large enough to put dents in the steel deck we started trying to figure out how get under the truck without getting brained by a rock. The noise was getting louder and the rocks getting bigger, and just as we were going to try our luck, the rocks started getting smaller, til it was just dirt again. We had backed up against a 600 foot waste dump, so we couldn't back up. We couldn't drive forward to the escape road cause the rocks were the size of 
Volkswagens there.

Stupidity was driving into that potentially deadly location. Luck was having the rocks stay small in our area, cause in other directions car sized rocks were thrown farther than we were sitting.

One instance I don't know if stupidity played a part, but I know luck did. That was when the anti personnel mines were washing against my ankles without exploding, cause they got the very next guy that touched them.

One time I had a .30-06 round go through a first aid kit I was wearing. Luck, cause I was where I was supposed to be.

Once there was an M-47 tank parked above me on a hill, when his parking brake failed and it came charging down the hill toward me. It wouldn't have gotten me, cause I was a hundred yards away by the time it got rolling good. The good luck was the tank crew, cause my truck had 1200 gallons of gasoline on it and the tank hit a small stump and stopped about two feet from my truck. Mechanical failure, so it was luck.

Major piece of luck, preceded by mechanical failure.

July second, 1968 I was starting down Cheat River Hill, on route fifty, coming out of Washington, DC. I stopped at the top of the hill, put the truck in first under, and went over the edge. At the first application of the brakes I head a loud swoosh and my air pressure gage went to zero. I had the next two miles of that hill all to myself. When I got to the bottom ther was the only flat spot in West Virginia, so I dove off in it. What I failed to notice was a stump, about two feet in dia, right in the middle of my escape road. It hit the bumper, ripped the cab off the frame, twisted the frame to the left ninety degrees, and the trailer landed on its left side. It slid a hundred fifty feet, bull-dozing dirt in front of it. When the cab flew forward the steering wheel tied itself in a knot around the driver's seat frame. When I regained my senses I was on my hands and knees on what used to be the roof of the passenger side of the cab. When I left the road skill had nothing to do with my survival. Pure luck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[XSIV4S]

On 11/12/2017 at 10:21 PM, crossmember said:

 

How many of you have had what you would consider a narrow escape? I was thinking about that earlier, and decided I've been lucky on more than one occasion, or luck had nothing to do with it. Luck is falling off a cliff and have a root or rock catch your clothes and hold you there. Quick reflexes and a keen sense of self preservation is when you see that root or rock and manage to grab it, and hang on. I've decided that a couple of times I've been lucky, but usually is was things happening by me that didn't happen to drag me in, and a couple of times my sense of self preservation was a factor in saving my butt. Good luck is normally preceded by stupidity.

Good luck, preceded by stupidity.

The last copper mine I worked at was Duval Corp, in Battle Mt., Nev. The mining engineers had missed a large body of ore when they mis-read their maps. To rectify the problem they blew the top off a small mountain to expose the ore. They drilled, and buried 275,000 pounds of ammonium nitrate, complete with Scott's oil ratio formula. We wanted to watch the shot, so we parked where we now know a way to close to the shot. We were in a service truck with a steel deck above the cab. When that shot went off the thing almost as impressive as the noise were the geysers of dirt that shot a thousand feet in the air. After a bit rocks started raining down on our truck. They got larger, and we became more nervous. When they got large enough to put dents in the steel deck we started trying to figure out how get under the truck without getting brained by a rock. The noise was getting louder and the rocks getting bigger, and just as we were going to try our luck, the rocks started getting smaller, til it was just dirt again. We had backed up against a 600 foot waste dump, so we couldn't back up. We couldn't drive forward to the escape road cause the rocks were the size of 
Volkswagens there.

Stupidity was driving into that potentially deadly location. Luck was having the rocks stay small in our area, cause in other directions car sized rocks were thrown farther than we were sitting.

One instance I don't know if stupidity played a part, but I know luck did. That was when the anti personnel mines were washing against my ankles without exploding, cause they got the very next guy that touched them.

One time I had a .30-06 round go through a first aid kit I was wearing. Luck, cause I was where I was supposed to be.

Once there was an M-47 tank parked above me on a hill, when his parking brake failed and it came charging down the hill toward me. It wouldn't have gotten me, cause I was a hundred yards away by the time it got rolling good. The good luck was the tank crew, cause my truck had 1200 gallons of gasoline on it and the tank hit a small stump and stopped about two feet from my truck. Mechanical failure, so it was luck.

Major piece of luck, preceded by mechanical failure.

July second, 1968 I was starting down Cheat River Hill, on route fifty, coming out of Washington, DC. I stopped at the top of the hill, put the truck in first under, and went over the edge. At the first application of the brakes I head a loud swoosh and my air pressure gage went to zero. I had the next two miles of that hill all to myself. When I got to the bottom ther was the only flat spot in West Virginia, so I dove off in it. What I failed to notice was a stump, about two feet in dia, right in the middle of my escape road. It hit the bumper, ripped the cab off the frame, twisted the frame to the left ninety degrees, and the trailer landed on its left side. It slid a hundred fifty feet, bull-dozing dirt in front of it. When the cab flew forward the steering wheel tied itself in a knot around the driver's seat frame. When I regained my senses I was on my hands and knees on what used to be the roof of the passenger side of the cab. When I left the road skill had nothing to do with my survival. Pure luck.

 

don't buy a lottery ticket, I think your luck is all used up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[crossmember]

I hate to see all the gun control arguments start again. They make new laws, and promise to enforce these, when they didn't enforce the identical law passed a hundred years ago.
I still feel all the gun control laws needed to control gun crime could be written on the back of a penny post card.
My favorite quote concerning the issue came from Ronald Reagan. After he got shot, and improved to the point he could take interviews, the first question asked him by an interprising young reporter was, "What do you think now, Mr President, don't you think we need laws against this sort of thing?" Reagan's answer was, "Pardner, we have laws against this sort of thing."

[crossmember]

My brother and I were doing a little day time exploring while I home on leave from Korea. We decided to go into a cave that I normally went into at night. This cave was an old underground river. You can go into the cave about a mile where it ends at a cave in. It has a pretty good sized bat population, but they never presented a problem. From the canyon wall the cave goes into the hill side as a little round tunnel for about thirty feet before it opens up into the first chamber.

We got our cave kit situated, and my brother started in first. He went in the cave about six or seven feet and froze. I finally had to grab him by the ankles and drag him out of the cave. When I went in to find out what stopped him I discovered he had arachnophobia in a big way. What I found in that cave may stop folks that not have that phobia what I said earlier. The entire wall of that cave, sides and top, was covered with granddaddy long leg spiders. They were so thick that their up and down movement made a sound like a science fiction movie. hhmmmnnn=hhmmmnnnn

At night they went foraging, I guess, cause they were never in the cave at night. One of the damnedest sight and sounds I ever saw.

[crossmember]

 

1 hr

 

 

[crossmember]

Carz an gulz, a winning vombination

Quote

[XSIV4S]

Jesus Bill, you need to post a bunch and get that image behind us. COME ON PAGE 4.

[crossmember]

These glorious insults are from an era before the English language got boiled down to 4-letter words.

The exchange between Churchill & Lady Astor:
She said, "If you were my husband I'd give you poison."
He said, "If you were my wife, I'd drink it."

A member of Parliament to Disraeli:
"Sir, you will either die on the gallows or of some unspeakable disease."
"That depends, Sir," said Disraeli, "whether I embrace your policies or your mistress."

"He had delusions of adequacy." - Walter Kerr

"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire." - Winston Churchill

"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure." - Clarence Darrow

"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." - William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway).

"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it." - Moses Hadas

"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it." - Mark Twain

"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.." - Oscar Wilde

"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend.... if you have one." - George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill
"Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second.... if there is one." - Winston Churchill, in response.

"I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here." - Stephen Bishop

"He is a self-made man and worships his creator." - John Brigh

"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial." - Irvin S. Cobb

"He is not only dull himself; he is the cause of dullness in others." - Samuel Johnson

"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up." - Paul Keating

"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily." - Charles, Count Talleyrand

"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him." - Forrest Tucker

"Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?" - Mark Twain

"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork." - Mae West

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.." - Oscar Wilde

"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts... for support rather than illumination." - Andrew Lang (1844-1912)

"He has Van Gogh's ear for music." - Billy Wilder

"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it." - Groucho Marx

[crossmember]

 

Copper smelter in Miami, Az.  I worked there many years ago.  Molten slag dump.  Beautiful at night

 

[crossmember]

Some of the coolest security I saw in Korea was the PX warehouse compound. All the goodies coming into Korea, to the PX system, came through that warehouse. The kind of stuff that slicky boys' dreams are made of.

They had an arched entry way, with live guards. The rest of the fence was two fences about five yards apart with an open runway between. This space was occcupied by some nasty attitude dogs who loved the taste of Korean meat more than anything.
 

[crossmember]

You ever see a tank explode? I've seen three, two complete and one partial. One was a M-47, one was an M-48, and one was an M-60. Two were in Korea and one was in Germany.

The partial was the only unavoidable incident of the three. I was supporting the 4th infantry brigade, and was parked by their headquarters tent. I had a 5000 gallon tanker, there was a 1200 gal tanker beside me, and there were two trucks loaded with artillery rounds. About forty yards in front of me an M-48 was making its way down a little creek and when it got to the bottom of a small hill it made a left turn out of the creek. When the off side track (which was my side) dug in to make the turn it detonated a Russian box mine right under the track. It broke the track, blew a fender off, and a few other items attached to the hull. The crew had that tank vacated before it settled back to the ground. The thing that saved everone's butt was that it was just one mine. For anti-tank they usually stacked two or three. It had washed down the creek from somewhere else, and being a wooden box mine normal mine detecting efforts didn't detect it.

The M-60 happened in Germany, in '65. A company of tanks was convoying back from the Baumholder tank range to Kaiserslautern and in some little village they crossed an electric train track. The weak point in their plan was that someone failed to stow the whip antennae and it touched one of the overhead wires. That set off the electric primers, exploding all the on board ammo. 105 mm rounds were flying all over the place. Two old German guys were sitting in front of a gasthaus drinking beer when one of the rounds headed straight for them. They stopped drinking til they realized the round was going to clear them, then went back to their brew. It went through the roof of the gasthaus and wound three floors below, in the basement. This one I did not see happen, just the aftermath.

The other one I actually saw was the M-47 in Korea. It was during Operation Snow Tiger, and the temperature was 26 below zero. The crew was trying to keep warm with C-ration can heaters (can full of sand, soaked in gasoline). When one of the guys shifted his weight he kicked over the heater and the burning gasoline ran under a bulkhead to the tank's freshly topped off fuel tanks. Hit the fire extinguishers and they didn't work, so the crew un-assed the tank. A short time later 76 rounds of 90mm, 24 rounds of 90mm blanks, several thousand rounds of .30 and .50 cal, and an assortment of flash bang thingies, and couple of hundred gallons of gasoline went off simaltaneously. The tank jumped about twenty feet in the air, rolled the one inch thick steel floor of the tank back lie a sardine can. The engine and transmission went one way and the tank went another. One of the more spectacular things I've seen. The salvage crew took one look at it, loaded it on a flat car, and took it straight metal re-cycling.

 

[crossmember]

I was working for a construction company that was moving two metal building to Lackland AFB in San Antonio. The job required a weldor and I was it. We demolished the two building at Bullis and moved them to new slabs at Lackland. There are girts that support the walls on metal buildings and normally the are installed with the CEE facing down so they do not become a trash collector. These buildings were built with the CEE of the girt facing up, and they were full of garbage. Garbage like practice grenades, brass, paper, and live rounds and unfired blanks. Where the girts passed the building beams stiffening clips were welded and had to be cut off with a torch. I was up on top of too short a ladder and could not quite look over the top of the CEE. While I was burning the clip I burned into an M-16 blank and it exploded about nine inches in front of my face, with the leg of that CEE between my face and the explosion. To this day I do not know whey I did not fall off that ladder with a lit torch in my hand, because I was deafened, flash blinded and just generally had the crap scared out of me. I had a couple of small pieces of brass in my hard hat cause it was the only thing sticking over the top of the girt. I rounded up a taller ladder, and very carefully checked my burn area after that.

[crossmember]

WALKING GUARD COULD BE PROFITABLE:

We found the burial site for surplus issue items in the Munsan-ni area. It was under one of our guard towers, and not hidden very well. We found it when a guy I was with stubbed his toe on a bone machete handle grip that was sticking up out of the dirt. It hadn't been underground long enough to be rusty, nor had the fifteen or twenty others we found. All ou guys had machetes in their trucks, for any Godless heathern we may run across. In that same pit were new Proto and S-K tool sets, so all our drivers had better tool kits than the class II mechanics in the shop. There were repair parts for all our issue weapons, so I stocked up on M2 carbine parts which I shipped home. There was a customs safe way to do that. It was called Hold Baggage. If it was signed off by the motor officer it was assumed he had personally inspected it and approved of the contents. When you have a memeograph machine and a typewriter you can create travel orders, and when you have access to the motor officer's rubber signature stamp you have proof that he inspected it and okayed it. It worked then. Probably would not today.

 

 

1. One day I decided to get my hair styled. It was getting long and either a hair cut was called for, or some way to keep the hair up and out of sight and out of mind. I went down to the local styling salon in Munsan-ni and told the girl what I wanted. (Remember how Ceasar Romero's used to flow straight back in waves?) About an hour later I walked out of there with cool loking hair, and head sores and burn scars.
   
   After about a month the waves were still there, but they were hanging down over my ears and looking real noticeable. So, I went back to that same salon and contracted another style job and hair cut.
   
   Big problem. This time I was sober and she was drunk. I found out where all those head sores came from from the last time. Here curling iron was red hot, and I couldn't stand an hour of that kind of pain so I just opted for the hair cut. 
   
   You could get a shampoo, hair cut, shave (with a straight razor, your beard, your upper cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids, and razor neck trim) for ninety eight cents.
   
   I still have a big scar behind my right ear from where I was getting a razor trim from a Korean barber. He had just laid the straight razor to the side of my neck when a sneeze snuck up on him He was very apologetic....

    

Edited December 1, 2017 by crossmember

[crossmember]

Freddie Nix
INDUCTED: 1999
1960s AMA Grand National Racer.
Fred Nix was a leading AMA Grand National racer of the 1960s. During his professional career, which last only four and a half years, Nix became known as one of the best milers in the history of AMA Grand National racing. He rode for Harley-Davidson and during his short career compiled 11 AMA national wins with six of those coming on mile ovals. Those six victories placed him third on the all-time AMA Grand National Mile wins list in 1969. Nix’s racing career was cut short in its prime when he tragically died in an automobile accident on July 18, 1969.

Nix was born in Lawton, Oklahoma, on July 23, 1941. Motorcycling was a popular passtime for young men where Nix grew up. As a boy, he saved money from his paper route and bought a basket-case motorcycle. In his teens, Nix began racing with his buddies in local scrambles and dirt track races, trying to emulate his heroes, Carroll Resweber and Al Gunter.

The wiry Nix had the perfect build for a dirt track racer, packing a lot of muscle into his lean, five-foot-seven, 140-pound frame. At first, he raced simply for fun and never gave a thought to turning pro, but that all changed after a trip with racing pal Darrel Dovel to Santa Fe Speedway, the now legendary but defunct racing circuit in the Chicago suburb of Hinsdale, Illinois. In the 1960s, Santa Fe Speedway had a regular weekly motorcycle-racing program and a good rider could earn a living racing each week at the track. Nix did well on his first trip to Santa Fe Speedway and promptly called his wife, Carol, and told her they were moving to Chicago. With sponsorship from C.J. Harley-Davidson in Elgin, Illinois, Nix made the move and launched his pro career.

Nix won the Santa Fe Speedway Series several years in a row and then cracked the top 10 twice at AMA nationals in 1965, his rookie season. Those performances attracted the attention of Harley-Davidson racing boss Dick O’Brien. Nix got factory support from Harley for 1966. In May of that year he earned his first national podium finish on the half-mile at Elkhorn, Wisconsin. In September, he broke through to win his first AMA national at the Sacramento Mile. He finished 1966 ranked 10th in the series standings.

In 1967, Nix really began to come into his own. Now a full-fledged Harley-Davidson factory rider, he scored seven podium finishes, including wins on the half-miles in Columbus, Ohio, and one on his home circuit in Oklahoma City. He finished the 1967 season ranked third behind Gary Nixon and George Roeder.

The 1968 season proved to be Nix’s most successful, yet at the same time his most frustrating. That year Nix was magic on the miles. He won all four of the mile races that year, in addition to victories at his favorites, the Oklahoma City Half-Mile and Santa Fe Speedway Short Track. Being the leading race winner, Nix moved near the front of the series points standings by mid-season, but his main rival, Triumph rider Gary Nixon, had been more consistent. Though Nixon only had two victories, he led the points most of the year.

In a late-season flourish, Nix won at Sacramento and Oklahoma City to seize a narrow points lead over Nixon. The two Oklahoma natives were neck-and-neck for the 1968 title going into the final round of the series on the half-mile circuit at Ascot Park in Gardena, California.

According to insiders who were at the race, Harley-Davidson called a team meeting and ordered its riders to try to box out Nixon during the race, but Nix, being an old buddy of Nixon’s, told the team he didn’t want to win like that and the plan was scrapped. During the race Nix got a poor start and Nixon a good one. Nix worked hard to catch up to his rival, and by mid race the two ran wheel-to-wheel. But on that night, Nixon wasn’t to be denied. He rode a strong race to finish fourth, Nix suffered a difficult race and was seventh. Some claimed Nix was the victim of being blocked by some of Nixon’s Triumph teammates. Whatever the case, Nix was heartbroken.

Nix ducked away from the crowd flooding in from the stands to seek a quiet place. His wife saw her husband walking away, head down, fighting back tears. Carol knew even she couldn’t console him in a moment like this. The championship had been in his grasp and now it was gone.

A winter away from racing rejuvenated Nix and he came back ready to make another bid at the title in 1969. His tough luck at Daytona continued and, like the year before, he started with a big points deficit. But then he won on the mile in Nazareth, Pennsylvania, and finally earned his first road race victory in a pouring rain at Loudon, New Hampshire. Things were looking up.

"The Loudon win really lifted his spirits," says Carol. "He called me after winning there and said, 'I think I’ll be able to win Daytona next year. I’ve finally got this road racing thing figured out.'"

Unfortunately, Nix never had the chance to race at Daytona. On July 18, 1969, he died in a freak automobile accident in Bakersfield, California, just a few days shy of his 29th birthday. Nix left behind his wife, Carol, and a baby daughter, Cynthia. It was a devastating loss for the racing fraternity. Rival and friend Gary Nixon remembered Nix as being a quiet but confident racer.

"He never got the recognition he deserved," said Nixon. "I think it was because he kept to himself and was pretty shy until you got to know him. He was a helluva racer. One of the best ever on the miles, for sure."

[XSIV4S]

2 minutes ago, crossmember said:

Freddie Nix
INDUCTED: 1999
1960s AMA Grand National Racer.
Fred Nix was a leading AMA Grand National racer of the 1960s. During his professional career, which last only four and a half years, Nix became known as one of the best milers in the history of AMA Grand National racing. He rode for Harley-Davidson and during his short career compiled 11 AMA national wins with six of those coming on mile ovals. Those six victories placed him third on the all-time AMA Grand National Mile wins list in 1969. Nix’s racing career was cut short in its prime when he tragically died in an automobile accident on July 18, 1969.

Nix was born in Lawton, Oklahoma, on July 23, 1941. Motorcycling was a popular passtime for young men where Nix grew up. As a boy, he saved money from his paper route and bought a basket-case motorcycle. In his teens, Nix began racing with his buddies in local scrambles and dirt track races, trying to emulate his heroes, Carroll Resweber and Al Gunter.

The wiry Nix had the perfect build for a dirt track racer, packing a lot of muscle into his lean, five-foot-seven, 140-pound frame. At first, he raced simply for fun and never gave a thought to turning pro, but that all changed after a trip with racing pal Darrel Dovel to Santa Fe Speedway, the now legendary but defunct racing circuit in the Chicago suburb of Hinsdale, Illinois. In the 1960s, Santa Fe Speedway had a regular weekly motorcycle-racing program and a good rider could earn a living racing each week at the track. Nix did well on his first trip to Santa Fe Speedway and promptly called his wife, Carol, and told her they were moving to Chicago. With sponsorship from C.J. Harley-Davidson in Elgin, Illinois, Nix made the move and launched his pro career.

Nix won the Santa Fe Speedway Series several years in a row and then cracked the top 10 twice at AMA nationals in 1965, his rookie season. Those performances attracted the attention of Harley-Davidson racing boss Dick O’Brien. Nix got factory support from Harley for 1966. In May of that year he earned his first national podium finish on the half-mile at Elkhorn, Wisconsin. In September, he broke through to win his first AMA national at the Sacramento Mile. He finished 1966 ranked 10th in the series standings.

In 1967, Nix really began to come into his own. Now a full-fledged Harley-Davidson factory rider, he scored seven podium finishes, including wins on the half-miles in Columbus, Ohio, and one on his home circuit in Oklahoma City. He finished the 1967 season ranked third behind Gary Nixon and George Roeder.

The 1968 season proved to be Nix’s most successful, yet at the same time his most frustrating. That year Nix was magic on the miles. He won all four of the mile races that year, in addition to victories at his favorites, the Oklahoma City Half-Mile and Santa Fe Speedway Short Track. Being the leading race winner, Nix moved near the front of the series points standings by mid-season, but his main rival, Triumph rider Gary Nixon, had been more consistent. Though Nixon only had two victories, he led the points most of the year.

In a late-season flourish, Nix won at Sacramento and Oklahoma City to seize a narrow points lead over Nixon. The two Oklahoma natives were neck-and-neck for the 1968 title going into the final round of the series on the half-mile circuit at Ascot Park in Gardena, California.

According to insiders who were at the race, Harley-Davidson called a team meeting and ordered its riders to try to box out Nixon during the race, but Nix, being an old buddy of Nixon’s, told the team he didn’t want to win like that and the plan was scrapped. During the race Nix got a poor start and Nixon a good one. Nix worked hard to catch up to his rival, and by mid race the two ran wheel-to-wheel. But on that night, Nixon wasn’t to be denied. He rode a strong race to finish fourth, Nix suffered a difficult race and was seventh. Some claimed Nix was the victim of being blocked by some of Nixon’s Triumph teammates. Whatever the case, Nix was heartbroken.

Nix ducked away from the crowd flooding in from the stands to seek a quiet place. His wife saw her husband walking away, head down, fighting back tears. Carol knew even she couldn’t console him in a moment like this. The championship had been in his grasp and now it was gone.

A winter away from racing rejuvenated Nix and he came back ready to make another bid at the title in 1969. His tough luck at Daytona continued and, like the year before, he started with a big points deficit. But then he won on the mile in Nazareth, Pennsylvania, and finally earned his first road race victory in a pouring rain at Loudon, New Hampshire. Things were looking up.

"The Loudon win really lifted his spirits," says Carol. "He called me after winning there and said, 'I think I’ll be able to win Daytona next year. I’ve finally got this road racing thing figured out.'"

Unfortunately, Nix never had the chance to race at Daytona. On July 18, 1969, he died in a freak automobile accident in Bakersfield, California, just a few days shy of his 29th birthday. Nix left behind his wife, Carol, and a baby daughter, Cynthia. It was a devastating loss for the racing fraternity. Rival and friend Gary Nixon remembered Nix as being a quiet but confident racer.

"He never got the recognition he deserved," said Nixon. "I think it was because he kept to himself and was pretty shy until you got to know him. He was a helluva racer. One of the best ever on the miles, for sure."

That's a nice op piece, but here is the rest of the story. That was Bill's brother in law and my uncle, he died when I was 3. If I remember right you had one or more embarrassing motorcycle stories involving you and him?

 

[crossmember]

by Jim D Powell
My Criminal Justice teacher in college was an officer in Tucson. There was a family they went to weekly to break up a fight and typically send one of them to the hospital and one to jail (it alternated, they were evenly matched). They showed up one night and the guy was dead from a kitchen knife wound. When they started to arrest the woman and told her what she had done she couldn't believe it...she had stabbed him lots of times before and he had never died.

[XSIV4S]

7 minutes ago, crossmember said:

by Jim D Powell
My Criminal Justice teacher in college was an officer in Tucson. There was a family they went to weekly to break up a fight and typically send one of them to the hospital and one to jail (it alternated, they were evenly matched). They showed up one night and the guy was dead from a kitchen knife wound. When they started to arrest the woman and told her what she had done she couldn't believe it...she had stabbed him lots of times before and he had never died.

Same teacher was driving back to Tucson and got pulled over for speeding (If he was in his Bronco II he was probably speeding). The officer took license and insurance, but came back a short time later smiling and verified he used to be a police officer there. Since leaving the force with a busted knee he had become somewhat famous at the police academy. The story was told from year to year how he as a rookie had helped clear a multi-story store. Apparently, they had some idea what floor the perp was on and when he exited the elevator the guy was right there, basically on top of him. He put several rounds in the guy and all he did was sway back and forth, but stayed standing. It took Robert a few seconds to realize he had just shot up a mannequin. From the back of a store you could hear a guy screaming that he was giving up.