Cale and Me
Yesterday, I gathered many friends and family members together for a rousing game of tackle football in my front yard. I live in a one-story brick ranch on Wood Haven Drive in Roanoke, VA. My front yard is huge and level making an ideal place for a friendly game.
I was really playing well. Time after time, I got the ball and blasted through the weak arm tackles my opponents threw at me. Once, I got the ball, tucked it, and was immediately clobbered. I spun, put my hand down, and staggered forward -gradually regaining my balance. Then, I outran everyone to the makeshift goal line.
After we’d been at it for about a half hour, I noticed that a man with a traveling suitcase, dressed in nice, casual clothing had pulled up in a rental car across the street at my neighbor’s house. He was leaning against his Chevy Malibu watching our game. I really didn’t pay much attention to him, but after about ten more minutes, I noticed him crossing the street rolling his suitcase over to where we were playing our game.
He made it across the street and stood there watching from the sidelines. Finally, he said, “Excuse me, have you seen Bill?” Referring to my neighbor, NASCAR driver Bill Elliott.
“Nope, I haven’t seen him all day. Can I help you with anything?”
“Well, Bill was going to fly me down to Rockingham for the race this week. He told me to meet him here.”
That’s when it dawned on me, “Aren’t you Cale Yarborough?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m Cale Yarborough. I drive the #27 Valvoline Buick. So you haven’t seen Bill, eh?”
“Nope, like I said, I haven’t seen him.”
“I was wondering since Bill ain’t here…mind if I join your football game?”
“Sure, come on in.”
So Cale parked his suitcase and joined the fun.
During the course of the next hour, I managed to get one or two solid licks on him, planting him solidly to the turf once knocking his breath out. I also put a spin move on him that left him tripping all over himself.
Finally, he huffed, “All right man, I gotta take a break.”
We all agreed and began shuffling across the yard to the house.
“Cale, what are you going to do? What if Bill doesn’t come back for you? How are you going to get to the race?”
“I don’t know, but I figure, I’ll give him another hour or so.”
“Would you like to come in for some dinner?”
“That’d be right nice of you.”
So Cale Yarborough came into my house and sat down at my dinner table. We had plenty of roast beef to go around, along with mashed potatoes, peas, and cooked carrots that had been bathed in roast beef juice.
After dinner, Cale and I pushed our plates back and talked through the evening. He told me all bout his career. Cale said he began racing back in 1956 on the Grand National circuit. Many of his races back then were on dirt. He worked his way up, and broke onto the Winston Cup scene in a big way in 1973 finishing second in the points standings that year. He went on to many other fine years in the business and some dramatic wins at all the big tracks.
Now, I’m not much of a NASCAR fan, so I guess a real fan would have cringed when I asked Cale, “Did you ever once get in a race that you thought you should have won, and lost instead?”
He just laughed, “Boy, you don’t know much do you…Back in 1979, I was running in the Daytona 500. I had a big car that day and was running hard throughout the race. Then on one of the last laps, I dipped low for the slingshot around Bobby Allison for the lead. Allison shoved me into the infield. When my car rode back up it took him out. I was so furious. As soon as we both stopped, I hopped out of my car and charged over to that some-bitch and began pummeling him. Then his brother, Donnie showed up and they began tag teaming me. Then people began pulling us apart. I’ve still never forgave him. I shoulda had that race. People say that race and that fight were what has made NASCAR so popular today. I don’t know about that. I just know I shoulda won that race.”
We talked for hours over more than a few shots of Virginia Gentleman. Each of his stories were fascinating. I especially enjoyed the tales of the dirt track years where the driver faced the elements as well as the other drivers. Late in the evening, I saw lights go on across the street. Elliott had finally come home, so Cale gathered his stuff and said his farewells.
Dreams are strange things. I don’t know why I had the Cale Yarborough dream. I liked racing when I was younger, and Cale Yarborough was my favorite driver. I liked his hard-charging style, but I honestly haven’t given Cale Yarborough a second thought in over twenty years. Cale went on to win that race at Rockingham back in 1982. Bill Elliott won at that classic NASCAR track in 1984. Bill never lived in Roanoke as far as I know, and I don’t live on Wood Haven Drive.
I was really playing well. Time after time, I got the ball and blasted through the weak arm tackles my opponents threw at me. Once, I got the ball, tucked it, and was immediately clobbered. I spun, put my hand down, and staggered forward -gradually regaining my balance. Then, I outran everyone to the makeshift goal line.
After we’d been at it for about a half hour, I noticed that a man with a traveling suitcase, dressed in nice, casual clothing had pulled up in a rental car across the street at my neighbor’s house. He was leaning against his Chevy Malibu watching our game. I really didn’t pay much attention to him, but after about ten more minutes, I noticed him crossing the street rolling his suitcase over to where we were playing our game.
He made it across the street and stood there watching from the sidelines. Finally, he said, “Excuse me, have you seen Bill?” Referring to my neighbor, NASCAR driver Bill Elliott.
“Nope, I haven’t seen him all day. Can I help you with anything?”
“Well, Bill was going to fly me down to Rockingham for the race this week. He told me to meet him here.”
That’s when it dawned on me, “Aren’t you Cale Yarborough?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m Cale Yarborough. I drive the #27 Valvoline Buick. So you haven’t seen Bill, eh?”
“Nope, like I said, I haven’t seen him.”
“I was wondering since Bill ain’t here…mind if I join your football game?”
“Sure, come on in.”
So Cale parked his suitcase and joined the fun.
During the course of the next hour, I managed to get one or two solid licks on him, planting him solidly to the turf once knocking his breath out. I also put a spin move on him that left him tripping all over himself.
Finally, he huffed, “All right man, I gotta take a break.”
We all agreed and began shuffling across the yard to the house.
“Cale, what are you going to do? What if Bill doesn’t come back for you? How are you going to get to the race?”
“I don’t know, but I figure, I’ll give him another hour or so.”
“Would you like to come in for some dinner?”
“That’d be right nice of you.”
So Cale Yarborough came into my house and sat down at my dinner table. We had plenty of roast beef to go around, along with mashed potatoes, peas, and cooked carrots that had been bathed in roast beef juice.
After dinner, Cale and I pushed our plates back and talked through the evening. He told me all bout his career. Cale said he began racing back in 1956 on the Grand National circuit. Many of his races back then were on dirt. He worked his way up, and broke onto the Winston Cup scene in a big way in 1973 finishing second in the points standings that year. He went on to many other fine years in the business and some dramatic wins at all the big tracks.
Now, I’m not much of a NASCAR fan, so I guess a real fan would have cringed when I asked Cale, “Did you ever once get in a race that you thought you should have won, and lost instead?”
He just laughed, “Boy, you don’t know much do you…Back in 1979, I was running in the Daytona 500. I had a big car that day and was running hard throughout the race. Then on one of the last laps, I dipped low for the slingshot around Bobby Allison for the lead. Allison shoved me into the infield. When my car rode back up it took him out. I was so furious. As soon as we both stopped, I hopped out of my car and charged over to that some-bitch and began pummeling him. Then his brother, Donnie showed up and they began tag teaming me. Then people began pulling us apart. I’ve still never forgave him. I shoulda had that race. People say that race and that fight were what has made NASCAR so popular today. I don’t know about that. I just know I shoulda won that race.”
We talked for hours over more than a few shots of Virginia Gentleman. Each of his stories were fascinating. I especially enjoyed the tales of the dirt track years where the driver faced the elements as well as the other drivers. Late in the evening, I saw lights go on across the street. Elliott had finally come home, so Cale gathered his stuff and said his farewells.
Dreams are strange things. I don’t know why I had the Cale Yarborough dream. I liked racing when I was younger, and Cale Yarborough was my favorite driver. I liked his hard-charging style, but I honestly haven’t given Cale Yarborough a second thought in over twenty years. Cale went on to win that race at Rockingham back in 1982. Bill Elliott won at that classic NASCAR track in 1984. Bill never lived in Roanoke as far as I know, and I don’t live on Wood Haven Drive.
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