The MSN Encarta on-line
dictionary defines 'courage' as:
The ability to face danger,
difficulty, or pain without
being overcome by fear or being
deflected from a chosen course
of action.
I'll keep it simple and just
define it as 'guts.'
In this article I'm
going to tell you a
story of courage
personified. Spit in the
devil's face courage.
The kind of courage that
makes the rest of us,
while walking through
our lives complaining
about the petty, seem
like ungrateful fools.
If we take a moment
to think about where
NASCAR's new era hot
shoes cut their
teeth, we need look
no further than the
world of sprint
cars.
Gordon, Stewart,
Newman, Kahne,
Bliss, Blaney,
Schrader and the
list goes on, all
learned to ply their
trade in those fire
breathing, light
weight, high
horsepower monsters.
Dangerous, and
with an enormous
power to weight
ratio, they are
unstable,
methanol
inhaling
missiles ready
to explode in a
hail of shrapnel
at the drop of a
hat.Sprint
cars are man
eaters at best.
At their worst
they are lethal.
In other words,
it takes real
guts to drive
one.
His name is
Danny
Pollock, and
he's from
Bainbridge,
Indiana
and he
drives a
sprint car.
A wingless
sprint car
at that.
He's got
real guts.
More guts
than you
know about
at this
moment, but
will soon
learn.
More
dangerous
than
their
winged
brethren,
the
wingless
sprint
car
races
without
the
large
overhead
and nose
wings
that
provide
stability
and
downforce
like the
spoilers
and air
dams we
are
accustomed
to in
NASCAR.
The
wings
also
provide
another
level of
safety
by
acting
as
somewhat
of a
cushion
during
those
all too
frequent
and oft
times
frighteningly
violent
accidents
that
sprint
cars are
prone
to.
Those
wingless
cars are
double
tough.
What
sets
Danny
apart
from
the
hundreds
of
other
sprint
car
drivers
out
there
chasing
the
dream
is
that
Danny
does
it
on
almost
no
budget,
and
he
does
it
using
hand
controls.
You
see,
Danny
is
paralyzed
from
the
chest
down
as
the
result
of
an
ATV
accident.
The Accident
It happened on April 22 of 2001. Danny and some friends were riding their ATVs at a remote, home made, moto-cross type track. Danny, being the only one familiar with the layout and peculiarities of their backwoods dirt Xanadu, went the extra yard for the sake of safety to demonstrate some of the jumps to his friends, and in true racers fashion ... get in a little 'show-off' time as well.
On one of the landings his right foot slipped off of the footpeg and his ankle was run over by the ATV.
Most would have quit the day right then, but Danny's friends had never been there before and he was more concerned with the group enjoying their day in the dirt than he was a twisted ankle. His friends had even asked if he wanted to call it a day at that point, but unselfishly he refused. He was going to spit in the devil's face that day. But always remember that sometimes ... the devil spits back.
There was one large, intimidating jump that the other members of the riding group hadn't tried yet, at least not before seeing someone else do it first. Guess who that would be?
After testing his sore and swollen ankle on a couple of the smaller jumps Danny headed for his Mt. Everest at a higher speed than he normally would on that particular jump. He knew that if he came up short his battered ankle would suffer much more than if he was slightly long. 'Slightly' being the operative word here.
Big air, and he knew his landing was going to be too long. He was going to land on the flat surface rather than the landing ramps declining slope. This was going to hurt, but he never imagined the impact this landing was going to have on the rest of his life.
It was the front bars that impacted the ground first rather than the tires, which would have cushioned the blow somewhat and in a perfect world, might have provided some measure of hope for a safe landing. It didn't work that way. The front bumper dug into the soft earth causing the ATV to flip violently end over end several times. Young Mr. Pollock, aged 23 at the time, was thrown face first to the ground pushing his goggles and helmet back, and breaking his arm. It was also during one of these sickening gyrations that the all terrain vehicle landed squarely on Danny's back.
His friends scrambled to the aid of the fallen rider seeking news of his condition. Through the shock and the pain, he knew he was hurt, but he wasn't sure how badly. There was a terrible pain in his back, and his arm was mangled. He asked his friends to turn him over so they could remove the displaced helmet who's strap was, because of the violence of the impact, now causing him considerable discomfort. Seeing that he was in no danger of strangulation, and because of the pain in his back, they wisely refused to do so knowing his back could well be broken. It was that decision that may have saved Danny's life.
As one member of the group went to get an ambulance, another prodded Danny's legs. There was no feeling, only a strange tingling sensation in his lower body.
On this day the devil had indeed spat back. You could almost hear the dark one's distant laughter.
The Hospital
After an arduous journey, and with no helicopter available, the ambulance crew finally managed to extricate Danny from the accident scene deep in the woods and transport him to the Hendricks County Hospital where it was determined that Danny had indeed broken his back in two places. From there he was transported to Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis. The same Methodist Hospital that so many drivers from the famed, and hallowed grounds of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway had been taken in the past. Known for their abitity to respond to massive trauma, Danny was in good hands but the damage had already been done.
After a cat-scan and x-rays the diagnosis was that he had crushed his T-5 and T-6 vertebrae, had crushed his left arm, and various more minor injuries.
It was at Methodist Hospital that he underwent surgery to implant two steel rods to stabilize his spine, along with a bone graft taken from the hip and fused to vertebrae T-2 through T-8. A day or so later another trip to surgery, this time to repair the badly broken arm and dislocated wrist. So bad was the damage to his arm that at one point immediately after the accident, Danny's hand was located near his elbow. This time it was steel plate and screws that repaired the damage.
It was after this second surgery that Danny was informed that there was little chance he would ever walk again.
It would appear that the devil had done his dirty work and on this day, claimed victory.
The devil never met Danny Pollock though, and underestimated his quarry. A mistake that would ultimately cost the devil his due.
The Rehabilitation
After Danny's surgical recovery, he was transferred to the Rehabilitation Hospital of Indiana(RHI) where he had to re-learn the skills we all take for granted in our day-to-day lives. The things that we all do without a thought were now foreign to him. A lesser man might not have been up to this incredible challenge, but not this dirt tracking tough guy. He would suck it up, he would learn, and he would kick some serious booty. And on that you could bet your last red cent.
It was at RHI that Danny met former Indy car driver, and now team owner Sam Schmidt who was paralyzed from the shoulders down in a racing accident.
It was this chance meeting with Schmidt, with whom he has stayed in touch with to this very day, along with Danny's own fortitude, that forged the basis for and instilled in him the drive that would lead to Danny's decision to reach for the dream.
Sure he could have given up, as a weaker soul may have done, but in true Hoosier fashion, he yanked himself up by the bootstraps and made the commitment to himself that he was going to drive those mighty sprint cars come hell or high water.
In Danny's own words, "He (Schmidt) told me to never give up and do as much as you can and you will succeed in what you want from life. If Sam can run an Indy car team with no legs or hands I can do a lot even though I'm paralyzed from the chest down."
Man, that devil had better be ready to rumble! The fire had been lit, and Ole' Scratch was about to be vanquished by an Indiana boy that wouldn't take no for an answer.
Racing Roots
Before we go any farther we're going to take a small trip back in time. Back to where it all began. Back to where the dream took flight. Back to the racing roots of one Danny Pollock.
It was at a tender young age that Danny first caught the racing fever. His father and grandfather raced a stock car at Lincoln Park Speedway in Putnamville, Indiana where young Danny would watch and yearn for the day when he too could tear up the dirt tracks of Indiana. The day when he too could rip the surface from the track and toss that clay far over those fences like the men he idolized. A starry eyed kid who could only hope to one day emulate his heroes, to become the racer he knew was lurking just below the surface, to be in control of his own destiny behind the wheel. This was no passing fancy. He knew with every drawn breath that he needed to race.
Money was tight back then, as it remains today for the aspiring driver and his family. The funds just weren't there to support Danny's racing. But, as is often said .. 'where there's a will ... there's a way.' That way was to hang around with, and lend a hand to, local kart racers where he would have the occasional opportunity to get behind the wheel.
The seeds of the dream were now firmly rooted within our protagonist, and his course of action was now clear. Just as a wild animal can obtain a taste for blood, he now had acquired a taste for speed. He knew he could do it, but how?
It was at this point in the story that fate would step in to set the wheels of speed in motion.
The company that Danny's father worked for rented a place called Whiteland Raceway, a road course of all things, and set up a night of kart racing. Racing for real, not some puttering around amid gales of laughter, but the real thing.
Danny started his heat race in third position. and won going away. His win would put him in the evenings fast feature where he would start scratch on the field.
No one expected, could see, or would have imagined what happened next.
At the drop of the green, Danny was on the hammer hard and by the time they came out of the first turn he had already moved into third spot. That's right. I said 'first turn.' Not first lap, first turn! By the end of that first lap though, he was out in front and pulling away. Then, without warning at the end of that first lap, he was inexplicably spinning off the track, the victim of a mechanical failure rather than a driver error.
Leaping off the kart, amid a stream of words that would cause even the hardiest of old salts to hide their blushing faces, he dragged the now crippled racer back on the track, and drove it slowly back to the pits with a right rear wheel that had torn completely off.
But the fates weren't done with Danny Pollock for this night.
There was a kart held in reserve for just such an eventuality and it was his to race. Of course he would restart in the rear, but hey, it was an unexpected second shot that needed to be taken advantage of. And take advantage he did.
I wish I could relay to you a fairy tale ending by telling you that Danny ripped through the field like Grant took Richmond and won that race, but a second place would have to do. That's a second place finish coming from the rear. Twice! Good stuff, that.
Danny's grandfather, who was in attendance at this race, knew that no matter what it would take, no matter the cost or sacrifice, they had to get this kid into something more powerful. Not only had the fire been lit, but the discovery had been made, and fanned the flames that would light the way.
And so it was that the 19 year old, his father, and grandfather decided to skip the stock cars, and together they found a used, almost used up, modified that he would race during the 1998 and 1999 season at Lincoln Park Speedway.
But, the money just wasn't there to repeatedly rebuild a car that was damaged several times in the rough and tumble world of dirt track modified racing. Certainly the purse wasn't going to pay the bills, and in order to cut their losses, the car had to be sold.
It was back to the karts for the 2000 season, and he couldn't stand the thought of even taking a small step backwards. He was meant for the dirt bullrings, not an asphalt road course. It bored him to tears.
As I said earlier, where there's a will, there's a way.
With the help of a friend, Danny would have another modified to race during 2001. But then, as the 2001 season neared, the devil stepped in and broke his back, but not his unwavering drive or spirit, and couldn't quell his burning desire for speed.
The Dream: Sprint Cars
We all have our dreams. Dreams are our way of keeping our daily lives in perspective, to keep ourselves based in reality. But how many of us know how to transform those dreams into reality? To take the visions in our minds and do with them what we want. Mold them into a viable plan, execute it, and live it. Very few would be my guess.
I'm not talking about the dream of toddling off to college to become an accountant, or a vetenarian. Getting married and having children that play behind a white picket fence as your neighbor Harry mows a perfectly greened lawn. I'm not talking about real life. I'm talking about that 'other' dream. The one you 'really' want. I'm talking about that dream of becoming a baseball player, an astronaut, or a world famous rock star. That kind of dream. A fantasy life in the deep recesses of our minds that we keep to ourselves that we look at every now and again and which causes us to wonder what it would have been like. And, unless you ARE a big leaguer, an astronaut, or a world famous rock star we never did, because of whatever circumstances, get it right, did we?
The dream was always those mighty sprint cars. Nothing less would do for the now disabled racer from Indiana. He had the drive, he had the motivation. He needed the car, he needed the engine, and he needed the money.
He also needed hand controls.
After managing to scare up enough of those all too hard to find green pictures of dead presidents to buy a used sprinter, a spare frame, and some spare parts, he needed an engine. That's where the team at Snyder Enterprise, from Danville, Indiana stepped in to lend a helping hand. Now he just needed a way to control the car using only his hands. This was going to be the task that would either make the dream his reality, or transform it into a nightmare. As it turned out ... it did both.
The Challenge: Hand Controls
The cockpit of a modern sprint car is a confining space to be sure. The driver is sitting pretty close to bolt upright within the car's narrow frame rails, surrounded by the roll cage, and strapped tightly into a seat that holds the driver on all sides. There is no body to speak of, just open air. Just the driver, sitting out there in front of God and the world. There's barely room for the essential elements of speed. How was the budding driver going to build and install hand controls that would work within this high speed cacoon? This wasn't going to be an easy task ... if it could be done at all.
After a few failed attempts at something home built that never made it to the track, they soon realized that they were going to need some help to make it work.
A friend that Danny had raced with was a graduate of the Rose-Hulman Institute of Technology and he suggested a discussion with one of his former professors, after which it was agreed that the school would take the challenge presented to it and, at no charge except for materials, try to design and build a workable system of hand controls utilizing a system of rods, cables, and hydraulic cylinders.
The build team would consist of...
Kurt Dierking, of Louisville, Kentucky, who would mount the steering wheel/hand control device, and also produce several of the needed parts in the school's machine shop.
Grant Huffman, of Cincinnati, Ohio, who would design the throttle system.
J.D. Wyman, of West Union, Illinois, who would handle the braking system
And, Brett Olson, of Park Ridge, Illinois, who would spearhead the effort as the build teams manager, and coordinator.
The build team from Rose-Hulman did a great job of designing, building, and mounting the hand controls. But, once the car was returned to the shop the Pollock team knew there were going to have to be further modifications to make the system function correctly in a racing environment. More specifically, the braking system wasn't going to work the way it would need to on the track, and the throttle was becoming bound up in certain areas. The system wasn't perfect, but the basics were there, and they could see light at the end of the tunnel. They may just, with a little luck, get this car out to the track at some point in the 2003 season.
Enter once again the guys from Snyder Enterprise.
After much discussion, trial and error, and long nights, they finally had the hand control system up and running the way it would need to be.
By this time it was mid-way through the season at Lincoln Park, and they were anxious to see how things were going to perform in anger. They hastily loaded the car, and headed for the track. They arrived too late for warm-ups, so Danny's very first laps ever in a sprint car would be his qualifying laps. In his own words, "It was wild!"
To say the least, that was an understatement. The throttle was working just fine, although the braking system was still not where it should have been.
If we know anything about racers, we know that come hell or high water they want to race ... just race. They were living with the sub standard brakes to do just that ... race! He was actually out there slinging clay in an honest to God, real life, balls to the wall sprint car!
Remember those brakes that weren't 'just right?' It was almost the devil's way of sneaking back into the picture. As Charlie Daniels said, "The devil went down to Georgia," but somehow he snuck back into Indiana.
It happened about six races into their abbreviated season during a King of Indiana Sprint Series (KISS) race. There was a pileup in front of Danny, and he had nowhere to go. His car rode over the wheel of another car sending it airborne and into a series of five or six bone jarring end-over-end flips. Fortunately, and with the help of good safety equipment, Danny survived the horrendous looking accident with only a bad case of 'racing rheumatism.' But the lesson had been learned. Those brakes needed to be fixed, and needed to be fixed right! Which eventually, they were.
Out came the backup frame, the last of the spares, some scrounged, begged, and borrowed parts, along with two weeks time, a wing and a prayer, it was back on track for the driver from the heartland who has the guts.
It was back to Georgia with the devil to face another kind of music.
Get Involved
Danny Pollock is a rare individual. He's taken almost unbelievable adversity, he's taken the challenge, he's spit in the devil's face time and again, and he's living his dream. He's done it on a budget that would surprise even the thriftiest, and most frugal among racers. He could use some help to get to the next level. Winning! That's what it's all about. Winning. Not just on the track, but in life as well. Winning.
Winning isn't always about coming in first. Winning can be seen as the overcoming. The achievement, the reaching of the dream, but in racing, winning IS about coming in first. Winning takes dough, money, moolah, cash, wampum, jingle, call it what you will. It's expensive.
Please, if this story has affected, or inspired you in any way, take a moment of your time and visit Danny's website. Have a look around, sign the guest book, provide some well wishes, but most of all, click on that button that says 'donate.' Throw a few bucks in the kitty in memory of the dreams you had and couldn't get to. Become part of the dream, and your dream will be out there every Saturday night along with the dreams of other great race fans. Make yourself feel like a million bucks, by spending just a few.
If you are a business owner that wants to gain some exposure, please contact Danny. He sure could use the help, and you will be helping yourself in the process.
I know there are a lot of you from the NASCAR, ARCA, and other areas of the racing community that read these articles at Inside The Pit Box, and I reach out especially to you to become involved with our friend, Danny Pollock.
NASCAR is now in a 'diversity' mode. Diversity doesn't have to mean the color of your skin, your ethnic background, or your sex. Diversity is variety, difference. Here's a driver with a difference, and it's not entirely the fact that he has a disability, it's the fight in the man, the guts, the desire, the right attitude, and the wherewithal to beat the odds. Jump on board! Racers helping a fellow racer. For the cost of a set of tires, you would be doing good for a racer with the need. Enough of you do it, and we could see a champion.
The Thank You
Thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to read this story of courage, from not only myself, but also from Danny Pollock himself.
Thanks also go out to Rob Faiella of Insidethepitbox.com for allowing me the outlet to tell this tale of immeasurable courage. And thanks mostly to Danny for his assistance in writing this story. I'm sure it wasn't easy for him to dredge up the memories, and relive the pain to this amateur scribe who he's only known for a short time, but as I've said before. He's got the GUTS!
Sprint
cars are man
eaters at best.
At their worst
they are lethal.
In other words,
it takes real
guts to drive
one.
But, once the car was returned to the shop the Pollock team knew there were going to have to be further modifications to make the system function correctly in a racing environment. More specifically, the braking system wasn't going to work the way it would need to on the track, and the throttle was becoming bound up in certain areas. The system wasn't perfect, but the basics were there, and they could see light at the end of the tunnel. They may just, with a little luck, get this car out to the track at some point in the 2003 season.
