[Keith Seymore]

You're Van Seymore, aren't you...



So, Gary's story made me think of this: One of the old stories Dad liked to tell...


He was at the track, somewhere, and there was a lull in the action - so he was napping under a shady tree (where he always liked to park - and something he very much liked to do).

Off a little ways in the distance he can hear this young man, entourage in tow, loudly evaluating all the other cars in his class and issuing his verdict: "....we'll have to watch out for this guy..." or "...this one here will be no problem", etc.

Dad watched, one eye half open, as this young man and his fans approached Dad's pit and surveyed the situation: Dad leaning back, apparently dozing, Mom changing my sister's diaper in the back of the tow car. A little black GTO with no lettering or apparent sponsors, sitting quietly and passively nearby.

"We don't have to worry about this guy!" the kid loudly proclaimed. They laughed and slapped each other on the back as they wandered off to continue their tour of the competition.

After the kid was out of earshot, Dad said to Mom "...I'm gonna run that kid for the trophy... and I'm gonna hurt him!"

"VAN!" she scolded. "Don't you get too cocky!"

"Wait and see" he confided, watching the kid walk away.

Sure enough, as the rounds went by, Dad was clicking off the wins on his side of the ladder (launching lazily and chasing his victims down, or "sandbagging" just enough to take the stripe) and this kid, in his '65 GTO, was knocking 'em down on the other side. Eventually, as predicted, the two GTOs met in the final round.





The tree came down and Dad launched hard and moved first. He shifted cleanly one time, two times, three times and kept it floored all the way through. Crossing the finish line several car lengths ahead of his competition, the kid was not only soundly beaten but surely must have been totally humiliated.

Dad putted back to the pit area, went to the tower to pick up his trophy (...or exchange it for free admission the next week...) and started loading stuff up. As he worked, he noticed out the corner of his eye, the kid approaching: alone - and obviously humbled.

The kid spoke first: "You're Van Seymore, aren't you?".

Dad chuckled to himself and said: "Yes....why do you ask?".

"Well" the kid continued "My uncle is Frank Bakos*. He's always telling me about you and your racecars but I didn't realize that was you when I was here earlier".

They visited a little bit more, about the cars and about mutual friends, and then went their separate ways.

I don't know what the rest of the conversation was but it seems the kid got a "spanking" he didn't soon forget - since Dad heard the same story come back around when Frank starting telling him about it!

K

*a family friend; see post 82 on this same page