Date of Story-July late 1980s
Scene of Story-Sandusky Raceway
By Jeff “Wingtips” Nelson
Anyone that has ever spent any time around Wild Willie Stutzman knows that he is the consummate jokester. Nothing and nobody is sacred to Willie and there were times during our days of racing the Dumor 88 Supermodified that the constant joking could get a bit annoying. Considering Willie’s jokester nature I could never have imagined that there would come a time that I would actually beg Willie to pull my leg, but that’s what happened one summer afternoon at Sandusky Speedway.
It was the annual Hy-Miler Nationals weekend of supermodified racing at Sandusky in the late 1980s. Willie and I were there to compete and had just unloaded the car from the trailer. We had made preparations to lap the car a few laps to warm the engine and return to the pits with the engine running. The top side of the engine had been apart the previous week for maintenance or repairs and we wanted to check the magneto ignition timing with a timing light. This could only be accomplished by pulling the car out of gear when returning to the pits and coasting to our pit area with the engine running where we could then attach the timing light and check it.
The pits were very crowded with spectators in addition to the busy race crews as we pushed the Dumor 88 towards the push off lane. Willie was not in the car yet and was pushing from the rear while I leaned over in front of the big left rear tire to reach inside the roll cage and steer the driverless car. As we moved along I yelled to people and they parted in front of us leaving just enough room to steer the race car through. Then it happened…. The crowd of people got just a little too close as we pushed by and someone stepped on the back of my foot tripping me to the ground. Before anyone could react the big rear tire rolled up and over my leg.
A supermodified is not a particularly heavy vehicle and the car rode up and over my leg relatively easily leaving me mostly surprised and annoyed as I sat up on the ground and started to gather my thoughts. But that all changed when I looked down at my right leg and saw that below the knee it was pointing at 3 o’clock, 90 degrees from where it should have been pointed. While my leg had not begun to hurt yet it was uncomfortable in that position and I was rapidly becoming very agitated looking at it in that position.
By now Willie had run around and kneeled down in front of me. “Are you OK?” he asked, and then he followed my gaze down to my dislocated leg. Immediately Willie’s face went white and I knew he was getting ready to either pass out or run. I quickly grabbed Willie by his drivers’ suit and asked him (not too politely) to pull my leg. At that moment my only concern was getting the lower half of my leg realigned with the top half of my leg and it never occurred to me that what I was asking him to do was not pleasant. Thinking back on it now I’m sure I would not have been enthusiastic yanking a leg like that either, but I wasn’t about to let go of Willie until we got my situation straightened out (pun intended). Willie kind of shook his head and I could see in his eyes that there were probably at least one hundred and thirty eight million places he would rather have been at that moment. I tightened my grip on his suit, looked him right in the eye and told him firmly, “pull my leg.”
I can only imagine that at that moment the look in my eye combined with my tight grip on his driver’s suit were the less desirable option and Willie proceeded to grab my leg and pull it. It popped back painfully into the proper direction and the sight of my leg being straight once more at least brought my level of agitation down several notches. In fact I think both Willie and I were relieved not to have to look at my leg in such an unnatural orientation. Willie stepped back a step and asked me “what can I do for you?”
The throbbing pain and swelling was already starting as I ran through my mind what was necessary to be sure the car was ready to race later and I knew the one thing we needed to do was to check the ignition timing. I told Willie to run back to the trailer and bring back a roll of duct tape and the jack handle. By time he returned the track ambulance crew and volunteer firemen had arrived along with the track manager (Mike). The ambulance crew of course wanted to load me right up and transport me to the local hospital emergency room. But I was determined to first get the car race ready.
So as everyone crowded around watching I instructed Willie to bind my knee tightly with the duct tape to try limit the swelling and offer some support. Once that was done I was able to get to my feet and hop around with the aid of the jack handle I was using like a crutch. I instructed Willie to get the car up to the line, get a push off, warm the car, and I would meet him back at our pit area. I proceeded to hobble back to our pits trailing ambulance and rescue workers behind.
Willie brought the car in warm and running and I was able to hobble around well enough to connect the timing light and set the timing. Once that was done and the engine shut off I hobbled over to the trailer and sat down.
The ambulance crew was eager to load me up and roll but I asked Mike if he would have to stop all racing until the ambulance returned – an occurrence I had seen in the past when they made a run since the track insurance specified a minimum number of ambulances and crew required any time cars were running on the track. Mike answered that yes, he would have to suspend track activity for at least the half hour it would take them to make the run. I asked Mike if there was any track worker that could take me so he could avoid delays. He got on his radio and within minutes had located the wife of a corner worker that had an old Ford wagon at the track. I announced to the very unhappy ambulance crew that I would take the station wagon to the hospital.
The ambulance crew was not happy about my refusing a ride and proceeded to produce a liability waver for me to sign confirming that I was refusing their generous offer for a ride. I guess they didn’t want to be held responsible if I could never walk again or something like that. Anyway, Mike and several track employees helped me into the back of the station wagon and away we went to the emergency room where they took e-xrays, put on a walking splint, gave me real crutches and heavy duty pain pills, and told me to see my doctor when I got home.
The racing was over by time I got back to the track late that evening. I don’t remember how Willie finished that night except that he did race and he did finish well. I was pretty much useless to help load up and on the ride home. At home it took four visits to the doctor over two weeks to drain blood and fluids off my knee and I was on crutches for eight weeks. To this day that knee bothers me when it gets cold and damp out or if I work too much on it. I can’t kneel on it either which is annoying when working on equipment in the pole barn.
When the knee throbs and I have to pop some Advil and put ice on it I am reminded of Sandusky and all of the good times we had racing there. I figure you can’t go through a life worth living without gathering some bumps and bruises along the way and my Sandusky knee is a good example. And I’m grateful that I had Willie there that day long ago to pull my leg when I needed it the most.
Thanks Willie, where ever you are tonight. Oh, and by the way, as you always liked to say to people around you, pull this!
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