BENCH SEAT

Earlier this month, I was given the privilege of interviewing Mike Gearing. If his name doesn’t ring a bell, you can read the man’s very interesting history later on in this issue; if you are familiar with his name … well, it is one that needs no introduction. I am interested in drag racing and enjoy the spectacle of it all — not just watching it but the full sensory experience it provides: the sound of an irregular and incredibly angry idle through open headers; the smell of melted rubber at the burnout; and, where applicable, the essence of fuels that aren’t even petroleum-based. Nothing smells like drag racing; the sensations are so far removed from day-to-day life, existing solely for the purpose of going fast — of defying the limits of convention and going as fast as you dare. Some people want to go fast, and others want to go faster. Mike Gearing wanted to go faster. I know enough about drag racing to know that I don’t know much at all, and, while I understood the significance of Mr Gearing’s name in local drag racing, I never knew the extent of his contribution until chatting with him. Despite what Mike has achieved and contributed to the local hot rodding scene, he never came across to me as someone to blow his own trumpet. In fact, going into the interview knowing that I didn’t know much about his history, I couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous about the whole thing. Was he going to be a grumpy old prick? No, as it turned out. He is reserved, humble, softly spoken, and with an incredibly quick and sharp mind. When Mike speaks of what he’s done, it is matter of fact. There is no bravado, and it is easy to misinterpret the gravity of some of the things he has done. He ran his first six-second quarter-mile and his first 200mph in the same pass, back in January 1984, and he makes it sound like no big deal. That was just what you did — or, as Mike put it, “When you’re drag racing, talk’s cheap. It’s going out and doing it, and being able to do it. Because a lot of people wanna be, but they actually don’t have the balls.” Realizing how much Mike and a handful of others shaped the local drag racing scene makes me appreciate the behind-the-scenes slog that a lot of people have done, and still do, for us all. Those old hot rodders and drag racers aren’t going to be around forever, and their history and knowledge are too valuable not to be passed on to the next generation. I learned a lot from that afternoon with Mike, and I hope that by reading the interview you might, too. If you’re old enough to know all that was in the interview, I hope it at least brought back fond memories of a simpler time. I often say that I was born too late — too late for cheap Lion Red big bottles, too late to buy a $1K HQ Monaro, too late for a $30K house … it’s an easy excuse, but it’s also bullshit. Talking with Mike made me appreciate that we’re all doing the same thing, living on the same ball of dirt, passing time in whatever way we see fit — that much hasn’t changed. We’ve all got the choice to stuff around and do nothing, or get up and do something. Mike grabbed the bull by the horns and did something. So can all of us.