ten billion butterfly sneezes

Scott Kalitta, two-time NHRA Top Fuel Champion, was killed in a qualifying accident yesterday.

I love racing, and always am sad when someone loses his life in any form of the sport. Scott’s father is the legendary racer Connie Kalitta, who I recollect from pictures in drugstore-bought racing magazines from years ago. Television coverage of racing was practically nil in those days, but I remember the magazines.

I suppose there will be pundits opining how dangerous racing is, about how there should be some form of regulation. Racers are born to race, and it is an inherently dangerous sport. I saw the replay of the accident; the car exploded just past the finish line, the parachute was wadded up when it deployed, the car went straight, with no signs of slowing down, when it hit a jersey barrier at track’s end, and exploded into a huge fireball. I wonder why there is not a large sand trap at track’s end, to slow down runaway cars. The shutdown area in this case was all asphalt, until an extremely short dirt area immediately berfore the barrier. Maybe he was unconscious after the initial explosion; my surmising about that would just be idle speculation. I do think that with a better and longer shutdown area, that this accident may not have resulted in such a tragic outcome.

Winning, even being a champion, is a tremendous accomplishment. Being a member of an iconic drag racing family perhaps added to Scott’s following. Save for the memories, none of that matters now. Talking about what track reconfigurations may have prevented this, is just talk right now. To the Kalitta family, and the legion of NHRA fans, my condolences.

Later today, Scott’s competitors will dedicate the funny car bracket to him. And they will deal with their grief, at least for today, in the way racers do; they will strap themselves into their cars, and with heavy hearts, they will race.

-k-
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