Just looking at the cover of VR this month, you’ll realize something is different. For only the second time, in our 20 years of monthly publication, there is a person featured on the cover, rather than a car. The last time was in 2008, when Phil Hill passed away. Now, sadly, we’ve once again reached this somber territory with the passing of American legend Dan Gurney.
As a tribute, we devote this entire issue of Vintage Racecar to Dan and his legacy. You’ll read lots about his history and achievements throughout this issue, so I’m not going to waste space regurgitating any of that here. In fact, the only unique thing that I can offer is a window into a number of personal interactions I was fortunate to have with Dan over the past 36 years.
I say 36 years, because my first direct interaction with Dan was when I was 16 years old. Fresh from getting my driver’s license, one of the first things I wanted to do with my newfound mobility was to get a job at a real race shop. At the time, the only one that I knew of in the area was AAR, in Santa Ana, California. So I drove over there, walked through the front door and asked if I could work there. Much to my amazement, I was ushered through the lobby and into an adjoining office, where I was sat down in front of one Daniel Sexton Gurney, proprietor of said establishment! Now I was so dumbstruck that I have to confess to not remembering much about the ensuing conversation other than Dan was exceedingly indulgent of some random kid, in off the street, and that due to my age and lack of experience there were no positions available at the time. But to think that, in 1983, Dan Gurney would even bother to take the time, really says a lot about him.
Flash forward to 1998 and now that same naïve kid is an equally ignorant wannabe publisher. Wanting to make a big splash after our first year of publication we threw a party during the Monterey Historics. On a whim, I mailed several “Hail Mary” invites to a number of racing “luminaries,” including Dan. On the night of the shindig, I was genuinely surprised when George Follmer showed up, but I was staggered when Dan and his wife Evi came in! They said they could only stay for a few minutes, but by 11:30 they and George were the last ones to leave! To this day, I don’t know what possessed them to come, but again, it was so gracious.
Feeling emboldened after his attendance at the party, a year or so later I contacted Dan’s assistant Kathy Weida about interviewing him for the magazine and much to my surprise I was granted a brief audience. In a surreal episode of deja vú, I pulled up to the same building in Santa Ana, parked in the very same visitor spot and, just like in my childhood, was ushered through the reception and into the very same office that looked not an iota different then when I had been there 17 years before. Again, I was told Dan only had about 30 minutes to spare as he was very busy, but after an hour and a half I was running out of audio tape and Dan showed no signs of wanting to wrap up (parts of that discussion can be read in this month’s interview). Again, Dan couldn’t have been more generous with his time.
But of all my encounters with Dan, over the past three decades, one will always stand out in my mind. Sometime in 1999, a friend was trolling through a Southern California scrap yard, when he stumbled across a cache of engine parts. Apparently, Toyota’s TRD race department had sent a load of ChampCar engine parts to be destroyed, but instead of melting them down, the recycler was selling them as scrap metal…by the pound! For a little over $100, my friend bought TRD ChampCar engine blocks, heads, intake plenums and a host of parts. As a gift, he gave me one of the pistons.
So at that year’s Long Beach Grand Prix, I brought the piston with me. Walking down the pit lane, I saw Dan and stopped him. Offering the piston to him, I asked him if he’d sign it. He took the piston and contemplated it with a quizzical look on his face. “What is this?” he said incredulously.
With a chuckle, I responded, “Really? You don’t recognize it? It’s one of your Toyota pistons!”
A look of puzzled awe came over Dan’s face. “Really?” he said. “I’ve never seen one of these before.” He pondered the piston for a few more moments, rolling it around in his hands, and then looked up with a wry grin on his face and said, “No wonder we’re so god damned slow!”
As I write this, I see the piston, with Dan’s signature on the crown, sitting in a little sanctuary of memorabilia I have in my office, a tangible reminder of Dan’s generosity and his humor. He’ll be painfully missed.
