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From the Archives #17, July 2023

Ruffling through the old newsletters is quite entertaining, and sometimes you come across a real gem. The story below is from an April 1975 newsletter, and is reprinted with the permission of the Editor at the time. 

McGee Finds God

Last week I woke up early one morning with a startling revelation: sometime during the night I had died. With this in mind, I had breakfast and then started up to see ol’ St. Peter (I hoped).

The receptionist at Pearly Gates, Inc. was a cute little blond, and she greeted me by name.

“Hi, McGee.”

“Well. Hi there, cute little blonde receptionist.”

“We’ve decided to accept you here, Bob. How would you like to spend your time?”

I had one immediate thought, but decided against it. I didn’t need to push my luck. The cute little blond smiled, as if she knew what I was thinking. I decided the next best thing would be OK.

“I’d like to continue to drive race cars.”

She looked disappointed.

“I’d like to drive the Indy 500 in a Porsche.”

This time she grinned.

“One of those guys, huh?”

“Yeah, well…”

“Go down the hall to room 34A and everything you’ll need is there.”

I said, “Thanks lots.”

“Sure. Stop back when you’re done.”

“Sure…” (wink!)

When I opened the door to room 34A, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There it was. A solid gold Indianapolis Speedway. It was huge, with turns 3 and 4 barely visible in the distance. Directly in front of me were thirty or more Porsches. All types, models and colors were represented. There were 356s, 911s, Carreras, 917s, …. everything! I stood and drooled a long time before choosing a blue 908/3.

I got into the car, buckled up, and put on the Bell Star helmet that was in the car (my size!), and started the engine. I moved out onto the gold track and began doing laps. Faster and faster we went, the little car running as if it were on rails. After about ten laps by myself, I felt like racing. No sooner had I thought of it than two Indy cars came into view, high on the banking ahead of me. I passed them going low on the track. Unbelievable! Me! In a 908 passing Indy cars! I found that I could drive anywhere on the track …. high, low, anywhere. Now the track was filled with Indy cars and I was overtaking all of them. Wow!

Just as I was beginning to feel unbeatable, I was passed. Passed? Yes, passed by a red Indy car going maybe 50 mph faster than my all-conquering 908. He made a “finger signal” as he went by me. On the side of his red helmet were the letters “A. J.” What? A.J. Foyt? Here?

I pulled into the pits, jumped out of the car, and ran back to the reception desk. She was still there.

“When did A. J. Foyt get here?”

“He didn’t.”

“Don’t give me that. I was just passed by a red car, #14. The driver had ‘A. J.’ on the side of his helmet.”

“Oh.”

“Whadaya mean, OH?” (I was excited.)

“Oh, that’s God… He just thinks He’s A. J. Foyt.”