The Petty rivalry of David Pearson

The following Monday afternoon I sat in the press box above the steaming black asphalt cauldron of Darlington Raceway and waited for the ‘Silver Fox’ to claim his inevitable crown. In the post-race interview, Pearson stood at the press box window with the ‘Old Lady in Black’ – as the treacherous ribbon of asphalt was known – for a backdrop. The broad white teeth and the creamy Purolator driving suit stood in sharp contrast to a face burned red by driving into the late afternoon sun. Again, the charisma was palpable as Pearson discussed, laughed and cut up while responding to questions from writers about one of the most accomplished stock car seasons on record. It was clear that winning suited him.

By the time the 1976 season had ended, Pearson had won 10 races in 22 starts. It was the second time in four seasons that the candy apple red-and-white Wood Brothers Mercury had blown away fields seemingly at will. But this season was special because of Pearson’s victory over Petty at Daytona, in what many regard as the greatest finish, if not race, in NASCAR history (see panel).

Once the chequered flag had fallen on that much discussed ‘500’, it was Pearson who made his way to the press box afterward to tell his side of the victory. But as usual, he took the quiet and subtle route despite the tumultuous ending to the race, saying that Petty had apologised to him after their wreck just 400 yards from the finish line and that he would be happy to “run beside him at high speed any time.” Pearson never did say just what caused the famous crash, only implying that Petty’s apology was explanation enough.

The reporters that day – I had yet to land my job covering the races – learned once again what I would learn later that year in Darlington: Pearson would talk a fair amount, but rarely say much that was quotable. He never did like to address controversial issues either, or questions regarding how he won so many darn races, or anything that might make him seem egotistical. He was far too proud, and too private, to have his ego paraded through newspapers by his own voice.

On the track, Pearson’s driving style was similarly quotidian. His lines were consistent, smooth, uninterrupted arcs. His tactics were to hold his cards until the final miles when a race and the money — were on the line. If not for his fame and the familiar 21 writ in gold on his car, one might have felt like Pearson came out of nowhere to win races. This was particularly tile year in, year out at Darlington, where he earned his reputation on a notorious wrecking yard of a crooked oval by winning 10 times.

This same immaculate driving style meant Pearson earned what remains a record 64 poles on superspeedways, or tracks one mile or longer. He holds another record unlikely to be broken for most consecutive poles at one track, having earned 11 straight at the Charlotte Motor Speedway and 14 all together. But perhaps it is an unofficial record that speaks most about Pearson’s ability to concentrate behind the wheel: in 574 career starts in NASCAR’s premier division, not once was he injured seriously enough to require a trip to hospital.

This skill at avoiding accidents or confrontations on the track, as well as controversy off it, sustained Pearson over the course of what is one of the most remarkable careers in NASCAR history. Intensely proud and private, the small-town South Carolinian’s lack of lust for the limelight means that he is often overlooked as perhaps the greatest driver in the sport’s history.

When David was inducted into the National Motorsports Press Association’s Hall of Fame, the ceremonies took place at Darlington precisely 15 years after I first met him. At long last, he answered the question about how he won so many races at that track, which also shed light on how he won so many races overall. “The thing about Darlington,” said Pearson, “is the traffic. There’s only one groove. You had to be able to look down the track and see where the guy up ahead was, so you could pass him on the straightaways instead of in the corners. What you had to do was give up two or three tenths (of a second) on your lap time if you had to. Instead of catching him down there in Turn Three, you didn’t get to him until you come off the corner at Turn Four.”

It all sounds simple enough, but it presupposes being able to set up a car properly, then drive it well enough to afford giving up vital split-seconds to make sure you caught cars where you wanted to catch them. Outstanding depth perception and sharp vision, a driver’s two best friends, were also mandatory, not to mention immense concentration. Those qualities also served him well on other superspeedways, where Pearson practiced the art of drafting to perfection.

I couldn’t attend every one of Pearson’s races after we first met, but I don’t recall him ever making a mistake while overtaking another driver. Although one of his most memorable victories was number 100 at the North Carolina Motor Speedway near Rockingham, a race that was nearly ruined by an accident.

On that day, Pearson was duelling Benny Parsons on the broad, 22 degree banks of the 1.017-mile track. With the laps winding down, Parsons nudged Pearson’s Mercury as he tried to get by underneath. That tap sent the Wood Brothers entry pinwheeling. A lesser driver would not have kept the car out of the wall. But after a complete 360-degree spin plus another half loop on the steep banking, Pearson gathered his car up and returned to pit road for fresh tyres without losing a lap. After the restart, he caught Parsons and steamed past with barely a problem.

It was a scenario reminiscent of that 1976 Daytona 500. So what really did happen out there on the very last turn of the race? “You’ll have to ask Richard Petty,” he said. As always, his pride and his anger were under control, just like his cars.

Demolition derby: 1976 Daytona 500

In 1976, disco and ‘The Bump’ were the dancing craze, but no one expected the popular trend to become the theme for one of the most memorable Daytona 500s ever contested.

For 500 miles, Richard Petty and David Pearson had waged another of their patented, furious late-race wars on a superspeedway, but this one included an astounding three exchanges of the lead on the final lap before it was decided by a crash at the finish line.

Entering that final lap, ‘The King’ was leading in the STP Dodge, but Pearson used the draft from a backmarker to slingshot by at the end of the long back straight. Petty countered by ducking inside Pearson’s Mercury as the cars careened through Turn Four, but understeer pushed the Dodge up the track and the two cars bumped and wobbled side-by-side. In the chute between Turn Four and the finish, it appeared Petty had Pearson beat, but when he pulled in front to complete the pass, the cars bumped again.

The resulting contact sent Pearson into the outside wall immediately. Petty carried on for another 75 yards before he too lost control and crashed into the outside wall after overcorrecting. Pearson spun onto the pit road, where he hit another car trying to avoid the accident, and Petty’s car spun crazily across the grass median separating the pit road from the track, coming to a halt an agonising 25 yards from the finish line with a stalled engine.

Pearson, who kept his engine running, then trundled his crippled car across the grassy median, past Petty’s stalled machine, and took the chequered flag in first gear as Pony’s crewmen rushed to try to push their stalled driver to the finish. “My engine never died,” said Pearson. “Before I hit the wall I popped the clutch, put it in neutral and revved the engine as high as I could to keep it from stalling.”

Petty was of two minds after the race, initially blaming himself. “I just flat lost it,” he said. “My right rear hit his left front. If there’s anybody to be mad at it’s myself.” But then Petty viewed footage from the television coverage and changed his mind. “He hit my right rear,” said Petty. “I apologised to him for what happened in Turn Four, not for what caused the crash.”

Pearson stuck with Petty’s apology, offered when the two met briefly right after the race. “I think he just went a little too high too early,” said Pearson. “Check with ABC TV,” Petty replied when asked if the crash was Pearson’s fault.

If the feelings of the two drivers were contrary, passions between the teams of the two rivals went way over the red line. Petty’s brother Maurice and another crewman jumped on Pearson’s car as he headed toward Victory Lane, seemingly trying to get at the driver. “Was I worried that Maurice would get into the car?” said Pearson. “If he had, it would have been the biggest mistake he ever made.”

In later years Petty acknowledged he moved across too soon, but by any account, the slowest finish to the ‘500’ on record was also the most spectacular.