Give us our parts

Remember the days when the dollar was worth more than a dollar? Yep, there was once upon a time a happy little land where drag racers could buy parts from overseas at a dollar rate less than it actually cost. The Oz peso was worth as much as one dollar-forty and more US shekels in 1974.

They were happy days for racers, except that few of them really imported that much. When a drag racer brought in a new camshaft it was news. The pressure to go high tech was almost non-existent, and you could even go drag racing on the sort of parts you could make in your garage. Ah, happy days.

In those dim and distant years, more so even than today, we looked forward to the visits of imported US racers. They were a window into a marvellous foreign world, where all were regarded as being more savvy, more experienced than we poor Down Under mortals.

It wasn't always true, if the track managements got the wrong guy. When John Force came here in 1976 he had done nothing more than a burnout and launch, and been permitted to start his car and drive it into stage opposite a well known racer for a photo.

To say he was no great ambassador for the world's leading drag racing nation is an understatement (the story would, obviously, be very different today), but he was an American drag racer and enjoyed all the enthusiastic support and adulation dished out to all the other imports in those days.

Another team to receive overwhelming acclaim, probably even more so than Force and his fellow tourist Gary Densham of 1976 was that of Don Johnson, who raced here in 1970-71. Thirty-three year old Johnson was known as "The Beachcomber", and with his longish blond hair and big mutton chop sideburns he fulfilled the image perfectly.

In 1970 pop groups such as the Beach boys were still big time, and in the late 60s there was a close association between the surfing and the drag racing - hot rodding worlds. Both were seen as the province of young people, the pastimes of exuberant youth.

In fact a magazine article at the time described Johnson thus: "Handsome, easy going and still single, Johnson lives in a swinging beach pad right along the Malibu surf and spends most of his spare time on the beachfront. Settling in at his temporary quarters in Surfers Paradise proved 'no pain all,' he says."

Johnson grabbed attention. He had won major events in the USA, had held the NHRA ET record, the first genuine 6-second run (a 6.97) is credited to Johnson's car, with Tom McEwen driving in 1967, and he seemed just the sort of guy who a young Australian drag racer would want to identify. His car ran hard, and he even had the dubious honour of introducing fire burnouts to Australia - which just amazed everybody.

Of course, the locals, awed at the technical sophistication of the Johnson package, complete with full time crew chief Mike Kinne - who with dark glasses, long hair and John Newcombe moustache was described as "a real groover" - and spare 426 Hemi engine and two-speed transmission, just wanted to get close and strike up conversations.

And of course talk soon got around to the poor local supply of real race parts, and the difficulty of accessing them from the States, or of being dudded by unscrupulous suppliers.

Johnson had the answer to everyone's problems. He had contacts with all the big name manufacturers and suppliers in the States and if all the Australian racers wanted to tell him what they needed he'd get prices and when he returned to his home at the swinging beachfront surfer pad in a few weeks he'd be happy to round up all those hard to get bits for his new buddies. Hey, could it get any better?

Everyone grabbed the US magazines and began working out their dream lists, planning on things they'd never seriously considered because they never thought it possible that they'd ever have access to such material. They consulted with Johnson, who got them his best prices from his old mates at home, and everyone handed over the hard earned cash.

In a few weeks or so Johnson flew out for home, and the trusting locals settled down to await the arrival of their parts. And they waited, and waited, and waited and . . .

Soon it became obvious that there were no parts coming, and the grumbling began. One of those who was hit hard was Sydney altered racer Bill Croft. He'd been running a Holden 6-powered car, but was in the process of fitting it out with a small block Chev V8 and wanted some good US "go fast" parts. And Croft wasn't going to take it lying down.

He wrote to the US embassy, who did their best to follow it up, and he wrote to Hot Rod magazine, which published the letter, with an added editorial admonition for Johnson to ante up with either the parts or the cash.

But nobody here ever heard of Johnson again, though there were rumours that he'd bought a small time drag strip in the southern USA somewhere. Maybe Bill Croft and the others unwittingly owned a share in the deal.

It didn't stop anyone from racing - Croft went on to successfully campaign his V8 altered for a number of years in the 70s - but it did reinforce the widely held belief that you can't trust a rat with a flash tooth, or a swinging surfer with sideburns.