"HINDSIGHT IS 20/20"

By KYLE DOYLE - 1/02/07

For me, the end of the year always brings a mixed bag of feelings; a veritable assortment of emotions, regrets, and memories. The satisfying feeling of another year completed and in the books, mixed with the painful tinges of regret brought on by opportunities missed, friends lost, and times when perhaps the right choice wasn’t made. For me, I find the greatest satisfaction in my accomplishments only when I look back on them with 20/20 vision; the fruits of success only offer their rewards as an aftertaste for me, it seems. I had a surprising amount of time during the month of December to look back on the rest of 2006, as my mind filled nearly every spare moment of my “free” time reviewing, rewinding, and replaying crucial and critical moments from the 11 months behind me. Even when I slept, it seemed like a 2006 highlight (and lowlight) reel would play in my mind. A famous poet once wrote: “So many decisions, a million revisions, caught between darkness and light.” Indeed!

The month of December is usually a pretty busy month for me, with my birthday falling on the 2nd, my sister’s on the 24th, and of course Christmas and the New Year holiday. This year, on top of all of that, I added the 20th Annual MTRA Weekend, the 19th Annual Performance Racing Industry trade show, and a trip to Cheyenne, WY to my schedule of things to do. For the first time since going to work for HBR, my birthday fell on a weekend, and it just so happened that I had it off as well! Amanda and I spent the day in Champaign, knocking out most of our remaining X-mas shopping, shopping for ourselves (of course!), and visiting with some friends here and there. There’s a chain restaurant in Champaign named after a type of cheese (no free name plugs here!), and I must say, they serve a pretty kick-butt platter of buffalo chicken strips. Pretty much anything with buffalo sauce on it is alright by me, so for those that know me, it was a given that I was going to have something like that on my birthday. Also on our list of stuff to do was to pay a visit to the U of I Assembly Hall. Tim and Mark’s aunt, Patty, who is our primary secretary in the HBR office, is also a very respected craft artist. A major regional craft show was being held at the Hall on the same day as my b-day, so we decided to stop by and pay her a visit.
 

I still needed some stuff to round out my mom’s X-mas bundle, and I knew she would probably like some of the stuff that is for sale a big craft shows like that. Now, before I go any further, let me qualify myself as someone who usually doesn’t attend craft shows. It’s not that I have a “manliness complex” or anything, but the smells from that damn potpourri and candles gets me every time. Anyways, Amanda and I totally caught Patty off guard, as we were no doubt the last people she expected to see at her big craft show. I found some great stuff for my mom, so needless to say the visit was well worth it.

While in Champaign that day, I made another stop at our local drum shop to talk specs and prices with the owner, and inevitably, when he found out what I do for a living, the conversation changed to monster trucks. After my visit (which was over an hour), I left knowing a lot more about the drums and cymbals I wanted to buy, and I left the owner of the store knowing a bit more about monsters than he knew before I walked in. To quote a famous Monty Python film: “Alright, we’ll call it a draw!”

The Get Er Done crew taking the written portion of the MTRA Tech Inspector course.
 

The following Friday and Saturday found all of us in St. Louis for the 20th Annual MTRA Tech School, Meeting, and Banquet. Just prior to heading down to STL, Amanda and I hosted Joe Sylvester and his girlfriend Jessica for a night, as they decided to stop in Champaign on their way to STL. We’ve gotten to be pretty good friends with Joe and Jess both on and off-track, and it was a blast having them stay with us.
 

Potential inspectors taking the “hands-on” part of the test.
 

Friday’s tech school went pretty well, aside from one fellow who made himself look pretty silly. I’m happy to report that I’m the only tech inspector on record to have not missed a single item on either the hands-on test or the written test for two years in a row. The annual membership meeting followed on Saturday morning, and for the most part, it was very productive and produced no heated debates, unlike some meetings of the past. I’m proud and grateful to note that I was nominated for Sportsman of the year for the second year in a row, as well as being nominated for the Safety Award. Later that evening at the banquet, I found myself being called to the podium a very surprising two times by MC Nigel Morris. Amanda and I were given certificates of appreciation from the MTRA for our work on the “National Monster” newsletter. Not long after that, much to my joy, relief, and appreciation, I was awarded the MTRA Safety award. I take safety and the rule book as serious as anyone in the sport, because I know that it is in the best interest of the fans, drivers, crews, and promoters. Having taken a lot of time out of my schedule to help teams get certified over the last few years, and doing my best to know the rulebook inside and out has really paid off for me. Ask Andy Hoffman, Joe Sylvester, or Mitch Tulachka about how thorough I am; those guys are all my buddies, but I don’t let anything slide because I know the rules are there in the interest of everyone’s safety, and I don’t want to see anyone get hurt, especially my friends.

Jim Kramer really was my only “childhood idol”, and has been someone I’ve look up to since my earliest memories. It is an honor to consider him a friend and associate. [Photo by Katelin White.]

Kramer hosted an open-invite informal discussion regarding his thoughts on the sport following the meeting.

[Photo by Katelin White.]

George Eisenhart (Monster Nationals) presenting me with the MTRA Safety Award. [Photo by Ross Z. Bonar]

“Thank you, thank you very much.” [Photo by Lisa Morris]
 

The week following the MTRA festivities was a short one, at least from the home-side of things. After getting the 005 Rammunition chassis back from the powder coating facility, we made pretty good headway in getting the truck on its way to being complete again. However, work pretty much took a pause on Wednesday, as Tim, Mark, Geremie, and I headed out for the Indianapolis International Airport to catch a flight down to Orlando, FL. For the second year in a row, Orlando’s Orange County Convention Center would host the Performance Racing Industry trade show, now in its 19th year. The show, formerly held in the Midwest (most recently Indy), offered tens of thousands of racing industry personnel the chance to visit with over 4,100 vendors and exhibitors over a three-day period.

As we boarded the Boeing 737 that would carry us non-stop to Orlando, I contemplated the flight ahead of us. It had been a couple of years since I had last flown, and inevitably the mind thinks to itself “Boy, I sure have a lot more to lose now if this chunk of aluminum falls from the sky.” I used to fly several times a year when I was younger, but now, perhaps thanks in part to my increased understanding of aeronautics and aircraft, I’m always a bit more apprehensive when I fly. I imagine some of that also stems from putting in tens of thousands of miles a year in a semi piloted by yours truly; it must be some sort of manly control complex or something. That, or the obvious lack of an ejection seat and parachute that military pilots are so fortunate to have!
 

Alas, with the assistance of my MiniDiscman and Steven King’s “Cell”, the flight down (and back, for that fact) was pretty uneventful (phew!). After picking up our silver Dodge Charger rental car, we made our way down the interstate to our hotel, which thankfully was located about a mile from the convention center. The trip to Orlando marked the first time I had ever been to Florida. I suppose that since I’ve never been there before, that would explain why I had never taken note of the fact that Universal Studios, Disney World, and a myriad of other tourist traps make their home in Orlando (at least I knew they were in Florida!). While those attractions would no doubt be fun to visit, I think my money would be better spent elsewhere.
 

Orlando’s Race Rock café.

My, what big arms you have!
 

The PRI show opened Thursday morning, and would run through the end of the day on Saturday. In a marathon day, the four of us covered the entire five mile show floor, stopping to visit with all of our sponsors and potential sponsors. We also used Thursday to “pre-run” the show floor, which basically involved collecting information and noting the location of vendors that we wanted to spend some more time with on Friday. By the end of the weekend, we had developed some hopeful prospects, learned quite a lot about a myriad of different parts and ideas, and caught up with some old friends. Tim and I, along with newly-appointed MTRA Board member Doug Noelke, took part in an SFI-hosted meeting for sanctioning bodies. Essentially a round-table discussion (though there really weren’t any round tables, per-se), the meeting gives a diverse group of sanctioning bodies the chance to bounce different ideas, questions, and thoughts off of each other. Technically speaking, the sport of Monster Truck racing doesn’t have a lot to offer groups like NASCAR and NHRA (who were both represented), though ways and means to implement policy, rules, etc. are often discussed in meetings like these. I must say, it was an honor to be sitting alongside representatives from some of the biggest and most notable sanctioning bodies in the world.
 

A classic Andy Brass firesuit jacket at Race Rock.

Also featured was a vintage Bob Chandler driving suit.

The sign on the front reads: “Please do not deface or climb on Bigfoot.” Sadly, some people didn’t read it.
 

While the PRI show officials don’t allow cameras into the show itself, I did manage to do a bit of shutter-bugging, by way of Orlando’s famed Race Rock Café. Though the facility’s assortment of race vehicles and memorabilia hasn’t been updated much since its inception in the late 1990’s, it is still a very interesting place to wander around, and their catfish sandwiches aren’t too shabby either. From a Steve Kinser sprint car to the Miss Budweiser herself, the place has a pretty diverse selection of vehicles. If it has been raced, it likely may be represented inside Race Rock in one form or another. Dan Patrick’s Samson II leaf-spring truck is still perched above the entrance into the dining area rotunda, while Bigfoot 7 sits all by its lonesome in the back of the restaurants parking lot, badly in need of an overhaul (and a protective fence to fend off would-be vandals).

A quick flight on home Saturday gave us Saturday night and Sunday to catch our breath before the big “week-before-Christmas” run. Time was winding down fast, and before we knew it, the first events of ’07 would be upon us. Knowing that, we worked extra-hard all week to get Rammunition back into running order. Once completed, we began the process of bringing in our transporter trailers to perform routine maintenance, one by one. Depending on the level of work needed, this can be a speedy process; conversely, it can be a very lengthy and time (and space) consuming project. Thankfully, none of the trailers needed a large amount of work, so the process moved along efficiently, though it did spill over into the following week some.

Thursday would be the biggest day of the week for Amanda and I, as we left for Wyoming that evening after work. After discovering the prices for rental cars and airplane tickets, we piled our gear into our new Chrysler Sebring and headed west at a high rate of travel. As the streetlights lining the highway sped by as though we were in the Millennium Falcon in hyperspace transit, I contemplated the 1,000 mile-long drive ahead of me, and the snow and ice that I would surely have to face at some point. Just days before departing for Wyoming to visit my family, the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains was wracked with severe snow and ice. This frigid weather would ultimately have more of an effect on us leaving Wyoming, rather than actually getting there. As we sped through the night, our noble steed managed an impressive average of 26mpg, which wasn’t bad considering the 80+mph speeds it was being forced to produce.
 

About halfway through Nebraska, sometime around two or three in the morning, we decided to stop and take a brief nap, to let our eyes rest a bit so that we didn’t end up as some sort of scary statistic on the national evening news. If Tom Brokaw ever talks about me on the news, I don’t want it to be due to the fact that I made street pizza out of my car and everything in it. After a couple hours of sleep, we got back on the road, and I came to a very resolute decision: I would much rather sleep in the bunk of my semi than the back seat of a mid-size Chrysler. After slowing for a 30-mile long stretch of ice and snow in western Nebraska on I-80, we arrived in Cheyenne on Friday. Conveniently enough, we were just in time to grab lunch with my sister and mom, who were in town running some errands in preparation for our stay.
 

The Wyoming state capitol.

Amanda and I hangin’ with Ester Hobart Morris.

My sister Colleen and I.
 

I was as enthusiastic as my tired state would allow me to be, as I don’t get to see my family more than four or five days a year. This trip to Wyoming would be the closest thing to a vacation that I had experienced since leaving there back in 2003, so I was determined to make the most of it. My family’s house is situated nearly 30 miles west of Cheyenne, in the foothills of the Snowy Range mountains, part of the continent-spanning Rocky Mountains. Amanda and I used Friday to un-pack and relax a little bit, after our marathon drive out. We had to park our car in a clearing about 300 yards from my folks’ house, due to the massive amounts of snow that had drifted in their driveway. Transportation from the car to the house would be limited to my family’s rusty and trusty ’78 Bronco, seeing as how nobody owned snow shoes or a steerable-toboggan.
 

The famous Union-Pacific train depot in downtown Cheyenne.

Click here for a panoramic shot of downtown Lincolnway Ave.
 

Saturday, we ventured back to Cheyenne to help my sister celebrate her 16th birthday, which Amanda and I were quite happy to be there for. As we dined at a chain restaurant named after a house on the road in Texas (get it?), we all re-capped the year from each of our perspectives, all while giving the birthday girl a hard time. After that, Amanda, my sister Colleen and I set out to do a small bit of sight-seeing in downtown Cheyenne. Since leaving Wyoming, several sights in downtown have become more photogenic, so I took the opportunity to add some nice shots of the State Capitol, historic downtown Lincolnway Ave., and the Union-Pacific Rail Depot Museum to my collection of non-racing material.
 

We took this as the sun was setting, about 2 miles from my family’s house.

Sunrise on Christmas morning, shot from the deck of my folks’ house.
 

The rest of the weekend and the X-mas holiday itself went well, as I used the time to catch up with my family and some very close friends who I don’t get to see very often at all. Like they say, there’s just no place like home. Wyoming is the only place on Earth I’ve been that can make me totally forget about the hectic life I lead back here in IL. For a few days in 2006, I was able to forget about bills needing paid, work on my truck needing done, chores in the house needing tended to, and the rigors of a traveling racer. Be it hiking in the snow, 4-wheeling in the Bronco, or watching “A Night At Red Rocks with The Moody Blues” on DVD with my mom, my sis, and Amanda, I’ve come to find that the place I can relax the most at doesn’t exist only in my wildest dreams.

Aside from the presents, I also noticed a pair of deer walking around the house on X-mas morning.

We finished off X-mas with a night-time fireworks display.

Fireworks always make for trippy night-time photos.
 

The day after X-mas, Amanda and I attempted to head back to IL early in the morning, only to have our Chrysler become mired in a major snow drift that had cropped up on X-mas day during an unexpected blizzard. After a tug from the Bronco and lots of digging, we maneuvered the Sebring to a clear spot on the side of the road, and then headed back to the house to wait for the county road crews to arrive to knock down another major drift that blocked us from getting any closer to IL. As the hours crept by and my nerves and patience began to whittle away at themselves, my mom noticed out the front window that a plow had just finished barreling down the road that our car was parked on. Hopes ran high that the road would now be clear, though I had this small, tiny, miniscule (read: major) fear that the plow’s massive steel blade had kissed the side of my young Sebring. Thankfully no harm was done to it, and we were able to bid my family a quick farewell before hitting the road. Not that we really wanted to leave Wyo so soon after arriving, but duties at home called for Amanda and I both, so at 3pm CST we left. The road beckoned, and I had to answer.

The Sebring waiting for a plow after being pulled from a bad snow drift.

This is the drift that was in front of us, blocking our way out after we got unstuck.
 

The drive home proved to be even more brutal than the drive out, the only upside being the lack of snow or ice anywhere on the highways. We made it to Peoria, IL sometime around 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning, and decided we should try to take a nap before each of us began our day in Champaign. With a heavy amount of caffeine coursing through my system, sleep was quite the lofty goal to be shooting for, though I was physically and psychologically drained. Needless to say, thanks in part to a couple of “sickness” spells, I missed getting any sleep by a wide margin. After becoming fed up with my failing efforts to snooze, I straightened my seat back up and began to erase the final leg of the drive towards home. After dropping Amanda off in Champaign to pick up my truck and her dog from the local pet hotel, I headed home to quickly find some work clothes so that I could get to the shop as soon as possible. I made it to the shop around 8:00am, a mere hour later than I would have normally, and went about my day helping my teammates. Though I didn’t really try to hide it, it would have been as obvious as the nose on my face that my butt was dragging from the horrid 1,000mile overnight drive I had subjected Amanda and myself to. But, in the spirit of the work ethic I’ve tried to develop over the years, I trudged through the day and made it home in one piece. However, when my head hit the pillow at 7:00pm, I was out like a light. And let me tell you, this light didn’t begin shining again until 5:30 the next morning, and only regretfully so at that. Not too long after that, the final work week of 2006 came to a close.

As I sit here and write all of this for you on New Year’s Eve, I can’t help but look back once again on the marks that 2006 has left on me. The marks that each year leaves on us can vary; some are like beautifully drawn tattoos and artwork, while others are more like scars, some more gruesome than others. For me, 2006 has left its fair share of scarring, though it certainly had its high points. I try not to make New Year’s resolutions, but if I was forced to produce one, I would say that my goal for 2007 would be to learn from all of my experiences had in ’06.

Someday I may look back at 2006 as a watershed year in my life, as many aspects of my personality came into their own. From my interests in music and percussion, to my skills as a budding photographer; from the increased amount of race truck seat time to the extensive writing projects I’ve undertaken, I’ve managed to put quite a bit under my belt this year. 2006 also marked the first time I had visited Oregon, Washington, and Florida; it marked the first time I won an award at the MTRA Banquet; and perhaps most importantly, it marked the third anniversary of Amanda and I being together.

2006 saw our team continue our on-track success, while our Dodge dealer program remained quite strong. We overcame bad parts, bad weather, bad calls, bad luck, and…well…a pretty serious amount of bad stuff in general…probably even some bad food, too. Though I’m always proud to be a part of HBR, a hot Saturday in Ohio and a wet day in Indiana stand out in my mind as days when that pride peaked. Though our trucks suffered their fair share of struggles this year, (at one point being hundreds of points out of first in the Jamboree series) I think we’ve managed to prove that we can’t be ruled out at any point. Determination doesn’t come to the forefront of people’s personalities when they are ahead of the game; it comes to the surface when they are behind.

It is not without the help and support of many that 2006 may go down in my books as a “successful” year. Without a great team to work with, I wouldn’t find myself rejoicing over races won and triumphs had. Without great family and friends, I would be unable to capitalize on the opportunities presented to me. And without the legions of fans that turn out each year to watch Monster Trucks race, perform, and display, I wouldn’t have a job. Frederich Nietzschze once said “Without music, life would be a mistake.” Indeed, and without fans, racing would be a mistake too.

I truly hope that all of you readers have a great year in 2007, and I know I will be running into many of you out on the road, and I thank you all for taking the time to read this running timeline of mine that Ross has so graciously agreed to put up with. It is a real joy to be able to share with you all the thoughts and experiences that I encounter over the course of the year, but just as importantly, I enjoy going back and revisiting those days past, and seeing how I felt about them at the particular moment in time I wrote about them. Applying what I’ve learned since writing those articles to the content in them, there is no doubt left in my mind whatsoever that hindsight really is 20/20.
 

- KD
 

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