You'll see him at most any USAC
Sprint Car or Silver Crown show, sliding easily into the
cockpit. He is the tailored image of what a race car driver
today should be. Handsome, diminutive but athletic,
articulate, bright, upbeat without the flamboyance, and
calmly self-confident. He goes like the wind and he's just
24.
The deeper appeal of Justin Grant, though, is
beneath the surface. His is not a checkbook talent; his
father did not win the Indy 500. He climbed the heights of
short-track open-wheel racing the old fashioned way, a
million dusty nights, fueled by his only real resource - a
passion beyond reason. His pathway has been the road once
taken by horsepower hoboes like Parnelli Jones from the
West, Jim Hurtubise from back East, and Texan Gordon
Woolley.
When we launched our Dave Darland book last
year at Kokomo, I spotted Justin and asked author Bones
Bourcier who he was. Bones smiled. "He's from California. I
first saw him at a BCRA Midget show in Hanford. It was a big
race. He started 17th and rode the high side at full song
'til he was leading. Then he seemed to slow just a bit, and,
after quite a battle, finished third. I had to go over and
find out who he was and what had happened. He was only 16,
still a rookie, with minimal equipment and crew, and his
power steering had let go, spraying all over him for laps.
He went through all his tear-offs, and the shield was an
oily mess, so up went the visor. He accepted whatever might
come. You should have seen his eyes - almost swollen shut. I
told him, 'That was pretty impressive but don't you ever do
that again.'"
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That's Justin upstairs, visor
up and visually challenged, getting around John
Sarale at Hanford on turn three of the last lap to
secure the BCRA championship.
(M&M Photo) |
He may have been green, but Justin was serious. At age
two he preferred TV races to cartoons. Then it was constant
NASCAR and Thursday Night Thunder and wearing his dad out
about taking him to Placerville for the Sprint Cars. And,
just as young Rico Abreu's future dreams were shaped when he
saw the Wild Child Haudenschild broad-slide around
Calistoga, Jac played the same tune on Justin at
Placerville. "He was so exciting. That was it." recalls
Justin. "I was going to drive Sprint Cars."
Justin's
father, Tim, admits he had little interest in racing and
even less experience with a 9/16 wrench, but he was
supportive of his son. There was a big catch, however. Tim
made it clear "that if Justin was going to race, he would
have to be self-reliant. I told him he was not from a racing
family or a money tree. When we got the first Quarter Midget
when Justin was 8, he took it all apart. He learned back
then to do his own thing - set-ups, shocks, the works. Even
then he had more perseverance than any human being I have
known."
Hundreds of Quarter Midget and outlaw kart
races followed, spiced with consistent wins and
championships. Within a year Justin caught the eye of strong
dirt Midget team owner Dave Thurston. A friendship sparked
immediately, which has continued over time. Justin would
drive for others from that moment on.
"We got along
so well. Even went to the Chili Bowl when I was still 16. It
was nerve-wracking, but I stayed reasonably calm. I think my
comfort was my ignorance," Justin says. "And then I ran into
a real mentor, Jimmy Sills. I called him the day after I got
my license and started driving up there (two hours each way)
to help him mechanically, which I could do while learning so
much more. Already my dad's insistence that I learn all
about what I was racing was paying off. I had a good summer
with Dave and I won a non-wing Sprint race at Hanford for
Steve Harris. That had a moment. I passed Peter Murphy on
the third turn of the last lap and we kinda bumped wheels. I
was a little worried when he headed my way in victory lane,
but then his hand came out."
Justin graduated from
high school early in the autumn and headed back out to the
Chili Bowl, racing's winter meet and greet. Justin ran into
Bones Bourcier again, who, in turn, introduced him to Jeff
Walker, the prominent Midwest open-wheel owner. The two hit
if off big time, and at 17, Justin, all alone, headed east
over the mountains and plains to Noblesville, Indiana, to
work on Sprint Cars. "He paid $300 a week and I had a place
to stay. My parents were okay with it, but I am not sure
whether they thought I would be back home in a month."
The occasional ride came Justin's way, but the big
moment arrived the night the Walker team took both Bryan
Clauson's and Levi Jones' cars to Gas City, and Levi didn't
show up. "We stuffed all kind of pillows into the seat, and
out I went in that car. I was really anxious not to mess
things up, and the evening was uneventful. The next day was
Kokomo and I was on the pole. Hunter Schuerenberg was in the
other car, starting way back. That had me real nervous. On
top of it, Jeff came strolling over and walked me way up to
the wall, above the cushion. He says, 'You run here above
the cushion. If you don't, you'll never drive my car again.
If you do and you crash, you might.' I went up there and I
led for 18 laps. Then, wouldn't you know it, Hunter and I
got together, and we were knocked out. But I did what I was
told."
 |
Justin diggin' in down
low at Lincoln Park, Indiana Speed Week,
2014.
(John DaDalt Photo) |
|
Various rides followed, and Justin was often favored
because he could maintain the cars. Case in point came with
his relationship with Ken Baldwin in Lafayette, Indiana. "It
was full-time Sprint Cars. No social life, but everything
for me was so new and exciting, focused on the next weekend.
I had no savings. Nothing. Then one night when we went to
Bloomington, I climbed a tire and flipped big time. Things
became a little different. It was my introduction to
reality. I broke blood vessels in my eyes and was
temporarily blind. The bolts in the seat dug into my back.
It was off to the hospital. These things can hurt you."
After a period with Jeff again, Justin was off to Piqua,
Ohio, with a small duffle bag and laundry soap to turn the
wheel and the wrenches for Mark Hery. After a nasty flip the
first night ("that's been a recurring theme and I will have
to figure out why"), they waltzed off to 65 events with nine
wins.
Despite his obvious talent, Justin's zigzag
trail was riddled with potholes. In 2013, coming back from
taking in the World 100 at Eldora, Justin was sleeping,
Mark's son driving. They crashed and rolled. Justin was
tossed out of the car and broke his neck. He recuperated
slowly, working as he could with Jeff. Recovery took a
while, but the wins returned.
There was no time off
at all for the 2014 misadventure. Justin had Shane Hmiel's
Midget running on a chassis dyno when an oil line burst and
a fire erupted. Justin had third-degree burns and was told
to stay home for four months. He raced that same night, but,
every Monday for the rest of the season, it was off to the
crash house for burn scraping.
Ever resilient with
his life and his friendships, he was back with Mark Hery for
2014, proceeding at a more thoughtful pace, as he still is
today. His Silver Crown car, formerly Tracy Hines equipment,
is owned by Chris Carli from Elk Grove, California, and
Justin turns the wrenches on it as well. They've known each
other since Justin was six.
"I am doing just what I
want to do and I am hanging on a little better. I'm based
now in a rented house in Indianapolis with my girlfriend,
Ashley Jones, and young, Brogan. Ashley is Bubby Jones's
daughter - and he has certainly helped me with set-ups. I
guess I have come along quite a ways."
There can be
little disagreement about that. Justin's is such an
appealing American story at a time when wealth and privilege
so often trump talent and hard work. That's especially so
now, a time when even those Midwestern dirt tracks, though
still racy, are hardly still egalitarian.
And what
would Justin's message be to someone who wanted to follow?
"First, seek mentors and keep your friends. Find someone
really good at what they do and go devote a year to learn
with them. You must know what to do around winning cars.
Second, don't expect to have a lot of nice things. That is
not a part of this life, but expecting to get hurt is.
Third, keep track of whether it is really worth it. For me,
it is the moments like at the Springfield mile this August
in Chris Carli's Silver Crown car. I timed trialed second,
right up against the fence and never cracked the throttle
all the way around. What an incredible feeling! Maybe I was
a little bit like Jac Haudenschild back at Chico. It is what
I aspire to do. But it comes fast and it goes fast. In the
feature, the left rear developed wicked wheel hop, so we
ended up mid-pack. What can you do? It's all part of our
game."
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| (Travis Branch Photo) |
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