was like Picasso. Like a great artist doing his work. And he

But, you know,

was in that car, and he was doing his work. But, you know,

he couldn't get the support. Where other drivers that we were

competing against had major sponsorships, he did everything

that he did out of his own pocket. And as children, we

didn't have that leisure time, you know, we couldn't go to the

playground. He said to us, "I need you at the garage." I can

remember him getting injured and he'd just take axle grease and

put it in the cut and keep working. But he wasn't allowed

to race at certain speedways. He had death threats not to come to

Atlanta. And Daddy said, "Look. If I leave in a pine box, that's

what I gotta do. But I'm gonna race." I can remember him

racing in Jacksonville and he beat them all. But they wouldn't

drop the checkered flag. And then when they did drop the

checkered flag, they had my father in 3rd place. One of the

main reasons that they gave was there was a white beauty queen

and they always kissed the driver.

He finally got the

money, but, ah, of course, the trophy was gone,

the fans were gone, the beauty queens were gone.

Did he ever consider not racing anymore?

Never. That was one of my daddy's sayings,

"When it's too tough for everybody else, it's just

right for me." Like I can remember one

time when we were racing the Atlanta 500 and, um, he was

sick. He needed an operation. And I said, "Daddy, we don't

have to race today." He whispered to me and said, "Lift

my legs up and put me in the car." He drove 500 miles that day.

He always felt like someday he's gonna get his big

break. But, uh, for twenty years nobody mentioned Wendell Scott.

But he didn't let it drive him crazy. I think that's what made

him so great. He chose to be a race car driver and he was going

to race until he couldn't race no more.