Robbins - NHRA.com

Randy “Double R” Robbins
Director, Safety Safari
Jeff “Low Cal” Parker Jim “Popcorn” Caslin Rollie Miller Ron Conner John Crosby
Tuesday and Wednesday, 8:30 a.m.
Rain poured from the Southern California skies just a few short weeks ago,
but today is clear and sunny, and the forecast for the weekend ahead is for
more of the same. I walk through the “hole in the wall” that separates the
staging lanes from the racetrack at Auto Club Raceway at Pomona, and I’m
surprised to find that although the sun is shining on the pits, the track is
completely shaded and the air temp is chilly. Members of the Safety Safari are
already on the track unbothered by the brisk morning.
I’m on my way to the Safety Safari compound, where the main rig is parked
and the equipment and vehicles are housed for the weekend, and I’m offered a
ride by a familiar face. At this point, though, I’m like everyone else who
regularly attends an NHRA event, I’ve seen most of these guys around, but I
don’t really know much about them.
The NHRA Safety Safari presented by AAA is a core team of six: director
Randy “Double R” Robbins, Jeff “Low Cal” Parker, Jim “Popcorn” Caslin,
Rollie Miller, Ron Conner, and John Crosby. They are the foundation of the
extended Safari family and are responsible for preparing, monitoring and
repairing the track and standing by to respond to all incidents that occur on
its surface during the course of a national event. One sentence couldn’t possibly
summarize all they do, so I’ve been assigned the slightly daunting task of
tagging along for the weekend to learn what it means to be part of this
renowned team.
Originally formed in the 1950s, the then-called Drag Safari was a four-man
crew that pulled a small trailer to tracks across the country filled with all of
the gear needed to stage a drag race. Back then, their main mission was to
educate the growing number of drag racing competitors, but over time, the
Drag Safari morphed into something much bigger: the Safety Safari.
40 ✦ National DRAGSTER

The compound is bustling, and as I set out to find the
boss, “Double R,” I feel more than a couple curious, sidelong
glances my way. For a moment I question my
presence here. I’m not sure I belong among these people
who hold so much responsibility in their hands. My job is
serious, yeah, but not this kind of serious. These guys are
prepared to help save a life if needed, and I’m prepared
to — well, I’m prepared to write stuff down.
“Well, hello dear,” says “Double R” with a comfortable
Kentucky drawl, and I’m instantly at ease. He introduces
me to Miller, Crosby, “Low Cal” (aka Cal), and
“Popcorn” before I greet Conner, who, at the soggy Seattle
event last season, explained to me how the Safety Safari
handles rainy weather, which I’m grateful for because it
doesn’t look like I’m going to see the massive jet engine
dryer or the water sweeper at all this weekend.
This is a diverse group with one thing in common:
They love what they do. In testimony to this, most have
been around a long time. “Double R” has been in his
position for more than 20 years, and both “Popcorn”
and “Cal” closely follow in tenure. Amazingly, part-timer
Rowland Hall has been in the mix for 34 years. I easily
surmise that longevity comes naturally for this group.
“We’ve been here since last Wednesday getting
equipment ready and doing vehicle maintenance,” said
Miller as we headed back toward the starting line. Track
prep began on Monday, and the process usually begins
with the track scrubber driven by Crosby’s wife, Robin.
Once the track is clean, the layering begins.
“You can’t really do the same thing on each track,”
explained “Cal.” “They have different characteristics determined
by weather, humidity, and how much racing they do
on the track. Our goal is to make each track consistent.”
The clean surface is treated with a layer of VHT, a
sticky, sweet-smelling chemical compound that works like
glue. Layers of rubber are applied using a steel machine
pulled by a tractor and powered by a small-block 350-cid
Chevy engine that rotates three slicks — used tires
donated by fuel car teams — in the opposite direction,
laying down hot rubber and emitting a piercing squeal.
The tire drag is followed by a layer of white VHT
powder that’s “broomed in” by hand before the tire drag
machine is sent out again. The following day, they’ll
wash the track again and spray the liquid VHT traction
compound as the final step before race day.
The team walks onto the track and checks out the
work. They aren’t always happy at this stage of the
game, though. “Sometimes, it’s tough when you get a
spot that doesn’t want to adhere to rubber,” said Miller.
“I’ve never seen a perfect track. You can do the best you
can do, but it’s never going to be perfect.”
The next day I arrive at 7 a.m., and Miller is in the
sweeper. I’m a little disappointed. I’d hoped to ride along
this morning, but once the sweeper is in motion on the
track, it can’t stop; otherwise, it’ll tear into the surface
(Right) The starting-line crew, under the
direction of NHRA Chief Starter Rick
Stewart, left, brushes in absorbent
powder to clean up oil. (Above) The
team on Emergency Truck 1 assists the
starting-line crew with the dreaded job
of scraping the surface to fill bald spots
and evenly distribute heated rubber.
that they’ve been
smoothing. I make my
way to the compound and
find “Cal” and Conner
preparing to spray the
track with liquid VHT.
Three barrels of VHT
are loaded into the truck,
and Miller and Conner
lift a small Briggs &
Stratton motor on top of
one. A hose connects the
motor and barrel to an
aluminum T-bar with a
series of nozzles.
“Double R” hops on
the tailgate and grabs the
T-bar, Conner starts the
small motor atop the
barrel, and we head down
the track. We spray up
and down each lane from
guardwall to guardwall,
emptying and switching
barrels as we go, and
after our final pass, the
track has a glossy sheen.
“It looks real good,” says
Miller, and “Double R”
turns off the sprayer at
the scoreboards.
Thursday, 7 a.m.
First day of the event
Crosby is on the red
tractor dragging the hollowed slicks on the front to lay
down fresh rubber, something he does two hours before
the event each morning. Conner is filling the sticky pig, a
blue barrel that hitches to the back of a golf cart and
sprays VHT through a long row of nozzles attached to the
back. Once the sticky pig is filled, we begin to spray. This
is the final step before the event begins, and the Safety
Safari has done all that’s within its power to make the
track as safe and ready for record-setting runs as possible.
I’m on Emergency 1 today, the truck closest to the
starting line. Each station is staffed by workers who have
used vacation time from everyday jobs to be here. I meet
the Emergency 1 boss, Terry Coffield, who introduces me
to Willy Stambaugh, Tom Balzarini, Gary Bush, Tom
Kennedy, Ray Conklin, and Jeff Tolstead. They’re all
happy to see one another, and Balzarini jokingly says,
“It’s the beginning of the year. About Seattle, we’ll all
hate each other.”“
Hall and Roger Brown, a fire-equipment
salesman from Kansas, are also at the starting line
as the day begins — they ride quads equipped with
everything needed to tow cars
off the track — and NHRA Chief
Starter Rick Stewart, who
manages the starting-line crew
and works closely with the
Safety Safari, is in position as
the first pair of cars roll up to
the starting line.
Division 7 Director Mike Rice,
the radio monitor for this event,
called from the tower to inform
us that he saw oil on the track. A
truck swept in rice-hull ash, Safari
members combed the track on
foot picking up stray pieces, and
Miller, with me in the passenger
seat, swept after them. A few
minutes after our return, another
oildown was reported, and we
repeated the process.
Days before the first pair of cars roll from the staging lanes to the starting line, the Safety Safari
is hard at work. (Above left) “Double R” sprays a shiny layer of traction compound on the
surface. “A lot of people don’t realize what all goes on before a race even starts,” said Conner.
(Above right and below) Before and during the event, Conner and “Cal” let me tag along as they
towed the sticky pig, a barrel used to spray additional VHT on the surface as required.
Midway through the morning, Stewart and the
starting-line crew repaired a few bald spots. Stewart
spread powder with a lawn seeder and sprayed VHT
with a hand-sprayer. He requested a “two-lap pass” with
the red tractor, and Robin Crosby did it.
Later, Top Alcohol Funny Car driver Dan Dickey
got out of the groove and hit the wall. Unfortunately,
this was the part of the weekend when I learned the
hard way that if you aren’t in the truck when it’s
rolling, you’re not going anywhere. I began to half-run,
half-skip toward the already moving sweeper, but then
I remember that Miller couldn’t stop, so I watched
from a distance.
Before the Pro session, the starting-line crew and
Emergency 1 scrape the track. It’s a well-orchestrated
ballet. Teams of two work together, one pushing a longhandled
scraper while another heats the rubber with a
torch. They use the excess rubber to fill in bald spots
and smooth the first 50 feet. They then gradually work
their way out farther as the weekend progresses. John
Crosby drags with the tractor to finish the work.
The Pro session begins, and the radio traffic has
increased. A short while into the session, the monitor
radios, “He still going, ‘Cal?’ ” and “Cal,” from the top
end, responds “He might be going long — yep, we got one
in the sand.” Miller explains that the team at the top end
will pull the car out and fluff the sand, then smooth it
before finishing with light ripples. There is a science to
everything that they do.
“I’m going to need you down here in the left lane,
Rollie,” says “Cal.” Miller takes off into the swarm of
crew chiefs testing the stickiness of the track with the soles
of their shoes. He honks, and they give way. There are
multiple trucks on the scene, sweepers, tractors, quads,
and people on foot. It looks like magic the way they get
out of one another’s way at the last second, but Miller
tells me that in addition to the radio, they use signals, eye
contact, and nods to communicate with one another.
At the end of the day, most of the crew heads out to
to page 42
March 7, 2008 ✦ 41

● On Safari from page 41
dinner and to rest, but some
stay behind to prep the track
for the next day.
Friday, 7 a.m.
Second day of the event
“Double R” gives me
instructions for the day. “Now,
stay in the truck if something
happens,” he says and
introduces me to my new
office in the passenger seat of
Truck 2. Donald “Doc” Day, a
chiropractor from Colorado
who has been on Safety Safari for 15 years, introduces
the Emergency 2 crew. We’re stationed just past the
scoreboards.
Phil Bertuglia is an active-duty Air Force family
man, Mark and Cindi Adams are a married couple from
Denver who met in the fire service and have six
children between them, Darrell Goodwin is a building
contractor from nearby Arcadia who loves to surf, and
Donnie Butts, a stuntman from California, drives a
second scrubber at this end of the track.
Mark Adams, who is also the Division 5 safety
coordinator, points out the tools on the truck. A large
tank holds Cold Fire, a chemical mixed with water used
to suffocate fire. There are fire extinguishers, a wheel
dolly, and the Hurst tool, a large and heavy cutter
commonly known as the Jaws of Life.
Racing begins, and I’m talking to Joe Gaudy, a parttime
Safari member whose job for the weekend is opening
a gate as quickly as possible to allow Truck 2 to respond
or to let a slow car through. In the middle of our conversation,
Gaudy and Mark Adams bolt to the track. “Doc”
explains that there was a call on the radio about possible
fluid on the surface. They are always on their toes.
“It’s interesting how you can bring a team together a
few times a year and choreograph it so well,” says Mark
Adams upon their return. “We know what we’re each
going to do in a situation, and it’s almost natural
because of how many times we’ve done it. ‘Double R’
likes the idea of the same people doing the same things,
and it’s good for the drivers; they know what to expect.”
No one hesitates when they hear, “We got oil.” Cindi
Adams is in her position on the tailgate with a bag of
rice-hull ash, and Mark Adams and Bertuglia are on
42 ✦ National DRAGSTER
Emergency Truck 1 boss Terry Coffield, left, and tow
master Rowland Hall were among the many Safari
members kind enough to show me the ropes.
either side with brooms.
Gaudy opens the gate, and
“Doc” quickly drives
through. Once on the track,
“Doc” stops the truck and
gets out. He twists his feet
back and forth on the
surface, feeling for oil that
the eye can’t see, and he
and another Safari member
stand as markers at the
beginning and end of the
spill while cleanup begins.
Back at camp, the crew
slips into heavy fire suits and
helmets for the Alcohol and
Pro classes, and I join Conner trackside at 1,000 feet.
Conner watches the cars as they race toward the
finish line. He’s looking for any
kind of debris or oil, and his
intense stare as the cars race past
is followed by a swift hop over the
guardwall and a scrutiny of the
right and left lanes. Each time,
the observers give one another an
“all clear” wave before taking
position for the next run. After
Doug Herbert’s dragster heads
toward the centerline and ends up
in the sand trap, Conner calls me
out to the track. “See the tire
tracks,” he asks pointing to the
zigzag lines. “That gives us an
idea where to look for oil.” He and
several other trackside observers
do the twisty-foot dance, looking
for the precise beginning and end
of any oil that may have escaped
Herbert’s car.
After a pair of Funny Cars
race by, Conner goes to the track
and locates a patch of oil that
was visibly undetectable. Conner
says, “I didn’t see anything, but
the way the car acted, I thought
I’d better look.” Track scrubbers,
the sweeper, and the tractor are
deployed. Experience is
invaluable in this position.
(Above) When fire flared from Cruz Pedregon’s Funny Car, the Safety Safari was on the
scene before the car even came to a complete stop. “The process is simple,” said
“Cal” of responding to such an incident. “Make sure the driver’s okay, then take care
of the car.” (Right) “Doc,” formerly the Division 5 starter and now the full-time
Emergency Truck 2 driver, was a gracious host along with the rest of his team.
Saturday, 7 a.m.
Third day of the event
Randy Jenkins, a married
father of two who has been a
paramedic with the Houston
fire department for 30 years,
shares the responsibility of
driving Truck 3 with “Cal.” We
watch the cars slow to make the
bend at the top end before
coming to a stop a few feet
beyond where we are parked. In
addition to Jenkins, I meet Tim
Glasco, of Decatur, Ala.; Carol
Altrichter, a trauma center
nurse from Minnesota who has
been on the Safari for more
(Above) The big red tractor, usually driven
by Crosby, is equipped with a large brush, a
“box” that consists of a row of tires for
dragging down rubber, and vats of traction
compound that the tractor can spray from
the front with the squeeze of a lever.
(Below) Miller drives the sweeper truck, a
regenerative air sweeper that collects the
oil-absorbing rice-hull ash, debris, and
water from the track. The 110-galloncapacity
hopper must be emptied of debris
periodically throughout the event.
than 20 years; Joe Ward, of Topeka; Ernie Martin, a
construction inspector who has been part of the team as
long as Altrichter; Dave Caslin, a paramedic ER nurse
and EMS coordinator for the event who is also “Popcorn’s”
son; and Houston firefighter Jimmy Ledbetter.
Lonnie Bevens, the top-end director responsible for
supervising the turnaround crew, and Rick Sumrall, a
machinist who has a lifetime full of racing behind him,
direct the cars as they exit the track. The hard-working
turnaround crew pushes cars off the track and rolls the
parachutes. Bob Marrazaz, Jerry Pascoe, Bill Lager,
Ricky Dearing, Steve Grimes, and Jeff Newsome are a
jovial bunch, and Pascoe tells me that like everyone else,
“we all have real jobs, but this a fun getaway for us.”
Sumrall, a well-respected man, says, “Feels like I’ve been
out here forever. I keep coming out here for the people.”
Glasco and Jenkins check the equipment before the
first pair fires up. Truck 3 has
the same safety equipment as
Truck 2, but the food doesn’t
appear to be quite as gourmet. I
spy a large tub of cheeseballs
being passed around.
A tray of cinnamon rolls is
dropped off. “From V. Gaines,”
Altrichter tells me. “He sends
something at every race, usually
cookies.” Gaines isn’t the only
appreciative racer. Later, Super
Comp racer Robert Broguiere
sends over ice-cold chocolate milk
from his family’s dairy. There are
a few other notoriously kind and
grateful drivers mentioned,
including Hillary Will, Jerry
Toliver, and Max Naylor.
“Cal” is behind the wheel of
Truck 3. With one eye on the
track, he explains that the parttime
crew changes at different
events. Part-timers are regional
and often work at tracks in
their respective divisions. He
tells me that full-time Safari
members James “Buggy”
Parker, Tim Rasmussen, and
Johnny Moto are always
around to help, and Dana
Bisbee and Chris Hill expertly
handle electronics and staging, respectively. [Director
of Emergency Medical Services] Dan Brickey is also a
key player. “Each person is important,” said “Cal.”
“Think of the different departments as part of a gear,
like the inside of a clock. Every piece needs to run
right to keep the correct time.”
“Cal’s” colorful description comes to an abrupt halt,
and he radios, “Looks like he’s going into the sand;
monitor.” He shifts into drive, and we race out of position
and pull up next to the sand trap just as Funny Car
newcomer Bob Tasca III bumps to a stop on “the beach.”
Everything happens lightning fast: Tasca is out of the
car, and the nose of the body is quickly dug out by the
Emergency 3 crewmembers, who are cumbersomely attired
in full fire gear. They lift the body and place it to the side,
and the chassis is hooked to tow straps and pulled
out before I even have a chance to write down a
word of what I’m seeing. My head is spinning
while several crewmembers are quickly evening out
the sand. “We don’t want any ruts,” says “Cal”
calmly as he climbs back into the driver’s seat.
“That could cause a car to launch.” All I can do is
nod my head.
Soon after, Cruz Pedregon’s Funny Car veers
to page 44

● On Safari from page 42
toward the wall on fire. We speed onto the track, and
several Safari members jump off the back of the truck
with blanket bottles and fire extinguishers with long
wands that reach beneath the flames. Pedregon is out of
the car and pacing.
“Make sure the fire is out,” he says as Poplin tries to
examine his nose and mouth to determine whether or not
he inhaled any fire. “Did we get a time slip?” asks
Pedregon. “How about the body, does it look bad?”
Pedregon is high on adrenaline, and although his pacing
appears to be making the job of the Safety Safari a little
difficult, within a few short minutes the car is off the
track and a massive cleanup is taking place. Even the
boss, “Double R,” is pushing a broom. A few minutes
later, the track is cleared and ready to go.
Sunday, 9:30 a.m.
Final day of event
Miller asks what my plan for the day is, and after a
brief discussion, it’s decided that I should spend the
first few Pro rounds at Emergency 2 and 3. “You
should see what happens at the starting line after the
final round,” he says. “Everything goes into different
trailers and gets packed up in a hurry, and what took
four or five days to set up comes down in about an
hour and a half.”
I head down to Emergency 2 for round one, and during
the first round of eliminations, Tony Pedregon’s Funny Car
explodes into flames, and debris rains onto the track. I’m
sitting next to “Doc” in Truck 2, and as he shifts the
idling truck into drive, my hand flies to cover my mouth.
I’m completely shocked, but the Safety Safari is not.
For the first 30 seconds after the explosion, I can’t
form a complete thought, but I can see Safari members
rushing around the track, picking up large and small
pieces of the Funny Car’s body. Later, my notes from the
first few minutes seemed foreign
to me: “Huge flash. Pieces
everywhere. Their shoes are
sticking, and John Force (who
was in the other lane) is yelling
on the PA system. Everyone is
moving so quickly, but they are
so calm.” I learn that Pedregon
was still tucked into the chassis
as it rolled down the track in
flames and that Emergency 3
extinguished. Pedregon’s hand is
burned, but he is okay. His car,
on the other hand, is toast.
My heart is still slamming
in my chest after the cleanup.
“Scared you, didn’t it?” “Doc”
asks. I nod and ask him what
he was thinking when he saw
the explosion. “I was thinking, ‘That’s going to be a
big mess,’ ” he replies. He trusts that every person is
going to do their job and that the outcome is going to
be okay, and his trust is deserved. Everyone did what
they were supposed to do. Gaudy comes to “Doc’s”
window and says, “I beat the debris to the gate, did
you see that?” I hadn’t even noticed, but Gaudy was
44 ✦ National DRAGSTER
quick on his feet to get
that gate open in time
for us to fly through it.
EMS Coordinator Dave Caslin rides with
Emergency Truck 3 to respond to incidents
and verify the well-being of the drivers
involved. The Safari members on the truck
must stay suited in full fire gear — hot,
bulky jackets, pants, and helmets —
during the Alcohol and Pro sessions.
Part-time Safari members Robin Crosby, right, and Donnie
Butts roll the track scrubbers down the track. The Zambonilike
machines thoroughly cleanse the surface with detergent
and emit flames to dry the track as they go along.
After the first round
of eliminations, I move to
Truck 3, and the rest of
the day goes by in a blur,
aside from the Safety
Safari parade. “Everyone
talks like they don’t like
it,” says Jenkins. “But
when it’s time, everyone
is on the truck.” As we
slowly roll in front of the
grandstands, we’re
cheered and showered
with words of gratitude. I
feel guilty being on the
receiving end of the
celebration, but I can’t
help feeling honored to
be part of something so
special and important.
Back at Emergency 3, I
ask “Double R” how he
feels the weekend went,
and he says, “All the cars
ran good, not too much
oil. All in all, it has been
a good weekend. Most of
all, it has been a safe
weekend.”
After the last Top Fuel
pair come around the
bend, “Cal” says, “That’d
be all she wrote,” and the
team quickly loads its
supplies onto the truck, ready to pack up and head to the
next event in Phoenix. “Cal” and
“Popcorn” alternate who drives the
18-wheeler between events, Crosby
and Robin will drive a new rig and
Emergency Truck 1, “Double R”
will pull the jet dryer, Conner will
pull the registration trailer behind
Truck 2, and Miller will drive the
sweeper. These guys are only at
the beginning of a long season on
the road and will probably log
somewhere in the neighborhood of
200 to 250 days on the road, but
each of these individuals appreciate
and are dedicated to the
adventurous, strenuous, and heroic
duty of the NHRA Safety Safari.
I ride with Glasco to the
compound so that I can say
goodbye to everyone who has been so helpful and kind
to me this weekend. As they smile and shake my
hand, they’re patting me on the back and thanking
me, an odd gesture because I feel so grateful for the
experience that they’ve willingly shared with me. I
should be thanking them (and I do, of course).
As I head home, I think back to the first day when
I questioned whether or
not I could fit in with
this group of people
who hold so much
serious responsibility in
the palm of their hands.
Turns out that it’s
pretty easy to fit
because they’re such a
great group, but the
truth is that being a
member of the NHRA
Not every incident calls for “all hands on deck,” but in some instances, every body and
every piece of equipment is needed for cleanup.
Safety Safari is one of the toughest, most demanding
jobs I’ve ever had the opportunity to observe. I’m so
keeping my day job. ND
(Above) Lonnie Bevens, left, the top-end director (commonly
known as TED), uses hand signals to let approaching drivers
know which car should exit first and where, exactly, the
turnoff is. (Below) The turnaround crew got the most exercise
during the weekend, pushing cars that run out of oomph off
the track and rolling up parachutes. “Because of them,
everything happens in a timely manner,” said part-time Safari
member Randy Jenkins.
Funny Car driver Scott Kalitta
was one of four drivers who
ended up in the sand at the
CARQUEST Auto Parts NHRA
Winternationals at Auto Club
Raceway at Pomona. As
Kalitta made his way across
“the beach,” the Safety Safari
worked to dig around the body
before towing the car out.