BC-CAR--NASCAR-Remembering Benny,0796
HARRIS ON RACING: Losing everybody's friend.
Eds: Mike Harris has been with The Associated Press since 1969 and has covered auto racing full-time since 1980.
By MIKE HARRIS
AP Auto Racing Writer
The first time I saw Benny Parsons, he was sitting on a pile of tires at Riverside International Speedway, smiling and telling racing stories to a rapt audience of drivers, mechanics and reporters.
That day in January 1980 was also my first day covering NASCAR and I didn't know more than a handful of people in that garage area.
I stood at the edge of the group gathered around Benny and listened as the former NASCAR champion and one of the sport's most popular drivers told self-deprecating stories and had everybody laughing -- with him, not at him.
As it came time to get into their cars for practice, the group broke up, but Benny took another moment to say hello to a stranger, one who apparently looked pretty lost.
``Hey, if you ever need anything, just let me know,'' Benny said.
He meant it.
Over the next 26 years, I came to know Benny Parsons as a friend and truly admire him as a person. I never knew anybody who met the humble man from rural North Carolina without becoming his friend -- at least in Benny's mind.
And, by the way: Despite looking more like a friendly store clerk or school teacher, he was a pretty good driver, too, although you'd never know it from most of the stories he told.
In 1982, Benny became the first driver to qualify for a stock car race at more than 200 mph on the big oval at Talladega, Ala.
When Benny got out of the car and removed his helmet, he looked like he was in pain.
``I've got to tell you, that scared the you-know-what out of me,'' Benny said, shaking his head. ``I'm not sure it was worth it. That car was all over the track and I wasn't sure I was going to make it.''
Somebody asked him if that meant he couldn't do it again.
``Well, I think I could,'' Benny said, his grimace suddenly turning into a smile. ``I believe I could.''
In 1973, the former Detroit cab driver won his lone NASCAR championship. He did it despite winning only one of 28 races that season, and was often asked if consistency should be enough to win a title.
In 2003, Matt Kenseth also won only once -- in 36 races -- on the way to a championship. Benny said he felt for Kenseth, whose almost boring consistency spurred NASCAR boss Brian France to change the points system and install the Chase for the championship the next season.
``Sure, I'd have liked to win more race the year I won my championship,'' Benny said. ``And I know Matt would have liked more wins in 2003. But, you know what, we both won those championships with the rules that were in place at the time.
``That means we did our job the best we could do them. I know I never thought about giving back the trophy.''
The always chatty Parsons began his broadcasting career in the 1980s as a pit reporter for ESPN and TBS, while still racing a partial schedule.
After retiring from the cockpit following the 1988 season, he moved into the booth for good, first for ESPN and later for NBC and TNT, winning a Cable ACE Award for best sports analyst along the way.
Besides our friendship and love of racing, another thing Benny and I shared was our taste in books. He was a voracious reader of paperbacks and particularly loved mystery and intrigue.
In the spring of 1985, Benny and I got into a discussion about an author he had just discovered, one that I had not yet read. We were at North Carolina Motor Speedway in Rockingham, just 10 miles or so from his home in Ellerbe.
``Hey, follow me home after we get done tonight and I'll buy you dinner and give you a couple of his books,'' Benny said.
``Sure,'' I said.
We met as arranged, with me set to follow in my rental car. Race driver Benny took off down a back road near the track and left me, literally, in his dust. No cell phones in those days and I finally found my way to Ellerbe about an hour later. But I had no idea where to find Benny.
I stopped into a gas station and asked if anybody knew where Benny Parsons lived. Of course, they did.
When I pulled up in front of the house, there was Benny on the front stoop, waiting with a handful of paperback books and a huge smile.
Benny was always ready to help out a friend or pitch in for a charitable cause. He was known to be a pretty easy mark for old racers or old friends with hard-luck stories.
But, most of all, Benny was known for being a good guy, somebody you just loved being around.
So long ,BP. We're all going to miss you.
