He Makes Quickest Run to Finish in Drag History

Shirley Muldowney and I have something in common. She announced this week she will be finished with drag racing in November. Saturday was my final day. It was also my first day.

Of course, this puts me at odds with more than 30,000 people who paid at least $45 a ticket to watch Saturday’s NHRA Winternationals at the Pomona Raceway, and who seemed to enjoy every minute of the agonizing experience. They had an advantage on me, though, because many of them had brought earplugs, gas masks and a desire to be abused.

You try to take notes while holding a finger in each ear.

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NOW I know Muldowney has been driving cars for more than 30 years, but I asked her to put herself in my shoes as a bored spectator in search of Advil.

“It’s a happening,” she snapped. “It touches all your senses.”

“It assaults all your senses,” I said.

“It’s not noise,” she argued, and I noticed how loudly she talks. “It’s truly wonderful sound,” she screamed.

I said something about her being off her rocker, and a pair of veteran racing writers who had been eavesdropping on the conversation breathed a sigh of relief when she gave up and walked away.

“She’s really mellowed,” one of them said. “In her prime she’d have knocked you on your butt for saying that.”

If she has been hanging around drag racing for 30 years, she probably couldn’t hear what I was saying.

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THIS EVENT will draw more than 100,000 fans by today’s conclusion, so there’s no question there’s something that appeals to people here. I just have no idea what it is. Now it’s not as if I haven’t had experience with cars. I’m just more familiar with demolition derby because I have three women in the family who drive.

That’s why I took an interest in Rhonda Hartman-Smith, scheduled to race a quarter-mile in less than five seconds at more than 300 mph. My own daughter had tried the same thing in her Ford Escort, I believe two accidents ago.

Rhonda, a former cheerleader at San Dimas High, is married to John Smith, and they have a 4-year-old daughter, Megan. Husband and wife also compete against each other. Based on my own experiences, if it’s anything like fighting for the blankets at night, a woman can surprise you with her tenacity, strength and sheer will to stay warm.

That’s why I appreciate John Smith’s situation, Rhonda finishing as the ninth-best driver in the sport a year ago and John arranging it so he would be 10th and maintain matrimonial harmony. I know that’s the way he explained it to me.

“He did, did he?” Rhonda said.

He also said he has better reaction time at the start of races.

“He did, did he?” Rhonda said. “Well, he is better. But he wasn’t before. And he won’t be later.”

(I’ll bet John freezes most nights).

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BOTH RHONDA and John qualified for today’s top-fuel final, and I intend to check Monday’s newspaper to see how they fared. In the meantime, I intend to research the long-term effects of breathing nitromethane.

It’s hard to really explain the scene at Pomona. The drivers are friendly and sign autographs. It would help if they wore name tags so you could tell who they are. The pit area is open to the public and has a great carnival-like atmosphere. The fact that everyone walks around dressed like a billboard also adds to the colorful scene.

Everyone is friendly, really friendly. Jennifer Peck, working in Rhonda and John’s souvenir stand, rushed over to show me the handprint on the rear of her black stretch pants. Jennifer said one of two things happen when she shows people the logo back there -- they either grab it or associate the handprint with one of Rhonda’s sponsors -- you know, like I did.

“I’ve been married for 30 years,” I said, and Jennifer said, “No problem, we also have much baggier pants for $18.”

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BEFORE THE dragsters take to the track, they fire up their engines in the pit area, pop the throttle and let me tell you, John Madden doesn’t know boom when it comes to “BAM.” I have never heard anything louder, and I’ve eaten Thanksgiving dinner with Bubba I, Bubba II and Bubba III all talking at the same time.

The cars move to the track, roll through water and then take off as fast as they can, spinning tires and throwing up mountains of smoke to burn rubber. Once at the starting line they watch as the light turns from amber to green, the drivers trained to start on amber because their reaction time will actually have them taking off on the green. This would be fascinating, of course, if you weren’t being rocked by the sound of a dozen 747s taking off in your living room, or gasping for fresh air.

There are more than 500 cars of all varieties here, two-by-two coming to the starting line starting some time after 7 in the morning and going until almost dark. That’s like getting stuck in traffic on the way to Vegas, the wife telling you everything about her teaching day, and there’s no escape.

From what I can tell, it’s a great participation sport if you are a crew member or driver, but if you’re a fan of Rhonda’s, for example, she raced a total of less than 12 seconds Saturday -- and that’s because she had a bad day. On a good day, she’d be out there less than 10 seconds.

I turned around to ask another writer what he was doing for dinner, and I got a nudge from the guy next to me who said I just missed one of the five fastest times in the history of NHRA drag racing. You can imagine my disappointment.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com.