Not that Jones was a miserable guy; far from it. He loved it when Doug Wolfgang, Sammy Swindell, Steve Kinser, Billy Vukovich, or any of his racing friends called or stopped by his shop.
A couple of years ago, I got a call from longtime sprint car owner Guy Forbrook. Guy was talking about chassis setups and I suggested that he call Jones.
Guy said, “Do you think he’d want to discuss that with me?”
I replied, “He’d love it.”
Guy took down Bubby’s number, then he put things in perspective. “Sammy Swindell knows as much about racing and race cars as anybody I know,” said Forbrook, “and he thinks Jones walks on water.”
Bubby was a serious guy but going up and down the highway with him wasn’t all work. There were plenty of laughs, too. Once, on a trip from Indiana to Phoenix for the Western States at Manzanita, with me driving and Bub sleeping in the rear seat of his dually, I actually lost him at a truck stop in Tucumcari, N.M. He had slipped away while I was refueling the rig. I found him inside at the luncheon counter, sweet-talking a waitress.
“Sit down, Timmy,” he said. “Have a piece of pie.”
We made it to Manzanita and got things ready for hot laps. Bub was waiting to be pushed off when Kenny Weld strolled up to the car. I thought this was a bit odd, since Jones had mentioned to me that, somehow, he’d never met Weld.
Kenny stood there for a minute, staring down into the cockpit. Finally, Bub looked up and asked, “Hey, what’s going on?”
Weld replied, “I just thought I’d come over here and see if your balls are as big as everybody says they are.”
As Weld turned and walked away, Bubby’s eyes lit up.
He said, “I like that guy.”
A TEACHER
Earlier, I mentioned that one short conversation with Bubby in 1976 changed my life. That’s true. He challenged me and taught me that if you want to be a winner, you’ve got to be ready to raise your game. He gave me confidence.
And I’m sure that working alongside him put me on the map in the eyes of some people, because just being associated with Bubby Jones would give anyone extra credibility as a racer.
Over the last several years, Ol’ Bub began to slow down, confronted by multiple health issues. When possible, he would get out and have lunch with friends, but toward the end even that became too difficult.
He passed away late in the evening on Jan. 18, just as the checkered flag waved at the Chili Bowl, with his beloved Patti at his side. Eleven days later, a celebration of life was held in his honor at USAC’s new office building in Indianapolis and the place was packed with racers young and old: drivers, mechanics, friends, fans. There were tears, there was laughter and the stories went on for hours.
Standing there, taking it all in, his buddy Larry Henry said to me, “I don’t know if Bub ever really figured out how much he meant to people.”