Scott Gerkin was a small-town boy who followed his passion and became one of the greatest sprint car mechanics in the history of the sport.
He was a small-town boy who followed his passion and became one of the greatest sprint car mechanics in the history of the sport. Scott Gerkin lived a loud, accomplished life and left us far too soon.
Scott died on Nov. 8 following a brief illness. He was 62.
Examining his many achievements is straightforward, because Scott was a high-profile mechanic and his efforts were visible to many. There is the inevitable summary of his accomplishments: races won, championships won, win streaks and the like.
There are the more subtle, hidden accomplishments: tiny performance breakthroughs found in the engine room, small lessons learned and applied on the race track, somewhat-secret ideas and concepts that made Scott Gerkin a bona fide legend.
But the real story — describing the person behind the accomplishments — is a little more complex. You see, Scott was my friend.
That doesn‘t put me in limited company, to be sure; Scott made hundreds of friends along the million miles he logged while following his dream.
Saying goodbye to someone you care about is different than recording the passing of a distant figure. It‘s hard to remain objective and matter-of-fact when your heart is hurting.
Scott had a great life, and he told me more than once that he accomplished far more than he ever dreamed possible. Through a series of fortunate events Scott found himself immersed in racing, and he discovered that he was really good at working on a race car.
When it came right down to it, Scott accomplished something a great many people could only dream of: he made a successful living by working exclusively on race cars.
Other than a handful of days spanning the past 40-plus years, he spent his entire adult life devoted to full-time racing work.
That‘s something to be proud of.
But Scott wasn‘t just a routine mechanic; he proved to be ultra-successful. If you calculate all the wins he was a part of, it is awe-inspiring. He made it to the Hall of Fame and his numbers speak for themselves.
Scott is simply one of the most successful mechanics in the history of the sport. There is no point in embellishment; none is needed. He was a winner from the beginning and he was a winner all the way to the time when he finally stepped away from full-time racing.
It‘s a moment easily recalled, but it was a long time ago.
It was October of 1983 at Avilla Motor Speedway. The track has long ago gone away, but the memory of that night remains clear and sharp.
Randy Kinser was driving the Briscoe No. 5 sprinter, and he and Scott Gerkin made the drive up to the northeastern corner of Indiana for a Saturday night racing program.
Gerkin took care of the Briscoe car, along with team owner Richard Briscoe. Richard owned a mobile home dealership in Mitchell, Ind., and sometimes needed to stay home to tend to his business.
That sent Randy and Scott out on their own, riding in the old truck that hauled the race car.
Randy was the subject of one of my first writing features in Open Wheel magazine, submitted just a few weeks prior to that Avilla weekend. We formed an immediate friendship, and Randy suggested that I drive up and meet them at Avilla.
So, there we were, pitted next to Fred Linder, getting ready to go racing on a Saturday night.
One of the reasons this memory burns so brightly is because that night was the first time I was able to spend time with Scott Gerkin. He was kind of a slender guy, with an intense way about him. He had blonde, wiry hair and a sunburned face. He wasn‘t boisterous or talkative, but engaged easily in conversation if he was asked a question.
Each time Randy rolled onto the track Scott would watch the car. We would either walk over and watch from the fence, or we‘d climb up on the open trailer.
Scott would point out things the car was doing, and as soon as it had rolled to a stop in their pit he set about chasing whatever it was that might make it better.
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