Recalling Schrader's big win, it's about time to come clean

Few NASCAR drivers have been more fun-loving than Ken Schrader.

Oh, there were Joe Weatherly and Curtis Turner, whose antics in the wild and zany 1950s and ‘60s are legend. And lovable Jabe Thomas, who delighted, for example, in sneaking chicken bones into the pockets of rivals right before they got in their cars to start races.

Schrader, semi-retired from the NASCAR big-time, is of this sort. Ken’s penchant for practical jokes and witticisms comes to mind because this week marks the 20th anniversary of his greatest victory at NASCAR’s major level.

On Oct. 8, 1989, Schrader won the All Pro Auto Parts 500, driving a Hendrick Motorsports Chevrolet to the checkered flag at Charlotte Motor Speedway.

Schrader and his team, led by crew chief Richard Broome, were beyond delighted. The previous weekend a hard-luck season had hit rock bottom when crashes at North Wilkesboro Speedway cost the team three cars in three days.

I forgot the media code of impartiality the evening of Schrader’s Charlotte triumph, and celebrated with him and his teammates after filing stories for the Charlotte Observer.

I was glad for Ken, even though I’d sometimes been the target of his practical jokes and verbal jabs.

Besides, unknown to Kenny, I had more than exacted revenge during the summer of ‘89. This was achieved using my best media pal, Steve Waid, as an unwitting accomplice.

Here’s the story:

Schrader and Waid happened to move into the same upscale neighborhood in Concord, N.C.  In fact, they lived only a couple houses apart.

Waid began teasing Schrader about “running down the development.”   Observed Waid, “It wouldn’t surprise me if you put a bunch of those fake pink flamingos in your yard.”

Replied Schrader: “Steve, you’re the pink flamingo type. Don’t dare.”

This taunting continued through the spring at the various speedways.

Finally, there was an off weekend in the Winston Cup Series schedule. I learned that Schrader, as usual, was going to be away somewhere making a special appearance in a non-NASCAR race. And the Waid family was going to the beach on vacation.

A ha! I had my chance.

I went to a lawn and garden center and bought six pink flamingos.
Taking my teenage daughter Heather along as a lookout at about 1 p.m. on a dark night, I placed the tacky, phony birds on Waid’s lawn.

When Steve returned home, he and wife Margaret were appalled. Steve, of course, figured Schrader was the culprit.

And just as I knew he would, that very night Steve placed the flamingos in the yard of Schrader and his wife, Ann.

They, too, were mortified and guessed that Waid was the villain.

Schrader, under cover of darkness, returned the birds to Waid’s yard.

This back-and-forth swapping of the birds continued for weeks.

Finally, Ken and Steve convinced each other that neither had started the pink flamingo game.

Waid stashed the birds in his garage for years, just in case it could be learned who was behind the prank.

I’m astonished that he didn’t immediately suspect me, because I love this sort of stuff.  However, I had made a relatively clean getaway.

Now, after two decades, I figure the statute of limitations has passed.

I confess.

I did it.

Sorry (not really) Steve.

And to Kenny?

Gotcha!

Enjoy the 20th anniversary of that terrific triumph at Charlotte.