This message was edited on
February 23, 2007 at
03:10:52 PM by BIGFISH
Then Gary got his arm messed up, Kenny
Merle Bettenhausen still keeps both hands on the wheel. It's a little tougher in his case. Particularly since he lost his right arm in a crack-up trying to win the Michigan International 13 months ago. He's back racing midgets now, though, and handling the wheel fine.
Physically, I'm 100 percent normal, except I've got an arm missing and as far as I know, no one ever has run with one arm,says the friendly, outgoing 30-year-old son of the late Tony Bettenhausen, who was killed at Indianapolis 12 years ago practicing for the 500.
I crashed at Cambridge Junction, Michigan, on July 16,1972, and didn't race again until this past June 16, eleven months to the day. At first, when I came back, it felt a little funny. I really didn't know what it would be like driving one-handed. It turned out much more comfortable than I anticipated. I found out I was doing 90 percent of my driving left handed.
Merle Bettenhausen, whose two brothers--Gary, 31, and Tony Jr., 21--also race cars, is a remarkable young man on any number of counts.
First, because he'd even care to get back in a race car of any kind again and, second, because of his magnificent attitude since his accident. He's pleasant, cheerful, and helpful.
Those close to him say he has never grumbled or complained once about what happened to him. Nor does he go into a shell if the subject is brought up.
I'm not sensitive about it, he says. AIf you ask me what I think caused the accident, I'd say it was a combination of my inexperience, my first Indy type car race, and too fast a track. My car was not set up properly, either, but that's something I'd rather not go into.
Anyway, I was just coming around the second corner and completing the third lap when I apparently lost control and hit the guard rail. My car caught fire and hit the wall. I was in the car one minute and 15 seconds and tried getting out while it was still in motion, but it hit the wall again. That's when my arm was severed. I don't remember losing it. What I was concerned about was the fire.
The car finally stopped and the fire team got me out. My arm was gone. I was conscious through it all, and I remember going to the infield hospital and them working on me. Even though I knew I had lost my arm and was burned badly, it felt good to be out of the car.
AI remember them cutting off my fireproof long underwear. I was lying there only in my jockey shorts, and I though to myself, okay, that's neat. Then they began cutting off my jockey shorts. That upset me. It seemed like there were hundreds of people running around. Nurses, doctors, everyone. Why were they cutting off my shorts? They weren't on fire.
Merle's older brother, Gary, came by to see him at University of Michigan Hospital shortly afterward.
Well kid, you still wanna drive race cars? He inquired.
Uh-huh, said Merle, nodding affirmatively.
This really isn't anything new with him.
Merle Bettenhausen has wanted to race cars, the same way his daddy did, since he was a kid.
AI remember the day he died, May 12,1961, says Merle. AI was 17 years old. When they told me what happened, I was very upset. But I remember listening to the race that year and saying to myself that I still want to drive in the Indy 500 some day.
Merle and Gary are very close. They frequently talk about their father and about young Tony, Jr., now driving in stock car races.
Gary and I had more of a chance to learn from our father than Tony did, says Merle. He was only 10 at the time. Hardly a day goes by that Dad's memory doesn't linger on our minds. I remember him saying, If you do something, do it right or don't do it at all.
That's the way Merle Bettenhausen is trying to do it now--the right way.
When he said he'd like to race again after losing his arm, the only others who believed in him besides Gary and his wife, Leslie, were Steed Industries--makers of automotive additives--and the Marathon Oil Company. Both sponsor him now, but, basically, he still has to do it on his own.
AI have no other income except what I make racing, he says.
His big dream is to qualify for the Indianapolis 500, and he'd like to see Gary and Tony, Jr., in the race with him some day.
It would be something if we were the first three brothers to compete together at Indy, he says, his eyes lighting up. My dad tried to win in Indianapolis for many years and died there. Now it's up to one of us three brothers, more or less, to win the race for him.
To complete at Indianapolis, Merle Bettenhausen will, again, have to get his license there, and that may not be so easy.
It all depends on me, he says, candidly. In other words, if I show them I can drive any other race car, and drive it as well I did with two arms, then how can they really say no to me?
Half the lies they tell about me aren't true.
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