Drag Illustrated Issue 113, September 2016 | Page 56
D.I. COLUMNIST
On the Road
with Van Abernethy
A
dear lady named Pat
Prout once dreamed of owning a drag strip. But not just
any drag strip; it was the one she
amazingly fell in love with in 1971—
while on her honeymoon! Nestled
on the outskirts of a mountainous
region of North Carolina, it was a
small, country track built in 1955
near the town of North Wilkesboro.
Even back then, 45 years ago, and
through the starry eyes of a young
woman newly married, Pat says the
track just felt like home.
Pat was never a frilly girl who
fancied pearls and lace, you understand, she liked cars. Fast ones. Her
husband, Warren, custom built a
variety of Camaros for her over the
years. When it was time for Pat to
enter the workforce and bring home
a portion of the couple’s living, she
went to work in a machine shop for
23 years and to this day speaks of
all the interesting and fascinating
people she met there. She also
worked on a road crew for seven
years, all the while cultivating
an abiding love for cars and
racing.
Unfortunately, her life was
touched with tragedy in 2010
when Warren was suddenly diagnosed with stage-four cancer.
He passed shortly thereafter,
prompting Pat to place a call
to Holley Performance Products
to order a pair of 850 Double
Pumpers. Not for a race car,
you see, but rather, to use one
as an urn for Warren’s ashes
and have a matching carb of her
own for when that inevitable
time comes at the conclusion
of her own life. She remembers
the sales rep at Holley inquiring about desired jet sizes for
the carburetors. “Don’t need them,
hon,” she answered. “Gonna’ use
these carbs for urns.” The sales
rep was understandably stunned,
honored and no doubt filled with a
few other emotions. “Do you want
brand-new carburetors or rebuilt
ones?” he asked. Pat pondered on
that for a moment, then told him
that if she had her preference she’d
much rather have a pair that’s had
a little gasoline run through them!
You couldn’t hardly dream up a
more passionate story than the one
Pat Prout lives daily. Over
the years she’s driven fast
cars across the country,
subscribed to car magazines (including the one
you’re holding), and never
stopped attending drag
races—especially those
at Wilkesboro Dragway.
Then, one fateful night in 2014,
track owner Danny Dunn made the
announcement that he was shutting the place down. Immediately,
Pat felt a tug at her heart. A deeply
spiritual soul, she prayed and told
God she wanted this track. “Lord,
if this is your will for my life, you
make it happen and if not, give me
the strength to accept your will,
not mine.” Those are the words she
prayed.
She approached Dunn with a creative offer: “Would you like to swap
your track for my house?” she inquired. Danny was curious enough
light fixtures.
It was the ultimate
“woman cave” she said.
Her driveway was exactly
a quarter mile in length
and Pat says she routinely pretended that it was
her very own drag strip!
Dunn was so impressed
he said, “Sure, I’ll swap you my
track for your home!” And so the
exchange was made. Pat moved out
of her stunning mountain paradise
and relocated to North Wilkesboro,
more specifically, she moved into
the concession stand of the drag
strip, which had been remodeled
years earlier to include living quarters. And she’s never been happier
in her life.
Actually, there were several lifechanging events that happened
within the span of a month. In addition to jointly acquiring the track
with drag racer Phil Halbedel, the
that he went and looked at it. Positioned on a knoll in nearby Boone
was Pat’s beautiful home, with windows positioned all around, framing the picturesque mountain views
from nearly every angle. Her garage
was a sprawling masterpiece of living space that featured a carpeted
office, TV, bathroom, and of course,
lots of space for hot rods. Her decorative end tables were large, custom
cut pieces of glass placed on top of
racing slicks, and for chandeliers
she had converted three oil cans into
two were married on the starting
line moments before they started
calling cars to the lanes. She and
Phil exchanged vows while wearing
drag racing shirts and red racing
jackets! They basically said “I do”
not only to each other, but also to
the marriage of pouring their devotion into operating this drag strip. “I
told Phil that I couldn’t do it alone
and neither could he, but we could
certainly do it together.”
It should come as no surprise
that Pat is the one who has enough
passion for the both of them when
it comes to owning and operating
this track. “I call it my dream; Phil
calls it his nightmare!” she laughs.
Two years in though, they’re still
pretty smitten with the place—and
each other. The track signage reads,
“Come Play in Our Backyard.” And
Pat means that literally. The track
is so scenic, in fact, that she and
Phil occasionally receive calls from
young couples wanting to have
their engagement pictures taken
there. Pat and Phil welcome them
all. “We’re always open,” she smiles.
At 62 years of age, Pat is every
ounce the gearhead she’s always
been. Whenever Wilkesboro hosts
the Classic Gear Jammers organization, Pat insists that one of the
drivers take her for a ride in their
car, and when I say “ride” I’m talking about high-winding the engine,
dumping the clutch and giving Miss
Pat a good old fashioned adrenaline
rush! She loves it. Her passionate zeal for life in general and
especially this drag strip is difficult for some to comprehend.
Then there’s the couple’s appreciation for their staff, which
gets expressed often and with
genuine sincerity. On a weekly
basis she looks her employees
straight in the eyes and with
heartfelt emotion says, “I love
you.” She tells the ticket takers, the water box attendant,
the starter and the concession stand workers. “Phil and I
couldn’t run this track without
each of our employees. They’re
our family, we need each and
every one of them and I do love
them,” she insists. “I whisper a
prayer before each and every
race that everyone in attendance is kept safe.”
She also describes her feeling as
“giddy” whenever she hears the first
engine fire. And yes, whenever that
unavoidable day arrives, she’s left
specific instructions that her remains be placed safely in her Holley
carburetor. “Maybe my son would
like to put me up on the shelf of his
garage whenever he’s working on
his car! Or maybe the racers would
like to take turns taking me to their
house! It’s all good, hon, just as long
as I can keep hearing the sound.”
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