I've been sitting in shock since I heard the news, thinking how I wish I could have made it to his retirement party at Malvern, wish I had tried to find where he went in Florida so I could have tried to go see him since I'm down there all the time. Knew he wasn't doing well, but had no idea it was cancer. As AppleFrank said, he wouldn't have wanted it known, but I now realize he probably knew the last time I saw him, but didn't share, probably so we could enjoy the time. Someone posted on Facebook something that Peggy wrote, saying Joc would have been the first to say he enjoyed the ride. So much like him.
So I've been trying to collect thoughts and memories, something worthy of the friendship we shared. I first met him around the mid- 1980s, at Smith Rd. Raceway, back when George would come out in his boots, jeans and helmet (shirtless) and kick the butt off everyone. Joc would be there selling and telling stories in his inimitable fashion. I continued a casual customer-type relationship over alot of years, probably partly because I like to look at stuff (window-shopping), and liked to listen to him talk. When I ended up divorced and trying to maintain my riding, his prices and deals kept me in it. When I got married again and started my wife's son out riding, Joc's was the first place we went to get him gear. Pat took a liking to him right away (as all kids do), and liked hanging out at the trailer. We spent alot of Wednesdays at Smith Rd. and then started helping at the trailer from time to time. And then the fun really started.
He made Pat's jaw drop when we got him his first 125. It was a used bike, and the guy might have got one over on us (me) a little on the condition. We put an FMF pipe and silencer on it, and it was having issues. It was blubbering and bogging, and no amount of things I did helped. I says, "Let's take it to Joc, he'll know what to do." Pat is skeptical (coming up on the age when all adults become idiots), but follows along. Joc sends him into the trailer to get him his glasses and a screwdriver. Tells Pat (who Joc ALWAYS called "Patrick", as my wife recalls) to sit on it, and start it up. The he leans down, centers his glasses up and twiddles the airscrew til it sounded like it would holeshot an AMA National. Pats jaw dropped, Joc pops up with that "told you so" grin, and swaggers back to his chair. Pat ran to him everytime there was anything more than adjusting the chain for me to do thereafter.
Joc coached Pat on things as he progressed, and was as happy as we were when Pat took his first overall ever, at Smith Rd. We took Joc with us to dinner after that one, and I don't think any of us had much voice left from yelling.
When he needed help, we'd do what we could. I'd drive (along with John Goff) and the truck would be full going to the races, and Joc would sleep. When Joc drove, NO ONE slept. You didn't dare. You'd wake up doing 80, maybe in the median, maybe still on the road. The median times made you not sleep anymore. He told the most outrageous stories from his racing days, stuff that made MY joints ache, along with my stomach from laughing so hard. Stories from his Coast Guard days, funny and serious, they were riveting. That was a special time to him.
He got me my first journalist gig, helping Randy by writing for the CRA News. Somehow he thought I had talent. Which made me pic up a camera and try to get pics for the stories I wrote. He continued to compliment my writing, but didn't hold back when I did or said something dumb. Or detrimental to racing (which didn't happen more than once, and wasn't intentional. I don't remember what it was, but it never made it to print.) When Randy was on the way out, it was Joc who fronted the idea of letting me take over the CRA paper, and that was something special. I was so far over my head, and he just looks at me, almost confused, and says, "Why? You already write good, you're at the races alot, and you know all that computer s__t." Uh huh...not so much, but let's give it a try. You all know where that went, but it was some fun years trying to figure it out. He was ALWAYS our biggest fan, our biggest supporter during those years. I ran every idea I had by him, to test the merit. He'd been there, done that, and knew what he was talking about. He produced that paper when it was WAY more complicated than when I did it. He definitely knew what it took, from the hands on perspective.
So I go get a better camera and bring myself up to date, technologically. I had shot 35mm film shots, but never digital, and never with choice of lenses. He was a great critic, but when I got a handle on shooting, he was always looking them over, and having me send some for shirts, awards, whatever. I sit in my "mini man-cave" typing this, looking at trophies he made out of my pics (Pat's). It got to be a big deal to win a trophy with your own pic. He custom made a bunch when asked by the winners.
The road trips were the best...all the Malvern runs, which after a time meant a sure stop at the Waco Market for fried chicken. Pick up a big bucket with Jo-Jos and drive down the road pitching bones out the windows- all four of them. At the end of a season he looks over with chicken grease and breading all over, and says, "You know, someday they'll do an archeological dig here and be shocked. Someone will say, Look, they must have had a farm here....and slaughtered millions of chickens!!" Had tears in my eyes from that one.
The Summit Indoors meant a convoy, even though the trailer was placed on Thursday. All the awards, extra stock (massive quantities of hoodies for those who never remembered it was cold there), and extra help to sell. John, Sami, Liz, me, Pat, Ben Haehn, and who knows who else...truck, plus tow vehicle with trailer for the awards. It also was tradition to make a run to Swensons between the morning show and the evening show on Saturday night....and don't you dare take the burger Joc ordered special. Ketchup and onions only, as I recall. Mustard on dogs, ketchup on burgers.
Ben Haehn...I miss him. He showed me alot about announcing and let me fill in when he raced. Pretty soon, I gave him my ride so I could announce. That worked good late before I ended up having to leave. Joc loved him, told me having Ben announce was good for sales. Ben loved Joc, said he paid alot of Ben's college. We (Joc, Ben and I) were talking one night, and Ben is telling us about some college class he's in, and he's talking about how if you learn to do something on drugs or while drunk, you can't do it as well sober. Joc is trying to wrap around this notion and I pop up and say, "Well, isn't that because you're using different receptors, or because the receptors are altered?" They both look at me with their jaws hanging. I go, "What?" Ben says, "That's right!" Joc says, "Well, look who shows up? Dr. F___ing Einstein, or some s__t!".
Pyma was always a good time, especially at the 3-day. He'd get the funniest face on Saturday night, because he'd have a couple beers (maybe, but he was such a lightweight) and just sit there grinning and taking no crap from no one. On regular race nights, it was always a late night drive back to Lodi, talking about the races of the weekend, what could be better and the funny stuff that happened. When I drove, he'd talk a while, then drift off and make up for the previous night's lack of sleep. Funny thing was, he'd be talking and drift off in the middle of a sentence....but when he woke up, he might pick up where he left off. Unbelievable, but true. I've bored hundreds with that story.
So one night, he's feeling all sporty and he's going to drive. We're heading out Rt. 6 and as usual, he's hauling ass (we're in the Chevy he had before the Dodge he ended with) and we're just shooting the bull, and all of a sudden I see white pass under the truck. I look around and see the yellow RR sign coming and going, and "OH CRAP JOC, THE TRACKS!!!!!" He lets off and hollers, "OH S__T, HANG ON!!" I swear we (truck and trailer too) were airborne, because it was smooth for a second, and then the sickening crunch afterwards. Sparks and everything. He comes to a halt, eyes all wide and says, "I supposed we oughta check this b___h out". Ya think?? We got flashlights out and find NOTHING wrong, just a couple scrapes underneath (that made the sparks). We laughed about that everytime thereafter, reminding each other, "Hey Chris, watch the tracks". Uh huh, but we'd laugh every time.
The time we tried Scenic, and he looks up that driveway and says....the usual. Then he clicks into 4Low, and crawls up the drive in second (maybe third) and when it feels like we're laying on our backs, he makes like the grinch, flicking his wrist like he has a whip. "Would you look at this f___ing view??"
And a whole bunch more...I missed it when I left, and I miss it now. I talked to him alot when I was out of work, went with him alot more then. Lost the paper when the CRA shut it down (that really made him unhappy, to say the least. I understood the economy thing, but still...) I talked to him alot about job prospects, and he always had some good advise. Some was sound, some was, "You know what? You think too f___ing much. Relax!" When I had to leave for this job in NJ, I went to see him. Told him it didn't look like I had a choice, and that I'd be back when I could. Thanked him for everything. And with tears in his eyes, he gets up and gives me a hug and tells me to go kick ass out in NJ. And now I can't even reminisce with him about it. Memories will have to do.
This has reached Rocket proportions....
Rest in peace, my friend. And thank you for keeping me in racing, for helping me show my sons the fun of racing, and showing me what racing is supposed to be. You surely knew it, from a hands-on perspective. Future generations will be missing out.