"I think the most significant thing is be calm. Don’t think you’re the only person that gets excited. I don’t know of any aviator that’s in a crisis that isn’t excited. The important thing is to really control that excitement. You’ve got to be on top of things at all times.

You need to be thinking, ‘What am I going to do if this happens?’ You don’t just have an engine failure, you have something else that comes with it; oil all over the windshield, fire, or smoke it the cockpit. Any number of things could spell disaster for you. If you think it all out, that’s a big step in the right direction.

I remember one occasion when Rick Brickert was on fire in Dago Red. I mean, he really had a bad one. He was covered in oil and smoke, and he had jettisoned his canopy. I was sitting right there on his wing, and I’m telling you he couldn’t see anything. I was telling him to turn left, now back to the right, easy does it... Talked him right through it. It took 13 minutes for the fire trucks to get to him on the runway. But he had done everything correctly."

"You want somebody who’s willing to take a bit of a chance, but knows the limitations. It’s what they talk about with a fighter pilot. You don’t want somebody out there, as they say, with their hair on fire. You don’t want to make a bad decision and not only jeopardize your life, but somebody else’s. But you want to be aggressive. There’s a fine balance there.

You’ve got to be able to fly formation and watch the guys on both sides of you. You’re primary objective is not to hit the guy you’re following; but you can’t always trust the guy that’s on your wing. It’s a difficult thing to keep an eye out on both sides of you. Then things get more complicated... You’re turning on systems, bringing the power up, closing the coolant doors, bringing the water on, monitoring pressures and temperatures. All the while you’re flying formation and coming down the chute. It can get pretty busy.

I was in it at full power, and I was seeing the most horsepower we’ve ever seen in Dreadnought - 75 inches and 3,000 rpm. It was pulling some really good manifold pressure. The most I had seen before was 72 inches. I was pulling enough MP so the temperature on the plugs started to break them down. I heard a tone change in the airplane, and then it backfired through the carburetor. It sneezed hard. It’s impressive from the cockpit, but it didn’t throw me around or anything. I told Dennis, ‘I’m getting out of it," which was an unfortunate choice of words. What I meant was I was getting out of the power. Everybody with a radio thought I was going to bail out of the airplane. I have the distinction of backfiring Dreadnought twice, and still get chided about it."

"I think you have to spend ten percent of your time flying and the rest enjoying it. Otherwise, you’re never gonna win. You’re never gonna get around. Also, you can’t be flying the airplane now, you’ve got to be flying it ten to fifteen seconds ahead of you. If you don’t do that, the airplane won’t go. Finally; it’s better to be lucky. When I was flying Stiletto, I wore a shirt that said, ‘Better to be lucky than good.’ The owner of the airplane, Alan Preston, had a shirt that said, ‘Better to be rich than lucky.’

Ninety percent of the guys out there could never fly a race and win, because they don’t have the skills to push the power up. They’re too afraid to die or that somebody is going to kill them. It’s kind of an individual spirit thing. There’s only one guy in there; you don’t see a four man racer.

In Tsunami, at the start of Sunday’s race, I almost ran it into the hill out there because the trim ran away on it. I stopped racing, initially, and I pulled the power off of it. After I got the trim all squared away, I had only come up to 90 inches and 3,200 rpm on the first lap. I only got a half lap behind at that power setting, which kind of amazed me. It also surprised me that nobody else passed me.

The second test flight I did in Tsunami, I had asked JR how fast he’d had the airplane. He said .8 Mach and 460 knots.. So I take the airplane up over the top of the airport and start diving it down across the runway. I was doing 447 - 450 indicated, and about .78 Mach. About 50 feet over the runway, the airplane just exploded. The whole bottom scoop came off the airplane, and it scattered pieces from one end of the airport to the other. I pulled up and landed. JR asked how fast I had the airplane going, and I said 447 and .78. He said, ‘What!?!? We’ve never had the airplane that fast before!’ I reminded him he told me it had been to .8 and 450. JR said, ‘Yeah, but I was lying.’"

"People think that race pilots are reckless, but that’s not what I think. I think that race pilots are very precalculated. You’re flying - obviously - very fast and very close to the ground. You use your tremendous hand-eye coordination, quicker reflexes, and putting all the things you’ve learned to use.

There are a lot of race pilots that we know about that probably don’t have great pilot skills or ability. Some of them are no longer with us. Some of them are very good friends of mine. Most of the old race pilots are ex-military. Tiger, myself and Billy Speer were probably among the few non-military unlimited air racers.

Rick Brickert and I didn’t get along 100 percent of the time, but he was a very good person. All of us basically watched him crash in the Pond Racer. He, apparently, had a double engine failure and wasn’t able to bring the aircraft back to the field. That was a tragedy. I still feel like I can pick up the phone and call him, like it didn’t really happen. But he’s really no longer here. That’s pretty difficult; not because I’m afraid it’s going to happen to me. It just takes a lot of the fire out of it. Is air racing that much fun to lose your life?

When I go out there, I’m thinking this the most stupid thing in the world. This is a tremendous waste of energy, time and effort, and there is absolutely no reason to be out here because it’s not even fun any more. By the time you join up, you’re heart rate is a little higher, and now it’s pretty cool. This is ok! This is worth it now. To think about all the great aviators that have preceded me in this exact same position in the sky. It’s such an honor to be there. By the time you’re coming down the chute, it’s ‘Look out, sucker!’ During the race, it’s the longest and shortest period of time. Why are these laps taking so long to finish? When it’s over, you wonder ‘what happened?’"

"I think it’s more than just flying, ‘cause there are some pilots up there that got a lot of hours - thousands of hours - that simply can’t fly the pylons. There are some up there who don’t have thousands of hours, but they can fly the pylons. When it comes to racing, I think it comes down to having the will to win. We understand that you have to have definite pilot skills - that’s a known. The ability to open your mind up and learn from the guys that have already done it. If you have those two attitudes, you can do it. You gotta look - and watch - all the time.

I only go to win. That’s the only reason that keeps me racing. The headaches of running a racer, putting up with 12 different minds, different crew attitudes, putting up with all that bullshit over as many years as I’ve done it. The only reward is when you’re coming down the chute and you put that thing to full power. So "competitive" is the only reason I go out. I only go to win.

The best mayday I had was when we blew an engine completely up. I’ve got it wicked up to 120 inches and calling for the qualifying clock coming around the backside at pylons five and six. At about six, it goes ‘bruuuuuup!’ No big deal... I just started climbing and circle to the left, and I’m looking good to come right around on 14. I’m watching - all the time watching... I’m trying to get it slowed down to gear speed, and pull the nose up even more. I hit 170 and select gear down, and then the engine quits totally. I lay it over to the left and I’m headed for that runway and about one-third of the way down it. I start feeling a pull on my shoulder straps. This thing is decelerating. What I don’t know is the engine is totally blown up. There’s no more pressure to the propeller, and the blades have gone to flat pitch.

So now I’m committed. I’m not going to want any flaps now. I’ll save them until the last second. The Mustang propeller in flat pitch is equal to full flaps. I keep nosing it over, nosing it over to probably thirty degrees to maintain speed. And it’s still decelerating! About halfway down, I’m thinking, ‘Jesus... I hope I can make the overrun!’ All kinds of smoke is coming off of the right side of the engine, so I pull the fire handle on the right side. I washed the window once. I don’t know if I am going to make it. I’m coming, I’m looking, I’m flaring, I’m holding, I’m holding, and I see the black of the runway.

From the point I see the black to the time I touch is one second. The only reason I know that is we got film. Then I pulled the left fire extinguisher. That was the hairiest one."