Childhood Friend Mike Sforza
My father and Mike go way back. I came to know this man, more so, after the death of my Dad. I was honored to have had the time, but wished I had paid more attention before.
Mike was inducted into the Hall of Fame the year before my Dad. Mike expressed how, ‘being nominated was the only time he felt that somebody truly recognized him.’ Sadly, this is the case for many monumental souls.
As I spoke with Mike, I saw bits and pieces of my Dad.
Funny, it is said that the people that surround you ‘mirror’ you. You can’t be part of a life, and not impact that life. Birds of a feather... Mike had notable similarities and it was easy to see why they were such good friends.
We turned through the pages of my fathers scrap book. Each picture - as well as Mike - told stories of a time gone by.
Mike was inducted into the Hall of Fame the year before my Dad. Mike expressed how, ‘being nominated was the only time he felt that somebody truly recognized him.’ Sadly, this is the case for many monumental souls.
As I spoke with Mike, I saw bits and pieces of my Dad.
Funny, it is said that the people that surround you ‘mirror’ you. You can’t be part of a life, and not impact that life. Birds of a feather... Mike had notable similarities and it was easy to see why they were such good friends.
We turned through the pages of my fathers scrap book. Each picture - as well as Mike - told stories of a time gone by.
Mike and my dad were friends long before Pacers and the Taz. He shared how he enjoyed many dinners at my Grandparents house, while visiting, or as he put it ‘hangin out.’ Even stories of many mornings where Mike roused my Dad for a day of racing. Complaints of how hard it was to wake Dad were entertaining. ‘It took so long to get him up?!!’
Really? My side of the story was that Dad was the first up in the house... no fun for us sleeping beauties - aka my sisters and I - who were woken by being literally bounced off the bed, or dumped out of a warm sleeping bag. All in fun, of course... aka his. Definitely one of those ‘you’ll laugh later’ stories.
Mike explained his version of how the name ‘Charlie Dodge’ came about.
My dad had a 1940 Ford, four door which he had hopes of putting a Hemi in. Unfortunately, at the time, a Hemi was too deep for his pockets. So he put the word out that he was looking for an engine. Mike got wind of a Red Ram being sold for $50, which he relayed to my dad.
It wasn’t long before dad was barreling down the road in his ‘baby’ now equipped with this ‘baby Chrysler’.
Dad drove over to see his buddies. As Mike saw him coming around the corner, he laughed and said, "Here comes Charlie Dodge!" That, as far as Mike was concerned, was how the name Charlie ‘Dodge’ came to be.
Mike told stories of racing. Of how you could feel ‘it’ on your body. Of how when they started racing they only had goggles. 'Leather face masks came out later which helped. The faster you’d go the more you felt the mask pressing into your skin. Everything was a blur racing down the track. You had to be prepared to pull the shoot. 7 seconds was all you had to make your mark.' I listened to how his car flipped... and how, thankfully, like a miracle he got out of the car and walked away!
The ‘Patrician’ was Mike's car, and is now displayed in a museum. 'Don Garlits redid the car ...the headers have been changed. For the most part any changes that were done, were with the utmost respect for the car. Even going as far as measuring the writing and matching the gold leafing before repainting.'
Flipping the scrapbook pages, each picture had its own tale. The photo of ‘The Pride’ brought back a flood of memories.
‘This is the car! We had more fun in this ‘32. This is the one your father rode in with me to Florida.’
