Small-town team contends 'we're not in over our head'

TOCCOA, Ga. -- "You missed the train," the caretaker says as I hold the door open to the tiny waiting area inside.

He sets down his plastic container of cleaning supplies, reaches up on the wall and pulls down a brochure for the Amtrak Crescent, with service to New York, Washington, Charlotte, Atlanta, Birmingham, New Orleans -- and Toccoa.

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A quick glance at the timetable and there it is: The southbound Crescent weaves its way down through the Piedmont and reaches here by 6:15 a.m., about an hour before the northbound train leaves New Orleans on the return trip at 9:57 p.m.

Yeah, I missed the train by almost seven hours.

The Amtrak station is in a small corner of the original Toccoa train station, recently refurbished and repainted in bright colors. The building stretches nearly a football field.

I can only imagine what it was like when rail was king in these parts. The caretaker was probably a young man back then.

For now, it's a quiet place, a handful of freight cars on the siding, a museum and offices taking up the rest of the station. From the looks of it, it's probably quiet even when the Crescent makes its twice-daily stop.

"There's a story in the Anderson paper today," the man says. "If we don't get more funding, they're gonna close down this route. That'd be a shame."

Across the from the train station is another kind of station -- WNEG-AM, with a classic window-front studio. They're broadcasting Skip Caray and the Braves, taking on the Reds a couple of hours south in Atlanta.

The game's in the fourth inning as I head a couple of miles east on Highway 17, passing the usual fast-food chains and strip mall shopping centers. My destination? A nondescript, small square building on the right, just past the Toccoa Triple Cinema.

It's a typical garage, the kind where you might get your alternator replaced or perhaps a new set of tires. Both bay doors are open, and it's only when you get a little closer you realize those are a couple of Dodge Charger racecars on jackstands with the hoods up. And a classic Volkswagen Beetle.

"I'm charging the battery in the boss' car," says car chief Charles Swing.

Can you imagine Chad Knaus doing that for Rick Hendrick?

Welcome to Toccoa, Ga., perhaps the unlikeliest place to find a Nextel Cup garage in today's high-tech, high-dollar NASCAR.

This is the home of E&M Motorsports, although the sign out front still says R&J Racing. Oh, and the marquee reads "Kobalt 500, Atlanta Speedway, John Andretti" -- which was back in March. But when you're a small-time operation competing in the big leagues, switching the letters on the sign can wait.

Team owner John Carter recently split his operation from Front Row Motorsports and purchased the No. 08 with plans to run several races this season, beginning with the Allstate 400 at the Brickyard, perhaps with Andretti behind the wheel.

This is the literal definition of a three-car team. There are three cars in the main garage -- which probably isn't as large as the reception area at Roush Fenway Racing -- plus an old superspeedway car in the auxiliary garage. And the car that Boris Said totaled at Charlotte, its front clips drooping like arthritic elbows.

Swing is on the phone to crew chief Mark Tutor in Charlotte. Swing's job in Toccoa is to prep the cars with the correct setups and make sure they pass tech inspection without much fuss. When you're last in the inspection line, you want everything to go without a hitch.

"We've worked hard, we've barely missed races this season," says Swing, who grew up in a racing family in Cleveland, about halfway between Toccoa and Dawsonville. "It's just hard being out of the top 35 to make 'em, especially if you're an independent team. But we just keep going hard at it. The team's got a lot of heart and that means a lot.

"You've got to enjoy it to stay in it. Sometimes you've got to have the money to survive."

E&M Motorsports (top) is revving its engine in sleepy Toccoa, Ga.

The clock tower on the Stephens County courthouse still keeps perfect time, according to my watch. It's a little past 3 and I'm looking for a place to park the truck in the shade. John Carter won't be back from Winder for another hour, so I swing by downtown.

The manicured courthouse lawn is a beautiful shade of mint, but across the street, it's a different story. The old downtown is nearly deserted. Large chunks of plaster are missing from some buildings. Others have boarded-up windows and doors.

Later, inside the Dairy Queen -- and what small town doesn't have a Dairy Queen? -- I notice a framed painting showing Toccoa 50 years ago, in all its glory. There used to be a Belk and a Rexall and some clothing stores and an auto parts dealer, and people would fill the parking spaces to shop downtown.

Those stores are still in Toccoa, only they're on Highway 17. When the highway was built, most of the downtown businesses opted to relocate. At some point, city leaders tried to resurrect the downtown by making a pedestrian mall. Instead, it's just a mass of concrete slabs and cement pavers, and feels like a man-made, solar powered blast furnace in the middle of July.

Only a handful of folks were browsing the few stores that are left. The driver's license office was getting the most business. The only person who appeared to be happy was the man who had just exited the loan office and loudly exclaimed to no one in particular, "Only three more payments to go!"

According to the bank thermometer, it's 90 in the shade and beads of perspiration are now beginning to cover Charles Swing's cheeks and the creases in his face. He takes his job very seriously, but his features betray him as the type of man who loves a big laugh now and then.

This job certainly fits that description. He's trying to prepare two cars for Indianapolis Motor Speedway in a clean but cramped garage no bigger than a Jiffy Lube and it's just him and a skinny kid named Johnny who has an advantage because "he's small and can get inside these cars," admits Swing, who could probably get through the driver's window but it might be a snug fit.

"They're Evernham cars and they've been real good cars," says Swing. "You've just gotta put what you can put into them. My crew chief's in Charlotte and he's got good resources and passes all the information to me.

"If I don't have it, I can get it here overnight, any parts I need. The bigger teams, everything is in-house, which is a big plus. Other than that, it's what you put into them that makes them run good. And if you get yourself a good driver in there who's not afraid to mash the gas and confident in the team that's working on the car, you can be successful."

According to WNEG, the Braves are now winning, but Swing, who's wearing a red Braves T-shirt and shorts, doesn't have time to pay attention to things like ballgames right now. There's country music blaring over the noise of the big propeller fan in the back that's desperately trying to stir up some cool air on this sultry July afternoon.

The garage is air-conditioned but Swing would rather run the fan and save the money. When you're pinching pennies, it's all about putting money into making the car go fast, not creature comforts.

"You go up [to North Carolina] and it's nice," says Swing. "I've set my car up at Front Row Motorsports and they've got a lot of equipment up there.

"You don't have to worry about nothing. If you need a milling machine, it's there. Just having the equipment to do stuff with makes life a lot easier."

The office at E&M Motorsports is spartan at best: a long table and three folding chairs. Taking a break from race preparation, Swing and Doug Barron, who helps handle the team's publicity, are checking out the upcoming auction of McGlynn Racing's equipment. The No. 74 went out of business earlier this season and Swing is making a wish list of what he sees on the Internet.

E&M doesn't scrounge for equipment, but why pay full price when you can get the same items at a steep discount?

"There's stuff rusting in the back of some shops in Charlotte that we would drool over," says Barron.

Toccoa is in the extreme northeast corner of Georgia, where the Appalachians fall off to the Piedmont. It's a pretty place but not a tourist destination, unless you include Toccoa Falls. Located on the grounds of a small-town college, for a minimal fee you can walk through the gift shop, hike a couple hundred yards down a gravel path and experience unbelievable beauty.

Unfortunately, Toccoa Falls provided some unbelievable tragedy on a rainy November night in 1977. As the students and faculty slept, the dam that holds Kelly Barnes Reservoir failed, sending a torrent of water smashing into the campus and killing 39 people.

Charles Swing doesn't have time for history lessons. The primary car is waiting for a steering box modification, requested by John Andretti. The backup is missing its transmission. And both cars need to be on the hauler to Charlotte by the weekend.

"Me, I'm the type of person who will plan a week ahead," says Swing. "And if something doesn't go to my liking, it kind of puts me into a turmoil state of mind. I've had some setbacks this week. I planned on getting up [to North Carolina] to the tech shed and running my car through the tech templates.

John Carter

"I planned on getting it to the squash rigs and let them pull the car just so I can look at everything. This didn't happen that way so it puts you back, so I'm just trying to do what I can do right now until I can get up there Friday."

While the big teams in North Carolina coldly treat car preparation like an assembly line, Swing is literally sweating over every decision.

The ballgame appears to be heading for extra innings and on the radio, Caray mentions the dark clouds surrounding the ballpark. It's getting that way in Toccoa, too, as the sky to the north begins to take on the color of dirty dishwater. The closeness of the rain just makes the air feel heavier.

A flatbed truck pulls into the parking lot and a man wearing a gray T-shirt, jeans and with a neatly trimmed, primer-gray beard climbs out of the cab, dodging the few raindrops that have begun to fall. John Carter is a hands-on working man. He made his money in recycling -- and still operates the business, driving his own truck when he sees the need.

Carter looks to be in as superb a shape as a man half of his age. Only the color of his hair and lines on his face give his secret away. He might be the only car owner in Nextel Cup willing and able to climb under the car to change the oil if asked.

Carter explains the idea behind running his own operation with the No. 08.

"I didn't have the No. 37 anymore and I wanted to have my own number back again," says Carter. "I called NASCAR and told them I wanted the No. 08. They let me have it. So we're going to Indianapolis and hopefully John's going to run with us. If not, we'll have a top-notch driver in the car. We've got the same car we ran last year and we'll have a really good shot."

And Carter takes pride in his team, despite facing long odds every week. Mike Skinner qualified this car 17th at Indy last year and Bill Elliott finished in the top 20 at Kansas.

"As far as racing with these boys, we're not in over our heads," says Carter. "We can race with anybody out there. Right now, if we can make the race, we've got a good chance of winning the race. With the top 35 [rule] the way it's set up, that kills the little teams. If they do away with the top 35 [rule], we can run with anybody out there.

"In two races this year, when qualifying was over this year, we were in the top 43 and that would have put us in the race."

Carter says there's no reason why every team has to be located in Charlotte.

"It's really an advantage [to be in Toccoa] because we can have everything shipped overnight now," says Carter, Toccoa-born and bred. "It ain't like it used to be when it would take a week to get something. We can order anything from Charlotte and get it the next day.

"The only disadvantage here, we don't have the technology, like all the rigs and stuff to put our cars on up there. But I'd rather have the shop here than North Carolina, any day."

As I leave the shop, the skies open up and I'm forced to turn on the windshield wipers. Not too far down the road, there's a brand-new Wal-Mart supercenter at the Toccoa Bypass. It's quite a juxtaposition -- the businesses that deserted downtown 25 years ago now find themselves threatened by a big-box, deep-pockets retailer.

It's the evolution of progress, of the future replacing the present and the past. It's happening in Toccoa -- and in NASCAR, where independent teams like John Carter's face an incredible challenge.

"Everything's coming out of my pocket," says Carter. "We've had people help us but we haven't had anybody major, which we need. It's tough when you take money out of your pocket. These big teams don't take money out of their pocket.

"It's a whole different ballgame if they had to take money out of their pocket. It's just like the two teams that had trouble -- the 13 and 14 -- they got sponsorship and they folded and we're still out there running against them and we can outrun them."

What happens in North Carolina reverberates through little shops like E&M. Every time one of the mega-teams considers adding another car, it just makes Carter tread water even more vigorously. Carter has plans to build a 4,000-square foot shop at a nearby location. But it all comes back to sponsorship.

"If we get sponsorship, we'll go out and get some more cars," he says. "I don't have any Cars of Tomorrow, but I can get some. If I can get some sponsorship, that's all I'd like, a little bit of money.

"We need sponsorship, because to build the Car of Tomorrow, we've got to start right now building for next year," says Carter. "Next year, we've got a good shot because everybody's got the same advantage. The Car of Tomorrow is for the small teams, too. We've all got a shot with the Car of Tomorrow."

Publicist Alan Duke is meeting with potential sponsors, perhaps one that might provide the cash flow needed to take the team out of its "hand-to-mouth" existence. In any case, the No. 08 will show up at Indianapolis.

There's a rumble in the distance. It could be thunder, an 18-wheeler going by or a freight train. Or more change on the horizon.

The rain has let up, so I stop to fill up the tank -- Toccoa has some of the best gas prices in the state -- and head back up the grade to Highway 365 and home. The Braves and Reds are in the 14th inning when WNEG's signal turns to static, punctuated only by the scratches caused by lightning.

In about five hours, the northbound Crescent will pull into Toccoa again.