He Walks The Straight And Narrow

Eventually, according to one version, the two crews met in a restaurant in Riverside, Calif., and Petty had the common sense to announce an official end to it all. He edged Allison for the championship that year, though Allison won more races and was named Driver of the Year. Even today, Allison believes the two of them can't be friends until they've both retired from racing. He says he admires Petty as much as anyone he knows: "Richard treats people right whether they're rich, poor, famous, unknown, young, old or whatever. And he drives the wheels off a race car."

Off the track, Allison plays by apple pie rules. He's devoutly religious—a lifelong Catholic—and a faithful family man. He rarely denies requests for appearances for special causes, often quietly volunteering, turning up at schools for handicapped children and Boy Scout meetings. "All those favors get returned," he says simply.

He's unfailingly obliging to his fans and after a race will listen attentively to them, though they rarely say anything he hasn't heard thousands of times before. Last year, for the fourth time in his career, he was voted the most popular Grand National driver in a NASCAR poll among members. "Not fans, friends," he often says of his people.

As the fourth-oldest and most successful of 13 brothers and sisters, Allison has inherited the role of family leader and the responsibilities it entails. His siblings can turn to him if they're broke or hurting. His parents, in the 55th year of their marriage, live across the street from him in Hueytown, Ala., a suburb of Birmingham, in a double-wide mobile home he provided for them. His father, E.J., is known as Pop around the NASCAR garages. Bobby is, of course, the provider for his own family: Judy, his wife of 22 years; Carrie, 15; Clifford, 17; Bonnie, 19; and Davey, 21, who drives the local short tracks and prepares his car—one of Bobby's old ones—in the shop near the house.

Bobby says grace before meals in restaurants. His idea of a high time is taking the family to an amusement park and maybe a G-rated movie afterward. His race day routine includes Mass in the morning, and he sometimes brings a priest to the races, among them Father Dale Grubba, a friend and fan who moonlights from his parish work in Waterloo, Wis. to write for Stock Car Racing Magazine. About the only uncomplimentary thing that can be pinned on Allison off the track is that he sometimes yells at his wife and kids.

It does make one wonder: Could this be the same man who would push a competitor up against a wall, and maybe into it, at 190 mph? Well, Allison would say he never initiates, he only retaliates.

Allison's values present him with a moral dilemma in the NASCAR garages. NASCAR has this philosophy about rules enforcement: The more vague and arbitrary you are, the more power you have. NASCAR has an attitude toward cheating that not only tacitly encourages it but makes a game of it. And if you're a driver and your motto is "Whatever it takes," and a competitor has 50 more horsepower than you, and it's illegal horsepower and everybody knows it, then, says Allison, "you have to consider it." After all, you didn't initiate it.

"When I went to my first Grand National race, my car was dead legal and I noticed right away it looked different from the others," he says. "It was so high a tall dog could have run under it without even settin' his ears back. When I looked over and saw the next guy's car nearly dragging on the ground, I knew there was a big gray area as far as interpretation of the rules went." Like virtually all the top drivers, he has been caught and penalized for cheating. He maintains a sense of humor about it. Once, after arriving late for a Sunday morning drivers' meeting, he explained, "I was in church—praying nobody would find out what we've been doing to our car."

Allison was born and raised in Miami and in 1959 went to Alabama with his brother Donnie, a noted race driver in his own right, in a pickup truck, solely because the opportunity to race was greater there. He was 21 and Donnie 19, and they had no specific destination in Alabama in mind. They stopped for gas and asked where the nearest short track was and were pointed 100 miles north to Montgomery. For months they lived in their truck and $1.50-per-night boardinghouses while they raced. "It was the best thing I've ever done for my career," Allison says. "We could run Tuesday night, Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday night, Saturday afternoon, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon." In 1962 he won the NASCAR modified-special championship and did it again in 1963. In '64 and '65 he won the NASCAR modified championship, running as many as 100 races a year on tracks all over the country.

It's a pace he has largely maintained to this day; he still runs short tracks on week-nights between Grand National races, only now he flies to tracks in his Piper Aerostar, which he has converted into a Superstar with a kit that improves the aerodynamics and gives the two turbo-charged engines more horsepower. He loves flying and tinkering with the plane. "It's my one vice, my one special thing of my own," he says. He might hit 10 towns a week, crisscrossing the country for appointments: p.r. or testing or short-track races or personal appearances for worthy causes. Says his shop manager, Donnie Johnson, "Let me tell you something: If you want to keep up with Bobby, you best take you a big long nap first, because you're in for a busy time."