Ron Kantowski

Having witnessed the recent UNLV-Hawaii football game at Sam Boyd Stadium as well as Saturday night’s third annual Monster Energy Cup at the little stadium on the outskirts of town, I have come to the conclusion that UNLV would be better off if Tim Cornett were allowed to ride a 450cc dirt bike on game days.

Think about it: A.J. Foyt, Al Unser and Rick Mears are the greatest Indy 500 drivers of all time. Each won four times. George Bignotti won seven Indy 500s as crew chief. He was the original Mr. Goodwrench.

This is a story that begins on Easter Sunday, 1991. On that day, Darrell Gwynn, the popular NHRA drag racer from Florida, was doing exhibition runs in England when his Top Fuel dragster spun out of control and slammed into the wall at 240 mph.

If you ask me, Kowalski from the 1971 movie “Vanishing Point” is the greatest race-car driver of all time. Kurt Busch of Las Vegas is second.

These are some of the elements I think of when I think of an ideal Fourth of July celebration. Or, as often is the case, an ideal Third of July celebration, because most people have the Fourth off, and if they celebrate on the Third, then they have a day to recuperate:

Gentlemen, start your steam shovels.

It’s late Thursday before the 97th running of the Indianapolis 500. We’re hungry. There’s a Waffle House directly in front of the Quality Inn & Suites just off South Lynhurst Drive, a couple of miles from the track. So I’m having one. It’s as big as the plate.

To most people without grease under their fingernails, to people without calendars in the garage showing scantily clad women striking suggestive poses in front of candy-flake Camaros and GTOs, to people without a need for speed, they are little more than car No. 77, car No. 55, car No. 81. Three numbers in the official program.

One of the biggest UNLV boosters I’ve known was an old Marine named Bob Snyder. He became a friend. He became a friend of the old baseball manager Dick Williams, too. We’d meet on Thursday for lunch with some other old baseball guys. But then Dick died, and then last September, I guess it was, Bob died, too.

The first car I owned in Las Vegas was a pre-owned 1983 Subaru GL sedan. Its official color was Extra Black. When I signed the cocktail napkin/lease, its unofficial color was Sunbaked Gray. Never buy a car with an Extra Black paint job in the desert.