Many know the name Gene Fulton for his prowess in building ultra-fast, nitrous-injected engines for Pro Modifieds and other kinds of outlaw doorslammer competition. In the previous chapter of his racing life, Spartanburg, South Carolina's Fulton was a very successful class racer and won five world championships to prove it.

Many know the name Gene Fulton for his prowess in building ultra-fast, nitrous-injected engines for Pro Modifieds and other kinds of outlaw doorslammer competition. In the previous chapter of his racing life, Spartanburg, South Carolina's Fulton was a very successful class racer and won five world championships to prove it.

Fulton's defining car was a classic 1964 Chevy II wagon he ran within the Modified Production ranks and dominated the division. During one fateful run during the 1978 IHRA Spring Nationals, Fulton was struck by an opponent who broke a spindle in the lights and crossed the center-line. The subsequent collision sent Fulton barrell-rolling through the shutdown area and to the hospital. He was banged up enough to have a hospital stay.

The Wagon was pronouned dead at the scene of the accident and later buried behind Fulton's race engine shop never to race again. Fulton's list of race cars after the wagon included a Chevrolet Monza, Corvette Stingray and late-model Camaro. Fulton just couldn't build another wagon.

Maybe some things were left better undone. Maybe they needed closure.

Perhaps a group of Fulton fans have decided another White Wagon tribute needs to gear-jam its way down the strip. Maybe such a move might just be underway as we type this news item.

Imagine, if you will, three decades later, a white 1964 Chevy II wagon rolls to the starting line with a small block Chevy under the hood and a four-speed transmission in the drivetrain. Imagine the old Volkswagen seat Fulton strapped himself into, complete with the seat cover emblazoned with a trademark brown and yellow floral pattern.

Close your eyes and imagine the 40-pound flywheel zinging the RPMs and the subsequent launch raising the front-end in the air and the straight-down wheelie bars into the racing surface. Maybe just maybe, the legendary driver with the open-face helmet and the bullhorns (or whatever beast they came from) guiding the car and pulling the gears.

You never know.