Think fast.

Not as in -- think fast and react -- but, think fast as in speed. Think fast as in blinding speed. Think fast. Think 200 miles per hour, strap yourself on, hit the gas and hope you come out the other side in one piece fast.

If you can wrap your mind around that type of fast, then you can begin to enter the mind of Bill Furr because that's the fast he knows. He knows what it's like to climb onto his Harley, jam the throttle down, and hang on until the front wheel finally touches a quarter mile later as he crosses the finish line. He knows what it's like when everything goes right.

But, when you make a living on a race track everything doesn't always go right. And, Furr knows that too. Out in front of the business he owns -- Orangeburg Cycle Shop -- his son, Armon, was busy last Thursday afternoon finishing the packing for a trip to Norwalk, Ohio. Some view racing as living life on the edge, but when most people think racing they think cars. Those guys have roll cages. This type of racing is the true life on the edge when it comes to motorsports. Mess up and there's no metal between flesh and asphalt.

And, the Furrs are two of the best at living on that edge. Armon is the defending All Harley Drag Racing (AHDRA) Pro Fuel Champion, and this year he's second in points. Bill's a legend on the circuit, but he's just getting back into the swing of things.

"Everyone in the family -- and I when I say family -- I mean everyone who races, hates to see (a wreck) happen," the younger Furr said as he stood, sweat dripping down his face, in the back of the trailer he had just finished packing in preparation for the trip.

As he talked he looked over he and his father's bikes. Across the way, in the yard of the house that sits in front of the shop, Bill popped the hood on his truck and started working with the engine. It's a long road to Ohio.

"I wasn't there when it happened. But, it does happen sometimes, and all you can do is prepare to make sure it doesn't. You know ... sometimes things happen and they could have been prevented," Armon continued. "That's why I'll just come in here some afternoons, grab a beer, and sit down and go over everything with a wrench just to make sure it's all tight.

"What happened to him couldn't have been prevented."

What happened was amazing, horrific, heart-stopping. It was April 19, 2004 and Furr was doing well at the Texas Motorplex in Dallas. He'd run one of his best times in qualifying, but they were chunking tires -- the tires don't go flat on the Harleys they just have chunks that come out, and the riders just pull the pieces away, hence chunking -- that day. Furr had chunked his tires four times.

He was going against Steve Stordeur, and he beat him right out of the blocks with a reaction time of .018 seconds. He flew down the track and at the quarter-mile speed gate he was clocked at nearly 215 mph. He crossed over the finish line, rumbled 300 more feet down the track, and then his rear tire exploded.

"I don't have a clue," he said. "I can't remember a thing from the wreck."

Furr came off the bike, hit the asphalt and slid another 400 feet down the Motorplex surface. His Harley kept on going another half mile before flipping over in the sandtraps at the end of the raceway. Team Owner Joey Mancuso raced to Furr's side and found him coming to. His $2,500 leather riding suit was shredded, his boots torn and his helmet was scratched all over. But, he was moving his arms and legs, and as he was loaded onto an ambulance he asked his son if he won and how fast he was going.

Bill had hit the track before, but he'd picked himself right back up, dusted off and kept on racing. He was alive, but this was different. He wasn't thinking clearly. This was no longer a matter of speed or wins or losses, it was a matter of life or death.

"He'd been down before," Armon said. "But, that was back in the days when they were riding those old, short, junky bikes and they were not going nearly as fast. So, it wasn't as bad before.

"But ... that was bad."

A helicopter flew Bill from the track to the Baylor University Medical Hospital. He'd stay there for eight days. A tube was put in his chest to relieve the pressure of a collapsed lung, and the list of injuries included a broken finger, several broken ribs and severe abrasions on an elbow and a knee.

"I was beat up, scratched up and I had road rash all over," he said.

The bike was beaten up pretty badly as well, but there were never any thoughts of putting it to rest. Instead, he recovered, and as soon as he was physically able, Furr took everything off the bike -- stripped it right down to the frame -- and took to task the reconstruction of his racing machine. All the while, he worked towards mentally preparing himself for the moment he would climb back on. At the time, he thought it would be weeks. It turned out to be much longer.

The place for his return turned out to be earmarked for Bristol, Tenn. in 2005. It was supposed to be the beginning of the "Bill is Back" tour that the shirts hanging in his shop windows promote. But, it wasn't to be. Bill torched a head in Tennessee, his bike caught fire, and the rebuilding had to begin all over again. But, again, he never put it to rest. He just built it right back up, and last year was his first full year back on the track. He finished seventh in the AHDRA.

"I haven't done as good as Armon," Bill said. "We have had some good runs and some mediocre runs. We haven't done as good as we need to, but we are making some changes to the motorcycle and testing a lot of stuff. We are just working some bugs out."

As Armon prepared to close up the trailer last Thursday afternoon, he took one final look at the inside.

"This is all I know," he said. "I know racing. I used to own a glass shop, but I hated doing glass work. I don't think I could go back to that. This is what I love to do, and it's what I know. If I were ever to go broke racing ... I don't know what I would do."

And, people ask Bill Furr why he still races.

"This is all I've done for the last 22 years ... drag race motorcycles," he said. "I just came off a motorcycle. I've come off before, but I've never gotten banged up like that. People say, 'You've got to be scared to get back on a motorcycle,' but you don't think about it.

"But, I know the next time something like that happens, I probably won't survive," he continued. "I was very fortunate. When you go tumbling down the road at 225 miles per hour, you are very lucky to come out of it alive."

This year, Furr is tied for 12th in the AHDRA's Top Fuel Division. In Norwalk over the weekend, Armon set records, registering speeds of 212 and 214 mph. Bill struggled when some parts failed on his bike, and Wednesday, his machine was torn down at his cycle shop. He'll have it back on the track soon enough because he's seen worse, it can be fixed -- Bill is back.

T&D Sports Writer Brian Linder can be reached by office phone at 533-5553 or by e-mail at blinder@timesanddemocrat.com.

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