Vuky’s approach to these serious setbacks was typical Vukovich. No one would’ve suspected that he was concerned about winning another 500. In fact, his unique sense of humor, which he often used to convey a relaxed, calm exterior, seemed ramped up.
“Once,” recalled Travers, “I came to the garage and Vuky had hung an old army hand ax on the wall and labeled it, ‘Travers tools.’
“Another time,” continued Travers, “Vuky was sitting with his feet propped up on an old desk we had in the garage. When I looked closer I saw my winning chief mechanic’s pin from the year before pinned to his right shoe — his throttle foot. He looked at me and cracked, ‘There’s your damn winning chief mechanic, Smokey.’”
When asked by a writer the day before the race about his chances of winning starting from so far back, Vuky snapped, “I wouldn’t take second-place money now if they gave it to me.”
That wasn’t simply bravado on Vukovich’s part. In reality he knew the odds were stacked against him. But Vuky constantly played mind games with other drivers. From his midget days to Indianapolis, he was the master at getting in his peers’ heads. Despite the sour news coming from the Howard Keck garage, what others interpreted from Vuky’s cocky, joking demeanor was that he had this thing wrapped up. He had them beat before the green flag was waved.
As Vuky predicted, he took the lead at the halfway point, led 90 laps and had second-place Jimmy Bryan a lap down at the checkered flag.
After the race, Bryan had to be helped from his car. He collapsed on the garage floor. When he finally came around, the first words he mumbled were, “That little S.O.B. beat me.”
In reality, Bryan’s car had broken apart around him. That’s what beat him. But he didn’t blame the car. Bryan knew that if he’d been chasing anyone but Vuky he wouldn’t have been forced to push his car — and himself — to the point of failure.
Bryan was a physical giant, one of the toughest men to ever strap in a race car. He was eight years younger than Vuky and where Vuky had practically given up all racing except Indianapolis, Bryan was race hardened from weekly competition. For him to admit it was Vuky that beat him is a telling statement about Vuky’s iron man resolve and the ultimate compliment from one of racing’s greats.
In an interesting side note, Bryan was in such bad shape physically that he missed the next weekend’s race in Milwaukee. Vukovich agreed to drive Bryan’s Dean Van Lines Special and qualified it on the pole.
Bryan wasn’t the only peer that stood in awe of Vuky following his convincing second consecutive 500 win. Jack McGrath, considered one of the few drivers capable of beating Vuky at Indianapolis, remarked: “I’ll never win this thing as long as Vuky’s in it.”
Tony Bettenhausen, never lacking in confidence about his own abilities, called Vuky, “The best of our day.”
Walt Faulkner, queried, “Who can beat him?”
For Vuky’s part, the compliments mattered little. With his second consecutive Indianapolis 500 win, he’d risen to the ranks of greatness. His next goal was to exceed that. He wanted to become the first driver to win the famed Indianapolis 500 three consecutive times. After his 1954 run, few doubted he would do that.
1955 told the story.