Blame it on “the three p’s” — promotion, potato salad and porta-potties.
They’re part of the reason that in 35 years of Pro Stock Motorcycle racing, Steve Johnson hasn’t earned a championship.
That could change this fall for the California native who now lives in Birmingham, Ala., as his on-track performance has improved dramatically in recent years.
The 61-year-old NHRA veteran took 33 years to accumulate six victories. In 2021, he came alive and made an effort to learn the craft — learn about clutch settings, fuel systems and business management, and surround himself with mentors, including some who have no involvement in the sport.
He won three times and finished third in the standings — by far his best result.
This season, in his class’s first four outings, Johnson won twice in three straight final-round appearances. And he led the standings for five straight races at the midpoint in the campaign.
Johnson, whose sometimes-wild ramblings with the media rival vintage John Force interviews, still has that little-kid enthusiasm for the sport. But he’s starting to become a real force in the class with his upgraded performances.
Along the way, he has stirred up drama, jousting verbally with five-time champion Matt Smith and annoying certain women in the class with unapologetic and politically incorrect remarks to drum up excitement for the Pro Stock Motorcycles.
Can the class jester elevate his status to king?
His epiphany came after years of putting the Pro Stock Motorcycle class and sanctioning body before his own program. Johnson was elected by his peers to spearhead PRO2, their loosely knit “union,” of sorts, that serves as a class advocate with the sport’s executives.
“We talked about things that helped the sanctioning body promote the sport,” he said.
“Everybody knows I love this class. This class is before my own racing program. The sanctioning body is pretty much before, sometimes, I make my house payment,” Johnson added. “I’m really, really proud of the class.”
But he had to focus on himself.
Steve Johnson has yet to earn a champion in the Pro Stock Motorcycle class of NHRA. (Kent Steele photo)
“We’re trying to do our own engines now, trying to chase sponsorships,” Johnson said. “So it’s very difficult to multitask effectively. It’s hard to take yourself out of your own program and do stuff for other people.”
Johnson describes what it is like to ride a 700-pound, eight-foot-long, 200-mph Pro Stock Motorcycle.
“First of all, you have to imagine maybe the fastest roller coaster on the planet — then get rid of your seat belts and all the safety equipment,” Johnson said. “Then, it’s like hanging onto a bullet as it’s getting fired out of a gun. It’s 3 G’s, so if you’re 150 pounds, it’s like 450 pounds slamming against you. And you’re going to leave the starting line at 10,000 rpm.
“The front wheel comes up in the air. You can’t steer with the handlebars, so you’re leaning back and forth on the motorcycle with your feet on the foot pegs — and, hopefully, the front wheel comes down. And as you go through the quarter mile after pushing the shifter five times, hopefully, your eyes are closed.”
Johnson throws all his energy into endorsing the class, but that wasn’t all that distracted him.
He became bogged down in the minutiae of life in the Pro Stock Motorcycle class. For example, especially when he had special guests at the races, Johnson fretted about hospitality details.
The normally affable Johnson once was angry because sanitation workers stopped nearby to clean out the portable toilets stationed near his pit. He caught the odor and bellowed, “We have guests. Who brings the dookie truck around in the middle of the races?”
Another time he said the caterers “didn’t bring enough ice for the potato salad, and I was afraid that the potato salad was getting hot. After my burnout, I’m sitting there (at the starting line), thinking about the potato salad being hot. Everybody else is thinking about racing.”
What he learned, Johnson said, is that “when I leave the trailer, I need to become a racer.”
He’s learning that “there was a whole bunch of things that I was missing in racing. It’s like, how many other things do I not know how to do? And there’s plenty of it.” He can only wonder how many championship conversations he would have factored into if he had wised-up sooner.
“But,” Johnson said, “at least I did.”
Today, he has what he calls his advisory board. And it started with Pro Stock owner-driver Chris McGaha.
“Our friendship started at Englishtown (N.J.) in 2014,” McGaha said. “Funny deal … I was struggling that weekend and couldn’t get down the track. And I was pissed off over the entire deal and was walking to the stands to get my emotions together. Passed Steve’s trailer on the way by, and he stopped me, and it’s been a growing friendship ever since. I have become one of those lifelines, or phone-a-friend.
“What he’s asked me, it’s been from basic engine knowledge that covers every engine to deep secrets of honing cylinder procedures, cylinder-head sizing. I’m not even 100-percent sure what he’s done and not done. But if he wants to ask questions, he’s free to ask — but we have to do it over a pizza without broccoli.”
Johnson said he asked McGaha why his bike was going slow, and McGaha told him, “Well, it’s 40 more grains of water in the air than there was on Friday.’ And I’m like, ‘Oh.’ I kind of pretended like I knew what he was talking about, but I didn’t. And then I went back and finally put my tail between my legs and said, ‘What did you mean by that?’ And he explained it.
“And then the greatest thing that he’s ever said was, ‘If you ever have a question, just come back and ask me.’”
Three-time Top Fuel champion Larry Dixon instinctively knew when to help his longtime buddy.
“If you have friends that need help, you’ll do anything in the world to help them. And that’s how I am with Steve. Whatever I can do to help, whether it’s on the bike or in his mind or at the starting line or whatever I can do to help, I will,” Dixon said.
As for Johnson’s unbridled zest, Dixon said, “Some will say it’s silly. Some will say it’s goofy. I will say he’s very passionate about what he’s doing. He literally gave up everything else in his life to race motorcycles. There isn’t a professional racer in his class that puts more time in on their motorcycle at the track or at the shop than him.
“He has tried to sell the class and his team from a marketing standpoint. And he’s had some really good sponsorship through the years. And he’s no different from other racers — he’s no different than me — (that he struggles) trying to find a marketing partner that can justify the cost versus return,” Dixon continued. “So instead of spending more time on that, he’s spending more time at the shop and in the engine room. And it’s showing.”
However, Johnson hasn’t abandoned his personality. Through the years, he has sniped with three-time bike champion Angelle Sampey, but she has come to appreciate his dedication to the class.
“When I first started racing, we truly hated each other,” she said. “We had arguments and almost fights off the track. It was a genuine hate. So, compared to that, 20 years ago, it’s easy for me to deal with him. I think he’s funny. We actually have a friendship now. We have mutual respect.
“We even talked about how we wish we had worked together earlier in my career,” Sampey added. “He’s such a wonderful marketing person. I think he could have helped me grow my brand. We had too much hate to work with each other, and we missed that ship.
“What he’s doing for the class now, with the silliness and the rivalry, I think it’s great,” she said. “I think we need it. He does touch some nerves with some other people. There is genuine rivalry there and I think that’s good. As long as there is respect shown and it doesn’t get out of hand, I think what he’s doing is fine and it’s good.”
Parlaying all of it into a championship is the goal, and it’s not all easy for Johnson, by any means.
“You’re going to get kicked in the teeth. You crumple up a dollar bill, and you throw it on the ground and you step on it and everything. What’s it worth? It’s still worth the same. It’s the same with us as human beings,” Johnson said. “We’re going to get kicked. But we still get up. That’s inspiring me to go forward.
“It’s never going to be an easy day. I don’t think life’s about an easy day,” Johnson added. “It’s supposed to be an adventure. And mine is 30-some years. It’s a heartwarming adventure with a ton of gratitude and lots of happiness — and some broccoli and very little money.”
Keyword: Racer & Class Cheerleader