As in life, our personal view of the sport of hydroplane racing is usually a very personal one; albeit one that can be shared and, like the concentric ripples in pool created by a thrown pebble, overlap and give us a common ground. Some like the roar of the engines; the brute, animal power that invokes a "Cro-Magnon" emotion, smoothed by years of "civilized" conditioning yet still buried deeply in psyche of modern day man (and woman). Others enjoy the balletic movement of the very fast, aerodynamic machines, part boat, part airplane as they dance side by side down the straight and into the turns, as if choreographed; an operatic cacophony of sound and motion. Still others, the competition; the domination of one man and machine over another. There are those who simply enjoy and/or admire the tremendous skill and craft it takes to build both the boat and the powerplant. For the analytical individual, the problem-solving issues of the correct "set-up" to make the boat fly in the most efficient, and thereby the fastest manner possible, is the lure. And finally for some, it is an inarticulatable emotion; something that reaches you deep in that place you never really try to analyze, because some things just "are," they can be neither defined nor quantified. I was told once, long ago, that if you cannot articulate something, it does not have value; in my job, it is a maxim that "if it's not on paper (documented), it didn't happen."  I submit that while on a lower mundane level, both these statements may have some truth. On a much higher level, the very opposite is true. If you can reduce a feeling to mere words, then it can be grouped with all those other, tangible, identifiable items; sort of like vegetables in a supermarket.

          It is not important why I love this sport so much; I only know that I can relate it to every aspect of my life. Perhaps it is because here, I can be a Leonardo Da Vinci; an inventor, a painter, or an entrepreneur.  I am fascinated by every aspect of the sport; from the creation of the machine to flying into the first turn.

           I settle into the cockpit and clip my air mask into place. The canopy is lowered and I focus in on my crew chief as, with one hand up, his fingers drop at one-second intervals in cadence with the crews of all the boats chanting the countdown. There is that moment of silence as each racer punches his clock; the final moment, just before the engines of each boat gloriously roar to life. Time stands still; there is no reflection; only the samurai expression "mind like water, mind like moon." My senses sharpen and as I pull away from the pit area and the boat takes flight, I cross my Rubicon; finally I am home. I am in that calm zone which knows neither space nor time; the eye of the hurricane. I am the predator. This is my world, my battlefield, and I once again seek to engage my demons.

Where are you from and what is your background?

I am an adopted, naturalized citizen who was born in Korea and came to the United States when I was about 3 and 1/2 years old. I grew up primarily in New Jersey but I spent my freshman and sophomore years in high school in Liberia, West Africa. My father was a doctor who had spent several months in Vietnam, ministering to the Montonyard tribes people during the Vietnam war. A couple of years later, he joined the Peace Corps and we ended up in Liberia. It was a fantastic experience. I finished up my junior and senior year back in NJ. I have had a variety of pretty diverse jobs; from gas pump jockey to laborer to busboy at the now defunct Playboy Club in Vernon, NJ. I recall that job with some fondness (grin). I also did a lot of traveling. To say I was "into" Martial Arts would have been an understatement and after dropping in and out of college a couple times, I ended up as the owner/operator of a small Tae Kwon Do (Korean Karate) school. I was into some pretty weird stuff (that was the era of bare-knuckle tournaments) and there was a lot of controversy between the "traditionalists" and the sport "full contact" guys. People really took the stuff seriously. In those days, just the fact that you were into martial arts made you somewhat of a mystery. Now it's like having lunch at Mickey D's. You have to remember that was the time frame where if you had long hair (mine was shoulder length) you were considered gay (they didn't call it that in those days) as well as a doper.  (Obviously because you weren't conforming, you just had to be a weirdo!!) Plus, there wasn't all that much to do in the rural community where I grew up. You usually went to the local tavern, listened to rock music, drank a lot of beer (the age was 18 then) and ended the night by getting into a good old fist fight with the guys from "the city" (New York). If no "real outsiders" showed up, the guys from the next town over would suffice. And, if they didn't show up, you kicked the hell out of each other. After all, it was Friday (or Saturday) night! I moonlighted as the bouncer at the local club, and I weighed all of 140 pounds soaking wet. The rest of the bouncers looked like the front line for the Los Angeles Rams and the whole thing was pretty surrealistic. Since everyone knew I owned the karate school in town, I usually ended up as the mediator between two warring factions, convincing them to beat each other to a pulp in the parking lot so they wouldn't inadvertently wreck the place. While I had a pretty good social life during this time, I figured I really needed a career change.

After winning the World Tae Kwon Do Association Championship at Madison Square Garden (Felt Forum) in 1976, I entered the United States Army under a contract to Special Forces (Green Beret). It was some sort of special recruiting deal, and if you failed out of training, the army could put you any where they wanted under the terms of the contract. I went through training, was assigned to a Special Forces "A" detachment and made Sergeant E-5 in about 3 years, the fastest time possible in those days. I stayed Enlisted for a total of about 5 years and then went to Officer Candidate School (OCS) where I became a commissioned officer. After OCS, I (fortunately) was assigned to a Special Forces "A" detachment as an Executive Officer and then as a Team Commander. I left military service with just under 9 years of total service, all of it in Special Forces with the exception of training time and a few months before I left service. I went through a pretty rough transition from military life back to "the world." I had recently been divorced and was pretty much at "rock bottom." Having no job and very little money, I was staying at the YMCA as a disabled veteran while looking for work. I remember having one prospective employer tell me flatly that I was over-qualified for the job being offered and that he wasn't going to hire me because he didn't expect I would stay long. Nice compliment but I needed to put food on the table! Going from having a top secret clearance for 9 years and commander of a Special Forces detachment to not being able do get a decent job was a bitter pill to swallow.

I attempted to get a job with the FBI and I was told that while they liked my work experience, I needed to have a college degree in order to apply. I had a great number of college credits, ranging from East Asian Philosophy to Psychology, because I not only had dropped in and out of 5 colleges, I had changed my major course of study just about as many times. At this point I was actually entertaining ideas of using the Special Forces network and becoming a mercenary. Fortunately, it was during this period of time, I met the woman (later to become my wife) who, at age 31 had gone back to college to get her degree as an engineer. I managed to get 2 jobs; one at UPS as a package handler and the other, selling mutual funds out of a brokerage house on Wall Street. At the same time, I enrolled in Baruch College (CUNY) and by taking between 15 and 21 credits a semester, adding in some of my previous credits, and going though summer school, managed to graduate with a degree in Finance and Investments in about a year and a half. It sounds impressive and makes me appear motivated and a "real go-getter" on paper. The truth of the matter is that this was one of the most painful experiences I have ever endured. I did however, graduate in the same year as my wife! (Does this qualify me as "Type A?") I applied for the FBI and am currently an FBI agent in Virginia. Incidentally, when I talk to younger people about opportunities in the FBI, I caution them not to do as I did. While I have had wonderful "life experiences" that I would not trade for anything in the world, there are easier and less convoluted ways of getting in the FBI!!

When and how did you get involved in boat racing?

My wife, Mo, and I have been going to the Summer Nationals since around 1990, when we moved to Hampton, Virginia. Before then, I didn't know what a hydroplane was. The initial attraction is that a hydroplane looks like a Formula 1 race car without wheels. It is one of the most beautiful sights in the world!! What held me back from participating sooner was that I wasn't real knowledgeable about hydroplane racing and information isn't the easiest to come by as the sport isn't marketed at all. I was concerned about the cost and I didn't have any contacts in the sport. I have always been into Porsche cars (I'm a "self-taught" enthusiast) and was considering club racing when I read an article in Powerboat magazine about getting into boat racing for $5000. The article was about the "kneel down" hydros but it had the APBA phone number and I started making calls. I talked with a great number of people about the different categories and classes. I decided on the 2.5L class in the inboard category because it is a very affordable, "hobby" class and there are a large number of races within a 10 hour drive. (Unfortunately I have to work for a living so the races have to be reasonably close!) While I have always been attracted to the Grand National Hydroplane (GNH) class (because it is the biggest and fastest of the naturally aspirated inboard classes and I long ago became afflicted with the "I wanna go faster" disease), I didn't want to get in over my head, financially speaking. (That "lack of money" thing again!!) The basic 2300 cc Ford engine used in the 2.5L class can be found in any junkyard and the technical rules are pretty simple. My neighbor had raced many years ago and agreed to help me out. While our plans didn't work out as my neighbor moved away for business reasons, I am thankful for his initial enthusiasm as it helped get me involved. 

Page last updated Sunday, March 27, 2005