In racing, there’s a feat so grueling, so audacious, it’s spoken of with reverence and awe. It’s called “the Double” — 1,100 miles of wheel-to-wheel action across two iconic stages, the Indianapolis 500 and Coca-Cola 600, all in one day. Only five drivers in history have dared to stretch themselves so thin, chasing racing immortality.
They get the headlines. The glory. The ESPN specials.
But there’s another kind of double — a quieter, sweat-soaked, wrench-turning, fuel-hosing version. And only a handful might be able to say they’ve done that kind of double. One of them is Danny “Chocolate” Myers.
You probably remember Chocolate. You’ve seen him in grainy footage from 1998, jumping up and down as Dale Earnhardt finally kissed Daytona glory. For decades, he was one of the beating hearts of the No. 3 team, a gasman with grit, loyalty and a nickname you never forget. But in that same historic season, Myers wasn’t just a NASCAR lifer. For one day, he was a part of open-wheel royalty, elbow-deep in an IndyCar pit lane. His reason? Curiosity, friendship and a little push from someone who knew him best: his wife, Caron.
“I just wanted to say I did it.”
The tale starts, like many great ones do, with a desire tossed out over casual conversation. Chocolate had struck up a friendship with the legendary A. J. Foyt — Texan, tough-as-nails. Indianapolis intrigued him, not for fame or fortune, but for the sheer novelty of it.
“I told my wife, ‘one day I would love to do that, just for the heck of it, fuel an IndyCar,’” Myers told Frontstretch. “What had happened was, she called Joie Chitwood.”
Behind the scenes, Caron spun the gears. One call turned into another. One test run at Charlotte Motor Speedway, fueling a car for Affonso Giaffone in what was then the Indy Racing League, turned into something much bigger: A spot on A. J. Foyt Racing driver Billy Boat’s team at the Indianapolis 500. Not just any 500 — but the 1998 edition, the same year Myers had stood in Victory Lane at Daytona.
“Double Chocolate Sunday”
When the plan finally clicked into place, Caron gave it a name: “Double Chocolate Sunday.”
But if it sounds sweet, it was anything but smooth.
“A. J. thought someone had tampered with his car overnight,” Myers chuckled. “He was not in a good mood. That boy was mad.”
Still, Myers showed up. Nervous. Out of his element. But with a fire in him and a desire to try something new. The catch? His day wasn’t ending in Indy.
Back in Charlotte, NASCAR was waiting. So was his boss, Richard Childress — a man who was not too thrilled about these last-minute plans.
“We didn’t tell Richard until late,” Myers said, grinning. “He was not happy. He told me, ‘You better be back in time for [the Coca-Cola 600].’”
As fate would have it, the IndyCar broke early. A bad gear meant their race was done. This meant Myers boarded a plane, then a helicopter and made it back to Charlotte with time to spare. Helmet back on. Fireproof suit re-zipped. Gas can refilled. Just another day for a man who lived for the grind.
No Comparison, Only Respect
Make no mistake — Myers is not pretending his effort matches the sheer brutality of a driver’s double.
“I don’t want anyone to think what we do as crew guys compared to what those guys do when they go up there. It’s not even close,” he said. “It is the experience, it is the excitement and drama. Like I said, an opportunity of a lifetime to go up there and be a part of their world for that day.”
A foot in both disciplines, even for one day, is a rare privilege. And while he’ll never forget standing on pit road at the Brickyard, Chocolate’s heart still beats in NASCAR.
“I’m a NASCAR guy, I enjoyed Indy, but for me it didn’t do the same as the Daytona 500,” he admitted. “Going up there and doing this was an opportunity of a lifetime.”
The Unseen Legacy
Kyle Larson is the latest to chase the double with the world watching every mile. But beneath the roar of the engines and the spectacle of the moment, there’s a story not many know.
A story about a gasman. A legend. A husband. A dreamer.
A man who did the double without turning a wheel.
And somewhere, deep in the lore of motorsport, you’ll find one day in May, when the world got a little sweeter thanks to a little “Double Chocolate Sunday.”
