BEN WHEELER – There are some people in this world who defy convention and the universe is better off for it.

Mechanical guru Bill Jenkins, 71, could likely fall in that category.

The former automotive and aerospace mastermind swapped his high stress day job a few years ago for a laid back life in Ben Wheeler and never looked back.

With a little more time on his hands to tinker, the sky seems to be the limit for this former rocket scientist, who spends most days in his beloved workshop reinventing the bar stool.

He designs stools for racing, not necessarily sitting at the bar, although the witty racer is quick to say he finds time for plenty of both.

“I think with my hands,” he said with a grin. “Normally I’m always in the shop … the house is someplace to store stuff that doesn’t fit in the shop.”

Jenkins isn’t afraid to push the limits on speed, creativity and ingenuity.

He’s broken land speed records and is always on the lookout for new ways to soup up his seat.

His reputation as a formidable opponent in the final stretch is nothing recent.

It seems Jenkins was one of a handful of brainy guys in the 1970s who got creative over beer one night and decided to try something a little crazy: put a motor on a bar stool and race it.

The Dallas-area spectacle proved nothing short of hilarious, so the racers repeated the zany act each year for St. Patrick’s Day … for bragging rights and the satisfaction of entertaining cheering onlookers.

As the years passed, however, enthusiasm for the quirky tradition began to subside and, as all good things seem to do, the races came to an end.

The stools were garaged and the motley crew of inventors moved on to new interests.

As the years passed, some of the inventors passed away and their stools made their way into Jenkins’ capable hands.

When he moved to East Texas at the invitation of his late friend and arts enthusiast, Brooks Gremmels – who is credited for revitalizing the area – the bar stools came, too.

And when locals in Ben Wheeler learned of Jenkins’ racing history, the brainstorming began.

One thing led to another and the town of 5,652 soon had a new tradition: bar stool races, featuring the gadget guru, himself.

Locals are delighted.

“He’s a hoot,” said Sarah Brisco, owner of The Forge Bar and Grill. “To know Bill is something spectacular … he’s an interesting character.”

Ms. Brisco and Summer Halton, owner of Moore’s Store, helped jumpstart the new racing tradition.

“I think this can help us get on the map a little bit,” Ms. Brisco said. “Ben Wheeler was supposed to be about having a good time … this (racing) gives me the biggest smile.”

Jenkins is also energized by the resurgence of his favorite pastime, which includes scavenging for parts.

His longtime racer is outfitted with a series of noisemakers, such as whistles, bells, sirens and horns.

It’s also got an AM-FM stereo with a cassette player and CB radio.

“I’ve been working on this one about 15 or 20 years, believe it or not,” Jenkins said.

The contraption started out with a 50 cc engine and evolved into a super charged cart capable of speeds in excess of reasonable.

“Out at the airport, we got it up to 100,” Jenkins said. “That was the last time, drunk or sober, I’ll ever do that … it is pretty much trial and error.”

One of his most recent experiments involves a handmade cannon that shoots 12-gauge blanks.

Another centers on the conversion of a discarded steam weight loss cabinet into a racing chariot … complete with stool and a special faucet for playfully dousing parade crowds.

The motorized chariot also features the remnants of Jenkins’ first lawn mower, a gift from his father, who held a Ph.D. from The University of Texas.

His mother, coincidently, had a Master’s Degree and encouraged him to explore the world around him.

He began assembling and disassembling objects when he was a preschooler, eventually growing up to win top honors in school science competitions.

All this experimentation over the years paid off with relatively few racing mishaps: mainly broken axles, transmission challenges and tip-overs.

“I crashed it one time in the mid-80s and got a $15,000 knee out of it,” Jenkins said, shaking his head.

One might wonder if he held any reservations about resuming his hobby after such an accident.

“Not at all,” he said. “I just got a little more careful.”

TWITTER @ TMT _ Jacque