If you really want to be amazed, check out these stills of the accident -
http://markjrebilas.com/blog/?p=21971
I was standing behind the starting line, when Al DaPozzo crashed. Al was a friend we affectionately referred to as Fat Albert. (He never forgave us for the 'Nothing Runs Like A Deere' sticker we put on the back of his car.) The car shook, violently, and went hard left. Albert tried to catch it and went hard right, hitting the wall. The impact apparently knocked him unconscious, but it also broke the steering, so the car just kept scrubbing the wall. The right headers were destroyed, and the exhaust heat ignited the body.
It was a perfect storm. I don't think there was anything else that could possibly have gone wrong. It was just noon, and the temperature was already pushing into the upper-90's. I'm not naming any names, but the NHRA safety truck had been sent to town to get gasoline. It was miserable, stinking hot, and the decision was made, after a protracted and animated 'discussion', to start running cars. After all, the track safety equipment was all on hand. What could go wrong, aye? Well, we were about to learn that the whole deal was going to go to Hell in a handbasket.
As soon as they spied the fire, they sent a flatbed truck with a water tank, a pump, and fire hoses down the grassy area between the track and the bleachers. Albert's car had finally burned up the tires and had come to a stop, so the truck slid up next to it. The guy in the passenger seat jumped out, ran around back to get a fire hose, and stepped in a mole hole, which neatly snapped his lower leg into two pieces. Albert's car was ablaze, and here was this poor fellow laying on the ground, screaming in agony. If there were any gore-spores in the bleachers, they got their money's worth, that day.
By the time the driver sorted what had happened, he was running to get to the hose, but it was too late for Albert. His fire suit was failing when they got to him, and he had torched his lungs.
It was a really sad day for anyone who knew Albert. For the life of me, I cannot remember his wife's name, Joanne, maybe? She was Ricky Klarr's sister. She ended up with an attorney who was ready to sue anything that moved. If something didn't move, he kicked at it until it did move, and then he filed suit against it, too. That turned into an ugly mess, which really made it all the more sad for everyone. They sued NHRA, they sued Beech Bend, they sued Wolverine (Albert's sponsor), and anyone else they thought could be held accountable.
Apparently, the chassis on Dixon's car had just been gone over, prior to the race, and no one saw anything amiss. If you look at the photo series I linked to, it is pretty scary at how close Dixon came to some serious foot injuries. Thank Goodness, the foot box held. When I worked for Murf McKinney, that poor guy used to worry himself sick about someone getting injured. He was confident that his cars would hold up in an accident, but there is no way to protect the fragile and delicate human organism riding inside. Crash a car into a wall at speed and the integrity of the driver's bays always holds up. It is things like human organs tearing free, with the sudden impacts that causes the medical problems.
Bottom line - racing is inherently dangerous.