by: PattyKay Lilley
A note to my gentle readers:
What follows is my own personal tribute to the greatest driver ever to sit behind a steering wheel.
This article has been seen at other times and other places, but on the anniversary of the day the light went out of racing, it seemed appropriate to present it once again and weep one more time. The style employed here is not my usual writing. It was just too painful to write about Dale in the past tense, so instead, I wrote to him. It didn’t help; I cried all the way through it back then, and if a few of the words seem a bit blurry this time around, well…tears will do that, even after a dozen years.
Come, walk with me down Memory Lane once again and allow me to share with you my memories.
I Remember You
In loving memory of Ralph Dale Earnhardt
April 29, 1951 – February 18, 2001
I remember you!
I remember 1979, when you were a rookie on the Winston Cup circuit (It was called “Grand National” back then), driving for Rod Osterlund in the ride Dave Marcis gave up to start his own team. You even won a race that year at Bristol, and won Rookie of the Year honors easily. Back in those days, rookies didn’t win races and that made you very special. It would be many years later before we knew just how special you were.
I remember you!
I remember how you won the Championship in 1980, in only your second year of racing. Many drivers spend that year in what they call “the sophomore slump”, but not you! Instead, you chalked up five wins to finish first in points. No one else has ever been Rookie of the Year and Winston Cup Champion in two successive years. You bested Cale Yarborough, who had been my favorite driver for many years, to win that Championship. About that time, a different light began to shine in my eyes.
I remember your mop of unkempt hair replete with long sideburns, that signature mustache (also unkempt) and a cowboy hat slouched down over your eyes. The Gargoyles had not yet become a part of your uniform back then.
I remember a lot of folks thinking you were too pushy and way too cocky for a young newcomer, but for my part, I was already getting glimpses of what your future could be; seeing those flashes of brilliance that reveal the potential yet to be realized.
I remember you!
I remember when Rod Osterlund sold the whole team to J.D. Stacy in the middle of 1981, and within 4 races, you quit the team. I remember Wrangler Jeans moving their sponsorship to Richard Childress’ car, with the stipulation that you would drive the car, not Richard. That year turned out to be a racing disaster, with no numbers in the win column for you, but looking back, it had to be one of the best also, because it put you and Richard together for the first time, and we all know how that turned out.
I remember you!
I remember that for the years 1982 and 1983 you drove Bud Moore’s #15 Ford, still with the Wrangler Sponsorship and the blue and yellow colors that had become your trademark. I remember, at the end of the 1982 season, you married Teresa Houston, a long time friend who had been by your side for several years.
I remember you!
I remember your return to Richard Childress Racing in 1984, in a carefully engineered driver swap between Childress and Moore, so that Ricky Rudd became Moore’s driver and you became Richard’s again. The Wrangler sponsorship moved with you to Childress Racing, but for that year only, they also stayed on Moore’s car, so there were two blue and yellow Wrangler cars that year, the #15, and the #3. A dynasty was in the making.
I remember you!
I remember watching you struggle just a bit through 1984 and 1985, trying to regain that Championship form. I watched you and Richard grow closer as friends and watched the entire team slowly improve because of that. It wasn’t that those years were bad ones! RCR was 4th and 8th in the point standings, respectively, and you had long carried the well-earned nickname of “One Tough Customer”, which coincidentally applied to Wrangler Jeans as well as the man who wore them.
I remember you!
I remember 1986 almost as if it were yesterday. That was the year they christened you “The Intimidator.” First, I remember the Daytona 500 that year, when you had a great car, but ran out of gas at the end, allowing Geoff Bodine to take the win. I guess that was the first of the many creative ways you found not to win that elusive race. Then, of course, I remember Richmond the following week, when you and a not so ol’ DW beat and banged on each other through the whole race. Right there at the end, I guess you got a bit impatient and gave him one final rap, putting both of you into the wall and collecting Bodine and Joe Ruttman as well. There were only five cars left on the lead lap, and as a reward for being nowhere near the leaders, a young Kyle Petty got his first Winston Cup win.
Seems to me I also remember DW, with a badly broken car and steam coming from his ears, slamming your car one more time for good measure, after the race was over. NASCAR was less than pleased with the whole affair. They fined you $3000.00, along with putting you on probation. They finally did lift the probation, but the fine and the nickname stayed. Yet, for all of that, you won five races that year and your second Winston Cup Championship.
I remember you!
I remember 1987, arguably your best year ever, when you won 11 races and scored your third Championship by a whopping 288 points over Darrell Waltrip. Impressive stuff! Still, what I remember best about that year was The Winston all-star race and the now famous “Pass in the Grass.” Heck, as I look up at the wall in front of me, there is a 3×4 foot poster of that race, mounted on wood and laminated, showing all the participants and several scenes from the race.
Truth to tell, it never was a pass. You were in the lead when the #9-car body slammed you, still in the lead when you drove through the grass and by golly, still in the lead when you got all four wheels back on the track. Nice piece of driving there! Of course, there was that thing about helping Bill up into the marbles afterwards, and the fine NASCAR levied on the wrong driver, but what the heck! It helped build your reputation as an Intimidator.
I remember you!
I remember 1988, when Vanity Fair had bought up Wrangler Jeans and that company decided not to continue with sponsorship in Winston Cup. The fans anxiously waited to see who the new sponsor would be and what your new car would look like. The sponsor, of course, turned out to be Goodwrench, and the car an almost unheard of solid black with red on the interior. Pretty sharp, all the same! That color scheme and maybe just a bit of your personality and driving style, would earn you yet another nickname, this time spoken with utter respect, “The Man in Black” I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed just a bit from that in creating my “Lady in Black” character. Remember, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery.
I remember you!
Through 1988 and 1989, you remained at the top of the racing game, though Bill Elliott and Rusty Wallace took home the big prize in those years. Certainly, I remember you in 1990. That was the year when you won the Daytona 499, dominating the race only to cut down a tire on the last lap and watch Derrike Cope go on to victory.
I remember being at Martinsville in April of that year and strolling out to the souvenir trailers. As we were crossing the access road into the track, I looked to my left to see a big black Chevy Blazer waiting for the pedestrian traffic to clear. No one else seemed to recognize you, but for sure, I did, as I stopped and stared, I’m sure with my mouth open and hopefully not drooling. I guess I stood there long enough for others to look too, and a small crowd gathered around the truck seeking autographs, which you were kind enough to sign. Since I’d been the one in front of you, I was the last to get to meet you, and I stammered something about being afraid you would have to leave before I got there. You patted me on the arm and said, “Don’t worry Darlin’, we won’t disappoint you.” I got your autograph that day, which I had laminated so that it might last forever, but I also got the wonderful memory of one tiny moment in time, when I actually got to meet my hero. Thank you for that!
I remember 1990 as the year when you returned to the top and won your fourth Winston Cup Championship, along with your first IROC (International Race of Champions) Championship. The year 1991 saw you take your fifth Championship in Winston Cup, and folks were beginning to wonder if Richard Petty’s seemingly unassailable record of seven might be threatened. Alternately, it was also the year that a seagull flew into your grill at the Daytona 500, causing the car to overheat. Once more, a dominant car lost the race through circumstances no one could foresee.
I remember you!
I remember 1992 as being a year I’m sure you would rather forget, with only one win and an unseemly 12th place finish in the points. Folks who weren’t your fans were saying that you had reached the end of the line. Some speculated that you were too old to compete or were “burned out.” Heck, at the end of that year, your long time crew chief, Kirk Shelmerdine, quit the team and things looked rather bleak, but Richard rose to the occasion and hired exactly the right replacement in Andy Petree. Together, you and Andy went right back to the top and put together two more Championship runs in 1993 and 1994. They would be your sixth and that record tying seventh. You might have broken the record in 1995, but had to settle for second place behind a young newcomer named Gordon. You did take home your second IROC trophy that year though, so it wasn’t a total loss.
I remember you!
I remember that 1996 wasn’t the best of years for you. Even though you managed to finish 4th in the points, there was that awful wreck at Talladega that left you with broken bones and a lot of pain. The next week, you had to get out of the car after only a few laps at Indy, and let Mike Skinner take over the wheel. Anyone looking at your face knew that was a very different kind of pain. At the end of that season, Andy Petree left the team to accept what he said was an opportunity he couldn’t refuse, the ownership of the retiring Leo Jackson’s #33 team.
I remember being very excited on hearing the news that Richard had signed Larry McReynolds as your crew chief for 1997, but my hopes for a “dream team” were quieted, as I’m sure yours were when you went winless in 1997 for the first time since 1981. There was a lot of speculation that you never quite got over the injuries from the Talladega wreck, and of course, the detractors said that you’d lost your nerve, but I knew that wasn’t true. You did nearly scare me to death at the Southern 500 that year though, when you passed out at the wheel before the start of the race. That was a weird thing, but I’m sure you know that better than I do. Between your doctors and NASCAR, you got clearance to go on racing, and I guess they never did figure out what caused that.
I remember you!
I remember the 1998 season beginning as they all do, full of hope for every driver and team, with that clean slate waiting to be written on, and what a signature you put on it at Daytona! In the 40th year of the Daytona 500 and your 20th attempt to win it, you were not about to be denied again. Like many of your fans, who had hoped so much to see you finally win it, I was on my feet, screaming and cheering as you took the checkers that day. (I was in my living room.) Not even trying to choke back the tears that fell, I watched you wheel that famous black car into the grass and cut the #3 into the turf, just as clearly as could be! What came next was a sight that race fans will never forget, as every crewmember from every team and all the NASCAR officials in the pits as well, lined up on pit road just to shake the hand of the Master. Decidedly no driver, before or since, has been shown the honor and respect that were heaped upon you that day by your peers. When asked what your feelings were about finally winning that elusive prize, you commented, “I wish that at some point in their lives, everyone could experience the feeling I had at Daytona.” It was a special day for your fans and a far more special day for you.
Unfortunately, that would prove to be the only race you won that year, and it seemed your entire team was struggling for balance. Once more, Richard waved his magic wand, this time swapping crew chiefs between your team and the team of Mike Skinner, with McReynolds moving to the #31 team and Kevin Hamlin becoming your new crew chief. Once again, Richard’s intuition would prove itself, as things got back on track.
I remember you!
I remember 1999, when you returned to Victory Lane three times, and won a third IROC Championship as well. You only managed a 7th place points finish that year, but that was about to improve markedly. In the year 2000, you’d win yet another IROC Championship, and finish second to Bobby LaBonte in Winston Cup points. So near to that record-breaking #8! So very near!
I remember you!
I remember the Daytona 500 in 2001, although I wish I could forget it. Like everyone else, mostly I remember the end of that race. On the last lap, you were running in third place, but your own two cars from DEI, driven by Mikey Waltrip and your namesake, Dale Jr., were running first and second. When your car reached the fourth turn, it looked as though you might have done a bit of blocking to keep Sterling Marlin behind you, and the two cars made very slight contact. The cameras, of course, were on the two DEI cars, streaking toward the finish line, but in the corner of the screen, those of us that always watched the black car could see a car jerk to the right, then see a second car strike it on its way to the wall. I knew in an instant that it was your car, but never thought to worry at the time. Sure it would be disappointing to lose it in the fourth turn one more time, but that was the year you were going to win that 8th Championship. Right? I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I remember how it slowly began to dawn on everyone that it was taking you a very long time to climb from that car. I remember Mikey in Victory Lane, so happy with his first win, after so many tries. I remember him craning his neck, trying to see back to that fourth turn when he realized that you weren’t there with him. I remember Junior, on a dead run to get back to your car, and I remember Darrell Waltrip, in his initial stint as a FOX broadcaster, so elated at first for his brother Mikey, then slowly coming to the realization that something might be very much amiss with his long-time friend. Mostly, I remember Kenny Schrader, the driver of the second car in the accident, and the look on his face when he turned away from your car, which he’d hurried to as soon as the cars came to a stop. I think most of us who have known Kenny over the years were very sure in that instant that something precious had been lost.
I remember FOX going off the air, and leaving the fans to wait and wonder. I remember spending the next hour or more, alternately switching sports channels and searching the Internet for any news. I remember praying…a lot! Then I remember Mike Helton as that big, gruff man choked on his own tears when he had to deliver in a shaking voice, the words, “We’ve lost Dale Earnhardt.”
Well Dale, it’s been many years since you left us, but as I sit here, looking at your picture and once more awash in tears, it seems like only yesterday. Nothing was the same after that day in Daytona and for so many of us, it will never be the same again. When you left, it was as though a bright light had been turned off and all the luster that had been racing was gone, leaving only darkness.
Today, I’m thankful that I have this fortune in memories, and that I’m able to share them with my gentle readers. All I can say to you now Dale is, “I still remember you…and always will.”
~PattyKay
Email: nas3car@gmail.com
Twitter: @MamaPKL
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There is nothing else to say on this one other than
Thank You. We all remember….
Thanks Vivian, yes we do all remember. Twelve years and counting.
Thank your for helping me remember all those great times. Like you, they still bring tears to my eyes, but it would be so much worse not having them.
Welcome back Sal, and thanks for taking the time to comment. I’ve heard it said that tears wash the soul. Memories are definitely a treasure when they are good ones. I tried to share only my best, except of course, for that last day… but who could forget it? Dale was so much a part of the sport he became part of our lives and as such, he will always be missed.
Oh PattyKay ,this is the best tribute to Dale ever.Wow Dale was’t my favorite at first(long live the king)but him and Richard were truly Champions in a class of their own…..great job…..well said,I too remember.
Thank you Buddy. This is one I wish I’d never had to write, and I know you understand that. Still, I gave it the best I had, and that was my memories. May he always be remembered in all the right ways.
To quote Garth Brooks, “I’m glad I didn’t know, the way it all would end, the way it all would go. Our lives are better left to chance, I could have missed the pain, but I’d of had to miss the Dance”.
That song from Garth has become closely associated with Dale since his death. For me, I’m grateful for the memories, but still can’t help but wonder, “What if…”
I remember his iron-fisted grip as I shook his hand—the strongest hand I have ever shaken.
I remember the twinkle in his eyes, and his push-broom mustache curving up when he grinned, as he put his arm around my wife and hugged her like an old friend would and thanked her for the homemade chocolate chip cookies (no nuts) that she had made for him.
I remember while visiting Daytona USA in 1998, I waited until the security guard turned his back, and I stretched over the velvet rope and placed my hands on the 3 car and leaned down and kissed the hood just as he had done in Victory Lane that year.
I remember touring the Garage Mahal a week before its’ Grand Opening, and seeing 7 Winston Cup trophies displayed in an immense glass case, with an open spot where a trophy should have been. In that space was a brass sign that read “Lovingly reserved for Number 8″.
I remember that awful day 12 years ago, as he shoved his way into a 4-wide line coming through the tri-oval, and Kurt Busch coming on his radio screaming like a little girl: “The 3 car flipped me off !!! He gave me the finger !!!!!” And all you could hear on the other end of the channel was chuckling.
I remember the White Flag coming out, and thinking/praying to myself: “C’mon Dale; bring it on home safe and sound.”
I remember my hero.
I remember……………………….
3forever……..
Yes Marc, we all have our memories. I was tempted to fill the article with some of my photos, but decided to employ the KISS principle and let the words carry it.
I miss him!
I remember the day Dale died all too well. I was only 8 years old and in second grade. That Sunday a neighborhood in my hometown of Mobile, Alabama had a Mardi Gras parade for children. I had only been a NASCAR fan for about a year and a half. Dale wasn’t my absolute favorite, but he was one of my favorites for sure (Bobby Labonte was my favorite so 2000 was a good year for me).
Anyway, I had to watch most of the race on the TV of a relative who happened to live in that neighborhood, but my family and I went home during the red flag period for Tony’s wreck. We made it home in time to see the final 15 laps or so. I was very happy to see Michael win his first race and really didn’t think too much of Dale’s wreck at the time (how could I? I was only 8). Something that does stick out to me now is that I remember my grandmother (who isn’t really a race fan, but keeps up with it since I do) saying “They should not have stuck a microphone in his face after what he just went through” in reference to the interview with Ken Schrader after the race. Again, I was really too young to really realize anything beyond that he had suffered some type of injury, but looking back I realize that she (like so many others) had seen the expression on Kenny’s face and realized something was terribly wrong.
Later that night, my mom and dad and I went to Wal-Mart just too run mundane chores. I was unaware of anything since the checkered flag flew. We were in the line at customer service for some reason when I overheard a lady ask another lady whether she had heard that “he” had died. They had NASCAR gear on and that is what led me to believe the “he” they were talking about was Dale. I turned to my dad and said “I think Dale died.” My dad replied “No, he didn’t” and I still don’t know to this day whether my dad genuinely didn’t know or if he was just trying to shield me from the information.
Anyway, on the way back through the store my dad and I stopped in the toy section and looked at NASCAR toys, which was somewhat of a hobby of mine in my younger years. Except only this time there were more people than usual on the aisle. I turned to my dad and said “I just hope Dale’s okay” in an intentionally loud voice because I knew that someone would overhear me and answer me (this is the type of kid I was). A man turned around and told me and my dad “They’re saying that he died” and that’s when reality hit me. I remember literally shrieking “No that’s not true” and a woman turned and said “I’m sorry, honey, but it is.” I remember we bought all the Earnhardt merchandise we could that night. I then called my grandmother on my way home to tell her the news, which she already knew at that point. Then I just watched specials on the news and mourned the rest of the night.
The next day at school I walked in and my teacher, who wasn’t a race fan by any stretch of the imagination, told me “Well, I guess you had a sad weekend, didn’t you?” I told her I did. In the coming weeks I remember collecting every newspaper and magazine I could find about the accident and Dale’s life in general. I remember my grandmother taking me after school one day to sign a memorial book (it was a very rainy, stormy day) that was delivered to Teresa at Dale’s memorial service. I remember watching the memorial service, but I can’t remember if I stayed home from school or if it was on a day I didn’t have school. Then of course the emotional wins by Steve Park and Kevin Harvick. And of course Dale Jr. winning the very next race at Daytona.
Anyway, sorry about the long post PattyKay. I just really was in a mood to remember tonight.
No problem with the length Zackary. Dale’s personality made him knows world-wide, and as you can attest, even young children were impacted by the death of the Legend that was Dale Earnhardt. Twelve years and we all still remember so vividly.
Gives one some idea of how his family must have felt.
After all these years, Dale’s Loss is still sore for the Motorsports Community.
And may it ever be thus Tony. I’d hate to think he’d ever be forgotten. Every time I hear someone say “Yes, but look at how safe the cars are now” I want to ask, “But was it worth the price we had to pay?”
today is a bad day for me, even 12 yrs later.
i, stupdidly, watched “The Day” last week on u-tube. cried my eyes out as it if were 12 yrs ago. i still cannot listen to garth brooks’ The Dance without crying. I remember him at the 2001 banquet and all the tears and rememberances of dale. it was a year of mourning. 12 yrs later i still mourn the loss of my hero.
met him in harrisburg pa, at a chevy dealership, one of many encounteres with dale. i was blown away at how he was with this handicapped child who came to see him. dale pushed everyone out of the way so he could get down next to the child in the wheelchair. i stood there crying, a grown woman, crying at the tenderness of the intimidator. little did i know that years down the road i’d shed more tears for the intimidator….the loss of him and his passion.
tonight at 7 pm i will light 3 black candles. 7 pm is when helton came on tv and told us what we already knew, 7 championships for the man in black, 3 for his trademarked number.
dale is still missed by so many, and the sport has changed so much. Godspeed Dale….may God richly bless all your wonderful fans.
Thank you so much Janice, for adding your memories to ours. Every year on this date, the world mourns. Truth is, we don’t want to forget. We want to keep our memories alive and share them with others. He was just that good… in so many ways.
That was amazing!! Thank-You for the memories and the tears. I guess they will never go away.Hardest time of the year for so many of us.I’ll always compare it to the day JFK Was assassinated.
Thank YOU Frank, for sharing your thoughts and feelings with us on this somber day. I have to think Dale would be pleased to be compared to President Kennedy. Both good men, each in his own way. Once again I’ll say that tears are meant to wash the soul. Sometimes, we need to shed them.
Here’s what I wrote shortly after that fateful day.
Connected Through History: The Earnhardt Thread
I can still see that seven year old boy who was so excited when he was going to his first race in May of 1964. The trip from his home in Hickory, NC to Charlotte Motor Speedway seemed much longer than the little more than an hour. He’d heard all about the exploits of the hottest driver on the circuit, and couldn’t wait to see Fireball in action. His family camped out in the infield right inside turn two. As it turned out, he only saw Fireball run seven laps.
What I most remember about the wreck was the thick black smoke coming from the end of the backstretch. Not long ago, I came across a photograph that one of my parents took of that smoke stretching into the air. For almost 37 years, that was the most infamous accident in NASCAR history. I learned something else about that 1964 race fairly recently. I was reading in one of the NASCAR history/Reference books and noticed that one of the drivers’ names was Ralph Earnhardt.
A few years ago, I was talking with Ned Jarrett (who was involved in the wreck) and told him that I was there and it was my first race. He seemed very sincere in telling me that he appreciated that I stayed with the sport.
Growing up in Hickory, I used to frequent Hickory Speedway (which for several years was managed by Ned). The regulars included Harry Gant, Morgan Shepherd, Bob Pressley (Robert’s dad), and the young kid of the previously mentioned Ralph.
I met Dale Earnhardt only once. I watched DE as he signed autograph after autograph. When it was my turn, I told him that I used to watch him at Hickory. He paused, and I could tell that he appreciated someone who wasn’t a johnny-come-lately fan. I wish I’d known I could have told him that I’d seen his daddy drive. He would have liked that.
I was at Charlotte again in 1975, when Dale Earnhardt started his first Grand National race (I still have trouble calling it Winston Cup). I was at Atlanta when DE beat Bobby Labonte to the finish line by six inches. I was also at Talledega when DE came from something like 18th in the last four laps to win what turned out to have been his last victory I was in Atlanta again when Kevin Harvick, in the DE car, beat Jeff Gordon by the same six inches. I made a return trip to Talladega this past year and watched Dale Earnhardt, Jr drive to victory. A thread runs from the past, through the present, and into the future.
Are these the words of a die hard Earnhardt fan? No, not at all. I hardly ever pulled for him. But, having witnessed much of his development as a driver first-hand, I had tremendous respect for him. It’s important to know from whence one has come. We should remember not just this thread, but so many others that together weave a rich tapestry. Dale Earnhardt literally drove a lot of the road to where stock car racing (and not just NASCAR) is today. Remember and appreciate the past. Like the great philosopher Barney Fife says, “It’s therapetic.”
Don, that was good. No, that was beautiful, a much warmer and more descriptive word. Thank you for adding your thoughts and memories to those already expressed here. I wish I could amalgamate these along with all the ones shared in email, on Twitter, and I am given to understand, on FaceBook, where this angel fears to tread.
In so many ways, Dale Earnhardt WAS stock car racing, as you so wisely separate from NASCAR. He came by it by blood, the son of a father that lived the sport; he brought his two sons to the sport and eventually, his grandchildren, to varying degrees yet to be seen. In the end, he gave his life for the sport.
What breaks my old heart is that he gave his life to see improvements already available finally in use and made mandatory. WHY did it take the death of the best before ANYONE paid serious attention in the stock car ranks? That single question will haunt me until the day when I’m gone to where Dale went. They will never learn who will not listen.
Thanks once again for the fond memories.
Harlee, you really are running well behind schedule, aren’t you Hon? Love to you and Judy. Hope all is well in your corner of the world.
today(apr 1st 2013) was the first time i read this piece. im going to admit to a tear or two. even tho most peple that see me wouldnt think it possible cuz im a big bald tattooed biker but they’d be wrong. i shed a lot of tears in the days following his death. these days i can pretty much make it through seeing something about him with a dry eye but you got me.
i surely do miss having “men” in racing these days.
and while im at it. did you write a column on the california race ??
Thank you John, for taking the time to leave such a nice comment. Don’t be ashamed of honest emotion. You are not the first grown man to cry on reading this piece. Imagine the tears that went into writing it. I really didn’t think it would ever see daylight, as it took me over a year and a half to finish. I’d write a bit and crumble; then start again and crumble again. Dale WAS racing to me, and for sure and certain, it’s not the same without him.
Those that we call “kids” are grown men and raising families of their own. Jeff Gordon is looking at retirement. Didn’t he just reach voting age a couple years back?
Hmm, did I write a column on the California race? No, I’m sorry to say that I started to, but a rather unpleasant disagreement on site changed my mind. It was, to my way of thinking, the best race of the year… the best race since the one at the Glen last summer, and it doesn’t matter to me that it was in California. That changes nothing.
The racing this year, the Nationwide accident at Daytona notwithstanding, has been the best in many years. I only hope that is because of the new Gen-6 cars, but I’m not quite ready to beat that drum just yet. As George Jones said, “It’s been a good year for the roses.” I hope it’s as good for the racing.
Thanks again for the comment, even though belated. It’s always appreciated.
california was awesome, i have to eat a big plate of crow as it relates to that race. in my former opinion california was a good excuse to take a nap,or go for a ride ….anything but watch the race. but last week was top shelf.
i watch the races so i dont usually read that many articles about them,but i have gotten into the habit of seeking your column out to see what you have to say. that being said you tell whoever caused you not to write last week ” dont make me come up there” lol
hope to see you back in action after martinsville.
No one expected that race out of Fontana… even Gillian Zucker, I’m quite sure. Me? I love pleasant surprises, but wasn’t ready for some of the responses in this neck of the woods. Right now, I’m not at all sure you’ll be reading anymore of me on this site. I believe we are looking at a divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences.
Remember to keep smiling. It looks so good on you!