I often find myself trying
to explain to my friends and family what I mean when I say that I am a race fan. I doubt that fans of other sports, football,
baseball, basketball, etc. have to answer this question. They may watch all the games on TV, attend games if they are
really devoted and happen to live in an area that allows them to support their team in person. I’m sure they may
have t-shirts, hats and jackets with their team logo on them. Maybe they even collect memorabilia of their teams and players. No
matter how devoted they may be to their sport, I doubt that they could understand the obsession of a race fan.
My interest started when
I was very young. I had three bothers, two older and one younger. I have an older sister but she was pretty much gone
from home by the time I came along so I didn’t know her well until I became a teenager. We moved from a very small
town in Western North Carolina to Asheville when I was
4 years old. We rented a house not too far from the New Asheville Speedway. From the house, we could hear the racecars
on Friday nights.
I can’t tell you
exactly when I attended my first race but it was sometime before I was five. Daddy and me would load up on Friday evenings
and head off to the racetrack. One older brother would go with us every so often, but it was usually just daddy and me. Mama
didn’t like the idea of me going to the racetrack where there were so many people drinking. As a child, I was always
afraid of anyone that had had too much to drink so I guess that Mama thought I would soon decide that I did not want to go
anyway. Looking back, I have no memories of there ever being a time when I did not enjoy being at the track. I must
have been so consumed by the racing that I paid little attention to the fact that there were people drinking.
As I grew up and the
TV stations started showing the NASCAR races, Daddy and I would park on the couch in front of the TV on Sunday afternoons
and cheer for our favorite drivers. Seems we never pulled for the same driver so there was always that competition and
merciless teasing when my driver beat his or visa versa. Even after I married and left home, I would try to arrange my
Sunday afternoons so that I could go spend that time with my dad. Very rarely did the two of us miss watching a race
together.
In the 1980’s he
became a diehard Dale Earnhardt fan, the first driver that I really remember choosing as “mine” was Davey
Allison. Before that, I would pull for anyone other than Dale Earnhardt. If Earnhardt won, Daddy would call me 2
or 3 times the following week and just laugh, if someone else won, I would ring his phone and laugh.
In the late 80’s I started
collecting the memorabilia and would often buy things for dad too. I always told him that I would never spend my money
on anything that had to do with Dale Earnhardt. In 1990, I was having a difficult time deciding what to get him for Christmas. While
at a flea market, I found a Dale Earnhardt clock. I knew that he would love it and he would be totally surprised that
I would buy it for him. When he opened it on Christmas Day, I told him that he had better cherish it because it really
took a great effort for me to buy it. My mother, who did not like racing and certainly did not like Dale Earnhardt, told
him in no uncertain terms that he was not going to hang that “ugly” clock up in her living room. As dad often
did, he completely ignored her orders and proceeded to hang his clock right in the center of the wall that you would see as
soon as you walked through their front door. He was prouder of that flea market Dale Earnhardt clock than he would have
been had I given him a pound of solid gold.
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In September of 1991,
daddy had gone to the lake with us and when we returned on Sunday afternoon; we sat down to watch the race. By the time
it was over, he was saying that he didn’t feel well. He ended up in the hospital and 3 weeks later, on Sunday,
he passed away. For the 2 weeks that he was in the hospital, I would go visit on Sunday and we would watch the race. The
Sunday that he died, I was just getting off the elevator at the hospital, going to watch the race with him, when my Mom came
out and said there was something wrong. The rest of the day was spent with him in CCU and us waiting for visiting times. He
passed away around 6:00
that evening. We didn’t get to watch the race that day.
After his funeral, I
went back to Mom’s, went into the living room and took the clock down off the wall. It has hung above my bed ever
since. Over the next 10 years, until Dale Earnhardt was killed in 2001, every time that he won a race, I would hear my
daddy laughing. If someone else won, I would laugh out loud knowing that daddy would hear me.
In recent years, I have been
blessed to have the opportunity to work with small race team and to have access to the pit and garage areas at the tracks. In
2001, the week before Earnhardt was killed; I met him in the pits at Daytona. I was so awestruck, I don’t remember
if I was even able to speak. I bet my daddy got a real kick out of that.
I have grown more and
more fond of the sport and the people since my dad died. In some way, I always feel so close to him when I am at the
track or just on the couch watching on TV. It was such an important part of our relationship because it gave us so many
hours of enjoyment and time together. I wish that he had lived long enough to have gone to a Daytona race with me. I
would have loved to see him get the opportunity to meet Dale Earnhardt. I’m sure that he would have been speechless
too.
So, now you know how a race
fan is born. It starts with family, it is built by families and we are all one family. When we talk about the NASCAR
family, we are not talking about the France’s,
the Petty’s, the Waltrip’s or the Earnhardt’s. We are talking about the fathers and daughters, mothers
and sons, sisters and brothers that have spent hours together sharing their love for the sport and each other. If you
have an interest in starting something with your kids that you can all enjoy together, go to a race. Find a local short-track,
load up the kids and spend some quality time together. It will cost less than going to a movie and it will create memories
that will last a lifetime. BE A RACE FAN.
2006 StockCar Review.
