Dale Earnhardt ~ I Remember You
2/18/2014 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 all these 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 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 Lilley
April 29, 1951 – February 18, 2001
~
PattyKay