From Davey to Dale

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From Davey to Dale...

by Steve Wingate

I had promised myself that I wouldn't be writing any articles about Dale Earnhardt. I didn't feel that I could say anything that wouldn't be said by anybody else. But, after mulling it over, I've decided that I do have something to say. I've always tried to remain somewhat objective when it comes to what I write or put on my website as far as the drivers are concerned. But, every writer or enthusiast, no matter what they may tell you, has a favorite driver. Dale Earnhardt was my driver, but for some very special reasons.

I got into NASCAR in the late eighties just as Davey Allison was coming to power. Since I was born and raised in Alabama, I naturally became a big Allison fan. After all, I'd been hearing that name all my life, so it was only natural that I gravitated towards Alabama's "First Family" of racing. Seeing that sleek black 28 rocket around the track always got me fired up and made me proud of Alabama's NASCAR heritage. Then came the day that most Alabama racing fans can quote you without having to look it up... Tuesday, July 13th, 1993.... the day after the private helicopter piloted by Davey slammed into the infield at Talladega. I don't think any of us really believed Davey was going to die... the news folks kept on telling us how bad off he was, but we had seen Davey live through much worse. I for one refused to believe that he wouldn't pull through, then come back in a few weeks and whip everyone's tail. By the next morning, Davey was gone. I simply couldn't believe it was real. I passed my day at work in a fog-- all of my extremities felt numb. The shock finally wore off when I got off work that afternoon and entered the stream of traffic on Highway 78 in Forestdale (about fifteen miles from Hueytown) and saw that every car, not just a few or many, but every car on the road had it's headlights burning in rememberance of David Carl Allison. A statewide procession for a fallen hero and "local boy". This was such a stirring sight that I still, after eight years cannot find the words to express it.

Six days later, I sat in front of the TV watching the Miller Genuine Draft 500 at Pocono, feeling like I didn't have a friend in the world. I just sat there, wistfully looking for that black 28, knowing that I wouldn't see it. The Robert Yates team was sitting out that race and planning to come back at Talladega with somebody else behind the wheel. Big deal-- I couldn't care less. The last lap came, and Dale Earnhardt drove under the checkers. Again, big deal. I didn't particularly like or dislike Dale, so it didn't bother me or interest me that he had won. The race cut to commercial, and I sat through the usual progression of MGD commercials and the like, and was about to turn off the TV when the race came back on.

I froze.

The image I was seeing on my tiny thirteen inch TV is one that I still remember clearly. The #3 car was sitting on pit road with all the crew members huddled around it. It was a far off shot, and you could see the heat shimmers coming off the pavement, giving the entire scene a surreal quality. It wasn't far enough off that you couldn't see what was going on, however-- the entire team was in prayer around Dale's car. The crew members departed, and the black #3 roared away and performed a backwards victory lap while flying the #28 flag out the window. I was afraid that my heart might actually burst watching Dale pay tribute to Davey. I found myself cheering for Dale for the very first time that day.

The victory lane celebration was no less heart wrenching. "I'd run second to him in a minute if it'd bring him back." Dale said, and although you couldn't tell for sure, it looked as though he wiped away a tear or two when he said it. Gas man Danny "Chocolate" Myers later confirmed this by saying that he'd "never seen Dale Earnhardt cry before today." The man they called "The Intimidator" won my respect and fandom that day by showing everyone that he was not only a tough competitor, but a compassionate human being and a gentleman. I've stuck with Earnhardt ever since and probably always will.

The next race, the Die Hard 500 at Talladega, started off with another tribute to Davey. The pre-race activities started with a prayer and a short speech by Liz Allison. While "The Fan" by the musical group Alabama was played over the PA at the track, the famous #28 made it's way onto the track for a solo parade lap with Davey's uncle, Donnie Allison, at the wheel. The sportscasters were quiet, letting the tribute play itself out. I'll never forget the mournful sound of that single car as it made it's way around the speedway. The race itself was no less forgettable, and also featured the return of Neil Bonnett, another Alabama racer and friend of Dale Earnhardt. Neil drove a black #31 Lumina loaned to him by Richard Childress with Mom N' Pop's as a sponsor. I had not known before then that Dale was so close to Neil and "The Alabama Gang". As many of you may remember, Neil wrecked that car in typical Talladega style-- airborne and end over end into the catch fence. The crash was severe enough for NASCAR to red flag the race for more than an hour while the fence was repaired, but Neil (and the fans in the stands) escaped injury. Earnhardt commented on Neil's run later by saying: "Today was the happiest day he's had since he's been out of a race car."

Sadly, the 1993 Die Hard 500 also ended the career of Alabama racer Stanley Smith in a lap 70 accident involving several cars. Jimmy Horton went over the wall and Stanley Smith got turned sideways and was rammed by Ritchie Petty. (Yes, he is related.) Smith was listed in very critical condition for a while, but he did survive. Jimmy Horton commented on the crash that sent him flying over the wall and into the dirt by saying: "You know you've had a really bad crash when the first guy to get you is holding a beer can."

Dale went on to win that race, and as I sat watching the victory celebration on TV, I realized that I felt just a little like I did when I used to see Davey in victory lane. Over the next couple of years, that feeling intensified a little more every time I saw him win until I was a full-fledged, car carrying Earnhardt fan.

February 12th, 1994-- I hadn't been following Daytona Speedweeks very closely that year. I had been married for just eight days, and racing was the furthermost thing from my mind that sunny Saturday morning as I walked down the sidewalk from my place of employment to grab some breakfast. I glanced at a Birmingham News paper box as I walked by and was galvanized on the spot by the headline: Neil Bonnett dies after smashing wall. It had happened again. We had lost Clifford Allison, Alan Kulwicki, Davey Allison, and now, Neil Bonnett. I dug my thirty-five cents out of my pocket and bought that paper, which I still have to this very day. Many thoughts raced through my head, such as the impact on the close-knit Hueytown community, which still had yet to recover from the shock of the year before, Neil's family...... and Dale. I remembered how affected he was by Davey's death, and I also knew that Neil and Dale were good friends.

Neil had lost control of the #51 Country Time Lumina during a practice session for the Daytona 500 and smashed into the turn four wall. It seems that Bonnett had drifted too far down the track and gotten onto the apron, then was slung up into the wall nearly head-on. When they cut him out of the car, he still had a weak pulse. Neil Bonnett, 47, died a half hour later from massive head injuries at Hallifax Medical Center.

The next six years were mostly absent of racing tragedies, and just when I thought drivers were invincible again, I heard the news of Adam Petty's passing. I was driving home from work, listening, but not really listening to the radio. It was a sunny spring day, and I was rather enjoying the drive home for a change when my attention was drawn to the radio by a John Boy and Billy commercial. The commercial was actually a blurb by one of the local DJs, and the unusually somber tone of his voice and a mention of the name "Adam Petty" was all I really heard, but it was enough to give me a bad feeling. I arrived home shortly afterward where I immediately grabbed the remote and began scanning the news and sports channels. My wife kept asking me what was wrong, and I really didn't know to articulate the odd feeling I had other than to say that "I didn't know yet." Within five minutes I found what I was afraid I was going to find-- a rescue crew surrounding a crumpled race car. I felt sick.... the screen cut to a graphic with Adam's portrait and the legend "Adam Petty 1980-2000" and my fear was confirmed. Just a few months later the whole scenario played itself out again with the death of Kenny Irwin at the same track in almost the same spot. The death of these two young drivers left me numb and barely interested in the rest of the season. I watched a race here and there, but intentionally refused to watch either New Hampshire race. I just couldn't bear to even look at the place.

During the off season, I started to feel a little better about racing, and actually found myself anxious for the start of Daytona SpeedWeeks. Aside from the little bit of trouble we had from FOX, things were looking really good for 2001. By race day, my enthusiasm had even spilled over to my wife, who is normally not very interested in my obsession. She joined me on the couch for most of the race, and was even cheering and pulling for Michael right along with me at the end. Any other time I hoot and holler at the TV during a race she sits there and looks at me the same way I look at her when she dabs her eyes with a Kleenex repeatedly during an ER episode. But this time, she was right in there with me-- she was pulling for Michael, but, as I found out immediately after the race, she was also deeply touched by Dale fighting so hard to keep the drivers behind him from getting up there and challenging his son and his driver. When the caution came out on the last lap, I went nuts... I didn't even notice what the caution was about, I just knew that Mikey had it wrapped up. Jennifer kept trying to tell me: "Dale hit the wall real hard.", but I was too busy hooting and hollering to pay attention. When FOX cut to commercial and she knew she had my attention, she told me again what had happened and asked me if I thought he was all right.

Of course he was, I thought, Dale is invincible. I've seen Dale live through much worse. I'm sure he's hurt, but he'll come back in a few weeks and whip everyone's tail. I continued to tell myself this as I saw the rescue crew cutting him out. I told myself this again when I saw Dale Jr. running away from his car to be with his father. I told myself again as I saw the aerial view of the ambulance not getting in too big of a hurry on it's way to Hallifax. The only thing I didn't tell myself was that I had told myself this very same thing nearly eight years ago. I realize now that I was in the early stages of denial, that I intentionally blocked out some essential facts, the biggest one being that this way the exact same kind of accident that killed his buddy Neil Bonnett in 1994. The other one being a rumor that I heard a few years back after Dale's big wreck at Talladega.... I had read somewhere that Earnhardt's doctors had warned him that he couldn't take another hard lick in a race car. But none of that mattered because Dale Earnhardt was NOT going to die. I just knew it. Dale couldn't die.

Although I believed that Dale was going to live, I was still worried. I checked the internet numerous times to see if I could find out anything, flipped through all the TV channels hoping for some shred of information, and finally just went outside and paced the carport. Then I asked myself: Why am I so worried? He's going to be fine. He's tough. At this, I felt a little better and went inside to watch some Speedvision. I just kind of sat there and stared at it, not really interested. Suddenly, right in the middle of Motorsports Mundial , the program abruptly switched to what I recognized immediately as a press announcement.

It was Mike Helton.

I don't know how else to describe the way I felt but to use an overused expression. My blood literally ran cold just at the sight of Mike Helton appearing so suddenly. Even though my mind had denied it all afternoon, my heart knew what he was going to say before he got any of it out. I groaned when I heard the quavering note of Helton's voice. No. Oh God, no.

I've heard lots of writers describing themselves as "numb", but as cliché as it may be, there's just no other way to describe the way I felt after hearing the news. "We've lost Dale Earnhardt." was all I really heard, all I really remember. There's only been one other time in my life that I have felt such a deep level of shock, and that was when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded. Someone a little older than me would probably recall the Kennedy assassination as another one of those moments. It was as if I could almost feel the attention of the entire world focused on Dale Earnhardt at that moment. I really could feel that.

Dale's passing has left a deep chasm in me. I've watched Rockingham and Vegas feeling like I didn't have a friend in the world. Although Steve Park's tribute after winning Rockingham was touching, no one has really come forward and made me feel the way Dale did in July of '93. I guess NASCAR has changed a little since then. I'm sure that someone will come forward before the season is through and display the same kind of sportsmanship that Dale showed when he paid tribute to Davey Allison all those years ago.

.....and this is my tribute to him.

Steve Wingate

March 8th, 2001

2001 Car Guy of Benchfield

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	The Car Guy of Benchfield Home + TCGOB NASCAR! + Photo Garage + Links + Mad Mad Automotive World + Driving Songs + Humor Pages + Reader's Rides+ All About TCGOB + Contact Us From Davey to Dale... by Steve Wingate I had promised myself that I wouldn't be writing any articles about Dale Earnhardt. I didn't feel that I could say anything that wouldn't be said by anybody else. But, after mulling it over, I've decided that I do have something to say. I've always tried to remain somewhat objective when it comes to what I write or put on my website as far as the drivers are concerned. But, every writer or enthusiast, no matter what they may tell you, has a favorite driver. Dale Earnhardt was my driver, but for some very special reasons. I got into NASCAR in the late eighties just as Davey Allison was coming to power. Since I was born and raised in Alabama, I naturally became a big Allison fan. After all, I'd been hearing that name all my life, so it was only natural that I gravitated towards Alabama's "First Family" of racing. Seeing that sleek black 28 rocket around the track always got me fired up and made me proud of Alabama's NASCAR heritage. Then came the day that most Alabama racing fans can quote you without having to look it up... Tuesday, July 13th, 1993.... the day after the private helicopter piloted by Davey slammed into the infield at Talladega. I don't think any of us really believed Davey was going to die... the news folks kept on telling us how bad off he was, but we had seen Davey live through much worse. I for one refused to believe that he wouldn't pull through, then come back in a few weeks and whip everyone's tail. By the next morning, Davey was gone. I simply couldn't believe it was real. I passed my day at work in a fog-- all of my extremities felt numb. The shock finally wore off when I got off work that afternoon and entered the stream of traffic on Highway 78 in Forestdale (about fifteen miles from Hueytown) and saw that every car, not just a few or many, but every car on the road had it's headlights burning in rememberance of David Carl Allison. A statewide procession for a fallen hero and "local boy". This was such a stirring sight that I still, after eight years cannot find the words to express it. Six days later, I sat in front of the TV watching the Miller Genuine Draft 500 at Pocono, feeling like I didn't have a friend in the world. I just sat there, wistfully looking for that black 28, knowing that I wouldn't see it. The Robert Yates team was sitting out that race and planning to come back at Talladega with somebody else behind the wheel. Big deal-- I couldn't care less. The last lap came, and Dale Earnhardt drove under the checkers. Again, big deal. I didn't particularly like or dislike Dale, so it didn't bother me or interest me that he had won. The race cut to commercial, and I sat through the usual progression of MGD commercials and the like, and was about to turn off the TV when the race came back on. I froze. The image I was seeing on my tiny thirteen inch TV is one that I still remember clearly. The #3 car was sitting on pit road with all the crew members huddled around it. It was a far off shot, and you could see the heat shimmers coming off the pavement, giving the entire scene a surreal quality. It wasn't far enough off that you couldn't see what was going on, however-- the entire team was in prayer around Dale's car. The crew members departed, and the black #3 roared away and performed a backwards victory lap while flying the #28 flag out the window. I was afraid that my heart might actually burst watching Dale pay tribute to Davey. I found myself cheering for Dale for the very first time that day. The victory lane celebration was no less heart wrenching. "I'd run second to him in a minute if it'd bring him back." Dale said, and although you couldn't tell for sure, it looked as though he wiped away a tear or two when he said it. Gas man Danny "Chocolate" Myers later confirmed this by saying that he'd "never seen Dale Earnhardt cry before today." The man they called "The Intimidator" won my respect and fandom that day by showing everyone that he was not only a tough competitor, but a compassionate human being and a gentleman. I've stuck with Earnhardt ever since and probably always will. The next race, the Die Hard 500 at Talladega, started off with another tribute to Davey. The pre-race activities started with a prayer and a short speech by Liz Allison. While "The Fan" by the musical group Alabama was played over the PA at the track, the famous #28 made it's way onto the track for a solo parade lap with Davey's uncle, Donnie Allison, at the wheel. The sportscasters were quiet, letting the tribute play itself out. I'll never forget the mournful sound of that single car as it made it's way around the speedway. The race itself was no less forgettable, and also featured the return of Neil Bonnett, another Alabama racer and friend of Dale Earnhardt. Neil drove a black #31 Lumina loaned to him by Richard Childress with Mom N' Pop's as a sponsor. I had not known before then that Dale was so close to Neil and "The Alabama Gang". As many of you may remember, Neil wrecked that car in typical Talladega style-- airborne and end over end into the catch fence. The crash was severe enough for NASCAR to red flag the race for more than an hour while the fence was repaired, but Neil (and the fans in the stands) escaped injury. Earnhardt commented on Neil's run later by saying: "Today was the happiest day he's had since he's been out of a race car." Sadly, the 1993 Die Hard 500 also ended the career of Alabama racer Stanley Smith in a lap 70 accident involving several cars. Jimmy Horton went over the wall and Stanley Smith got turned sideways and was rammed by Ritchie Petty. (Yes, he is related.) Smith was listed in very critical condition for a while, but he did survive. Jimmy Horton commented on the crash that sent him flying over the wall and into the dirt by saying: "You know you've had a really bad crash when the first guy to get you is holding a beer can." Dale went on to win that race, and as I sat watching the victory celebration on TV, I realized that I felt just a little like I did when I used to see Davey in victory lane. Over the next couple of years, that feeling intensified a little more every time I saw him win until I was a full-fledged, car carrying Earnhardt fan. February 12th, 1994-- I hadn't been following Daytona Speedweeks very closely that year. I had been married for just eight days, and racing was the furthermost thing from my mind that sunny Saturday morning as I walked down the sidewalk from my place of employment to grab some breakfast. I glanced at a Birmingham News paper box as I walked by and was galvanized on the spot by the headline: Neil Bonnett dies after smashing wall. It had happened again. We had lost Clifford Allison, Alan Kulwicki, Davey Allison, and now, Neil Bonnett. I dug my thirty-five cents out of my pocket and bought that paper, which I still have to this very day. Many thoughts raced through my head, such as the impact on the close-knit Hueytown community, which still had yet to recover from the shock of the year before, Neil's family...... and Dale. I remembered how affected he was by Davey's death, and I also knew that Neil and Dale were good friends. Neil had lost control of the #51 Country Time Lumina during a practice session for the Daytona 500 and smashed into the turn four wall. It seems that Bonnett had drifted too far down the track and gotten onto the apron, then was slung up into the wall nearly head-on. When they cut him out of the car, he still had a weak pulse. Neil Bonnett, 47, died a half hour later from massive head injuries at Hallifax Medical Center. The next six years were mostly absent of racing tragedies, and just when I thought drivers were invincible again, I heard the news of Adam Petty's passing. I was driving home from work, listening, but not really listening to the radio. It was a sunny spring day, and I was rather enjoying the drive home for a change when my attention was drawn to the radio by a John Boy and Billy commercial. The commercial was actually a blurb by one of the local DJs, and the unusually somber tone of his voice and a mention of the name "Adam Petty" was all I really heard, but it was enough to give me a bad feeling. I arrived home shortly afterward where I immediately grabbed the remote and began scanning the news and sports channels. My wife kept asking me what was wrong, and I really didn't know to articulate the odd feeling I had other than to say that "I didn't know yet." Within five minutes I found what I was afraid I was going to find-- a rescue crew surrounding a crumpled race car. I felt sick.... the screen cut to a graphic with Adam's portrait and the legend "Adam Petty 1980-2000" and my fear was confirmed. Just a few months later the whole scenario played itself out again with the death of Kenny Irwin at the same track in almost the same spot. The death of these two young drivers left me numb and barely interested in the rest of the season. I watched a race here and there, but intentionally refused to watch either New Hampshire race. I just couldn't bear to even look at the place. During the off season, I started to feel a little better about racing, and actually found myself anxious for the start of Daytona SpeedWeeks. Aside from the little bit of trouble we had from FOX, things were looking really good for 2001. By race day, my enthusiasm had even spilled over to my wife, who is normally not very interested in my obsession. She joined me on the couch for most of the race, and was even cheering and pulling for Michael right along with me at the end. Any other time I hoot and holler at the TV during a race she sits there and looks at me the same way I look at her when she dabs her eyes with a Kleenex repeatedly during an ER episode. But this time, she was right in there with me-- she was pulling for Michael, but, as I found out immediately after the race, she was also deeply touched by Dale fighting so hard to keep the drivers behind him from getting up there and challenging his son and his driver. When the caution came out on the last lap, I went nuts... I didn't even notice what the caution was about, I just knew that Mikey had it wrapped up. Jennifer kept trying to tell me: "Dale hit the wall real hard.", but I was too busy hooting and hollering to pay attention. When FOX cut to commercial and she knew she had my attention, she told me again what had happened and asked me if I thought he was all right. Of course he was, I thought, Dale is invincible. I've seen Dale live through much worse. I'm sure he's hurt, but he'll come back in a few weeks and whip everyone's tail. I continued to tell myself this as I saw the rescue crew cutting him out. I told myself this again when I saw Dale Jr. running away from his car to be with his father. I told myself again as I saw the aerial view of the ambulance not getting in too big of a hurry on it's way to Hallifax. The only thing I didn't tell myself was that I had told myself this very same thing nearly eight years ago. I realize now that I was in the early stages of denial, that I intentionally blocked out some essential facts, the biggest one being that this way the exact same kind of accident that killed his buddy Neil Bonnett in 1994. The other one being a rumor that I heard a few years back after Dale's big wreck at Talladega.... I had read somewhere that Earnhardt's doctors had warned him that he couldn't take another hard lick in a race car. But none of that mattered because Dale Earnhardt was NOT going to die. I just knew it. Dale couldn't die. Although I believed that Dale was going to live, I was still worried. I checked the internet numerous times to see if I could find out anything, flipped through all the TV channels hoping for some shred of information, and finally just went outside and paced the carport. Then I asked myself: Why am I so worried? He's going to be fine. He's tough. At this, I felt a little better and went inside to watch some Speedvision. I just kind of sat there and stared at it, not really interested. Suddenly, right in the middle of Motorsports Mundial , the program abruptly switched to what I recognized immediately as a press announcement. It was Mike Helton. I don't know how else to describe the way I felt but to use an overused expression. My blood literally ran cold just at the sight of Mike Helton appearing so suddenly. Even though my mind had denied it all afternoon, my heart knew what he was going to say before he got any of it out. I groaned when I heard the quavering note of Helton's voice. No. Oh God, no. I've heard lots of writers describing themselves as "numb", but as cliché as it may be, there's just no other way to describe the way I felt after hearing the news. "We've lost Dale Earnhardt." was all I really heard, all I really remember. There's only been one other time in my life that I have felt such a deep level of shock, and that was when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded. Someone a little older than me would probably recall the Kennedy assassination as another one of those moments. It was as if I could almost feel the attention of the entire world focused on Dale Earnhardt at that moment. I really could feel that. Dale's passing has left a deep chasm in me. I've watched Rockingham and Vegas feeling like I didn't have a friend in the world. Although Steve Park's tribute after winning Rockingham was touching, no one has really come forward and made me feel the way Dale did in July of '93. I guess NASCAR has changed a little since then. I'm sure that someone will come forward before the season is through and display the same kind of sportsmanship that Dale showed when he paid tribute to Davey Allison all those years ago. .....and this is my tribute to him. Steve Wingate March 8th, 2001 2001 Car Guy of Benchfield Home + TCGOB NASCAR! + Photo Garage + Links + Mad Mad Automotive World + Driving Songs + Humor Pages + Reader's Rides+ All About TCGOB + Contact Us