It’s been forever since I’ve added to the blog and life has taken many turns. To quickly fill in the gaps, last August I went to college (again) and in December graduated (again.) I’ve finally had some successful as well as not so successful dating encounters, celebrated holidays, watched it snow and reveled in the February thaw. I’ve even re-entered the real estate biz with a dynamite new listing...call if interested…wonders never cease.
Mid February brings the Daytona 500 and cause to reminisce about being there 10 years ago. It was the year the race ended in tragedy as we watched the most famous crash in history, the one that killed Dale Earnhardt.
We had the condo in FL. and a friend offered us his par excellence tickets, 1st row above the start/finish line, the best seats in the outside house. Bright and early Sunday morning, from Siesta Key, Fl., we headed east across the state to Daytona Beach. A few miles from town, cars were parked along the road. We kept driving and spotted an empty lot directly across the street from the track. Paul pulled in to parking paradise, the PEP BOYS Auto Store where we found a lonely young man standing vigil in wait of people like us wanting to park. We offered him $100.00 for the privilege and the poor boy looked sick but said he couldn't take it so we asked if the manager was around and went inside to make the same offer. We were turned down a second time. Mr. Manager stood his ground defending his parking lot to paying PEPBOY customers only. Neither one of us were feeling like mental rock stars after the long drive but I saw the invisible light bulb go on above Paul’s head as he asked if they were servicing cars that day and, if so, the price for an oil change and rotation of tires. The manager replied they were open for business and the cost was $69.95 plus tax but couldn't guarantee the car would be ready until the end of the day. Duh, duh, and double duh. It took all of a second for Paul to hand over the keys and say the words, “write ‘er up, we’ll be back by closing time.” Doing the math, he’d saved a whopping 30 dollars and new oil to boot and off we went across the street to the one of the most significant and memorable NASCAR races in history.
The day was Florida magnificent with warm sunshine and cool breezes. Not only did we have premier seats at a happening national event but also, the mood of the day gave license to consuming all the hot dogs and beer we wanted. We could also yell and scream like real race fans. Normally, you couldn't pay me to watch a car race but this was the DAYTONA and I was right there in the thick of things, so cool!
The interior track area was off the charts colorful and active and after standing to honor Old Glory during the Star Spangled Banner, the gentlemen started their engines and were underway. There was plenty of action to keep things interesting, the most notable was mid race and across the track. At least 20 cars piled up in mass destruction but luckily everyone walked away unscathed and we relished (no hot dog pun intended) in the excitement….until roughly 30 seconds before the end of the race. All the sudden, just before the final turn to the finish, a car hit another and we watched it slam into the wall. There was smoke, skidding and gasps, but only 2 cars fell from the pack headed to the finish line. In a blink of an eye, the winner crossed the line and the crowd went wild.
Meanwhile, the 2 stilled cars sat silent after sliding across the track from the wall to the other side. All eyes turned from the finish line to the direction of the accident and watched as one of the drivers finally climbed from his car. The other car, #3, remained lifeless like, as we were to discover later, its driver inside. Rescue vehicles and paramedics rushed to the site. Hushed comments began working through the crowd, “It’s #3, Earnhardt.” “Yea, Earnhardt.” “Anyone see him yet?” “No, but he’ll climb out in a minute, he’s the man, invincible.” “Yea, too mean to die.” We waited in silence, willing him to show his head out of the side of his car so we could cheer his escape from death. But the car and driver remained inactive, a complete 180 from the surrounding commotion.
The day, in all its joyful glory ended with a hushed crowd and feel of impending tragedy as it was apparent Dale was not conscious. We watched while the team of rescue workers went to task. Little did they know this was the time they were going to pull a lifeless body from the wreckage. A few hours earlier we’d seen 10 times more cars pile up and every one of the drivers walked away. How on earth could this seemingly less violent 2 car crash be more serious? It honestly seemed minor by comparison.
No one anticipated the outcome. He was dead.
There you have it, race fans. Dale Earnhardt was a man with a passion and need for speed. Loved or not, he was certainly a legend and I will always remember that day and the Daytona Race every February.
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