Tom Higgins' Scuffs

An Australian Adventure, Part III

  Prologue: In late February of 1988 NASCAR sanctioned what amounted to an exhibition race in Australia at a sparkling new speedway near Melbourne, The Thunderdome.  It held the potential of being a great  adventure for those lucky enough to be going, including me.  The trip proved more than equal to the promise.  Over the next few days "Scuffs" will recount some of the stories from two decades ago, including a heart-warming triumph by the late Neil Bonnett.
   
   The welcome afforded by the Australian people to the visiting American motorsports party  was genuinely warm and wonderful.
   We were treated, really, like royalty.
   And then, on our third day Down Under, came a stunner in the Melbourne Herald.  Turns out not everyone was charmed to have us in the country.
   Gerard Wright, a columnist for the conservative afternoon newspaper, ripped the Goodyear 500K that loomed at Bob Jane's spectacular Thunderdome race track on Sunday.  Wright also had ugly shots for the U.S. drivers and singled out one individual for special sarcasm, UNOCAL's colorful representative, Bill Broderick.
   Someone in the  infield press center handed me a copy of the Herald with the page turned to Wright's ranting.

 

 

   Wright started off by calling the stock car race a "peculiarly, distinctive American event in all its noise and vulgarity.
   "Ever stood at the end of a runway as a jumbo jet has soared over your head?  Pain thresholds are breached and ears bleed.  It's a strange sensation.
   "Much the same effect can be had at Bob Jane's Thunderdome Sunday afternoon in the first Goodyear 500K."
   Wright then went after Broderick, who wore his red hair thick and swept back.  Brockerick also was fond of expensive jewelry, especially gaudy rings.
   Wright called Broderick "a pompadoured, sleazy, vulgar, bejeweled camp follower."
   Broderick came into the press center and walked over to my spot, where I was reading Wright's diatribe.
   Bill was laughing and reveling in the notoriety.
   "I'm offended no end," said Broderick, putting his tongue firmly into cheek.  "It is well known that when it comes to sleaze and vulgarity, I'm a leader, not a follower."
   Wright's column continued:
   "The style and sound of the racing you see and hear you may remember from The Dukes Of Hazzard television series.  According to the official history of the Goodyear 500K, NASCAR evolved from the Deep South when moonshiners used to ferry their product  from backwoods stills to a thirsty populace at night, using powerful cars to run the gauntlet of the law.  Eventually, instead of the cops, the moonshiners raced each other round and round on dirt tracks throughout the South.  There the sport now offers $16 million annually in prize money.
   "Bob Jane has moved heaven and earth--5 million tons of the latter--to attract 50,000 latent hillbillies, petrol heads and noise freaks who will pay $18 each to expose themselves to sunstroke and industrial deafness on Sunday.
   "To see what?  The cars chase each other at high speed on a closed bank track for 278 laps.  There are no gear changes, no subtlety.  Just bumper tags and migraines for two hours.
   "If you must watch this nonsense, some words of advice: Take a hat if it's sunny, and a Walkman.  Turn the volume up to 10.  Then close your eyes and pretend you're not there."
   To a man the Aussies taking part in the event, their country's first with a NASCAR flavor, were mightily embarrassed.  The foremost Australian driver, Allen Grice, who had competed in the Coca-Cola 600 at Charlotte Motor Speedway, personally apologized to his American counterparts--including Bobby Allison, Neil Bonnett, Dave Marcis, Kyle Petty, Michael Waltrip, James Hylton and D.K. Ulrich from the big-time Winston Cup Series.
   By evening Wright's harsh attack generally had been forgotten.  This is because Jane and his associates were treating the U.S. entourage--drivers, crew chiefs, members of the media--to dinner and entertainment at a working sheep ranch about 40 miles west of Melbourne.
   Two vehicles were made available for transportation: A bus for those who didn't care to have a beverage en route and a large van for those who did.
   A dozen or so of us, including Bonnett and Marcis, boarded the van.  For our refreshment, Broderick had bought three "slabs."  A "slab" is Aussie for a case of beer.  There was a slab of Fosters, a slab of Black Swan and a slab of Victoria Bitters.
   We found a feast awaiting at the ranch.  After dinner we were entertained by two Aborigines, Joe and Willie.  They wore native garb and their bodies were painted garishly.  Joe played a didgeridoo, a hollowed-out tree limb with holes in it like a flute, and Willie danced.  In one number, Willie mimed a butterfly, contorting his body in unbelievable moves.
   At last it was time to go, and under a full moon and the starry, bright Southern Cross, we boarded the van back to Melbourne.  The Aussies in the group started telling bawdy jokes about their country, mostly the island state of Tasmania.  All the jokes were side-splitting.  The van rocked with laughter as  we rolled through the night.
   After one punch-line, someone started singing "Waltzing Matilda."  Thereafter, the famous Aussie song followed every joke.
   It was a rollicking, fabulous experience that I'll remember fondly the rest of my days.
   As we neared Melbourne, Marcis had an observation.
  "Too bad that Gerard Wright guy couldn't be with us tonight," said Marcis.  "He might have had fun and changed his mind about the race and about us."
   The face of Bob Jane's No. 1 aide clouded and twisted in anger.
   "By this time tomorrow night," he declared, "Gerard Wright may be singing alto in The Vienna Boys' Choir."

   Next: 'Roos, Koalas And A Piano Bar.

An Australian Adventure, Part II

  Prologue: In late February of 1988 NASCAR sanctioned what amounted to an exhibition race in Australia at a sparkling new speedway near Melbourne, The Thunderdome.  It held the potential of being a great  adventure for those lucky enough to be going, including me.  The trip proved more than equal to the promise.  Over the next few days "Scuffs" will recount some of the stories from two decades ago, including a heart-warming triumph by the late Neil Bonnett. 

   Sixteen hours after arriving in Australia and then getting a bit of rest, my pal and fellow journalist Steve Waid and I headed to the track for a first look.
   We were anxious to see the facility built by Aussie Bob Jane, a wealthy Goodyear tire distributor who had visited Charlotte Motor Speedway many times to get ideas for creating his own major auto racing layout Down Under.
   "Boy," I said to Steve, "this must be something like the press guys felt back in 1950 when they went to Darlington Raceway in South Carolina for the first time.  No one knew what to expect."
   Flags were flying and an aura of excitement abounded as we arrived at Calder Park, scene of the speedway a few miles from Melbourne.

    A friendly police officer directed us to a building where we could sign for our press credentials.  And from there we were sent to a parking lot reserved for competitors, the media and special guests. Shuttle buses were to take us to the garage area and infield press center.
   The bus driver sweetly welcomed us on board, her accent exceedingly charming.  Our jaws dropped.  The young woman could have competed for Miss Australia.  AND WON!
   She commented on liking our Southern drawls and asked me three or four times to say 'Y'all" for her.  I readily obliged, much to her smiling amusement.
   We continued gushing about her as we walked into the infield media center, which Bob Jane had hired Tom Cotter of  Charlotte Motor Speedway and his pal, Charlie Rabb of little Derby, N.C., to oversee during race week.
   "All the shuttle bus drivers are beautiful!" declared Rabb.   "They look like movie stars.
   "And guess what!?  The driver who brought you boys in told me this morning that all of them are getting together one night this week to take part in a nipple tournament!
   "See if you can get us invited!"
   Steve and I assured Charlie he could count on that.
   But first it was time to do some work.
   We found that the  entry list for the Goodyear 500K included Americans Bobby Allison, Neil Bonnett, Dave Marcis, Michael Waltrip, Kyle Petty, James Hylton and D.K. Ulrich from NASCAR's Winston Cup Series.  Among several other Yanks participating were Chad Little, Bill Venturini, Hershel McGriff and Ron Esau.
   Their cars had been shipped to Australia in big containers, leaving weeks earlier.
   The racing surface was layed out like Charlotte Motor Speedway, now known as Lowe's Motor Speedway.  However, The Thunderdome measured a bit shorter, 1.15 miles to 1.5.
   "It's an eye-catching place, no doubt about that," said Bonnett, who came to Australia as NASCAR's most recent winner, having taken the Pontiac Excitement 400 at Richmond Raceway the previous Sunday with his Rahmoc team.  "It's out here in the country among big cattle and sheep ranches.
   "As pretty as the place is, Turns 3 and 4 are so tight it's basically going to be a one-lane deal, a lot like the corners at Darlington.  Going through 3 and 4 it's going to be like funneling off an interstate highway onto a one-lane road."
   Bonnett solved the tricky turns to pace first-round qualifying with a lap of 141.066 mph in a Pontiac.  Allison was next in a Buick at 138.841.
   By mid-afternoon action was tapering off at the track.  Steve and I hustled to finish our stories and join others in doing some sight-seeing.
   We especially wanted to go to Melbourne Harbor, which, according to Petty and Waltrip, offered some fantastic scenery.  It was, or so they said, a topless beach.
   I asked one of the Aussie reporters for directions.
   "Ahh," he said with a smile and distinctive accent.  "Ya mates are goin' down to see the White Pointers, eh?"
   I was non-plussed, and it showed.
   "White pointers?  You mean sharks?"
   The guy bellowed.
   "No, mate," he said, cupping his hands at his bosom and jiggling them.  "White pointers!"
   I got it, reddened, and joined him in laughing.
   He gave me and my "mates" the directions we wanted.
   Steve and I boarded the shuttle bus for a ride back to the parking lot. The same Aussie beauty was at the wheel that had driven us into the infield a few hours earlier.  "Say 'Y'all' again for me, Tom," she said with a grin.
   "Only if you tell me about your nipple tournament," I replied.
   "WHAT?!" she said, eyes flashing.
   "The nipple tournament."
   "Whatever are you talking about!?"
   "Charlie Rabb said you and your friends are having a nipple tournament and he wants to know if we can attend."
   The young worman burst into gales of laughter.
   "That crazy Charlie Rabb!" she said.  "He's had trouble understanding us all week.  It's a NETBALL tournament!  Netball!"
   The women were going to play volleyball.
   "I'm gonna kill Charlie Rabb," I told Steve.
   Back at Old Melbourne Hotel we were met by Bill Broderick, UNOCAL's colorful "cap man," noted for his Victory Lane flamboyance back in the States.  Bill had rented a van and was driving a group of us to Melbourne Harbor.
   It proved to be everything that Petty and Waltrip had claimed.
   Immigrating to Australia crossed my mind.

   Next: Not Everyone Is Charmed To Have Us..

   
      
   
   
   
   

 

An Australian Adventure, Part I

   Prologue: In late February of 1988 NASCAR sanctioned what amounted to an exhibition race in Australia at a sparkling new speedway near Melbourne, The Thunderdome.  It held the potential of being a great  adventure for those lucky enough to be going, including me.  The trip proved more than equal to the promise.  Over the next few days "Scuffs" will recount some of the stories from two decades ago, including a heart-warming triumph by the late Neil Bonnett.

    For one of the few times in NASCAR's  so-called modern era, which dates to 1972, the winner of a major race wasn't going to hold a post-race press conference.
    Never mind that Neil Bonnett had just scored a deeply dramatic victory on  Feb. 21, 1988, taking the  Pontiac Excitement 400 at Richmond Fairgrounds Raceway in Virginia just four months after almost losing his right leg in a crash during the Oakwood Homes 500 at Charlotte Motor Speedway.
   Like the lyric in an old country song by Jerry Reed, Bonnett, still limping badly from his injury, "had a long way to go and a short time to get there."
   The popular Alabamian was among a group of NASCAR drivers from various divisions heading halfway around the globe to Australia to compete in a race the following Sunday.    After an abbreviated Victory Lane ceremony, Bonnett had to leave the Richmond track immediately with his peers to catch flights that eventually would take them Down Under.
   Chauffeurs charged with getting the group to the Richmond airport faced a nerve-fraying challenge in fighting post-race traffic.  They drove down medians, along sidewalks and even through the yards of homes.  Still, some didn't make it before their plane heading to the West Coast and a connecting flight to Australia left the gate.  An agent had the pilot taxi back, open the door and let the drivers on board.
   Behind him, Bonnett left a brouhaha of major proportions at the Richmond raceway.
   Several rivals vociferously were contending that Bonnett hadn't won the race.  Ricky Rudd even  filed an official protest with NASCAR.

    "There's no question we won the race and Richard Petty finished second," said a fuming Rudd.  "I had  chances in the late stages to pass Neil several times, but I figured why do it when I was leading the race.  Me and my guys got cheated out of Victory Lane."
   Said Petty: "Darrell Waltrip actually finished second, so where does that put me?  First.  Me and Darrell were running 1-2 at a time when they showed Dale Earnhardt leading.  We made up a fictitious lap."
   Asked why he didn't protest, Petty laughed.
   "I've been racing 30 years and this has happened before and it'll happen again," he explained.  "Someboy just made a human error and they messed up.  They ain't going to change it."
   Added Waltrip: "NASCAR really complicated things.  How they can justify this deal where they change the finishing order around is beyond me.  There's not a soul in the garage area who agrees with them.  They're just going to have to work on the scoring system with so many good cars running now, and that's a constructive criticism."
   There was, however, a "soul" on a plane flying into the sunset that agreed with NASCAR:  Neil Bonnett.
   "We were on top of the scoring ourselves," he said of the Rahmoc team owned by Bob Rahilly and Butch Mock.  "In fact, we felt like I ran an extra lap.
   "Ricky should have tried passing.  But I could have shown him a lot faster race car."
   Bonnett arrived in Australia approximately 24 hours later to learn that Rudd's protest had been disallowed.  The finishing order among the top five at Richmond was Bonnett, Rudd, Petty, Waltrip and Sterling Marlin.
   Meanwhile, members of the media, NASCAR officials and others traveling to Australia didn't start the trip until Monday morning. Included were me and my buddy and fellow journalist, Steve Waid.
   We flew from Charlotte to Los Angeles, sat through a long layover and then boarded an overnight flight to Melbourne with stops in Honolulu and Sydney.
   As we cleared Aussie customs, Steve and I were bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and a bit too much free alcohol while winging over the darkened Pacific Ocean.  We'd made an agreement: I would pay for the rental car if Steve would drive it.  No way was I  going to try and adjust to a car's steering wheel being on the right side nor to driving on the left side of the road.
   As we left the airport for the super highway leading into Melbourne my pal Steve reached to his left to flip the turn signal to indicate that he was merging into traffic.  Instead, the windshield wipers came on.
   We could see passing motorists pointing and laughing at us.  I'm sure they were saying, "Tourists!"
   The turn signal lever was on the right side of the steering wheel post.  Everything seemed located opposite what it was on cars back home in the U.S.
   I burst into laughter.
   Steve looked at me somewhat angrily.  "You think this is easy?" he said.  "Then you drive."
   "It's not you, boy," I replied.  "I'm laughing at the sign on the building over there."
   The sign read "Smash Shop."
   All around it were wrecked cars.
  "Smash Shop" is Aussie for an auto body shop.
  "This is going to be a lot more fun that I ever imagined," I thought to myself.  "And I imagined a lot."
   Somehow, Steve negotiated a myriad of traffic circles and we made it to the elegant Old Melbourne Hotel and checked in.
   In the lobby we found several fellow NASCAR visitors from America lamenting lost luggage.
   Driver/car owner D.K. Ulrich's stuff had gone to Singapore.
   There was no avoiding a chuckle at the plight of NASCAR scorer Earl Sappenfield.  He had begun his journey in Jacksonville, Fla., and told the airline agent at check-in that he wanted his  baggage checked all the way through to Melbourne.  A trace showed that's where it had gone--to Melbourne, Fla.!
    Steve and I were carrying our luggage to rooms across the hotel's courtyard when NASCAR buddies Kyle Petty and Michael Waltrip drove up.  Both were grinning and their eyes were sparkling with amusement.
   "Obviously, you boys already are having a good time," Steve said.
   "Yesterday we went to a topless beach, today we went to an all-nude beach and tomorrow we're going to a hands-on beach!" gushed Waltrip.
   He was only kidding about the latter part.   

  Next: Of Netball and White Pointers.             

   

         

They Said What?!

   "If you kin't write about this, you kin't write about nuthin'."
   This was the astute assessment of drawling Lee Petty, patriarch of the famous stock car racing family, after his near dead-heat victory over Johnny Beauchamp in the inaugural Daytona 500 in 1959.
   It was an outcome that wasn't  proclaimed officially until three days later.
   On Feb. 22, NASCAR founder/president  Bill France  Sr., peering intently at the finish line from a position just under the flagstand, initially declared that Beauchamp had edged Petty by inches.  In the  rush to get the new 2.5-mile Daytona International Speedway completed and opened, France and his associates had thought of most everything but a photo finish camera like those used in horse and grayhound racing.  Such a device never had been needed for a major auto race.
   Many others, including members of the press, felt Petty had won, and said so.  France then declared the finishing order unofficial until photos and movies taken from various angles could be studied.
   "Big Bill milked it for all he could," recalls a smiling Richard Petty, destined to win seven Daytona 500s among his 200 victories while rolling to seven championships.  "It was brilliant on his part.  Instead of just getting a story in the papers and on TV and radio on Monday morning about the race, he got coverage for three days.  People all across the country were talking about the new speedway and the Daytona 500.
   "Bill finally named daddy the winner on Wednesday, so he really got four days of extra exposure, 'cause the story was printed and aired on Thursday."
   Lee Petty's "kin't" quote  has become a part of NASCAR's lore. Even now, as the 50th running of the Daytona 500 looms on Sunday (Feb. 17), it's still being written about, as you can see.
   The sport's greatest race--and its related events--have produced a rich lode of other memorable quotes.  Following, in chronological order, are some that I remember best:    

   "Spend it, I reckon."
   --1960, Junior Johnson on what he would do with his $8,000 share of the winner's purse, after discovering the phenomenon of the aerodynamic draft and driving an underpowered Ray Fox-owned Chevrolet to victory over faster Pontiacs.

   "Investigation revealed the protest was made on hearsay and was groundless and is hereby denied."
   --1962, Big Bill France after runnerup Richard Petty's crew alleged that the team of winning driver Fireball Roberts and crew chief Smokey Yunich had more than six crewmen over the wall while pitting.

   "There's no defense that I know of against the slingshot pass."
   --1969, runnerup Chargin' Charlie Glotzbach, after being passed for the win on the last lap by LeeRoy Yarbrough.

  "Yeah, I know, I'm in it."
   --1976, David Pearson, the sport's calm, cool "Silver Fox," responding to a frantic radio call from his Wood Brothers pit that there was a wreck off Turn 4 during the last lap.

"You want me to smile, too?"
   --1976, Pearson, posing for photographers in Victory Lane with his battered car.  Pearson motored his mashed-up machine to the finish line at about 5 mph to take the checkered flag after crashing in the tri-oval homestretch with Richard Petty.

   "It was like sitting in front of a blowtorch."
   --1977, Bobby Wawak, after a crash, then a fire caused by a broken fuel line.  Wawak, who suffered severe burns to his hands, leaped out of his car onto the grass off Turn 4 while the vehicle was still going about 40 mph.

   "It makes me so mad I could just spit."
   --1977, Buddy Baker, after a crash with Indy Car driver Salt Walther sidelined Baker's powerful car.

   "Don't tell me genes ain't got nothing to do with it."
   --1979, Donnie Allison, after seeing third-generation driver Kyle Petty win the ARCA 200 in his very first start.  Allison watched the race from atop the Petty team's transporter with his pal, Cale Yarborough.  Ironically, the two were to be in VERY close proximity again just a week later.

   "All I know is that I suddenly found Cale Yarborough's nose pounding on my fists."
   --1979, Bobby Allison, on the fight that developed off Turn 3 matching he and brother Donnie against Cale Yarborough.  Donnie and Cale had crashed on the last lap while battling for the lead, giving victory to Richard Petty, who had been in third place, almost a mile behind.  Bobby stopped to check on Donnie and the ruckus began.

   "Bobby bowed up like a cat and I swung at him."
   --1979, Yarborough, describing the start of the fight.

   "It wasn't a fair fight.  I used both hands."
   --1979, Yarborough, on what he initially termed "A scuffle."

   "You couldn't castrate Dale Earnhardt with a chainsaw."
   --1980, Yarborough, on Earnhardt's daring last lap move off Turn 2 to take the lead and win the Busch Clash.

   "Earnhardt has more nerve than a sore tooth."
   --1980, Buddy Baker, on his rival's Busch Clash maneuver.

   "It was like Saturday night in Junior Wong's kitchen."
   --1980, Buddy Baker, describing the radio conversation between he and crew chief Waddell Wilson, arguing and jabbering over whether or not to slow down to conserve fuel in the final laps.  Baker didn't, and wound up winning the 500 after 20 years of trying, much to the delight of his pal, Wong, owner and chief chef of a Chinese restaurant in Charlotte. 

    "If anyone had ever told me I'd win this race and this much money ($185,000), why, I'd have told them they weren't nothing but a big old liar."
   --1985, Bill Elliott, who had failed to make the 500 field in his first two tries in 1977 and '79.

   "I'm proud to say that he's mine."
   --1988, 500 winner Bobby Allison, on his son, Davey, the runnerup by two car lengths.

   "I didn't want to think of it as my dad in front of me.  I wanted that car to finish second."
   --1988, Davey Allison.

   "If they could've got the car fixed, I'd have gone back in the race."
   --1988, Richard Petty, scoffing at a CBS-TV reporter's suggestion that a horrid crash in the 500  would lead to Petty's immediate retirement.  "The King " continued to race through the 1992 season.

   "I won the Daytona 500?!  Oh, thank God!  I'm not dreaming am I?  This is the Daytona 500 ain't it?!"
   --1989, Darrell Waltrip, after making a gamble on fuel pay off, going the last 53 laps, or 132.5 miles, without taking on gasoline.  Others were getting 50 laps or less on their fuel.

   "I'd like to see that gas tank."
   --1989, Earnhardt, skeptical of Waltrip's great fuel mileage.

   "I ran over something in front of the chicken bone grandstands (backstretch)."
   --1990, Earnhardt, who had to slow a mile from the checkered flag while leading after cutting the right rear tire on a sharp piece of metal off another car.

   "He caught the car quickly.  That's a tribute to Dale Earnhardt.  Not many drivers could have done that with a tire shredding apart."
   --1990, Derrike Cope, who took the lead as Earnhardt slowed.  Cope raced on to triumph, scoring one of the biggest upsets in NASCAR history.

   "Sometimes I close my eyes and I can still feel the sun shining on my face in Victory Lane."
   --Almost every year, Cope at Daytona 500 time, recalling his stunning win.

   "I was the meat in the middle of the sandwich."
   --1992, Mark Martin, describing how he saw a 14-car crash developing off Turn 2 that took eight top drivers out of contention.

   "It was bigger than Mule Day."
   --1994 winner Sterling Marlin, who made the 500 his first Winston Cup victory in his 297th start, describing the hero's welcome he was given upon returning the next day to his hometown, Columbia, Tenn.

   "There was a whole army of supporters at the airport.  There were six police cars and a limo.  A friend of mine had his ol' hearse out there, half of which was painted up like my race car and half like Darrell Waltrip's car.  We took off through town with the hearse leading.  Horns and sirens were blowing.  I guess a lot of people thought it really was a funeral procession, 'cause they pulled off the road."
   --1994, Marlin, futher describing the euphoria in Columbia.

   "The sirens wailed all the way to our house.  When all the cars pulled off onto our road, it got pretty wild.  We about had a stampede.  The racket scared our cows and they were running, tripping all over each other."
  --1994, Paula Marlin, Sterling's wife, adding to the colorful tale.

   "It's a stump-puller."
   --1995, Marlin, on the engine, built by Runt Pittman, that powered him to a second straight 500 victory.

   "I've finally got that damn monkey off my back!"
   --1998, Dale Earnhardt, pulling a stuffed monkey from inside the chest portion of his uniform and throwing it to the press box floor after scoring a 500 victory that had eluded him for two decades.  He previously had been the race's runnerup four times.

   "Year after year, there were not many things that ate that man's insides out.  But losing this race over and over, you could see it on his face.  And inside of me, that started the desire to win the Daytona 500."
   --2004, Dale Earnhardt Jr., who had just made his quest become a reality.

   "I don't know how you make the Daytona 500 into a cologne unless it smells like burning gas."
   --2006, Matt Kenseth, commenting about the product upon its introduction.

   Finally, and sadly, and out of sequence, there is this from NASCAR president Mike Helton in 2001, about 90 minutes after a last-lap crash in a race which produced a 1-2 finish for Michael Waltrip and Dale Earnhardt, Jr., both driving cars owned and fielded by the latter's father:
   "This is the toughest thing I've ever had to say.  We have lost Dale Earnhardt."

   

   

   

Daytona By The Decades, Part V

   Dang!
   I would prefer to use a much stronger expression here, however, in consideration of the sensitive among you, I'll resist the temptation.
   But d---!
   Wouldn't you know that after covering Dale Earnhardt trying to win the Daytona 500 for 20 years he'd gloriously triumph in NASCAR's greatest race the year AFTER I retired?
   I took early retirement from The Charlotte Observer and its motorsports beat on Jan. 31, 1997.  Earnhardt  finally achieved the biggest victory of his storied stock car racing career on Feb. 15, 1998.
   And I wasn't there to write about it.  I was at home in Mooresville, N.C., where Earnhardt also lived, watching mostly from a recliner with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.
   How many stories had I filed over two decades dealing with disappointments in the Daytona 500 for Earnhardt, who many consider the top driver in NASCAR history?
    Dozens.

   Like in 1983, when he staged a rousing rally to pull within two car lengths of Bobby Allison beginning the final lap, the 200th at 2.5-mile Daytona International Speedway.  Earnhardt was in prime position to make an aerodynamic slingshot move down the backstretch to take the lead, but he went into the first turn too hard, slid up the banking and fell back to finish as the runnerup, five car-lengths behind.
   And in 1986, when he ran out of gas with three laps to go while second in a tight battle with arch-rival Geoff Bodine. Earnhardt finished 14th as Bodine won.
   And in '89, when he, and fellow top contender Ken Schrader, had to pit their cars, by far the fastest in the field, for fuel with 11 laps remaining.  Earnhardt finished third as Darrell Waltrip won.
   And, most excruciatingly, in 1990.  Earnhardt dominated the 500, leading 155 laps in the black No. 3 Chevrolet he'd made famous for the team owned by his pal, Richard Childress.  He was comfortably coming off the second turn on the final lap.  Then, up ahead, the bell housing blew apart on a slower car, spewing sharp pieces of metal onto the track. Earnhardt ran over a shard of the shrapnel, cutting the right rear tire.  Masterfully maintaining control without wrecking, he was able to slow and pull up the turn three banking out of the way of those chasing him.  Derrike Cope swept into the lead and held off Terry Labonte, Bill Elliott and Ricky Rudd to score what ranks among the major upsets in motorsports history.  Earnhardt was able to continue to the checkered flag, finishing fifth.
   And in '93, when an onrushing Dale Jarrett  ran Earnhardt down during the final 25 miles and passed him on the final lap, dealing another runnerup finish to the driver nicknamed "The Intimidator."  Jarrett edged Earnhardt by 16-hundredths of a second.
  And in '95, as Sterling Marlin turned back Earnhardt by .61 seconds, making him the runnerup once again.
   And in '96, as Jarrett led the final 24 laps, staving off Earnhardt by .12 seconds, dealing him a fourth  second-place  Daytona 500 finish, his third No. 2 showing in the span of four years.
   It simply didn't seem destined for Dale Earnhardt to win the most important event held at the Daytona track, where he'd scored a record 30 victories in  other races.
   And then came 1998!
   Earnhardt started fourth in a fast field, hopeful of not only at last taking the 500, but also of snapping a  nagging winless streak that had stretched to 59 races, unlikely for him.
   From the green flag it was obvious he had an excellent chance.  His Chevy looked strong and smooth, but so did the cars of others--his Childress Racing teammate, Mike Skinner, along with Bobby Labonte, Jeremy Mayfield, Rusty Wallace, Jeff Gordon, Ernie Irvan and Schrader.
   Following a caution period, Earnhardt was at the front as full speed action resumed on Lap 178.  Could he stay there, or would fate foil him again, as it had so often through the years?
   Practically everyone in a crowd estimated at 188,000 stood in excitement to see.  So did fans watching on TV in homes and bars across the world.  At my house, I was on my hands and knees.
   On the 199th laps there was a tangle between Jimmy Spencer, John Andretti and Lake Speed in the second turn, forcing a yellow flag.  If Earnhardt could get to the line first, victory was his, as the race would finish under caution.  Using the slower car of Rick Mast as a "pick," like in basketball, Earnhardt whipped through the trioval homestretch to edge Labonte.
   His triumph triggered one of the most heartfelt and touching celebrations ever in NASCAR.
  On pit road, the Childress crew that had shared so much Daytona 500 agony of defeat with Earnhardt momentarily appeared astonished.  Veteran crewman Danny "Chocolate" Myers shouted "He won it?!" as if in disbelief, then burst into tears.
   In the cockpit of No. 3, the man generally regarded as the toughest in racing, also finally felt the emotion that so long had eluded him.
   "I cried a little bit on the way to the checkered flag," said Earnhardt.  "Well, maybe not cried, but at least my eyes watered up...It was my time.  I've been passed on the last lap, run out of gas and cut a tire.  I don't care how we won it, just so we won it."
   As Earnhardt drove back onto pit road he had to slow to a virtual crawl.  This is because crewmen from the other teams came across the wall en masse to line his path, touching his hand and the car.  Some had done the same for Sterling Marlin when he made the 500 his first career victory in 1994 after almost 300 races and 21 years of trying.  But not on this scale.
   Once clear of the admiring crews, Earnhardt drove onto the grass separating the track from pit road and cut some donuts in the sod.
   Wrote The Charlotte Observer columnist Ron Green Sr., "Either because he's a heckuva driver or was just lucky, when he'd done his spins in the grass, his tracks were shaped like a 3, the number on his car.
   "Fans went out there and picked up some of the grass he'd knocked loose and put it in their coolers, saving a piece of this moment.  Some lay down in the tire tracks, to feel the place where Earnhardt had driven.  And some stood in the tracks and had their pictures taken."
   When a beaming Earnhardt came to the speedway press box for the winner's interview, he pulled a stuffed monkey from inside the chest of his uniform and threw it to the floor.  He shouted, "I'm here, I'm here, and I got that d---  monkey off my back."
   As the press conference wore on, fans gathered in the grass near the tracks far below.  They could see Earnhardt, sitting at the glass fronting the facility.  And the driver destined to win 76 races and tie Richard Petty's record of seven championships could see them.
   Someone among the fans had a moving idea.  They formed a number--3.
   "Race fans are awesome," said Earnhardt, who somehow managed to keep from choking up.
   Dale Earnhardt once again finished as the Daytona 500 runnerup in 1999, following Jeff Gordon to the line.
   He was in third place--trailing only Michael Waltrip and his son, Dale Jr., both driving cars he owned-- when a crash near turn four on the final lap of the 500 on Feb. 18, 2001 unbelievably took his life.
   Nine drivers have won multiple Daytona 500s as the 50th anniversary running of the race looms on Feb. 17.
   Dale Earnhardt claimed it just once, on a magical, forever memorable Sunday in February of 1998.
   That's a misleading statistic.
   There never has been a NASCAR driver like him.  I suspect there never will be again.