The Wide World of Dirt

My mom likes to remind me that when I was three years old, I was able to name all of the NASCAR drivers, all of their numbers, and all of their sponsors.

Like many kids across the country, I owned a bunch of the diecast cars and pitted them against each other while the races were playing in the background. Though I could put a name to all of the drivers and teams, I don’t remember any of the races until 2001.

We just passed the 20th anniversary of Dale Earnhardt Sr.’s death. I remember where I was, like many others do: Billy Bob’s Wonderland for my neighbor Courtney’s 7th birthday party.

In one corner of the room (likely near a bar for the adults), the Daytona 500 played, and most of the men were huddled around the TV while their kids ran wild behind them.

I was probably playing skee ball most of the day, but I remember all the adults jumping back when Dale and Ken Schrader met the wall, everybody looking away as Michael Waltrip crossed the finish line.

“Oooh, that was a hard crash, but Dale’ll be okay,” was the common mood of everyone in the Chuck E. Cheese knockoff, except for my dad, a paramedic. He saw Schrader alert the safety team, and after Petty, Irwin, and Roper the year before, he was worried.

After we went home and ate dinner, I kept playing with my cars, and I didn’t really know what happened to the driver of the #3 car. My dad never brought it up after that.

I skipped the next few weeks, at least in terms of paying attention.

I know that we recorded the next race at Rockingham on VHS because my dad had to work on Sunday. He wanted to see how they’d honor Dale, but the bills had to get paid.

Vegas went by, and then, the Series rolled into Atlanta on a crappy, overcast March afternoon. There was a new driver racing for RCR named Kevin Harvick, driving the renumbered #29. 

Great, a new number that I had to store into my memory bank.

I remember watching the start of this race, and I asked my dad why they went silent on lap 3. He shushed me, and after the lap ended, he told me that Dale went up to Heaven a couple weeks back after Daytona.

I’m not sure I put two and two together, that the crash at Daytona killed him, but I just kind of accepted it and continued watching.

Obviously, being four years old at the time, I didn’t stay glued to the TV through the entire 500-mile race. My attention span was bad, and it still hasn’t improved much.

Dave Blaney controlled part of the race, but I remember my dad being upset when Blaney encountered trouble. I always thought he finished 8th; he actually finished 34th.

Hendrick Motorsports dominated the day with Jeff Gordon and Jerry Nadeau leading over half the laps between them, and with about 10 to go, they were still in the mix.

The other contenders were pole sitter Dale Jarrett, Dale Earnhardt Jr., and that new guy driving the #29, Kevin Harvick. Jarrett and Harvick have been in the hunt the whole race while Jr. worked his way into the fight.

With about seven to go, things started heating up, and I’m into it. I’m standing up, and my dad (sitting in the recliner) tells me to move over as he starts sitting up.

The top-5 were racing extremely close to each other at a fast racetrack, and it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen in my whole life. They were all running different lines and managing to stay off each other.

It was breathtaking.

Eventually, Harvick started to pull away from the others albeit briefly. That #24 car looks different this year. I thought that was the rainbow car. Now there’s flames on it??

My dad always told me we don’t like Jeff Gordon and the rainbow car, and for the first time (and probably the last), he was pulling for Harvick to hold him off.

Jarrett and Nadeau drifted back to spectator status as Dale Jr. pulled into the pits with a flat tire, putting a damper on his good day. It was all Harvick and Gordon up front.

Gordon closed the gap down going into the final lap, but he couldn’t find a way around those yellow rookie stripes slapped onto the back of Harvick’s car.

Jeff ran a slightly higher line going through 1 & 2, allowing him to gain ground on Harvick down the backstretch, so he dove to the bottom of turn 3 while Harvick took the top.

The two Chevys pulled even through the center of the corner, and I’m mesmerized. As they pull out of turn 4 side-by-side, I’m doing bunny hops beside the TV.

“HE’S GONNA GET HIM THOUGH, HE’S GONNA GET HIM!”

“GORDON’S GONNA LOSE AGAINST HARVICK!”

The cars crossed the finish line, and I couldn’t tell who won. My dad couldn’t tell who won. It was almost like time stopped until the announcers came down with the official word on who won the race a few moments later.

You probably could’ve heard a lug nut drop in our single-wide trailer.

Gordon did lose against Harvick, who was in his 3rd race after replacing the man in the #3 car. My dad and I screamed in victory. It wasn’t until seeing his crew members rejoicing on pit road that I started to understand how much the win meant.

Kevin rode around the track with three fingers hanging out the window in tribute to Dale, and my dad and I held up three fingers while standing in our living room.

I don’t remember much of what happened after that on March 11, 2001.

Maybe I hopped on my bike, trying to get my balance on it to take the stupid training wheels off. Maybe I watched cartoons. Maybe I played with my diecasts. I don’t know.

What I do know is that, 20 years later, this race and this moment are what made me a Kevin Harvick fan and a NASCAR fan.