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Contents

preface x Huntersville, North Carolina

1. thedream x Winston-Salem, North Carolina

2. justdale x Mooresville, North Carolina

3. 24hours x Daytona Beach, Florida

4. earnhardtvs.earnhardt x Daytona Beach, Florida

5. theshootout x Daytona Beach, Florida

6. thefinishwillbedifferent x Daytona Beach, Florida

7. theman x Daytona Beach, Florida

8. themorning x Daytona Beach, Florida

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Contents

20. i’lltakecareofyou x Talladega, Alabama

21. nascarisalotlikemydaddy x Fontana, California

22. sandstorminturntwo x Richmond, Virginia

23. didilookpretty? x Concord, North Carolina

24. business x Concord, North Carolina 25. schoolofhardknocks x Dover, Delaware 26. everynightissaturdaynight x Brooklyn, Michigan

27. deathsitsacoupleofrowsback x Long Pond, Pennsylvania

28. didhehityou? x Sonoma, California

29. thereturn x Daytona Beach, California

30. victory x Daytona Beach, California

9. the500 x Daytona Beach, Florida

10. afterthecrash x Daytona Beach, Florida

11. we’velostdaleearnhardt x Daytona Beach, Florida

12. darkdays x Mooresville, North Carolina

13. youok,junior? x Rockingham, North Carolina

14. teresa’splea x Las Vegas, Nevada

15. bittersweet x Hampton, Georgia

16. tribute x Darlington, South Carolina

17. whenyagonnadrivethe3? x Bristol, Tennessee

18. beingwhoiam x Fort Worth, Texas

19. topaymybills x Martinsville, Virginia

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Contents

31. badvibrations x Joliet, Illinois

32. timetogo x Loudon, New Hampshire

33. savefuel x Long Pond, Pennsylvania34. thefinger x Indianapolis, Indiana

35. metaltometal x Watkins Glen, New York

36. juniorfinallylistens x Brooklyn, Michigan

37. shellyandol’manelliott x Bristol, Tennessee

38. castaway x Darlington, South Carolina39. fastandloudashell x New York, New York

40. stepdad x Richmond, Virginia

41. 9/11 x Kansas City, Kansas

42. where’sthatbigamericanflag? x Dover, Delaware

43. aboomerangthatdoesn’tcomeback x Kansas City, Kansas

44. blaise x Concord, North Carolina

45. afootraceoncrutches x Martinsville, Virginia

46. arewegonnawin? x Talladega, Alabama 47. drivingthe3 x Avondale, Arizona

48. thehostchillin’themost x Rockingham, North Carolina

49. what’sitgoingtotake? x Homestead, Florida

50. igotalittleemergencyhere x Hampton, Georgia

51. wewerejunk x Loudon, New Hampshire

52. onedaysoon x New York, New York

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2.

just daleMooresville, North Carolina

Missing from the Preview that day was Dale Earnhardt. For the second consecutive year, Dale Sr. was the only no-show among

the top drivers. In 2000, Earnhardt missed the Preview while recovering from

surgery to repair a broken neck that had hampered his 1999 season. Despite the injury, most likely suffered several years earlier and then reaggravated in a vicious crash at the Atlanta Motor Speedway, Earnhardt hadn’t missed a race, giving further credence to one of his many nicknames: Ironhead. He needed help to take off his uniform after every race, but he never missed a start.

“Where is your dad this year?” a reporter asked.“He’s gonna kill me for telling,” Junior said with a sly smile. “He

just had a doctor’s appointment to remove a piece of metal that had been in his head since 1977.”

This brought big laughs. And added another thread to the tapestry that was the legend of Dale Earnhardt—the most revered driver in the half-century-plus history of stock car racing. Ironhead indeed.

Though the story was technically true (an MRI taken for his neck injury revealed the sliver of metal), the full truth was different. Earnhardt was in Daytona Beach, Florida, test driving a Corvette

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just dale

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sports car on the road course at the Daytona International Speedway. Father and son would be teammates for the first time as they

joined the Corvette team in the most prominent road race in North America: the Rolex 24 Hours at Daytona. The twice-around-the-clock race, held the weekend before the Winston Cup cars arrived in Daytona, would be the first-ever sports car race for either Earnhardt. For Dale Earnhardt, one thing stood above all others: winning. And he was damn sure going to be prepared for his debut in the sleek, DayGlo yellow Corvette.

Tongues were still wagging about Dale Jr’s Daytona 500 prediction four days later when nearly 200 media members sat down in the main showroom at Dale Earnhardt Inc. (commonly known as DEI) in Mooresville, North Carolina.

The massive DEI complex was a gold-plated, red velvet–trimmed, gleaming palace of speed. Rising from the countryside along a two-lane highway outside of Mooresville, its gaudy redneck opulence was out of place in its rural surroundings, leading to its nickname: the Garage Mahal. But there was no questioning the hard work that took place within Earnhardt’s expanding race business. The headquarters featured massive work areas for the three Winston Cup teams he owned, as well as an engine-building division. The corporate offices were upstairs, and a window lined with Earnhardt’s seven Winston Cup championship trophies looked down on the public entrance and into the gift shop and museum on the ground floor.

Each year, thousands of fans made the pilgrimage to DEI. Greeting them inside the main entrance were four large banners featuring black-and-white portraits similar to the cover of the Beatles’ 1964 album, Meet the Beatles. The four faces, half in shadows, were those of Dale Earnhardt and the drivers he employed: Dale Jr., Steve Park, and Michael Waltrip. The newest banner featured Waltrip, a close friend of Earnhardt, who had just been hired to drive for DEI despite a record of 462 starts without a points-paying Winston Cup victory.

Behind the banners, a massive wall of glass allowed fans to see into the showroom, which was usually filled with cars, boats, and

tractors from Earnhardt’s personal collection. Fans scoured the gift shop, happily paying dearly for an endless array of baubles featuring Earnhardt’s face, his number, his car, and/or his trademarked signature. If their timing was right, fans might even see one of the famous drivers through the glass. If they were really lucky, they might catch a glimpse of Earnhardt himself.

But this morning, as a featured stop on the annual Lowe’s Motor Speedway Media Tour, the showroom’s slick-as-ice, black-tile floor was filled with journalists, photographers, and video cameras. Because nearly all of the teams in the Winston Cup Series are located in a small radius around Charlotte, North Carolina, the tour allowed those who cover the sport to visit all of the biggest names within one well-orchestrated week. Each team tried to outdo the other, staging elaborate sponsorship unveilings or media giveaways.

Earnhardt, a notorious early-riser who openly relished being called the Intimidator, had already turned in several hours of work, but his youngest son—the third of his four children and a notorious late-sleeper—was late.

“Go get his butt over here,” the Intimidator spat, with a sharp emphasis on “butt,” sending me, the Budweiser-paid publicist, careening across the highway to make sure Dale Jr. was awake and dressed in time for the media conference. Junior’s home, owned by his father and stepmother Teresa (Dale’s third wife), was only a quarter-mile from the main gates at DEI, and easily within range of the many security cameras that dotted the complex.

With moments to spare, Junior ambled into the showroom, half asleep and looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. His khaki pants and beige shirt were nearly as pale as his complexion. However, when his time came to step up to the mic, he was alert and ready to go.

Almost every stop on this media tour generated the same quotes, as each driver, team owner, and crew chief expressed optimism for the coming season. “I can’t wait to get the season started in the [insert sponsor name here] [insert make and model of race car here]. I think we’ll be good

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just dale

this season.” The mind-numbing sameness could quash any hope of excitement or spontaneity. But this stop was different because it was the first opportunity to ask Dale Earnhardt about his son’s dream.

“He sleeps a lot,” Dale chuckled, “so he oughta have a lot of dreams.”

Asked to respond to his father’s jab, Dale Jr. didn’t back down. “He probably thinks I’m an idiot,” Junior quipped, “but we’ll see

who the idiot is in February.”While Earnhardt could joke about his son’s sleep habits, there was

one thing that seemed to rile the man with many nicknames. “Don’t be callin’ me ‘Earnhardt Senior,’” he said, his Cheshire grin

making listeners unsure if this was real or feigned anger. “He’s ‘Junior,’ I’m just Dale Earnhardt. ‘Senior’ makes me sound old. I’ve been Dale Earnhardt for a lot longer than he’s been around. Just call me Dale Earnhardt . . . or just Dale.”

-----Steve Crisp’s phone rang just after sunrise on Saturday morning,

one week before the 24 Hours at Daytona. At that hour, the call could be from only one man.

“Get over here,” Earnhardt Sr. growled. Within minutes Crisp was on his way to his boss’s home.

Crisp wore many hats for Earnhardt, including maintaining Earnhardt’s massive car collection and wrangling Dale Jr. through two championship seasons in the NASCAR Busch Series, a proving ground for Winston Cup hopefuls. The quick-witted Crisp has an encyclopedic mind, especially when it comes to cars. But this morning, his role was slightly different: ambulance driver.

Earnhardt loved few things more than getting up with the sun and performing any number of he-man duties on his considerable swath of farmland. But while chopping wood that morning, he missed the target and sliced into a meaty hunk of his lower leg.

The Intimidator’s doctor was summoned. This morning, Earnhardt had a special request for his physician, whom he referred to as “Doogie Howser” because of his youthful appearance: Earnhardt wanted to

watch as the doc explained and demonstrated each step of the stitching procedure.

“I’m always huntin’ out in the middle of nowhere, so I want to be able to stitch myself up if I’m hurt,” he explained.

Earnhardt’s hunting trips were most often taken with his close friend and team owner, Richard Childress. While Earnhardt owned his own racing business with three Winston Cup teams, he actually drove for a team owned by Childress, and had done so since 1981 (with the exception of a short stint in 1982–1983 when Earnhardt drove a Ford for team owner Bud Moore). Together, Childress and Earnhardt won six championships and the 1998 Daytona 500, and made the black No. 3 GM Goodwrench Chevrolet the most recognizable automotive icon in the hemisphere.

The two shared a similar background, coming up the ranks with a ton of desire, a lot of rough edges, and a sparse supply of dollars. Childress and Earnhardt had been competitors on the track, but became a dynamic duo after Childress gave up his driving career to become a team owner.

Beyond their brotherly bond in auto racing, they shared a deep love of the outdoors. As their success grew, the hunting trips became more epic as they traversed the globe in search of big game. For men accustomed to making a living at nearly 200 miles per hour, a normal hunting trip just wasn’t much of a challenge. On one trip in New Mexico, the two were almost killed when their horses slipped on an icy mountain, nearly sending both over a cliff. Pondering their mortality over a few drinks at the campsite that evening, Childress and Earnhardt promised each other that if one of them didn’t make it back from an adventure, the other would continue racing.

So it was with hunting trips in mind that Earnhardt insisted that the now nervous Doogie Howser M.D. be both healer and teacher, explaining in detail what he was doing with each stitch. Earnhardt, the man doing the lecturing in almost every other scenario, watched closely.

After the procedure, the freshly stitched champ had one request.“I’m hungry,” he said. “Let’s go to Wendy’s.”

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Fast and Loud as hell

At the fast food joint, Earnhardt hung out and joked with several locals who were most likely just like him: born and raised in small local towns like Mooresville or Kannapolis. At Wendy’s, he wasn’t the Intimidator or Ironhead or Big E—he was just Dale.

chapter 324 hoursDaytona Beach, Florida

Chevrolet had unveiled its plans for the 24 Hours at Daytona during an October news conference in the DEI showroom. The Corvettes on display featured decals with each driver’s name and national flag along the roofline. Embarrassingly, the decals read “Earnhart,” but the misspelling didn’t bother the Intimidator.

Big E was less than 48 hours removed from an incredible victory at the Winston 500 at Talladega Superspeedway, the most super of all superspeedways. Earnhardt made a seemingly impossible charge in the final laps, snaking his way from 18th place to victory. It was the most spectacular of his record 10 wins at the Alabama track where more than 150,000 frenzied supporters hung on every move of his black Chevy. Earnhardt had fans everywhere, but in Alabama, no one besides Paul “Bear” Bryant could have challenged him in a vote for governor.  

At the news conference, Earnhardt insisted the endurance racing effort was serious, and if he didn’t believe they could race for the win, he wouldn’t have even considered the invitation. He also let slip a small part of the team’s strategy.

“We’ll have Dale Jr. drive at night since he’s always up so late,” he said, drawing the expected laughs from the audience. 

Dale Jr responded with a less-than-hearty chuckle.  While his public façade remained confident, the young driver, called Little E by many, was suffering pangs of uncertainty. 

He had finished 14th at Talladega, a respectable finish for a rookie, and had even led for 28 laps, showing a chip-off-the-ol’-engine-block style he learned by spending nearly all of his 26 years watching his father drive lap after lap. But all of the positives were washed away by a single, stupid mistake at the end of the race.

On the next-to-last lap, Dale Jr. found himself in the inside lane,

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