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Dale Earnhardt Poems

I cannot take credit for these poems. They were all written by true Dale Earnhardt fans like myself. Read them, enjoy them, I hope they comfort you.

Heaven 500
The Heaven 500 Was just getting started, An all-star race, For the racing departed. Heroes of the track, With nerves of steel, And sitting on the pole, A cat named Neil. Adam Petty was there, With his beautiful smile, Kenny Irwin determined, To finish in style. Lee Petty was glowing, With that grandfather pride, With Davey and Clifford, Both in a new ride. Fireball Roberts Floated in on a cloud, While Tony Roper Waved to the heavenly crowd. Morrosso and Nemecheck, Then Tim Richmond appeared, Kulwicki strapped in While the racing fans cheered. The honorary starter, For this heavenly race, Ralph Earnhardt was chosen With a tear on his face. But the red flag flew; Just before it had begun, And every eye was wide open Looking to the sun. A last minute entry Was the cause of delay, while the fans were instructed To kneel down and pray. The heavens turned black, And the clouds turned dark, The lightning was brilliant, The thunder did bark. Then out of the rumble, For all there to see, The clouds formed A black number three. The heavenly fans Then erupted with pride, And welcomed this star That had recently died. With a bolt of lightning Dale Earnhardt arrived, As he stood before JESUS, His spirit revived. JESUS hugged his precious child, Then revealed his perfect plan, "I brought you home to let you know That I'm your biggest fan!" The Intimidator was needed For this heavenly race, "Leaving all your earthly fans With honor and grace." Ralph Earnhardt then stepped forward; Embracing his son, Then whispered in Dale's ear, "Let's go have some fun." As Ralph stood proud The green flag flew, The crowd went wild And tensions grew. And just like salvation The admission was free, As every eye focused On the black number three. When the checkered flag dropped, No dry eyes remained; It was a photo finish, As JESUS explained. He said,"There are no losers On this heavenly track, This is a welcome home party For the Man In Black!" ~Author Unknown~

A fine Daytona afternoon, the season just begun.
My boys were running one and two, and I was having fun.
I probably could have won the thing, but something held me back.
I was busy watching Dale and Mike -- and holding off the pack.

I was looking toward the front and not really to the rear.
Something tapped me on my bumper, but still I had no fear.
I thought it might be Sterling - I knew he was nearby.
When Sterling smells the checkered flag, I'll tell you, he ain't shy.

I slipped a bit. I turned the wheel. I sensed something very odd.
It wasn't Sterling's tap I'd felt. It was the tap of God.
"Not now," I said. "I'm racing hard. There's work still here to do."
"You're time is up," He whispered low, "So say a quick adieu."

I wasn't really ready, but I didn't have a choice.
He'd tapped me on the bumper and I'd heard His ha! llowed voice.
So I did as He instructed. I just packed it in and left.
I guess it can't be helped that I left some of you bereft.

Did you see those birds upon the wall as they scattered in the breeze?
Will it make it any easier to know that them was me?
There was also Davey, Dad and Neil and some other guys I've known.
And they all came to Daytona just to escort me on home.

Hey - congratulations, Mikey! You made a worthy run.
I wish you many, many more. You're wins have just begun.
All that fun you had in Victory Lane, I was proud as proud can be.
Did you see a seagull flying low? Yeah, Mikey, that was me.

So, friends and fans and family, don't mourn me for too long.
Get on with life - take care of things - be brave and proud and strong
I'll surely miss you every one. About that I will not lie.
But as long as you remember me - I didn't really die.

You lit up the racing world
By Susan Bruce, Travelers Rest, SC

You lit up the racing world like a fireworks display, how were we to know you'd be taken away. You gave the world of racing everything that you had, and in that number 3 car you made you final stand. You sacrificed it all for your son and a dear friend, we were all in shock when we found out it was the end. We saw the accident that put you into the wall, but never did we think that it would be the end of it all. The end of a long and bright and shining, magnificent career. You were infamous for nudging and pushing your way from the rear. How do I explain to my six-year-old son, that his racing idol is dead and gone. He cried when we told him that you had passed, doing what your dad had taught you to love best. He ask could he go to sleep and dream about you, your smallest, yet biggest fan is grieving for you. He asked if he would see you in Heaven someday, we told him yes, that we thought you'd found your way. He has just brought me your son's AC/Delco die-cast number 3 car, and ask me to put it away so he could give it to you when he gets where you are. He said he thought you'd like it because it was your son's. He has wrapped it up himself, he is such a sensitive one. He wrapped it in funny papers, along with some other things, A truck that says Goodwrench and a few Winston Cup Scenes. I know that your family will be eternally blue. But the Bruce household is really grieving too. Even though we've only watched you on T.V. We loved you and hope that will be eternally happy. Please remember to glance at those pearly gates every once in a while. You may see someone coming carrying a box, with a great big smile. Hopefully, I will already be there to introduce you, To my baby boy Alex, who idolized you.

The Day The Legend Died
By Rebecca Klar, Dayton, Ohio 

They called him the intimidator, the man in the black number three People would come from all over, it was him they wanted to see Each and every Sunday they'd watch him on the track Dedication and admiration for this driver no one ever lacked On that fateful day, close to the final turn Something happened that caused great concern Even though no one thought that it was that bad Later we heard that Junior had lost his dad The fans were heartbroken they couldn't believe it was true Not just family shed tears even people he never knew Everyone will remember Daytona 500 of 2001 That's the day the life of a legend was over and done. MY DEEPEST SYMPATHY

My Hero 
By Barb Kerr 

The greatest man I never met, has run his final race The pain I feel is showing, in the tears upon my face With the love of a father, and that of a friend He protected Mike and Junior, right to the end In that special ,unselfish move, for all the world to see He showed why we love that BLACK#3 We have lost the heart of racing, it will never be the same But he was far more than just a racing name His skill in driving was beyond compare But it was the man himself that made me care Those steel blue eyes, that sly dawg grin The way he cared , all part of him The loving husband,the faithful friend The proud father, memories that will never end He lived for Sundays,the race to win To beat the odds, was life to him To hear those engines roar to life Was second only to God and his wife Strapped into the number 3, after Teresa's kiss Calm, relaxed, ready to race.Nothing was amiss As he made that final turn, in the number 3 I wonder if it was more than air, the MAN IN BLACK could see Did he see his daddy, and Neil Bonnet standing there And all of heaven angels, when all we saw was air I think that God was standing there to meet the elder E The one that he's been waiting for to drive Heaven's #3 I do not know how long this ache, will tear apart my heart It may never happen, it may never start No one can replace him, in our hearts or on the track Rest in peace my hero, I'll always love the Man in Black

The Final Lap Dale Earnhardt April 29, 1951---February 18. 2001 By Charlotte Anselmo
A thrill was in the air that day As the number three flashed past Shouts and cheers rose on the wind As his car sped by so fast. The race had been so thrilling The finish line just ahead The thought did not occur to us We'd see tragedy instead. The final lap came all to soon For a hero we held dear Little did we know that day That the end for him was near. Our hearts are filled with sadness Our hero had to leave To race across the Heavens now While we are left to grieve. The gates of Heaven opened His final trophy gleaming bright He slowly gunned his engine As he drove into the light

~An open letter to the Fans from Teresa Earnhardt~

I can never fully express my immense gratitude for the overwhelming support we have received. It would be easy at this time to get lost in the sadness of losing a loving husband, father and grandfather. However, I and our family,as well as everyone at Dale Earnhardt Inc., have chosen to take this time to reflect not on the sadness we feel today, but on the joy Dale Earnhardt the man brought to us and Dale Earnhardt the driver brought to so many fans for so many years. It is a joy that will carry us through the sadness and grief of this day and many days to come. For our children, Kerry, Kelley, Dale Jr. and Taylor, he was a father whose pride in his children was greater than even his strongest desire as a competitor. For his mother, Martha, he was a son who always wanted to make sure she had what she needed. For his brothers and sisters, he was always an influential part of their lives. For his employees, he could be both demanding and praising and had the ability to create the same desire to win in the crews and drivers that he had in himself. He was very proud of what the teams at Dale Earnhardt Inc. had been able to do in a very short period of time and the people who helped it happen and supported its acceleration. For his fans, there simply was no one more sensational and with that I agree. There were two sides to Dale Earnhardt, and I am so blessed to have known both for the qualities they carried. The public Dale Earnhardt wanted to be the best. The competitive drive that burned inside of him gave him the passion to win. If he was racing, he wanted to win the most races and championships. If he was fishing, he wanted to catch the most fish. The private Dale Earnhardt, the husband and father and son and brother, wanted to be the best as well. He struggled with that at times. Emotions didn't come as easy to this man who stirred so much emotion in other people. But as his children grew and began making decisions of their own, he saw that most of the time, they made the decision by asking themselves, ''What would dad do?'' I will ask myself that in the coming days and weeks and for a long time after that, I'm sure. ''What would Dale do?'' I think what Dale would do, and what Dale would want us to do, is remember the joy that his life brought. Remember the things about him that made you happy that you were his fan. Remember the man who loved life. He was the happiest person I know, and that can comfort us all. Gratefully, Teresa Earnhardt
Dale Jr. Diary: Memories of Dad
By Dale Earnhardt Jr., Special to Turner Sports Interactive 
March 20, 2001 
4:23 PM EST (2123 GMT)

It's time again for my monthly column. I thought I would 
share with you a few of my favorite memories I have of my
 father. Since his death, these are the memories that help
 me through the hard times. 

Learning How to Ski

At 6 years old, I float in the murky water of Lake Norman 
with one ski on each foot. 

Each ski seems to weigh 100 pounds, each tight like a 
glove to my feet. My father holds me upright as I hang 
onto the ski rope, which is tied to the hitch of a pickup
 parked on the boat ramp about 20 yards away. 

This makeshift learning tool seems crude, but I felt
 perfectly safe with my father's idea. 

Once my father gave the signal, the driver of the 
truck would floor the gas, pulling me out of the
 water and up on my skis. This probably wasn't common
 practice around the lake for most beginners, but at
 such a young age, I couldn't pass it up to prove my 

After about six attempts I had it down flat -- literally. 
On the last attempt I was dragged up on the boat ramp,
 leaving me with quite a strawberry on the backside.
 I have this in its entirety on film somewhere. When 
I take my son to the lake for skiing, 
I will be driving the truck. 

Snow, Trucks, and More Snow

About that same age, I got the chance to do some real
 male bonding with my father and his friends. 

Sometime that winter, I was invited to ride along with
 the guys in their 4x4 pickup in the dead of night. 
The ground was covered in snow -- the roads had not 
been cleared. 

This was a man's road trip. Having a 7-year-old along 
usually meant less fun and hell raisin' for the fellas. 

I took this in mind and jumped in the middle of the 
bench seat and kept my mouth shut. If my memory 
serves me correct, my father's co-pilot this night 
was NASCAR's own Gary Nelson. 

What a sight it was to see some 20 pickups fishtailing
 down the windy back roads of Mooresville. I can only 
imagine since I couldn't see over the dash just yet. 

Most of what I remember about that night is just being 
with my father. Although it seemed as the truck was out
 of control, he knew exactly what he was doing. I 
never experienced that same feeling again until 
joining him on the racetrack in Japan for our
 first race together. 

Get Your Head On Straight

While practicing for one of my first Busch Series
 races at Charlotte, I lost control and ended our
 weekend early. 

A few friends and I went directly back to my doublewide
 trailer and sat in disbelief as to what had happened. 

As I sat pondering the future of my racing career, the 
back door flung open, and in walked what seemed to be
 a 10-foot-tall tall Dale Earnhardt. 

The look on his face wasn't pleasant. As my buddies
 scrambled to get out the front door he asked me to 
join him on the back porch. 

Dale Earnhardt Jr. spends some time with teammates 
Steve Park (left) and Michael Waltrip (right).  
We spent more than an hour talking about his perils 
in the early days of his career and how I should be 
looking forward to my next opportunity to race. 

In that conversation somewhere, I was assured of his
 love for me, and the hope he maintained for me to 
be successful in whatever I did. From that day on, 
I never worried about my mistakes, only looking forward
 to the chance to redeem them. 

Our Final Stance

My father joined me in victory lane for many of my wins 
in the Busch and Winston Cup Series. 

The one that stands out most clearly is the win in Charlotte 
at The Winston. My first Busch win and my first Cup win
 were enjoyable with him as well, but The Winston had a 
different feel while standing there with him on stage with
 the trophy. 

The best race I saw him run was at that same event in 1987.
 For some reason, I felt I had equaled that performance. 
As if to say "look dad, the same race, the same excitement,
 the same result!" 

I could see in his face that night he agreed. Of all the 
time I have spent with my father, this moment is the most
 valuable to me. I will never forget his smile, his
 expression, or anything else about those moments with 
him on that stage that night. 

My dad and I, with that elusive Winston trophy there in 
front of us. It belonged to him as much as it did me that night. 

Till next month, 


Dale Earnhardt: Through the eyes of his son
By Dale Earnhardt Jr., Special to Turner Sports Interactive 
February 21, 2001 

(The following column originally was published Oct. 18, 2000.)

I know a man whose hands are so callused that gloves aren't 
necessary. Once, while cutting down a tree, he cut the back
of his hand to the bone with a chainsaw. He didn't even
stop to look until the job was done. 

I've seen him get thrown from a tractor. The tractor, as 
large as a small home, was flipped by the trunk of a 
stubborn oak tree. His first thought was not fear, but 
how quickly he could get the tractor back on its tracks
to complete the task. He has suffered broken bones and 
never had one complaint. Not to anyone, not even to himself. 
This man could lead the world's finest army. He has wisdom 
that knows no bounds. No fire could burn his character, no 
stone could break it. He maintains a private existence.
One that shelters his most coveted thoughts from the world. 

His upbringing was no controlled creation. His hard-working 
family was like many from that era. He gained his knowledge 
in hard dirt and second-hand tools, from his toys as a child
to the trucks he drove in his 20s. From that natural 
upbringing, he has an incredible sense of good and bad. 
He sees it before it sees him, in people, in anything
imaginable. Where did he learn this? How does he know 
so many things? 

I've seen this man create many things. With no blueprints, 
he has carved and produced wonders upon wonders. His resume 
shows he has created major companies. He has hammered out
deal upon deal -- always being as fair as God would have 
it. He has taken land with thick shrub and deep valleys 
and molded them into a frontier fit for heaven. He has 
built homes that kings couldn't fathom. 

Solving problems is as easy as breathing for him. They are 
thrown his way like the morning paper. People surround him
daily, wanting solutions. He hands them out with pride and
passion. Each solution is a battle won. He calculates his 
every action, demanding the same from everyone else. He is
honest in letting you know your end of the bargain. 

His friendship is the greatest gift you could ever obtain. 
Out of all his attributes, it is the most impressive. He 
trusts only a few with this gift. If you ever break that
trust - it is over. He accepts few apologies. Many have 
crossed him and they leave with only regret for their 
actions. In every result, he stands as an example of what
hard work and dedication will achieve. Even his enemies 
know this. 

I have had the pleasure of joining him on the battlefield.
I have experienced his intimidating wrath. That may sound 
strong, but I know what I am talking about. He roams like
a lion, king of his jungle. His jungle is his and his
alone. Every step he takes has purpose. Every walk has reason. 

He praises God, loves his family, enjoys his friends. 

I wonder what his future holds. He has so much to be 
proud of. To this point, he's only barely satisfied.
His eyes see much more than my imagination could produce.
He is Dale Earnhardt. Dad, the world's finest army awaits.