Two days ago, a press kit arrived at my desk from Neil Bonnett's racing team.
I did with it what I do with all such kits, tossed it into the wastebasket. But then I thought better of it, retrieved the kit and put it away."That's Neil Bonnett," I thought. "I may need that."
Bonnett was racing again, at age 47, after three years away to recover from severe head injuries suffered at Darlington International Raceway in September, 1990. He was too far beyond his prime years as a racer to be out there. He tried once last year and was in a horrible wreck at Talladega, almost went into the stands.
So I saved his press kit, hoping I wouldn't need it.
But the next day, Friday, Bonnett died in a crash at Daytona International Speedway.
Stock-car racing was just getting over a year marked by death, preparing to start fresh at Daytona, but now it mourns its dead again.
People will say Bonnett died happy because he was doing what he loved. That's how they will make themselves feel better. And he was doing what he loved. You knew that, if you were ever around him. I've talked with him many times, because he could articulate the mental aspects of stock-car racing better than almost anyone.
The last time I talked with him, he hadn't gotten clearance to race again. He was doing some television commentary and trying to come to grips with the fact that he was done as a driver. He had tears in his eyes when he told me how much he missed racing.
Yeah, he was doing what he wanted to do. But somebody should have been able to talk him out of it. Or barred him from racing. Somebody should have told him he had no business out there, should have made up a rule if there wasn't one, anything to protect him from himself.
NASCAR people are saying his car may have hit an oil slick, causing it to slam almost front-first into the fourth turn wall. Maybe so. Maybe the crash wasn't Bonnett's fault, just bad racing luck, but this was Daytona. Wrecks stalk drivers like Bonnett, drivers who are not razor sharp.
This was a race track that maims and kills people who make mistakes or have bad luck. Twenty-six tombstones stand in mute testimony to that. Twelve of those people died at Daytona in the past 10 years.
What was Neil Bonnett doing there? Neil Bonnett, who was going to race only six times this year anyway. Why Daytona? Why not pass on the long, fast tracks where cars go 200 miles an hour and fly like airplanes when they go out of control? Why not ease back in at some of the less cruel tracks?
I should be talking about what a good guy Neil Bonnett was. I was fond of him, played golf with him once, enjoyed his successes and ached for him when he was hurt.
I should be talking in a soft voice, but I can't help being angry about this. Bonnett should not have been driving at Daytona.
Thank heaven Richard Petty quit before something like this happened to him. He tempted fate but got out before it got him. It tried. I remember seeing him tumble down the track at Daytona and get slammed by oncoming traffic and thinking, I'll be writing Richard Petty's obituary today.
Race cars are remarkably safe but they aren't foolproof, especially at the speeds they run at Daytona. There, it's like juggling dynamite.
Don't tell me Neil Bonnett was happy. Don't tell me it wasn't his fault. That's not the point. He would have gotten over the urge to race. He won't get over this.