Goodbye, Dan Wheldon

Goodbye, Dan Wheldon
by Brian Cotnoir

     Anyone who knows me personally knows that I am a huge fan of auto racing.  If it has four wheels and goes fast, chances are I’ll watch it. When people ask me what I like the most about auto racing, I tell them it’s the most exciting sport I’ve ever watched and it also is the most emotional sport I’ve ever seen.  Just when think I’ve seen the most exciting finish ever, another race ends and I’m left with even more chills and excitement.  Unfortunately, the same sport that shows me thrills and excitement also has a dark side to it. I’ve seen many bad wrecks in my life time, and every time I think to myself “That is the worst wreck I’ve ever seen”, an even worst wreck happens and I’m left in a state of shock and disbelief.  This is what my essay is about; the Worst wreck I’ve ever seen, and how a driver I once thought I couldn’t stand, became one of my personal favorites.

     When I would watch Indy Racing League on television my motto for many years was “Anyone, but Wheldon”.  It wasn’t that I didn’t like driver Dan Wheldon, I just viewed him the same way many fans of NASCAR view a driver like Jimmie Johnson or Jeff Gordon; I knew he was a very good driver, but after a while I got tired of seeing him win all the races.  I griped and moaned when he pulled off the upset victory at the 2011 Indianapolis 500 because I believed that it was J.R. Hillenbrand who deserved to win the race. If I had even begun to speculate the fate that awaited him, I might have thought differently of his victorious upset.                                                

         

    I remember that day and that race oh too well.  I had spent the Sunday with my best friend Zee watching movies at her dorm.  I actually left in the middle of one of the movies because I wanted to go back to my dorm room and watch the Indy Car Series season finale on T.V.  From the pre-race hype I knew it was going to be an exciting race.  The Green flag dropped and the race started and it was a already an exciting race.  The Indy Cars circled the Las Vegas Motor Speedway like chariot Racers at the Coliseum in Ancient Rome.  Then on lap 11, it all came, literally, to a crashing halt.  A fifteen car pile-up had brought out the red flag and had launched two race cars high into the air.  One of those cars was driven by Dan Wheldon.  I couldn’t believe it.  The race was stopped so rescue crews and track officials could attend to all of the drivers.  After a while, as the track crews cleaned up the debris from the accident the commentators announced that Dan Wheldon was being airlifted to a local hospital.  There are two things I’ve learned about auto racing when there is an accident; you never want to see them cover the car with a tarp, after the driver is removed from the vehicle, and “Good news doesn’t travel by helicopter”.  This is at the point where I, just like many other fans watching the race, began to worry.  The voices of the race commentators sounded so soft and so unsure, rather than their usual peppy and optimistic tone. I’m not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination, but I started to pray when the commentators asked the people watching the race at home to keep Dan Wheldon in their thoughts.        

    As I continued to watch the race coverage, I saw fear and disbelief in the eyes of every driver they interviewed.  It all seemed so familiar.  I can remember the commentators and the other drivers acting and talking the same way shortly after Dale Earnhardt, Sr.’s tragic accident in 2001.  It brought back a lot of sad memories.  All the other racecar drivers and car owners were called to a drivers meeting sometime later and as they left the meeting—all were in silence.  I remember one of the cameras was focused on driver Tony Kanaan.  I remember seeing Tony Kanaan sit down on the pit wall and then I saw him crying and being consoled by a person from his crew.  I felt a lump in my throat, and I knew something bad had happened.  I remember, repeating “Oh my God…I think he’s dead” over and over again in my head, but I still didn’t want to believe it, but to me Tony Kanaan’s sorrowful expression told me that everyone’s worst fears were true.  That’s when an IRL official had made the announcement; Dan Wheldon was gone, and that the rest of the race would be canceled.   What else could I say? I was in shock.  On a Sunday evening when some families were sitting down to dinner or lounging around, I was sitting in my dorm room, alone, and I had just watched a man die.                                   

    The most powerful thing that stood out in my mind from that day wasn’t the crash, it was the announcement of his death, it wasn’t even the five-lap salute to his memory.  What really stood out about that day was the final words from one of the race commentators, Marty Reid; "Many People always ask me why I sign off  'Till we meet again' because goodbye is always so final...goodbye, Dan Wheldon".  When Marty Reid said those words,
cried.  I through my face into my hands and I cried.      

    When I look back at that day I still get a little sad.  It was a day that I’ll probably remember for the rest of my life, and I kind of find the whole thing to be a bit ironic.  I spent a few years complaining and moaning every time Dan Wheldon won a race, and now that he’s gone, I’m very sad that he’s gone.  Now every time I see a video clip of Dan Wheldon’s final victory at the 2011 Indianapolis 500, I smile, and I say to myself “Way to go Wheldon, you sure were one heck of a racecar driver”.