Their crops have been washed away.
Yall be ready to plant when I get that seed to you, he says.
They mumble some sort of protests.
Dont WORRY about it! he growls.
Just dont ask no questions. Just yall have them damn tractors ready to roll when that seed gets here.
Later, I will learn that the seed he sends them, at his expense, is measured in the tons on tons.
Earnhardt, what the
Gotta go see Schrader, man.
Sometime in the 80s, and Schrader is struggling up into NASCAR almost by his fingernails, off the hard-bitten dirt tracks of Missouri, and the truck pulls up by a mobile home sitting out in a field in North Clina with several old beat-up dirt-track cars occupying what passes for a yard.
Earnhardt sits in a folding chair and just hangs, man, just hangs, letting the struggling driver know Earnhardt is there if he is needed.
Earnhardt always helps the strugglers. Soon hell give an unknown California vagabond named Ernie Irvan a car and enough money to outfit it for his first Winston Cup race.
Earnhardt never lets a struggler fall by the wayside. Earnhardt came up too hard himself.
He has never forgotten.
And he will never forget right up until the day he dies, on the last turn of the last lap of the Daytona 500 in 2001 he will never forget.
Even as he dies instantly against the fourth-turn wall, another driver, up ahead, Michael Waltrip, a hard-luck guy all his life, suddenly with a break, suddenly in a Dale Earnhardt-owned race car, the first great ride of his career, is taking the checkered flag.