Read Online In the Blink of an Eye by Michael Waltrip - Free Book Online Page A

old age of thirty-seven. He wanted to show people I could win in his car. While Dale and his business guy, Ty Norris, flew down to Atlanta to meet with the NAPA people, all I could do was wait and wonder: Is my life about to change? Could Dale talk those guys into this? I figured NAPA was in for a million or two on Dale’s Busch team. I knew a season with a high-profile NASCAR team like Dale’s would be way more than that. And time! Was there time to do this? If so, Dale would need to know immediately in order to build the cars and hire the people.
    In my mind, this sounded like a real stretch. But this was Dale Earnhardt doing the stretching. Maybe he could pull it off.
    I could picture Dale in a corporate boardroom. I’d never seen him in one, but I could definitely picture him there. I wondered how he was doing at NAPA. This may have been a job that only Dale Earnhardt could tackle. He was smart. He was respected. He had a plan. And when he got there, Ty later told me, Dale was simply amazing. After a few minutes of hi-how-are-you’s, Dale told the president of NAPA, “We came to talk to you guys about moving up to Cup racing with us next year.”
    “Next year?” one of the NAPA guys asked. “Like five months from now? Can you be ready by Daytona?”
    “Not only ready. Ready to win. And I want Michael Waltrip to drive for us.”
    Ty wondered how it would go over. That pink-elephant thing, you know. He was wondering if they’d mention my record. But the NAPA folks didn’t seem to mind.
    “Can you get him?” the NAPA president asked.
    “Yes, we can get him.” Then Dale summarized, matter-of-factly laying out the deal: This is how it’s gonna work, this is what it’s gonna cost, and Michael Waltrip will drive. Then he slipped in on them at the end: “Oh, by the way, I need to know by Friday.”
    “Which Friday, Dale?”
    “This one,” Dale said. “The one in a couple days.”
    And with that, Dale and Ty were out the door and headed back to Mooresville.
    Mike Rearden, the motorsports manager at NAPA, told me later that when Dale and Ty left the room, the company president looked at him and said, “Well, Mike, you said we should be in Cup. Sounds like Earnhardt agrees with you. You have a couple of days to present your case to me and the board.”
    On the plane back to North Carolina, Ty said he told Dale, “You didn’t give ’em many options there, boss.”
    “There ain’t no options,” Dale said. “That’s the way it’s gotta work—or it won’t.”
    When they landed, Ty called me and told me to meet Dale and him at DEI.
    “You tell me, Ty. Tell me now. What happened?”
    Ty told me to chill out. “It went good,” he said. “But Dale wants to share the details with you. Meet us at the shop in the trophy room at seven.”
    I had been to DEI about a thousand times, but driving there that evening was different. My mind was in overdrive. I was thinking about what it would mean if this happened. Man, my daddy would have been so happy.
    Dad was funny when he would talk about Dale. Darrell and I used to laugh at Dad. When we were at the track and Dale would drive by, every time Dad would say, “Boys, that damn Earnhardt is flying. I don’t think he’s even letting off in the turns.” Dad would say that no matter where we were.
    Dale was good, but everybody had to let off the gas for most of the turns. Whether Dale was fast or not, it didn’t matter. He just looked fast to Dad.
    And Mom had become a Big E fan too. She liked the fact that Dale and Teresa and Buffy and I were friends. She enjoyed hearing about the vacations we would take together. But Dale became a favorite of Mom’s the day after Dad died back in January when he drove out to Sherrills Ford just to hold Mom’s hand and tell her he was thinking about her. That was special to everyone in our whole family because it meant so much to Mom.
    I was thinking, “If I go home and tell my momma I’m gonna drive for Dale Earnhardt,