_{*Quick Summary: The author writes about some of his time with racing legend Papa Joe Hendrick.*}

I’ve struggled with this post for years. How do you summarize years of growth and learning from lessons taught by an important person in your life? How do you thank someone for investing in you when you weren’t worthy of it? How do you phrase appreciation for the honor of being trusted with something someone worked years to build? I’ll probably do it poorly, but here’s an attempt:

“Papa” Joe Hendrick was my hero; he was also my mentor, my boss, and my friend. When I was younger, he was just a friendly older man I knew, but as I grew older he became a central person in my life. As that transition happened, my love and admiration for him grew.

I first worked for Papa Joe in my late teens at Hendrick Motorsports. He was very hard on me then, but I needed it. I started out cutting grass, picking up rocks, and running a tractor and front-end loader for various landscaping projects. He eventually allowed me to be trained as a showcar driver, working on retired race cars and hauling them around the country for various sponsor events. In addition, I would perform facility and complex tours for sponsors and VIPs. The more interesting memories of that time were being around for some of the filming of the movie Days of Thunder.

I wish I would have just stayed with “Pop” then and learned more from him, instead, I let frustration with a co-worker named Danny Pledger drive me away. Being young and dumb, I left this opportunity over a personal conflict, rather than persevere through it, or find a way to compromise with Danny, or learn more about him. Certainly my loss.

Set on leaving, I asked for a transfer to Pop’s son John Hendrick’s Honda dealership as a new car technician. I quickly worked my way up to a full line technician. Sad thing is, I was a pretty good mechanic, but I hated going to work for the next two and a half years. The job wasn’t terrible, I just hated the commission pay structure of it, and “hate” is not too strong a word. I have always preferred to work as part of a team, and to be in such a individually competitive environment was not for me.

At least twice a week and sometimes daily for the time I was a Honda mechanic, I traveled down the road and saw the guys on the #25 NASCAR Winston Cup team owned by Papa Joe at Hendrick Motorsports. I would just pop in and say hello, sometimes I would eat lunch with them. The whole time I was working on Hondas, my mind drifted back to racing and to the “Guys on the Hill”, the #25 race team. Little did I know what was in my future…

I eventually started drinking to combat my hatred of being a line mechanic. I would start the morning with a couple of beers or a few big swallows of Lord Calvert whisky, which would carry me over to break time, when I would have a few more drinks. That was followed by lunch, sometimes at a local topless bar, when I would drink enough to last until the evening break when I would drink again. A couple drinks every couple of hours. All the while, I was working on and test driving customer’s cars, sometimes even driving their cars to the bar. The sobering fact hit me one day as I was in the middle of a brake job and could not remember what I had and had not done on the car. I asked one of my friends to finish it up for me as I lied and said I had a headache. I went out to my truck in the parking lot, slept off much of the alcohol in my system, and when I woke up and came back later in the day, I quit that job. The thought I might kill someone because I was drinking was too much to take, and I was just too miserable to do it any longer.

I really was not a “good” person during these years. I wasn’t “bad”, but I certainly am not proud of who I became. The above mentioned antics, combined with burnouts I would do around the back of the building at the Honda store every time I happened to go by there, just proved how stupid and cocky I was. Imagine the Service Manager’s reaction to seeing a former employee doing burnouts at your business, sometimes daily, and being so patient as to not do anything. It makes me mad now thinking how arrogant I was, and how badly I took advantage of his kindness. Needless to say, I have a lot of love and thankfulness in my heart for my former Service Manager Steve Hinson. He put up with a lot from me, and I never thanked him for it. Thank you Steve.

After I left the Honda store, I floated around a bit making a few dollars here and there. I even sold homemade “potato guns” to my old racing buddies. I was quite the screw-up. Eventually, I got a few more small engine mechanic certifications, learned to read blueprints, plans, and construct beautiful solid red oak cabinets thanks to working in a small cabinet shop, and even sold swings made from old race tires. Basically, anything to make a buck. My mind always came back to racing though. That is where I thought I belonged – “On The Hill”.

Immediately after my sister Michelle’s death, I talked with Rick Hendrick about coming back to work at a real job and getting my life together. Michelle’s death shook me, and I was not about to die and leave behind a mess like she did. I needed to get focused. I needed a real job.

Less than a month after her passing, Rick graciously took me back as an employee at Hendrick Motorsports. I started out as a tour guide for sponsors, then had an opportunity to work in the engine shop for legendary engine builder Randy Dorton as a tear-down/cleanup tech. I did that for a very short time, but cannot overstate how much I disliked it. I was still very much a laid-back screw-up, now working in a very controlled and precise world. I wanted a “real job” to turn my life in a positive direction, but I wasn’t ready to be this controlled and precise yet. The situation created anxiety for me, and that anxiety hit a peak. I also knew day-drinking was no longer an option as it had been to combat my job at the Honda dealership. That didn’t work there, and it certainly wouldn’t work here. I quickly embellished about being allergic to the cleaning solution to escape this situation. Did it burn my nose and cause my face to feel flush? Sure. Could I have toughed it out? Most definitely. I am not at all proud of that, but I lied to make it seem worse than it was. At my core I am an honest man. I don’t like to tell lies, and it is something I rarely do, yet, here I was – lying away. I felt I needed to get out of there and on to something, anything else. I have found my past lies haunt me, and that particular lie still haunts me to this day. I am convinced Randy knew I lied, as did several other people I was close to and grew up around. I know that single lie changed many people’s perception of me. I’ll never live that down or forget it. Ever. I know God has forgiven me, but I’ve sure had a hard time getting over it, especially as I can no longer sit down with Randy and discuss it or apologize.

I was technically out of a job, but it was right then Papa Joe stepped in and took me back to work in Showcars. Joe was well-known for his forgiving nature and giving second chances. Here I was, a liar, still pretty worthless, working harder to get out of work than actually working, and getting a second chance when I truly didn’t deserve one. I was selfish, destructive, arrogant, and without much merit, yet he forgave me and overlooked all that. Papa Joe Hendrick showed me the same Christlike love and forgiveness he gave freely to everyone. Joe Hendrick was a fine example of the love of Jesus Christ.

The one unknown for me at this point was going back to work with the one employee that I’d left to escape the first time – Danny Pledger. More on that later.

By this time, Pop’s Showcar shop was located on “The Hill” where the old #25 NASCAR race team shop was previously. The same place I hung out while I was escaping life at the dealership. Going back to work for him meant I was finally coming “home”, and it gave me great pride to finally be one of, “The Guys on the Hill”. I was in the same shop my Dad started his racing career, and these were many of the guys I grew up admiring. Making things better, I got to race with those guys I admired so much. I was even able to work on Ricky Hendrick’s pit crew during the time he raced in the NASCAR Late Model Stock division. I can never thank those guys enough for making me part of that team. To race side-by-side with my heroes as teammates lives on as my favorite time in the racing business. It gave me a purpose and direction I lacked, while giving me a team of elders I respected to guide me. Hardly what I deserved for being such a screw-up. I was certainly the weak link in this particular chain.

Papa Joe taught me so very much. He forgave my shortcomings and youthful errors. He trusted me when I wasn’t worthy of his trust. He promoted me to Showcar Manager as he refreshed and added onto my parent’s lessons on the value of hard work, the value of working smart, but more than anything, the value of people. When anyone asked me how long I worked at Hendrick Motorsports, I usually told them it was my only job. While that wasn’t technically true, in my heart it was. Being with Papa Joe gave me more purpose in life, and I didn’t want to admit I was ever stupid enough to have left his side. The harder I worked, the more he wanted from me. Looking back at that time, I see exactly what he was doing. Then, I just thought he did not know or understand me or what my job was. I now know he knew exactly who I was, and what my job was, I was the one who didn’t. I was always trying to make things more complicated than they were and he always brought me back to a simpler, “farm” way of doing things; the old-time ways he learned as a tobacco farmer. I always tried to get technical, covering every detail, and instead he showed me how to take care of a lot of stuff all at the same time. Old-school multitasking. While everything was not always perfect, you got a lot more done his way, took better care of the people involved, and could sleep better at night.

I finally figured out he was always right, and once I started doing things his way he started to tell me I was doing a good job. Words I never would’ve heard from him before. I realized that not only was his way right, he was probably the smartest man in the world. I still feel he was. To this day, I am still discovering things he was right about. I learned how to work smarter and harder, while simultaneously taking better care of my employees. All the while, he was turning me into a more responsible person. I was initially given a job because of my connections, but I finally felt I was earning my spot.

Toward the end of his life, Pop and I grew very close. He made me promise to do certain things in his absence. I promised him I would keep his employees together and employed, and I specifically promised to take care of Danny Pledger. Yes, THAT Danny Pledger. Papa Joe also trusted me with some things I will never reveal. More than anything, he taught me a lot about people in the last months of his life. I will never forget those lessons he taught me one-on-one while he knew he was dying. Those bedside lessons changed my life for the better, and I still use his wisdom to this day. Having the opportunity to be one of a handful of people who cared for him for the last six months of his life was one of the greatest gifts I will ever have.

He died July 14, 2004 from complications of cancer. I will never stop missing him.

With Papa Joe no longer there, I was promoted within the Showcar Department. While I was technically able to handle the responsibilities, I was a poor manager. Pop taught me some great lessons, but I was not prepared and was ill-equipped to execute them without him. The department lacked support among some in accounting and administration, and I was tasked with being in charge of men who had seen me at my worst as a young man. These were good men, talented men, men I respected, and they watched me grow up through the years. They saw me from the time I was in my early teens, and they knew my mistakes and limitations well. It was too important to me to be everyone’s friend, as that would maintain the same dynamic I had when Pop was alive, but you can’t manage from a position of weakness, and I learned this lesson the hard way. I fought a battle within myself whether to be friend or boss, manager or coworker. It took me far too long to grow a backbone, so blaming things – EVERYTHING on my immediate supervisor was my go-to move. I fumbled my way through every management mistake you can make. At the very least I didn’t make the same mistake twice, but it still wasn’t pretty. It educated me like no school could have, but the price was high. Some employees forgave me for the mistakes I made during this time, but some didn’t. I never blamed either group for how they felt. I earned both perceptions, and have no hard feelings towards any of them. Regardless, I made Papa Joe a promise, so I continued to do what I had to do, even in the frequent times when I wished someone else was the manager.

Then, the plane crash, and all that entailed.

Somehow, the department gradually began to turn around. So did I. What was always written off as a money losing proposition, was turned into a small… VERY small, profit maker. The credit for that most certainly goes to those directly above and directly below me. Sales were through the roof, and for all the added work, the men I was in charge of consistently amazed me with their ability to make the impossible happen. I began to learn actual management lessons the hard way as I failed less and worked more. I would show up to work late most mornings, but I’d regularly stay until well past midnight, putting in lots of hours to compensate for my lack of skills. I even rented a house on company property so I wouldn’t have that far to travel to sleep during those late nights/early mornings. In the process, I began to learn those skills I lacked. I slowly began to feel better about myself as things started to run more smoothly. I was gradually turning into a better manager. Not a great one yet, but a much better one. These lessons I learned the hard way will stick with me the rest of my life. While I’m not always happy with how I learned them, I’m a better person and a much better manager now because of it. All motivated by trying to make sure I was living up to the promises I’d made Papa Joe. After all the struggles, I finally felt I was doing what Papa Joe told me to do. I even became really good friends with Danny Pledger in the process. I had the genuine feeling Pop orchestrated and guided my future learning process without him, even before he died.

This learning process lasted until the Hendrick Performance Group was launched in 2009. At that point, I was promoted, transferred, and the Showcar Department was reorganized. At that moment, I had lived up to my promise to Pop and it was like the weight of the world had been lifted from me. I’d kept the employees employed and together. I’d taken care of Danny, and he and I are now able to laugh at how our friendship started. Promises fulfilled. Somehow, we all did it. We outlasted me.

There are times I travel to his graveside in Virginia to be around him. Sometimes I just need to be in that peaceful place, sometimes I need to feel closer to him. No matter what though, he lives inside me now. The lessons learned, the values gained, the trust invested, the forgiveness and the second chances – all of it. I try to never let him down, although I’m sure there are times I do, but to be more like Jesus and Papa Joe will always be the goal for me. I love you Pop.