Remembering and
Realizing with My Dad, Fred Lorenzen
By Amanda Gardstrom (Lorenzen)
It was a hot summer day in Elmhurst, Illinois. I was nearly six years old. We
drove down Church Street, the street my dad grew up on and pulled into the
driveway of my grandmother's house. This was the place my dad called home for
his whole life, aside the days he spent traveling for racing.
He tells me the tales of how he would be in the driveway all day and all night
building cars. "When the kids in high school were out partying, I was playing
with cars." He explained the block that was now filled with beautiful homes and
lively families was once all open space. He built his first car using an engine
from his dad's old lawn mower. "I remember going around the block time and time
again and the police finally pulled me over." He shared they worried he wouldn't
be seen by cars, for the grass grew too high for him to be viewed by passing
cars as he zipped by and that he was going way too fast. That didn't stop him,
he added a tall pole and put a flag on it so he'd be seen. He made his car
faster, so no one could catch him. This is where his competitive streak began.
Nothing stopped him from following his dream. As a child, I grew up playing pool
in my dad's trophy room. I knew he was a famous race car driver and that he won
all of the major races. That was about it. When I begged to go to races, he took
me go-carting instead. He'd coach me to "get 'em going around the curves, then
go low and pass 'em." I recently learned, he was teaching me the clever tactics
he used to succeed on the race track. That was his secret tactic, as well as
playing every role possible in preparing and keeping his race car at the top of
it's game. My dad had such determination and pride. He knew his cars inside and
out.
It wasn't until recently that I realized, my dad was a hero to more than just
me. He left the sport young, after he had achieved all he had hoped and wanted
to safely start a family and be a good father. He was.
On snowy Chicago nights after my basketball practice he'd challenge me to make
twenty free-throws in a row. That was an easy way to get me outside to practice;
there was money involved. It would take many tries on tireless nights with much
encouragement to win my $20. I didn't realize until much later, I now know, he
was teaching me persistence and perseverance. I became a pretty good player. My
dad never gave up, that's what made him a great racer.
I sit with my dad now, who struggles to remember his first granddaughter's name
and I think of all those times I wished I asked more questions about his career.
Over the past few years, his health has declined. He suffers from dementia.
Funny thing is, he has trouble remembering what year it is, but at the end of
each visit, my dad always asks if I have enough gas and if my car is clean. He
may have retired from racing early, but never lost the love for working on cars.
It wasn't until my dad's health declined that I ever had to take my car to the
shop. Our house was "The Shop." I proudly keep my dad's tools in it's original
red, rusted toolbox with an STP sticker in my garage now and imagine him in his
glory days working into the wee hours to make things just right for the next
day's big race.
I've learned more in the past year about my father's career than ever before.
The impact he had on racing is unbelievable. To me, Fred Lorenzen, was just my
dad. To racing, he is quite the "Golden Boy from Elmhurst, Illinois." He was the
first person in NASCAR history to win $100,000 in a single season. My dad was
the first driver to win at all major speedways- Daytona, Charlotte, Darlington,
Atlanta and Rockingham. He'd watch weather reports and study tire wear patterns.
That's what made him a true racer. He had total concentration and put his all
into everything in this sport he loves so very much.
The crazy thing about my dad's dementia is that he has difficulty with
remembering the little things, but when we talk racing, it's almost like he's
back again. His eyes light up and his racing memory is crystal clear. I still
bring him fan mail and when he signs, he still always thoughtfully asks for the
person's name. I always look forward to bringing a new set of pictures and hope
to hear another great story of his glory days. One of the first times I've seen
my dad cry was watching a racing highlight tape featuring my dad from this
year's Coca Cola 600 pre-race show. I could tell his tears were of joy, pride
and accomplishment. I do think those were the best and happiest days of his
life.
One of the hardest things for me to do this year was to decide what to do with
all of my dad's trophies. I didn't think it was fair to let them sit in my
basement for no one to see. I kept a few, as did my brother. A World 600 trophy,
one of my dad's biggest, best memories sits proudly in my foyer. I need to know
my dad's legacy will live on forever and he will not be forgotten. We've donated
many trophies to the NASCAR Hall of Fame and the Motorsports Hall of Fame, as
well as to some smaller museums. If you're reading this story, I hope you will
be able to see some of those trophies, reminisce and smile at what my father has
brought to stock car racing.
Editor’s Note: Fred Lorenzen was among the nominees for the second group
of
racing greats to be enshrined into the NASCAR Hall of Fame. Unfortunately,
Lorenzen was not among those voted in this year. Hopefully, next year will be
his year.