Opinion | Doug Herbert races 'for my boys,' dedicating season to them

Driver dedicates season to his 2 sons, killed in a car crash

TOM SORENSEN

The Charlotte Observer

Sunday, Jul. 06, 2008

Doug Herbert finished first in the Summit Racing Equipment NHRA Nationals Top Fuel class in Norwalk, Ohio, last week.

There must be a simpler way to say that.

“I won the biggest race of my life,” Herbert says.

His reaction time – .018 off the line – was phenomenal. More phenomenal was the presence of his 10-year-old daughter, Jessie. It was her first race of the season. Usually reserved, she sprinted to her dad, and both were overcome with emotion. In Herbert's arms was Jessie and in his eyes were tears.

He adds: “I could just hear my son James saying, ‘Yeah, Dad!'

Herbert has dedicated the season to James and his brother, Jon, calling it the “For My Boys” Tour.

Jon, 17, and James, 12, woke up hungry on Jan.26, a Saturday, and decided to grab breakfast at McDonald's.

Many of us feel invincible when we're young because we have yet to be shown that we're not. Jon was driving about 85 mph on Jetton Road, which has a speed limit of 45. He lost control of his little Mazda turbo, spun into traffic moving in the other direction and crashed into the front end of a Hummer. The skid marks still are there. Herbert drives past them on the way to Doug Herbert Racing in Lincolnton.

Herbert, 40, was in Phoenix for preseason testing that morning. At about 7:30 a.m., Mountain time, his cell phone rang. It was his ex-wife, Sonnie. She said there had been an accident and both boys were dead.

“No, that can't be,” Herbert said.

She was hysterical, he said, and he hoped she was wrong. He called a friend and asked him to check. The friend called back 15 minutes later. Sonnie wasn't wrong.

“He was going too fast,” Herbert said of Jon. “In his mind he was in control. We had talked about speed. I said if you want to drive fast, come to the drag strip in Charlotte or Shelby or Mooresville and do what I do.”

After a death, racing folks almost always say that it was his time.

“Destiny, I don't believe that,” says Herbert. “It wasn't supposed to happen. It was an accident, nothing else.”

A big man at 6-foot-4, Herbert sits behind the desk in his Lincolnton office. A minute into our conversation, he begins to cry. I tell him I had debated calling and ask if I should leave.

“I like to tell their story,” Herbert said. “I want to tell people about my boys and my daughter and how great they are. They're kind kids. They care about other kids. They want to help.”

Herbert offers an example, and smiles as he tells it.

Mario Andretti, one of the greatest drivers of all time, brings his driving school to Lowe's Motor Speedway and Herbert asks James if he wants to go to the track. James, who lives with Herbert, wants to sleep.

But Herbert drags him. Herbert is invited to drive one of the sleek Indy cars and, when he finishes, Mario asks Herbert if James would like a ride. Herbert figures his son will be thrilled.

“I don't want to ride with him,” James said. “I want to ride with you.”

Herbert is incredulous. “You don't want to ride with me,” he says. “You want to ride with Mario.”

“But he's old,” James said.

“James, you know how when we're at the go-kart track, and I'll say, ‘Whooo, Mario?'”

“Yeah,” said James.

“That's Mario.”

James gets a 180 mph ride and an autographed picture. James has a birthday party, and the other kids see James and Mario and the car and tell him how cool the experience must have been. Herbert calls his son aside.

“Didn't you tell them,” he asks.

“None of them get to do that,” James says. “I didn't want to hurt their feelings.”

A parent should not outlive a child. Alas, many do, and a disproportionate number are in racing. Among them are Rick Hendrick, Kyle Petty and Barry Dodson, who all called Herbert after the tragedy. Bobby Allison met him for lunch.

Somebody or something reminds Herbert of his sons every day. On Thursday a customer, a stranger, walks into Herbert's 100,000-square foot shop, offers his condolences and asks for an autograph. George Gillette of Gillette-Evernham Motorsports sends a gift basket. The screen saver on the computer on Herbert's desk shows him with his kids, everybody happy, in front of a Christmas tree.

Jon's motorcycles, KTM-85s, and Herbert's Yamaha 450, were stored in a trailer out back. Jon raced motocross, and Herbert was his crew chief and coach.

Somebody broke into the trailer and stole the bikes. Herbert knew he should have moved them into the shop. But he couldn't go inside. To see Jon's bikes was to see Jon.

Yet, Herbert does not run from their memory. He clings to it. Through their death he wants others to live.

Herbert spends hours speaking at SouthLake Christian Academy in Huntersville, where Jon and James went and Jessie goes. He has spoken to more than 1,000 students in schools private and public.

Out of those discussions and Herbert's grief has come a program that explains to teens and parents the consequences of unsafe driving. He asked Jon's classmates to come up with a name.

The next time Herbert visited the class a student said, BRAKES.

“That's good,” said Herbert.

“It stands for Be Responsible and Keep Everyone Safe,” the student said.

“That's awesome,” said Herbert.

(For more information, go to putonthebrakes.com.)

The boys had visited Herbert's father, Chet, in California last summer. Chet, 80, was devastated when he learned of their deaths.

Herbert needed a project that he and his father, a former drag racer, could lose themselves in. Let's build a car and set a land speed record at the Bonneville (Utah) Salt Flats, he suggested.

Chet, who is designing the car, now wakes up with a purpose. The target date for the record run is August 2009. Each member on the team will bring his father.

Thinking about Chet, and about BRAKES, Herbert says, “There's been a lot of good. The only bad is they're not here anymore.”

Herbert briefly considered getting out of racing. But when he slips into the cockpit of his 30-foot long dragster, and the engine is engaged, he finds peace. For those two minutes, it's not about the past. It's about what comes next.

Before the victory in Ohio last week, his first of the season, Herbert repeated the same words.

“Be a machine, Doug, be a machine. Machines don't make mistakes. Humans do.”

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