Dale Jr. Talks About His Father, Career And Marriage
May 08, 2008
CIA Stock Photo, Inc.
Dale Earnhardt—Ironhead, The Intimidator—had built a life, and ultimately a legend, on will. He was raised by a stock car pioneer, Ralph Earnhardt, at a time when even the best drivers raced to put food on the table. Ralph had worked his way through the textile mill and manhandled a hundred secondhand race cars around a hundred crappy little race tracks. So Dale’s kids sure as hell weren’t about to get off easy. When Dale Jr. did anything less than attack that bucket and grab it by the handle, his father found another way to motivate: He asked a shop hand to move it—right in front of his son.
“The lesson was to try it,” Junior says. “Instead of being a quitter and not even attempting it, you should have tried. That was Daddy telling me that. If I can’t pick it up, drag the son of a bitch across the floor. But I didn’t even go over there to try, and he’d get so disappointed in me for being such a cop-out. Daddy would’ve been the kind of kid who walked over there and tried to pick it up, without a word. I should’ve been more like that. And I should be more like that today.”
“When given the opportunity to do things that are intimidating, that I may think are out of my reach—they aren’t,” Junior says. “If you met the person who’s doing them, you’d find out that you’re f—ing better than him.”
Junior says the only thing missing in his life right now is a girl to settle down with. He’s been “open and willing to get married for three or four years” and has had some notable relationships with “top-notch, great women who are making, and have made, some guys happy.” But his hectic schedule and fast-lane world make it nearly impossible to meet a bring-home-to-Mama girl. “I’m looking for that mental connection, somebody who sees and understands me like my sister and my mom do,” Junior says. “I want somebody who can read me like a book and is okay with half of it. I’m particular, and I want to be particular. It hasn’t struck me yet that I should relax my standards.”
His job is a deterrent. He needs dedication, and he thinks it’s ridiculous to ask someone to toss aside an established life to adapt to his. “I admire the girls who marry drivers and crew members,” he says. “It’s a tough life. The only fun thing those women have to look forward to is going shopping in some good cities and sitting around in a bus. But they love their husbands. They’re dedicated.”
If a woman wants to live with Junior, she’ll have to live with his driving for “at least 15 more competitive years,” he says. Past that, who knows? If his universe continues to expand at its current rate, if he continues to mature as quickly as he has over the past year—or if he continues to have as much success as he’s had so far this season—hell, he might even start to enjoy himself.
Yes, he knows he still has to answer a lot of questions, as an owner and a driver: “Am I prepared? Is the team prepared? Is everybody ready? How’s it going to go? What the hell are we getting into?” But Junior says he’s okay with that. “I’m excited and curious and nervous. I’m comfortable, though.
“I’m not uncomfortable at all.”
