For the champions
The first time Tom Lucas saw his wife Linda, an unfamiliar feeling stirred in him. As a young man in his early twenties, he had never just cold-approached a woman he hadn’t met before. But something about Linda was different. So, for the first time in his life, he went out on a limb. What he didn’t realize at the time was that this particular first would also be his last. Close to 46 years later, Tom and Linda found themselves standing in the paddock of Sebring International Raceway, admiring Matt Forbush’s beautiful Ligier LM P3 prototype, complete with Racing to End Alzheimer’s purple and white livery. The years had brought so much to Tom and Linda – children, grandchildren and a wonderfully supportive family – but they had also brought challenges. Linda has Alzheimer’s, and dealing with the disease has been the kind of struggle that too many of us are familiar with. A chance discovery So, when Tom heard about Racing to End Alzheimer’s in Sebring’s local newspaper, he saw it as a fantastic way to honor his wife while contributing to a charity that is deeply personal to him. Alongside generous contributions from his siblings, Tom had Linda’s name placed as a champion on the dorsal fin of the Ligier LM P3 prototype. Just below her name and hometown, he also added a message to Linda: “Earth Angel” with two hearts next to it. Typically, that would be the end of the story. The LM P3 would go on to raceways across the country, blistering down straights and deftly handling maneuvers with the names of champions along for the ride. But this story, like so many of the races we have run in over the years, took an unexpected turn. A fortuitous turn Tom and Linda live in Sebring, Florida, home of the world famous international raceway. The IMSA Historic Sportscar Racing Event, in which the LM P3 would be competing, makes a stop at the Central Florida track as part of its circuit. The coincidence of circumstance, which so infrequently happens, meant that Tom and Linda would have the opportunity to see her dedication in person, prominently displayed on a high-speed feat of engineering. After some coordination with raceway officials, Tom and Linda were able to spend some time in the paddock, meet the crew and take a few pictures. For Tom, it was a fortifying experience. “Just seeing her name on the car really touches your heart,” he said. “Everyone who knows Linda, knows what a tremendous person she is. I wish those who don’t know her, did,” he added. The why For us here at Racing to End Alzheimer’s, that’s really what all of this is about. We love racing and find great satisfaction in having success on the track. But the real soul of our work, the engine that keeps this whole thing running, is the champions and their loved ones. Each of those purple names on the livery represents not only someone like Linda, but also the community of supporters that stand with her. People like Tom and his family, who, despite the struggles brought on by this disease, show us what love and fortitude and steadfastness mean. The path to a cure isn’t always easy, but, with people like that in your corner, it’s hard not to feel like anything is possible. Happy 46-year anniversary, Tom and Linda. Thank you for letting us be part of your story.
Racing legends
For those who came before us, and for those who will come after From the grandstands, a Racing to End Alzheimer’s car is little more than a blur. At 200 miles per hour, the purple and white livery flashes by and, in an instant, a rush of senses gives us something to root for. The sound of shifting gears on a skillful pass, the lingering smell of rubber after a perfect turn, the feeling of satisfaction that comes with a podium finish. We care so deeply in the moment, but distance and speed often leave us with little time to think about why. Then the race ends, the track goes quiet and the car rolls back into the paddock. It’s here, up close, that the contours of our purpose are clear. What was once a nearly indistinguishable streak of purple and white becomes a web of names, dozens of individual stories that join to form the backbone of our work. Racing to End Alzheimer’s is, above all else, a community. People, each with their own story, who have come together in pursuit of the eradication of a disease that has touched the lives of so many. Just a couple of weeks ago, we were reminded yet again of Alzheimer’s reach. Jean Jennings, a giant in the racing world, passed from complications related to the disease. On the shoulders of giants Jean was one of the most important and indispensable voices in racing journalism. She came by the work honestly, only picking up the pen after having spent years turning wrenches. That experience translated directly to her style, which set the reader behind the wheel of a demolition derby car or hurtling across the country in a beer van during One Lap of America. Jean’s accomplishments, as editor of Car and Driver and co-founder of Automobile magazine, set her in the pantheon of wordsmiths at large. Especially for those who have ever spent an afternoon being guided through a high-speed daydream by her deft turns of phrase, she will be missed dearly.Unfortunately, Jean is not the only racing legend to have succumbed to Alzheimer’s. Another monumental racing journalist, Brock Yates, preceded her by eight years. Brock, who was a colleague of Jean’s at Car and Driver, was best known for his conception of the Cannonball Run. The borderline legal mad dash pitted drivers against each other in a grueling race from coast to coast. Almost immediately, the races embedded themselves in car culture lore, representing the daring, rebellious undercurrent of the sport. These days, the more legal One Lap honors Yates while putting participants through equally laborious conditions as in the event’s early days. In the same year that Brock passed, Carl Haas also came to the end of his life after a battle with Alzheimer’s. Carl was one of the most decorated Indy car team owners in history, whose name will always be connected to the likes of Mario Andretti and Paul Newman. His success, to the tune of 107 races and eight season championships, made him a frequent visitor of the winner’s circle, where he almost always had his trademark cigar clamped between his teeth. Wherever these racing legends go after they pass, they will be sure to meet Bill France Sr., a true pioneer of the sport who died from complications related to dementia in 1992. Bill’s footprint on American motorsports was as large as any. From his early days as a mechanic in Daytona Beach, Florida, to his creation and management of the behemoth racing enterprise NASCAR, Bill was a car guy through and through. If not for him, the stock car racing that has embedded itself in the very marrow of this country’s bones would not exist. If you like NASCAR, thank Bill France Sr. Arm in arm When Racing to End Alzheimer’s was founded in 2017, one of our primary goals was to ensure that those affected by this disease did not feel alone. Alzheimer’s can be an isolating disease, one that makes you feel like nobody else in the world could possibly understand what you are going through. But the truth is that Alzheimer’s leaves millions of people in its wake, many of whom feel exactly the same way. Along with the champions that fill our car’s livery, names like Jean Jennings, Brock Yates, Carl Haas and Bill France Sr. remind us of the reach of this disease, and why we are fighting so hard to find a cure. So next time you watch that purple and white streak past at blistering speed, or read the names printed on the side of the car in a quiet moment, remember that you are not alone. We are here, and we intend to end Alzheimer’s. One race at a time.