TO DADDY FROM SAM

I am so thankful to see how many wonderful, top flight people that cared about my dad.  Coming to these kinds of things is not fun – and fun was Daddy’s specialty.  So it is with a broken heart that I stand here before you, with the intention of mending mine and yours with just the smallest glimmer of highlights of my life as his daughter.  After all, we are all sad, but Daddy won’t like that – so let’s make him proud and focus on the happiness, joy and outrageous fun he brought all of us.

I will tell you what Daddy meant to me, taught me and would flat out expect me to do under this tough circumstance.  After all, he was not only a fun specialist, he was a Mission Impossible specialist.  I have been down that Mission Impossible road with my dad many, many times.  I’m doing it again and I know he is right here by my side. 

And as for a loving conclusion, I will tell you about Daddy’s favorite project, greatest new passion and best buddy, his grandson Mr. Texas Garza.

And Daddy, I know you are watching and listening closely. I know you are proud of me for bucking up and standing here in front of all these people who loved you and speaking about one of my favorite subjects – you.  So wrap your arms around me in one of your smothering hugs that usually choked me and keep me strong. 

And Daddy, don’t think I don’t know what you are doing – you are up there with one of your best pals, Leroy Wilson, horsing around, playing tricks on angels and rejoicing in your salvation.  Please hug my Granny for me.

My dad was the coolest guy I knew, knew of or knew about in real life and even in make believe.  As a young girl and until this very day and forever on, I’m convinced my Dad was John Wayne, Steve McQueen, the Easy Rider and an frustrated, undiscovered and slightly tone deaf Rock N Roll star all rolled up into one bigger than life character.   

I will tell you that as an awkward and gangly adolescent and subsequent teenager, having a cool Dad makes you more popular than expected.  In retrospect, I think some of my friends really wanted to hang out with my Dad – not particularly me.  And that was a good thing.  I idolized my Dad’s natural gift to do just about anything, his sense of humor and his love for life.  I lived my whole life thinking there wasn’t anything my Dad couldn’t do. 

Having given you my perspective of Tom McRae, I’ll share with you just a few of the experiences we enjoyed through my own spyglass.  Let me preference these very few memories with a critical bit of information.

The Apple Falls Not Far from the Tree.

I tell this story with particular deliberation.  It is about the personal growth of a very young and irresponsible yet loving father to a somewhat responsible, wiser and loving father.

In 1968, my dad picked me up to go to the Hemisphere in San Antonio.  Not that my mother was real hot on the idea, but she went along with it.  Keep in mind, we lived in the very conservative and neighbor snooping Park Cities of Dallas and my dad wore hippie beads I made for him, shirt unbuttoned Tom Jones style and rode a Triumph 650 chopper. 

On the way down there, in the pouring rain, my dad picked up a stranded, hitchhiking Marine.  At about 90-100 mph, we did a 360 in the middle of 35, the glove box popped open and a gun fell out.  Naturally, he recovered control of his Gran Prix and we went on down the road.  My initial reaction --  let’s do it again!!!  My Dad’s initial reaction --  don’t you tell your mother one word about this.

I said sure, our secret is safe with me.  We did the whole Hemisphere thing, rode every single ride, Daddy threw up on the Spider ride, we ate all the junk and had a great time.  So when we finally got home and he deposited me at my mother’s door step, she opens the screen door and I immediately started jumping up and down, screaming with enthusiasm and said:  Mom, we were going 100 down the road, it was raining, Daddy picked up a hitchhiker in a white suit, the car spun around and a gun popped out of the glove box!!  It was GREAT!!! 

I’m not sure how he recovered from that one, but I think he just grinned.

Daddy taught me about finances – his style of finances. 

During Daddy’s Harley years, I caught the fever – at about 104 degrees.  So Daddy and I are out on his Low Rider, cruising on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.  Since I’ve never been much of a spectator, just like my Dad, I was getting bored.  He knew it too.  So where do you think we go?  Texas Harley Davidson, Bedford, Texas.  And guess what, Don Smith was a personal friend of Daddy’s.  So we go in, Daddy spots a Sportster with the screaming eagle cam and lots of chrome and says, hey Don, how about a test drive?  Don knew an easy mark when he saw one and it was over before it started.  After a short spin around the block, Daddy and I go back into the store, head for the hot dog machine where the napkins are.  So we list out my income and expenses.  On a hot dog napkin!!!  After careful evaluation of approximately 47 seconds, Daddy concludes, holy smoke, you can afford it!!  Let’s go sign the papers!!  So if Daddy said it worked, it worked for me and I left with a Sportster.

My Dad taught me how to work HARD, with dedication and determination.

Most of you know I worked for Daddy for 13 years at The Great Race.  During those years, the most formative of my professional life, Daddy taught me about guts and believing in myself and that if you want something, you have to go for it.  I’ll never measure up to his God given ability to go for it, but when he had my back, I could do anything.

In 1999, after a very success first year sponsorship with The History Channel, Daddy sent me to Manhattan, in my best rags and new shoes, to nail down a 3 year deal with History.  Naturally, any normal person would have been scared out of their wits and of course I was.  Scared does not accurately convey my feelings.  Perhaps, sheer, unadulterated terror is more appropriate.  I begged him not to send me by myself and Daddy straight up, peering over those half glasses the way he would when he was through negotiating, told me Go For It!  You’re my girl and you can do it better than me. 

So with other people’s jobs on the line, I went to The City with my trusty side kick Martha Gibson and we sat in a room with 24 very savvy media network executives, and I performed – the way I thought my Dad would.  24 to 2 is tough odds, but Daddy had my back the whole way.  I believe on that one day, I was just better at expressing what Tom McRae and the Great Race could do for History than my Dad.  But don’t get me wrong, I know in my heart that History didn’t just buy 3 years of the Great Race from his daughter, they bought the charisma, the enthusiasm and the life that only Tom McRae could bring to the Great Race.  Selling what only your very own Daddy can do is a tremendous gift.  Because of Daddy, that was a highlight of my professional life.

So I come to my next point – my Dad taught me the value of your word and integrity.  He drilled in to me that if you say you are going to do something, then by God you better do it.  Because without your word, you really have nothing.

In 1995, Daddy had jumped way out there and said the Race was going from Canada to Mexico.  Canada is one thing, but Mexico is a whole other story.  Of course we had no idea what we were getting into and the quagmire was deep.  So very late one night about 6 weeks prior to the Start of the Race, Daddy says to me, maybe we can’t pull this off, maybe I made a mistake, maybe we should change the route.  Role reversal between father and daughter, boss and employee is an awkward thing.  So I waited just a few moments – really only for effect – before I jumped him good for one of the few times in my life.  I had never seen my Dad doubt himself and frankly, it hacked me off.  I said – What’s your name?  He said Tom McRae.  I said – what did you tell all these people – our customers - the route for this Race is?  He said Canada to Mexico.  And I said, good, for a minute, I thought you forgot who you are.  Now we’re going to Mexico because you said so and if anybody on this Earth can pull if off, it’s us.  And we did.  So my Daddy gave me a great gift that day, he allowed me to let him know that I had his back, that his word meant something to a lot of people and that I believed in him.

And Daddy taught me about forgiveness and compassion.  Anyone who knew us knew we had our ups and downs, some uglier than others, but we both always came back to the same place – father and daughter, teacher and student, advisor and listener, and one and the same.  I know I’m not the only daughter who feels that my daddy will understand what I’m talking about when no one else will; will listen to my nonsense when others tune me out; will laugh at something I said even if it really wasn’t funny and would squeeze the breath out of me with a full force two armed hug whether I wanted it or not. 

My Dad taught me how to drive.  Those of you who know me are acutely aware of the fact that I am a graduate of the Tom McRae school of driving.  And there are others among us.

I will limit this to only one story as my mother is listening.

1.                Daddy and Curtis and I were driving back – separately -- loaded trailers from a Great Race California event.  Typical McRae planning, middle of the night, too many miles to cover, Interstate 40, headed into Kingman, and naturally, exceeding the posted, lawful speed limit.

2.                So in his usual fashion, Daddy slips by the State Trooper sitting on the side of the road.  Not Curtis and not me.

3.                So I wait ever so patiently, mind clicking away on the most fascinating, yet still believable story, for the trooper to finish up with Curtis.

4.                The Trooper approaches my truck and asks me the inevitable – is there an emergency you are late for?  Are you aware of your speed when I clocked you?  Do you know how to pull a trailer?  He very courtesely left off – little girl.

5.                So I very calmly explained to that Trooper, at approximately 1:30 am, that it wasn’t really MY fault I was running 85, OK 90, dragging a trailer down an extended incline on Interstate 40.  My trailer was loaded to the hilt with equipment for, maybe you’ve heard of it, The Great Race, and I was just following my Dad and Curtis.  The trailer was so heavy that it was pushing my vehicle down the hill.  I really had no choice in the matter.

6.                The trooper walked away, and came back in a few with a ticket.  Bummer!!!!  Regrettably, I didn’t fill Curtis or my dad in on our conversation because it seemed perfectly legitimate to me.

7.                The following Monday, Daddy was on the mission to get me out of the ticket.  He calls the courthouse in Kingman, insists on speaking to the Judge, is held off a couple of times until he tells the clerk to tell the Judge he’s blowing up the building unless he’s allowed to speak with the Judge.  The Judge gets on the phone, Daddy, with his best charm, explains the situation, his poor little girl got this ticket, it was really his fault, could he let this one go, we’ll never do it again – you get the picture.  The Judge puts him on hold and comes back about 10 minutes later.

8.                Now this is what happens when you don’t share details.

9.                The Judge tells my Dad – you know, I was going to cut you loose on this until I read the Trooper’s note on the ticket.  Would you like to hear it?  So Daddy tentatively says, sure.  And the Judge proceeds to convey my story about the trailer pushing me down the hill.

10.           I’ve seen and or heard of my Dad in a speechless state maybe 5 times.  Well, this was one of them.  After a long pause, Daddy says, well Judge, this is really my fault.  I taught that girl to drive and she’s heard me talking to one too many troopers over the years.  What’s the fine and I’ll send the check.

And now I come to the really fun part, the part that Daddy liked the most – his grandson Texas Garza.  My son is a miracle not only for me, but for my Dad.  When his BeBop walked in the room, the universe stopped revolving for my son.  Texas was oblivious to everyone, everything and anything including me except for Daddy.  I took it kinda hard at first, but quickly realized what a gift this is for Daddy.  Daddy had a completely different demeanor and gentleness and patience I had never seen before.  He adored Texas and Texas adored him right back.  I remember right after Daddy met him and had kept him on his own for a short while, he tells me – Man, that was tough.  Either you bond or you die. 

And my Dad wasted no time teaching his grandson about trust – at least that’s what he called it.  My only case in point at this time:  Daddy babysat for me on a Sunday afternoon so I could go to the gym.  I walked in the garage door, my son is standing ON TOP OF THE REFRIGERTOR, jumping into my Dad’s hands.  And because the Apple Falls Not Far from the Tree, I’m thinking cool – they’re having fun.  I just hope no one else finds out about this.

Lastly, after a really fun afternoon taking bluebonnet pictures, eating burgers at the Point and just general hanging out like a family – very unusual for us – Jessy looks over at my Dad and says “ I don’t know if you’ve realized this or not Tom, but Tate is very hot tempered and he extremely determinated.  My Dad looks over at Jessy and you know what, sometimes I have a very hard time remembering that kid is not my own flesh and blood.

So now I ask myself, after 44 years of living in Tom McRae’s shadow, good, bad or ugly, who is Sam McRae without her Daddy. Well, she is still Tom McRae’s daughter Sam with a young son who absolutely worshipped his BeBop.

So Daddy, now we’ll never be separated by the 85 miles from my house to yours because you’re always in my heart and with me and my son. You’ll always be right there at my side, watching over your very beloved Texas.

I trained myself over many years to try to think the way he did, to find answers the way he did and then of course, pick up the phone and call Daddy when I was stumped.  And Daddy got some interesting phone calls.  But you know what, if he didn’t have an answer, we figured it out together.  So, who will I call when I’m stumped?  Who will fill Tom McRae’s very big shoes in the reality of daily life? 

I go back to a very important lesson, learned well from Tom McRae:  Sambo, work the angles, you do it better than most anybody I’ve ever known – I’m the one who taught you.  And Daddy, I’m working the easiest angle ever now.  In front of all these people, I’ll put some people on the spot (my Dad was an expert at this) and humbly ask for the following from the people I trust and respect and I believe my Dad would approve of:

for comfort, love and stability, Jessy Garza

for wisdom, Ken Thompson

for common sense, a cool head, and to keep Apollo running for Texas, Curtis Graf

for spiritual advise, Bill Talley

for a breath of fresh air and some humor about my Dad, Russ Hearns

for a belly busting laugh, Alex Zatlo

for affection and love for my son, Sandi

and for everything else, Daddy, you’ll just have to step in

And I’ll take care of the fun part – I had the best teacher there ever was.