Losing a Friend
I lost a friend yesterday. JohnLingenfelter passed away on Christmas Day, 2003. His ordeal began in October of 2002 when he crashed his turbocharged Cavalier racecar in Pomona, suffering severe neck injuries. The doctors did an outstanding job of repairing the damage, but a subsequent operation in Indianapolis caused a cardiac arrest, resulting in irreparable brain damage.
Long before we met in 1984, I had been a longtime Lingenfelter admirer based on a story in the Nov. '76 issue of Hot Rod in which author John Dianna described how Lingenfelter had chartered a helicopter to fetch a bare block and crank from his shop in Decatur, Indiana, before the first round of eliminations at the U.S. Nationals. The thrash was unsuccessful and John lost the round due to a tiny piece of silicone stuck in the needle and seat. But it was the effort, John's never-give-up approach that I admired. The Apr. '84 issue of Car Craft was my first story with John about a series of mail-order small-and big-block engines that really kicked off his move into the street market from his original business as a drag race engine-builder.
That story started an almost-20-year friendship that I count as one of my most cherished. My favorite Lingenfelter story was when John built an '86 Corvette for the Silver State Open Road Race back in the early '90s. He invited me to ride right seat, and toward the end of the race, we were hurtling down a two-lane road in northern Nevada at around 190 mph when the whole inside of the cockpit instantly filled with white smoke. With absolutely no drama in his voice, John turned to me and asked, "You think we're on fire?" He might as well have been asking me what I wanted for lunch, it was that matter of fact. My response was an attempt at calm by saying no. It turned out the automatic trans had overheated and was pushing ATF out on the exhaust, creating the white smoke that was the telltale clue.
That's the way John was. He never got excited, and it was his amazing ability to control 3,800 pounds at over 200 mph that bolstered my trust. I would do it again in a heartbeat. But later, it was his obvious concern for my personal welfare that took our friendship to its next level. He had suffered a difficult divorce and it took many years for him to find the right woman. John and Cindy were married in July of 1999, and it was at the SEMA show that following October that we next saw each other. I was also dealing with my own divorce from four years prior. We were sitting at a table at some now-forgotten reception, and he asked me how my relationship was going with the lady I had been seeing. I told him I had broken it off, though I'd spent the previous months telling him how wonderful she was. He just looked at me, and with that classic Lingenfelter seriousness asked, "Are you crazy?"
It was that question that led me to reconsider my decision, and by October, 2002, Valerye and I were married. Ironically, it was after returning from our honeymoon that I learned of John's crash. I visited him several times in the hospital, but because he was on a respirator, we never had the opportunity to talk again. He approached his rehabilitation just like he attacked everything else in his life, with strength, charisma, and a powerful drive to succeed that forced you to admire his spirit.