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I sat and chatted with Mr. Johnson in the gate area of Daytona International Airport just before Christmas in December of 1988. He was setting all by himself waiting for his flight up to Charlotte, NC. There couldn't have been more than a half dozen people in the gate area and none of them were the least familiar with the greatness they were in the presence of. I was agape and in awe of Mr. Johnson but he engaged me as if he'd known me for a decade for a half hour or more. Terry Labonte, who was one of my all time favorite drivers, drove for Mr. Johnson at that time which added to the exhilaration of the moment, if that was possible.
Mr. Johnson, you were one of the best that ever wheeled or owned a NASCAR stock car. You lived a life that very few human beings can, or ever will, match and you always carried yourself with class, dignity, humility and pride. Rest in eternal peace, sir. The world would do well to have many more just like you!
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Silver Crown Championship Dirt Cars properly driven on a one mile dirt track are classic poetry in motion. Using that analogy, Jack Hewitt is one of the greatest poets of all time.
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