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Originally Posted by jontheturboguy
Today I mourn the loss of a friend, a teacher, and the world's greatest story teller the racing world has ever known.
Mark Bridges was a kind man, with an unforgettable handshake.
Mark was the kind of guy that had big rimmed glasses, told jokes with a voice not unlike that of Ron White, and could hold a cigarette and cup of coffee all in one hand, while moving his hands like a politician and never spilling a drop of coffee.
I had the privilege to work under Mark's direction in Indy Car racing for a number of years. Mark was always there when you had a question, and every one knew Mark.
It was almost spooky - Mark knew every one at the track and off. He had been on the racing circuit for so many years, many of the regular locals knew him, and always greeted him with a smile.
Mark was a crafty man, with many go fast racing secrets, some of which he spoke about after the racing had stopped years later.
I spent many a night listening to his stories of racing gone by - the glory days of racing - sitting up with him at 3am, over a cup of coffee at the nearest Denny's, Waffle & Steak, or IHOP, both of us waiting on that late night flight home.
How he and the guys pulled this prank, or how they made the car faster. I wish now I could have recorded his stories, or at least written them down. I wish I could have heard more.
Mark was a noble man.
Before I had the chance to know Mark, he told me the story of taking care of his long time friend Sheldon Kinser. Sheldon was diagnosed with cancer. Mark made is possible for him to be comfortable in a time when comfort was a rare commodity. Sheldon eventually lost his battle with cancer in 1988.
When I met Mark, I was young, ignorant, and fresh to the racing scene. Mark took me under his wing, and just like he had done with so many others, pointed me in the right direction. Even after all these years, Mark had yet to loose his sense of taking car of his guys. Later that year I got to work the 500 under Mark's direction. All of his "guys" were taken care of. I never went a day in the month of May with an empty stomach.
After Mark was let go by the IRL, I continued to work for them, and tried my best to keep in touch. Every once in a while Id make it up to his midget shop and buy some old parts, and bull **** for a while with him. I could care less about the $50 muffler.
Over the years I'd see Mark at Lawrenceburg and I'd call him at least a couple times a year. Once during Christmas, and once during the 500. During the winter Id wish him well and happy new year, and later come spring Id ask if he had a job for me in May. As par for the course, each phone call last over an hour or so.
Mark never told me he had cancer. Maybe he kept it private. Maybe it was a story he didn't want to share.
What ever the reason may be, I miss the man. I resent not having more time to share more cups of coffee with him and listen to more stories.
I know Mark and Sheldon are up there watching over all of us. If they aren't watching, they're most likely have one hell'va racing team going, and catching up over the years gone by.
For the short minute I knew you Sir, thank you for every thing.
God speed Mr. Mark Bridges. We'll see you soon.
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