A week ago, Dan Wheldon, an Indy car driver was killed in a horrific crash. For some reason I have found myself obsessed with the images of the accident over the last week and I can’t figure out why. I didn’t know Dan. I had heard him in a few interviews on the radio, and he was a pretty funny guy. He wasn’t from Indiana, on the contrary, he was from England. We are the same age, he had a wife and two kids. Maybe it is because death is really the one uncertainty in life. Oh, don’t go thinking I have lost my religion, far to the contrary. I find that when people die, especially those I didn’t know I wonder about their eternity. Everyone talked about what a great guy he was, how funny he was, and how this was such a shame that he died. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t agree more. The whole premise of the race he was in seems a recipe for disaster anyway. Does no one else see the irony here? If he won the race from starting in the final position he would win 5 million dollars. He was the only racer that had that as an option, and when there was a horrific crash and someone dies, it is the one guy who has the chance at the 5 million! Indy car should give the money to his family anyway.
I do feel for the family in that in the media age his horrific death was broadcast for all the world to see. It can be looked up on the internet and watched over and over. They say his parents were at home in England watching the race. I can only imagine that it must have felt like all the air in the room was sucked out all at once. What a helpless feeling it must have been to see your son’s car fly through the air and burst into flames. This wreck drove grown men to weap uncontrollably. Maybe that is why I have found myself so obsessed over the whole thing because it makes these race car drivers who often time seem bigger than life, a little more human.
So, so long Dan Wheldon, a guy I never knew. They tell me you were a great man, and since “they” tell me what I should believe, “they” must be right. I hope you knew Jesus.