news-record.com

RANDLEMAN — The memories return each May. They have ever since the accident. This is when the past seems so fresh, the future so bright.

Kyle and Pattie Petty relive their son Adam’s final days every May. They vividly recall his moods, see his actions and hear his words. Each moment is precious. Every conversation is treasured.

Ten years ago today, Adam Petty died in a crash during practice in Loudon, N.H. The heir to the Petty Enterprises throne and NASCAR’s first fourth-generation driver was 19.

“Everything,” Kyle Petty said of life since, “changes.”

The Pettys mark the beginning and end of each year with today instead of Jan. 1. The days between each May 12 are filled with happiness and sadness. Kyle and Pattie never know what emotion they’ll face each day.

Kyle can look at any one of the numerous pictures of Adam racing and it “makes me the happiest man in the world. And I can look at it two days later and be melancholy and sad all day long.”

Pattie’s emotions also fluctuate. She refers to her bad days as having an “Adam day.”

“(It’s) where nothing is right and nothing anybody says to me makes any sense,” she said, sitting next to Kyle. “I’m angry for no apparent reason or I’m sad. Some days, nothing makes sense.”

Kyle nods.

Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around. When that model of life is upset, Kyle said, it makes one question all other supposed truths, including why.

“Everybody questions at some point in time, late at night when it’s dark and you’re by yourself, you always question it,” Kyle said of Adam’s death. “I don’t think you can dwell on it. If you dwell on it, that’s a bad place to be.”

Instead, certain objects provide peace. For Kyle, it is the Rolex watch that he and Pattie bought Adam after high school graduation and Adam’s burgundy 2000 Corvette. The Rolex also reminds Kyle of a race Adam won shortly after he graduated. The Corvette elicits smiles. Adam rarely drove the car because he became embarrassed about how his crew would think of him having such a car at age 19.

“I drive it about once every month or so just to keep it running,” Kyle said. “I’ll just drive to the end of the driveway. We don’t drive it anywhere.”

For Pattie, the inspirational song “When All is Said and Done” provides that link to a night shortly before Adam died when they discussed the song’s meaning about what one leaves after death.

“I want to hear it some days and put it in my car and I’ll listen to it and I’ll keep pushing replay over and over,” she said. “Some days I play it because I just want to have a good cry. I need to just cry my eyes out, and I just need to feel sad and all of that and I’ll play the song. The next day I can put that tape in and remember how fun it was that night explaining to him, 'Adam, you need to hear the words to that song.’”

The impact of Adam Petty’s death though, carries beyond the family. Kyle and Pattie speak in a building modeled after one of Adam’s stock cars and decorated by pictures of Adam. They are at the Victory Junction Gang Camp, which honors Adam and provides children with chronic or life-threatening illnesses a place to play, fish and even ride horseback.

Checks for $45 still arrive in honor of Adam Petty’s car number. The posted speed limit along the camp driveway is 4.5 mph. Children born after Adam’s death know who he is.

Kyle’s charity motorcycle ride across the country ended Sunday at the camp. A 6-year-old quadriplegic was among those who greeted the riders.

Having heard so much about Adam but not understanding Adam had died, the child told Pattie: “When you see Adam, tell him thank you.”

Adam’s impact grows beyond such children.

“It’s the ripple effect,” Kyle said. “It’s like you had a pool of water and you dropped a pebble in the water and the pebble you dropped in the water was Adam. Out of that with each ring (in the water), there is something different.”

Kyle notes how many more drivers have foundations that raise money for charities and how NASCAR started its own charitable foundation.

“It’s almost like in some way,” Kyle said, “when Adam’s accident happened, it woke up our whole community that there is a bigger world out there than what goes on at the race track.”

Yet, sometimes it’s the littlest things that mean the most.

Kyle notes that when they held the ground breaking and the grand opening for the camp, rain fell both days. It also has rained at large family events. A sign, perhaps.

Two years ago, their youngest daughter, Montgomery Lee, was convinced it would rain on her outdoor wedding. She kept telling Kyle so. Finally, he bought 250 umbrellas for the guests even thought the forecast was for sunny skies and high temperatures.

A decade ago Montgomery Lee, then 14, gave a moving speech at Adam’s service. Speaking in a quivering voice interrupted by sniffles and tears, she told the 1,500 mourners how much she would miss Adam and lamented how he wouldn’t be there for the big moments of her life such as her wedding day.

When that day arrived, the umbrellas came in handy.

“It was 900 freaking degrees,” Kyle said with a smile about that day. “Everybody sat down and used the umbrellas as shade.”

Until after the wedding when photos were about to be taken. A solo cloud, as Kyle recalls, not gray and ominous but light and fluffy, floated by the wedding.

It began to rain.

The shower was brief and the cloud moved on, but it left a present.

There, in the background of a number of photos taken that day, is a rainbow.

Contact Dustin Long at 373-7062 or dustin.long@news-record.com