Your life can change in a flash. Faster than the snap of your fingers, “is” becomes “was”, “will” becomes “never”, and “light” fades to “dark”.

I know this firsthand from experience.

Gwyn Staley was my father. On March 23, 1958, his life was taken from him in a flash at a race in Richmond, Virginia. I was four years old at the time. His death occurred 49 years ago and many NASCAR fans today may not even know his name. But, he was a promising NASCAR pioneer who had a shot at the Championship that year. Sadly, he lost his life in his prime. For that, his story deserves to be remembered.

My father was 30 years old when he died. By all accounts, he was riding high on life. He had a wife, Bonnie, who was proud of him and who was a sports fanatic in her own right. He had four healthy children, whom he adored.

Donna was twelve years old, Cathy was five years old, me, and a son, Gwyn Edward Jr. He loved his girls but he had desperately wanted a boy. He was finally blessed with the birth of his son just 13 days before he died.

In addition to a family he loved, his career was on an upward swing as he was bearing down on the NASCAR Championship. In the 1957 Grand National Division, he won at Myrtle Beach, SC; Syracuse, NY; and Langhorne, PA. In 50 starts in the Convertible Circuit from 1956 to 1958, he had three wins and 36 top-10 finishes. He also won a short track race in 1955. In addition to his accomplishments as a driver, he was part owner of the North Wilkesboro Speedway.

My father was breathing down the neck of the circuit point leader, Glen Wood, when he went into the race at Richmond. He had gained 24 points at the previous race and was just 16 points off the pace. He was quoted as saying “I’m getting close. If I can do well next week (meaning at Richmond), I’ll catch him. I’m going after that Championship. I’m really going to try to win it.”

My father started out in the 7th position at Richmond. Unfortunately, he never made it to the first turn. He was tapped by another driver and his car flipped three times, crashed into the fence and bounced back on the track. His car came to rest with him pinned underneath. He had a reputation for wearing his seat belt too loosely but this time it was secured firmly around him.

My father was pronounced dead upon arrival at Richmond Memorial Hospital. Doctors reported he had a fractured skull, several broken ribs, two broken arms, and a punctured heart and lungs.

I was told an odd story by a fan that I’ve never been able to confirm.

This fan was at the Richmond race. He was standing close enough to see my father being strapped to the gurney and placed in the ambulance. He said my father’s arm was very swollen but there were no other visible signs of injury. Supposedly the ambulance attendants mistakenly failed to secure the back door after placing my father in the ambulance. When the ambulance sped off, the door swung open and my father flew out of the back of the ambulance on the gurney. They had to stop and put him back in the ambulance. I don’t think this incident changed his fate, but I can only imagine the ambulance attendant’s horror at seeing him fly out the back door!

I’ve lived with a legend all my life. Although I only have four or five specific memories of my father, I have a general sense of who he was and what he was like as a person. He was very, very quiet, he rarely ever talked. But, I knew he was a kind man and that he loved me.

His life and death had a profound impact on me and everyone else in my family. The impact it had is another story for another day. But, I struggled for years with questions…….

Why was my father taken from me? Did he suffer? What was he like? What would my life be like if he were alive? Would he have won the Championship? (The answer to that one, I believe, is a definite Yes!)

In trying to make sense of all of this, I remember being in my teens and asking my mother if he had a death wish because he chose such a dangerous and risky sport. She was shocked by my question and very emphatically responded by saying, “No-that wasn’t it at all! You’ve got it wrong, Jan. He raced cars because he loved it. He was involved in a sport he knew was going to be BIG one day. He loved what he did. It was very, very exciting for him.”

Gwyn Staley “was” a NASCAR pioneer who helped pave the way for this huge sport of today's NASCAR. Although he “never” realized his dream of the Championship, he will always be a Champion in the hearts of those who knew and loved him. And, as far as “light” fading into “dark” goes, it’s true his life was taken in his prime.

But, he died doing what he loved to do. For that, the “light” of his life is a beacon to all.

You can contact Jan at.. Insider Racing News