He was a bona fide superstar, a legendary racer who defined what it means to race and win at the highest level of American motorsports. He was equal parts savvy, fire, skill, determination, cunning, competitiveness, humility, and finally, courage.

Bobby Allison died on November 9 at age 86, bringing to a close a most eventful life. From humble origins in south Florida, Bobby relocated to Alabama and became a key figure in the growth of NASCAR as a national racing series. For two generations of racing fans, he represented what a championship racer looks like, acts like, and is.

It isn’t easy to define him. Bobby’s nature was gentle, and kind. But in race mode he could be fierce and fiery. Sometimes you got the impression that, deep down, he felt like the world—namely, officials and competitors—had it in for him. That was an indication of the powerful desire to win that ultimately fueled his Hall of Fame racing career.

Those parts—the intense confrontations with other racers, the battles with series officials, the hard-fought race wins—were a long time ago. There is something more recent, however, that is far more enduring and will forever be the cornerstone of Bobby Allison’s legacy.

We tend to think the best of ourselves. How would we react if life dealt us a terrible blow, and gave us something difficult? Why, we’d rise up and be the best person we could be, and push on to glorious triumph. Of course we would! But such hardships are unthinkable, and we hope we’ll never be tested quite that severely.

The unthinkable is exactly what happened to Bobby Allison. After years on top, living the life of a champion, enjoying the greatest fruits of success, he was faced with a series of devastating blows that, for any mere mortal, could steal every semblance of joy from life.

First, the happier times. When he began racing with NASCAR in the mid-1960s, it didn’t take long before Bobby was winning races. He reached the pinnacle with a Winston Cup championship in 1983, and is one of a handful of drivers to win all four events considered the traditional marquee Cup races: Daytona 500, Coca-Cola 600 (Charlotte), Southern 500 (Darlington), and the Winston 500 (Talladega).

Bobby and his younger brother Donnie, along with Neil Bonnett and Red Farmer, became immensely popular as “The Alabama Gang,” gaining great recognition on early broadcasts of Cup races.

Chris Economaki interviews Bobby Allison at Daytona in 1972.

One of the reasons Bobby and the Cup racers of his generation—Richard Petty, David Pearson, Cale Yarborough, Darrell Waltrip, Harry Gant, et al—were so beloved is that they seemed like regular guys. They were accessible. In fact, fans often spoke with delight of seeing Bobby and his two young sons playing in the motel swimming pool on race weekends. Here was a legit superstar, staying at the same place as the rest of the people!

Fate played a role, too. Bobby was one of three players who, on a fateful Sunday afternoon in February 1979, were part of a magical moment that propelled NASCAR in ways beyond measure. A snowstorm gripped much of the nation that Sunday, and an enormous audience tuned in for the first live, flag-to-flag broadcast of the Daytona 500 on CBS.

Cale Yarborough and Donnie Allison crashed on the final lap while fighting for the lead, and Richard Petty sped past to win the race. Moments later, as Cale and Donnie stood arguing by their wrecked cars, Bobby arrived on the scene and the fight was on. As the cameras followed the spectacular chain of events, tens of millions of viewers took it all in and NASCAR racing was firmly launched onto the American sports landscape.

And then, on June 19, 1988, Bobby Allison’s life took a terrible turn when he suffered a severe head injury in a crash at Pocono. In the years that followed, he doggedly reclaimed the ability to talk and walk and think. Full recovery was elusive; although he regained much, he would battle the effects of the crash for the rest of his days.

In August 1992 Bobby’s younger son Clifford was killed in a crash at Michigan Intl. Speedway. Less than a year later Bobby’s son Davey, a rising NASCAR star in his own right, was killed in a helicopter crash at Talladega.

In the span of four years, life was completely redefined for Bobby Allison. He had lost his health, his career, and his sons.

Calling upon his deep Catholic faith, Bobby somehow forged on. To the astonishment of his friends and family, he found a way to smile again, in spite of his profound losses. Even his former rivals spoke of their admiration of his spirit and courage. His ability to sift through the shards of grief and find remnants of hope became a genuine inspiration.

Life had taken almost everything away; yet, in a shining example of the indomitable human spirit, Bobby Allison proved that life can still be worthwhile and still worth living. His refusal to surrender to tragedy is a lasting lesson for all of us.

What a life he lived. I’m sure I’m not the only one who smiles as I recall those great battles with Yarborough and Petty and Pearson, and his archrival Waltrip. It was a cast of characters like no other, never to be repeated.

Bobby was also an accomplished pilot, and he loved aviation. That’s how I still picture him: headphones on, hands on the controls, staring through the windshield at 15,000 feet. The evening sun has just disappeared behind the distant horizon, and the drone of the engines is steady. The course is set and the direction is true. Fly on, Bobby. Fly on, forever.

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