Willy's Customs n Rods; Complete Parts & Restoration Service

*Keep an eye out for the Willy's Customs N Rods merch in the beginning..* 2012 Chevrolet Caprice PPV hits Big Willow. SpecP71 SUPER INTERCEPTOR Round 3 | Will's Builds Ep. 35

Stanley G. Finnegan I lost my dad yesterday, which was surprising because although he had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease many years ago, he and my moth...er were at my home a few days before I left town to go film a Roadkill episode about Cletus McFarland’s 2.4hrs of Le Mullets. We spent the day eating, drinking, laughing and playing our usual game of Texas Hold ‘Em. Physically, his body was betraying him. The diseased had slowed Dad down considerably but when his medication was working properly, mentally he was sharp as a blade. Dad was still the fearless leader I had known my entire life, giving me advice on everything from my career to selling Game Over before something bad happened while I was driving it. He loved watching Roadkill and was never shy about telling me that every once in awhile we needed to win something and not fail every damn time we filmed an episode. I told him that failure was the reality of trying to road trip a craptastic car to go racing or trying to build something in five days and that failure and suffering were part of the charm of the show. He disagreed and then crushed me with a Full House. LOL. I set out for Freedom Factory intent on winning the race because I knew on some level that Dad was right and even Roadkill needed to taste victory now and again. The trip from Georgia to Florida took a few days and I enjoyed the constant battle of keeping our little Toyota Hilux running even though it consumed a quart of oil every 8 or 9 miles. I never expected Dad would fade so fast after we said goodbye in his driveway and I hit the road for Florida with Freiburger and my Roadkill family. Hell, he took 20 bucks off me while we played poker at my kitchen table just a few days before. I really don’t believe you skin your kid for 20 bones if you don’t plan on sticking around for awhile. When I arrived at the Freedom Factory the first person to greet me was Cletus’ Dad and I remember thinking it was so cool that he was right there with Cletus as he smashed barriers and scaled mountains as a YouTuber. It made me think of the times my parents had hit the road to go watch me race. I smiled every time I looked up from my Dragboat and saw them standing there in the pit. There’s few things in life that are cooler than knowing your parents give a damn about the things you’re passionate about. When I told them about 2.4hrs of Le Mullets I knew my dad would be home watching the livestream of the event along with my mom. They do love some good, clean racing. Lol. For those that are wondering, I didn’t end up entering the race. 5 minutes after meeting up with Cletus to do a bit of filming of our arrival at the Freedom Factory, I checked in with my family and learned that my dad was dying. I left for the airport because I was unable to put a smile on my face or keep my shit together in front of the camera. I was a mess. Although on some level I knew he might pass before I made to home, I had to try and see him one more time. I had to tell him that I loved him and to not be afraid of whatever was coming next. I wanted his pain to be gone but I also wanted just a few more precious minutes with him. I was too late. My brother called me as I waited in the terminal for my flight home and gave me the news that my dad was gone. Dad would have wanted me to go racing instead of going home. He was the kind of man that finished the job no matter what. The plane ride home sucked. It’s not easy to convince total strangers that you don’t have the Rona when your mask is uncontrollably leaking down your neck. Nobody wanted to be near me, but least they didn’t have me kicked off the plane. I had a lot of time alone that that plane to think about Dad and one thing that struck me is that during my youth, Dad and I never really sat down and had THOSE talks that fathers and sons have. At least, I don’t recall the two of us having talks that I’d seen on television shows. Sure, we did have one uncomfortable conversation about sex but that was pretty much it. He never explicitly described how to be a son, a brother, a boyfriend, a husband, a man or a good person. He didn’t have to. I learned these things by watching him. Of course I’m biased because he’s my dad but the dude was legit as they come. People loved and respected my dad. He was a badass in every facet of life. I like to think that I’m mediocre at most of it but my dad was a G. He did not complain. EVER. He outworked everyone around him. Next to my wife, my brother, and Freiburger, Dad was the most intelligent person I know. He was extremely opinionated but sensitive and respectful of everyone around him. He was an intimidating figure before the disease took hold but I don’t believe he ever went out of his way to hurt a soul. He was an impossibly high standard to be measured against. I’m still trying to be like him. Most days I fail at it. My dad began bagging groceries at age 15 and worked for the same company for 35 years and when he left that company he was a Vice President of it. Dad burnt most of the skin off his forearm while reaching under on an overheating 455 Olds to reattach a cooling hose in our jet boat to keep the boat from sinking in the middle of lake Havasu. A good friend of mine has probably has PTSD from the time he tried to drive the lane against my dad in a backyard game of basketball. My dad wrote the cheesiest poem to my mother that I’ve ever heard and somehow it was perfect on Christmas Day 2000. Chuck Norris used to ask my dad for permission to breath. My Dad’s name was Stanley Garrett Finnegan and I miss him more than words can say. By the way, I was the one that forgot to tighten that hose clamp on the 455 Olds. Dad rarely gave me shit for it. Thanks to everyone who has reached out during the last 12 hours. I’m sorry if I don’t respond for a little while.