By Al Vinikour
MotorwayAmerica.com

(May 13, 2012) With the passing of Carroll Shelby, not only has the racing world lost one of its legendary characters, but Americana itself is now missing an icon. From his humble beginnings in his beloved Texas through a career that saw him become a pilot, a chicken farmer, a world-champion race car driver and an entrepreneur, everything Shelby did added to the person who became everyone’s friend — except those on the opposite side of his issue.

I won’t go into Carroll’s past feats because if someone doesn’t already know about them they wouldn’t be interested in who he really was. Thousands of my colleagues are penning remembrances of their personal experiences with this truly extraordinary man and the majority of those will be true.

Carroll himself was one of the world’s great tellers of Shelby stories. It didn’t make a difference how many times you’d heard the same tales; the fact that you were hearing them in person from the man himself was all that mattered.

The first time I had an extended one-on-one conversation with Carroll Shelby was in 1991 when Chrysler dedicated its huge technology center in Auburn Hills, Mich..

We were seated next to one another and I introduced myself to him and mentioned that I was doing public relations work for someone he knew, a legend himself, top fuel drag racer Connie Kalitta. Carroll cast a widening grin that bespoke of the warmth he obviously felt for Connie and said, “How is that old son-of-a-bitch?” I assured him Connie was fine and then he proceeded to tell me stories about him and Connie when both were involved with Ford Motor Company’s racing program. It was fascinating to hear that history.

After a few minutes he asked me for a business card. I gave him one and he told me he was going to send me a case of his famous chili. But he wanted me to assure him that I would give Connie half of it and report back to him (Carroll) what Connie thought of it. I agreed and sure enough, a few weeks later I received a box loaded with Carroll’s chili packages. That night my wife and I had one and I have to admit it was delicious.

A few weeks later I ran into Connie at his office in Ypsilanti, Mich., and told him I’d spent the better part of a day with Carroll Shelby. He also let out a big smile and said, “How is that old son-of-a-bitch?” I asked him if there’s some SOB fraternity they belonged to because Carroll had asked me the same question. I gave him the chili and he promised to let me know what he thought of it.

I saw him a few weeks later and asked if he had a chance to try Carroll’s chili. Connie said he had and it made him sick. A few weeks after that I ran into Carroll and the first thing he asked me, did I give Connie his chili? I told him I had and I related what Connie said about it. Carroll took off his famous Texas hat and started laughing. He asked me if I had any idea why his chili made Connie sick and when I told him I didn’t he said, “Because Conrad Kalitta eats so much s@#t on a daily basis that whenever he eats something that’s good and nutritious it upsets his system and makes him ill.”

I have one more personal recollection of my times with Carroll. Many years ago we were talking at the cocktail reception at the Automotive Hall of Fame induction dinner at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Dearborn, Mich. I had just read a seven-page article about Carroll in the new issue of Vanity Fair Magazine. I started discussing various aspects of the story and the more I discussed some of the more salacious items in the story the more Carroll was beaming.

Finally he said, “You know, Al…I feel sorry for all those people who never had the opportunity to live life the way I did. I sometimes read that article several times a day just because I never realized how much fun I actually had.”

To have someone of Carroll Shelby’s stature remember not only my face, but my name — especially when he probably was introduced to upwards of a thousand new people every week, has made me proud to be in an industry that has produced individuals like Carroll Shelby. Although I usually ran into him only once or twice a year, his absence will be felt for the rest of my days.

I suspect that “Old Shel” as he was fondly called is now in engineering meetings with the Devil himself about what kind of Cobra Carroll will be building for him. I know I’ll be arriving there someday and look forward to the three of us sitting around the table, eating a bowl or two of his chili.

There definitely will be a hot time in the old town that night.