Jeffrey Ott

Jeffrey P. Ott

1957-2011

Copperhead is gone. Kicking-up daisies dead. That little SOB finally threw in the shop towel. He said. “I love you all, but I’m tired of this crap. I’m gonna go have a few beers with Dale and talk about what a bunch of wussies they have driving and running NASCAR.” He gave it a ride, though. Someone wrote, “The purpose of life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave with a well-preserved body, but rather to slide in sideways, completely used up, yelling and screaming, ‘What a ride!’” With Copperhead it was a four-wheel drift around a tight curve going up to Jump Off Joe on a summer day with a Rainier in his crotch in a Sunbeam Alpine with top down on a newly gravelled road with the tach pinned and white knuckles on the steering wheel – spewing gravel in the faces of all the doctors who told him he wouldn’t make it. Wouldn’t make it my ass! He’s been flipping the bird at the medical profession for so many years that he’ll need physical therapy to wrap his hand around a cold one. Ahh, Copperhead. What a ride. And what a love. CH will always mean cars and love. Your love of cars and your love of the people you touched. And your scathing wit. Damn you were a presence. And you knew how to deal with customers. “Do you have a fan belt for a ‘65 slant six?” “Yep.” “Can I get one?” “Yep.” “…Why aren’t you getting it for me?” “Cause you didn’t say please.” and “How much is an air filter for a ‘76 Volare?” , “$12.99.” “Schucks only charges $6.99 but they’re out of them.” “Yeah, well we only charge $4.99 when we’re out of them.” Damn you were funny. And you were determined to go the way you wanted to – peacefully at home with your mommy and your sisters by your side. We’ll think of you every time we see a Hillman for sale. We’ll think of you every time we see a NASCAR logo. We’ll think of you every time we talk to a friend and know they’re listening to us and loving us. Goodbye, you beautiful curmudgeon. As you’re cruising the back roads of heaven looking for that barn-car that you can buy for $100, sell for $500, buy back for $100 and resell for $500 – as you’re doing that, just smile down on us occasionally and keep a cold Bud in the back-seat cooler for us. We’ll all be there eventually, and we’ll be damned thirsty.

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