Charlotte Motor Speedway Becomes A Memorial For Kyle Busch

Remembrances of Kyle Busch could be seen everywhere at Charlotte Motor Speedway Friday.

Greg Engle

Kyle Busch wasn’t at Charlotte Motor Speedway Friday. He should have been. But fate, cruel and sudden, had other ideas.

The 41-year-old died Thursday not far from the 1.5-mile cathedral of speed where he was scheduled to race that night. And somehow that detail — the fact that he was so close to the place he spent years terrorizing — makes it feel even heavier. Like a fighter pilot lost within sight of the runway.

That race was Friday night’s NASCAR Truck Series event, one Busch had entered 16 times dating back to 2005. He won eight of them. Eight. Batting .500 in NASCAR is like hitting a golf ball into a coffee mug from 200 yards while being chased by hornets. It simply doesn’t happen unless the driver is operating on a different level from everyone else.

And Kyle Busch was.

But while Busch wasn’t there physically, reminders of him were absolutely everywhere at the track. His name remained on the truck he was supposed to drive. Instead, the No. 7 Spire Motorsports Chevrolet would be wheeled by young Corey Day. Busch’s name, though, still sat above the driver’s-side window and across the back glass like NASCAR itself wasn’t quite ready to accept reality yet.

Then there were the KBM decals — Kyle Busch Motorsports, the team he built into a Truck Series empire — plastered across several trucks in the field. The massive backstretch video board displayed his image, and his familiar No. 8 sat atop the scoring pylon. For one strange evening, Charlotte Motor Speedway became less a racetrack and more a vigil conducted at 180 miles per hour.

Away from the track, the tributes pouring in revealed just how enormous Busch’s sphere of influence really was. Statements came from organizations ranging from the FIA to Major League Baseball. Outside his home track, Las Vegas Motor Speedway, a fan-made memorial grew throughout the day with flowers, diecasts, hats, hero cards, and handwritten notes from people who had spent years booing him on Sundays and somehow loving him for it anyway.

Friday afternoon, the NASCAR Cup Series team Busch drove for, Richard Childress Racing, announced they would no longer race the No. 8 he made iconic. They also left the door open for his son Brexton, who just turned 11, to someday carry it himself:

“Richard Childress Racing has elected to suspend use of the No. 8 and will run the No. 33 at Charlotte Motor Speedway and beyond. Kyle Busch was instrumental in the design of RCR’s stylized No. 8 and it has become synonymous with Kyle and an important symbol for his fans and the NASCAR industry. No one can carry it forward to the level that he did. The No. 8 is reserved and ready for Brexton Busch when he is ready to go NASCAR racing.”

Easily the most poignant tribute came from Busch’s teammate at RCR, Austin Dillon. Prior to joining Childress, Busch competed for Joe Gibbs Racing, and his relationship with team owner Richard Childress was, at times, combustible enough to qualify as a controlled burn.

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In 2011 at Kansas Speedway, Childress famously removed his watch before punching Busch and putting him in a headlock following a Truck Series race involving Dillon. NASCAR fined Childress $150,000 for the altercation, which may still rank as the most expensive declaration of respect in garage-area history.

Years later, though, Busch signed to drive for Childress. Because racers, real racers, tend to recognize each other eventually.

Friday, Dillon posted a letter to Busch promising to take care of Busch’s wife Samantha and their children, Lennix and Brexton:

“Dear KB,

I’ll start at the beginning. I grew up watching a larger-than-life figure drive race cars like he was born to do it. Dale [Earnhardt] was a superhero in my house and when he passed, his legend only grew. The bar was set high from a young age.

Growing up around my grandfather and watching him hold Dale in such high regards as a driver, friend, and competitor, I never thought anyone else could compare. It was plain and simple. There was Dale, and then there was everyone else.

I grew up around some great drivers who came through RCR, including Hall of Fame drivers. But, during that time, there was one guy on another team, and we all knew that when he showed up, we were fighting for second place.

It was clear every race who had the most talent and who hated to lose the most. For obvious reasons, my family was never the biggest fan of this guy. He was the enemy at the time, and he was hard to beat. I could never really show my fandom, but secretly I was a fan.

My Grandpa really hated losing to this guy, but I know he respected him. This guy literally owned the Truck Series. When he showed up, it was a good day if you finished second. As a driver, if you beat him, your truck was probably faster, so you never truly beat him, your team did. So, did anyone ever really beat him? I don’t know, but it felt dang good if you did because you felt like you accomplished something that day.

Moving from Friday to Saturday, well yeah, he owned Saturdays, too. At times, he looked like he was in a Cup car racing on Saturday. His intensity every lap and willingness to make any move inspired a generation of racecar drivers.

His Rowdy restarts were one of a kind. This guy could fire off faster than everyone and by the time his tires were shot it was time to pit. Once again, if you beat him, you really were doing something. It was almost an instant qualification that you might be a race car driver.

He loved racing so much that he decided to build his town race team while he drove. I had gained enough respect from him that he offered me the chance to drive for his new team. I was blown away that he had enough respect for me to offer me a ride. Admittedly, it didn’t go over so well with my Grandpa (and I’m not so sure that isn’t why he took off his watch that one time).

Throughout the years, I was able to compete against the guy at the Cup level where he won multiple championships and races. During that time frame, I had multiple different teammates each bringing something different to the table.

When you became available in 2023 it was a no-brainer that we had to go after you. When I made the call, your response was hilarious. You asked, ‘Do you think your Grandpa would want me?’ I had already checked with my Grandpa, and his response was the same as yours, ‘Do you think he would want to come to RCR?’ I said ‘Yes. You both are the same people. You are RACERS.’

When we got closer to signing, I could tell how excited my grandpa was. I started hearing things like ‘He’s the only guy I’ve ever seen drive like Dale. He takes no prisoners.’ That made me happy, knowing my grandpa had a driver that got him fired up the way Dale did.

As we started off your first season with RCR, you took off like you always did. You drove right to the front. But this time, you were in our car. You became family. I watched you work, push, prod, and bring instant success to RCR.

Your mentality and mindset rubbed off on those around you, and the employees in the shop. They knew that you brought a standard of excellence. It wasn’t always roses. This wins got harder to come by, but the grind and mentality never changed.

I watched you battle with our race cars and spend countless hours in the sim trying to get results. I was most inspired by your fight when things got to their lowest. You stood your ground. People were talking, but they didn’t know the work that was being put in behind the scenes. That version of KB is the one I am most proud of. The one that was going to put us back where we wanted to be – in the Winner’s Circle.

I can’t thank you enough KB. You are the ultimate racer and my favorite teammate and driver of all-time. I always felt like I had your back and you had mine.

My favorite conversations with you were our conversations about Brexton and his abilities on the race track. I know how happy and excited he made you. You raised one of the nicest, well-mannered kids, and that is a direct reflection of his parents. Sam is one strong woman and the best MOMager in the business. I promise to always be there for Sam, Brex, and Lennix. They are RCR family for life.

I love you brother. Myself and all of the RCR employees will keep fighting and striving for more victories in your memory.

Proverbs 3:5”

Buried inside that letter was perhaps the most honest description of Kyle Busch anyone has written yet:

“There was Dale, and then there was everyone else.”

And for a lot of people in NASCAR, Kyle Busch eventually became the “everyone else” benchmark. The guy you measured yourself against. The guy you hated because he won too much, talked too sharply, celebrated too loudly, and somehow still backed it all up every single weekend.

He wasn’t polished. He wasn’t universally adored. And thank God for that, because NASCAR has never really needed saints. It needs characters. Villains. Outlaws. Drivers who climb from the car looking like they’d happily race again right now if someone handed them another helmet.

Kyle Busch was one of the last of those.

Eventually the decals will come off. The tributes will fade. Another driver will climb into another No. 8 someday, even if it takes years. But there will always be a generation of NASCAR fans who hear an engine crackle on a Friday night and immediately think of Kyle Busch showing up in the Truck Series just to ruin everybody else’s evening.