When my father-in-law, Erv fell ill and it was revealed that he didn’t have much time left on this earth, the family arranged to have a hospital bed delivered to the farm to allow him to be able to rest near the picture window that looked out over his fields and valleys.

Erv was a pig farmer; inducted into the Wisconsin State Fair Hall of Fame for his lifetime of achievements in 2012, almost one full year before he passed. Occasionally on the farm, there would be some piglets who didn’t survive. Erv would take the remains, along with any afterbirth from the sows, and haul it out into the valley and dump it to feed the eagles. It was a tradition that he had done for many years, starting back when eagles were on the endangered species list.

The picture window where Erv’s hospital bed was set up overlooked that drop area allowing him to enjoy watching the eagles soar and circle in his final days. It was fitting for him to be connected in some way to the land—and those eagles that he adored so much when his journey in this life had come to an end.

Erv was the strong, silent type, who was proud of each of his son’s achievements. I imagine he felt the pain and frustration equally over the years that his eldest son—my husband, Toby experienced each time he came up short on winning the big event on Sunday of Oktobefest Race Weekend. As a parent, it can be painful to watch your children struggle and be helpless to fix the situation.

Toby emulates many of Erv’s traits. He echoes the strong, silent approach to things. He rarely complains about anything, mostly because he is of the mindset, like his father that most anything can be remedied by putting in the time and effort through good, oldfashioned hard work. Anyone who knows Toby knows that his work ethic is second to none; thanks to the example set by his father.

Knowing that, it should go without saying that preparing for Oktobefest Race Weekend each year has been an arduous task for Toby. He practically sleeps at the race shop, with the amount of time he puts in during the weeks leading up to the biggest race event of the season in the Midwest.

Yet, despite the tremendous preparation put forth each year, Toby still failed repeatedly at securing a big Sunday victory at Fest. It was a string of crazy, frustrating things that stymied the win each year.

Steve Holzhausen, who has been one of Toby’s best friends (and Best Man at our wedding), was the first and likely longest streak of attempts at securing that elusive win. Back then, just making the race was the goal for those two young, innocent5 er5 innocent-appearing guys. But once they were finally in the main event, it was one heartbreak after another, year after year. From running out of gas, while leading the race, to having a sub-standard tire come apart under race conditions; there were a plethora of problems that plagued the duo.

One year, the throttle linkage came unhooked while on a tear to the front of the pack. You can’t make this stuff up! There was even a time when Holzhausen got a piece of a major accident and the whole right side was torn off of his machine. Despite the fact that the car had broken the track record that year and was super-fast, the damage was just too much of a hindrance, and the pair had to settle for third place.

Holzhausen would finally win the big event in 2006, but it wouldn’t be with Toby. A bitter-sweet moment, as Toby was obviously happy for his good friend, but wishing they could’ve done it together after all of those years of failed attempts.

Toby would continue to chase that win with several other drivers. He collected many fast qualifying times with his cars, like he did with Charlie Menard, only to have the car get caught up in a first-lap melee. When he worked with Rebecca Kasten, they were bit by carnage as well. And sometimes, the set-up was just off, and that of course was the most frustrating of issues over the years for Toby, as he took those personally because they reflected on his abilities.

Once when he tried to win it with Steve Carlson, they missed the stagger and the car got too tight, so they had to settle for a top ten finish. Another year, the set-up was really off and they got wrecked. There was a year that it looked as if Carlson would be the one to deliver the win for Toby, but he ended up tangling with Travis Sauter coming off turn four and down the front stretch with a handful of laps to go, and they would have to be runner-up again.

Toby worked with Paige Decker in 2013. They weren’t even able to make the race. That same year, a 19-year-old by the name of Ty Majeski piloted a car for John Kastenschmidt, who also had Toby setting it up for him. Majeski made the race in his first attempt at Oktoberfest, bringing home a top ten finish.

The following year, a partnership had been struck with Majeski and Toby had built what he felt was a very capable rocket-ship ready for Fest. Majeski set fast time for the Midwest Tour, only to tangle in the Saturday night heat race with Tim Schendel and Nick Murgic, putting the team in a precarious position to snag their first championship— let alone the much sought-after Oktoberfest win.

The team had to ask Cardell Potter, to relinquish the back-up car they loaned to him and he had qualified into the main event. It was the only way for Majeski to win the championship. Obviously, Potter was not happy about the request to give back the car, but he and his team did oblige. Majeski had not sat in that back-up car once, prior to the start of Sunday’s race festivities. He brought home a 9th place finish, but secured both his first Midwest Tour Championship and Rookie of the Year honors.

However, in typical Toby fashion—he would silently dwell on the loss of the rocket-ship car, which had been his best shot at winning the title event of Oktoberfest, rather than fully enjoying the other accolades. Don’t get me wrong; he was thrilled to have been a part of the championship team—he was just mad that once again, the Oktoberfest title slipped through his fingers.

Probably 2015 was the most heart-breaking for Toby. Majeski set the fast time again for the Midwest Tour event, and was leading the field, seemingly on his way to grabbing that hard-to-pin-down win for Toby, when a late caution came out.

I remember feeling my heart sink in my chest and looking over to Toby, pacing as usual in the infield. I could only imagine what was going through his head after so many years of trying to win this damn race.

When Majeski led the field back to the green, the engine hiccuped due to vapor lock, allowing Dan Fredrickson and Jacob Goede to get by him, and once again—the victory would be lost, but the Midwest Tour Championship secured for a second time.

As the 2016 Oktoberfest Race Weekend approached, I saw less and less of Toby. He spent darn near every waking hour preparing for the event. He was loaded for bear.

They would miss setting fast time—that went to Fredrickson—and of course that started the hamster wheel in Toby’s brain to turn, pondering what he had missed, or what gremlin was going to bite them THIS year. It was a restless night for him, more so than any other year before the big day at Fest.

Part of the pageantry to kick off Oktoberfest Sunday is the autograph session on the front stretch of the track. It was a gorgeous, crisp day, not that Toby noticed. He leaned against the retaining wall behind Majeski’s car, as his driver signed autographs and chatted with fans.

Toby’s three daughters and his grandchildren made their way to where we were standing to chat. It was exactly what he needed to unplug—if just for a moment. One of his grandsons was sportin’ a shirt that said, “My Grandpa’s the MAN.” Toby’s chest puffed out a bit when he spotted that. It gave us all a moment of levity to cut through the building tension of trying to win this race yet again.

The anxiety seemed to melt away again when Toby’s daughter Kristi spotted something overhead that stopped us all in our tracks. Every one of us was struck by the symbolism. Two eagles were circling above Majeski’s car in the clear, blue sky. It truly felt as if Erv was literally watching over his son. I’m fairly certain I saw Toby’s eyes get a little wet as he gazed up at those eagles soaring high overhead.

Could it be a sign of good things to come? Or was it just a fluke and gremlins were going to bite again for this man that I love so much?

The cars lined up for the start of the race. Toby was at the rear of Majeski’s car—a machine that he put countless hours into building and preparing for this career-defining jewel of a race. I should tell you that Toby treats all of his cars like they are his children. This was never more obvious than when I saw his mouth moving as he rubbed the trunk deck lid of Majeski’s car, prior to the engines firing. I asked him afterward what he said.

“Come on baby, don’t let us down.”

Majeski took the lead of the race, just past the halfway point from Johnny Sauter. Toby never stopped pacing in the infield. As a matter of fact, I think he started pacing harder, if that’s even possible. He knew leading the race was one thing; actually winning it was quite another, and there were plenty of laps left to go.

I pondered how many steps he had already taken on this day, and wished I had strapped a pedometer onto him to gauge them. He circled the infield, much like the eagles we had spotted earlier. Eagles which I like to believe were a sign from his dad that THIS was finally going to be the year he would win the big event.

As the laps wound down, the caution flag flew. Majeski was still leading and while the field paced around a few circuits, waiting for a wreck to be cleaned up from the racing surface, Majeski, who rarely—if ever—swears, came over the radio dropping a big bomb in more ways than one.

“We just lost a **expletive** cylinder!”

There was a beat of silence, as everyone surely questioned if he was serious. My eyes darted down to the infield to see Toby’s big, right mitt reach up to key his radio.

“It’ll be fine. Just do what you do. You got this.”

That’s the thing about Ty and Toby. They are Yin and Yang. When one is worked up, the other is the picture of calm; it’s just one of the reasons why they gel so well together.

The field was realigned and ready to take the green to go again. Majeski and Fredrickson, who was in second were engaged in a cat-and-mouse game on the restart; neither aware of the other’s mechanical woes. Fredrickson had been dealing with a rear end issue that had him spewing fluid. It took a few attempts to satisfy officials with a steady restart, each time ratcheting up the tension for everyone.

Majeski reported that the cylinder seemed to be back running, but intermittently. It was likely a plug wire issue. Panic could be heard in his voice. He needed to deliver this win for his crew chief.

Toby, who wanted this win so badly, calmly keyed his mic again.

“Just do what you do. It’s going to be fine.”

Majeski gassed the car and as he and Fredrickson led the field out of turn four, the green flag flew. The car appeared to be running fine, and he was slightly pulling away from Fredrickson. The field circled back around to take the white flag.

I wasn’t breathing. I looked back down at Toby, pacing in the infield. He wasn’t even looking at the race track. I was sure his eyes were closed in prayer.

Caution. Again.

There was a mess off of turn four after Majeski and Fredrickson took the white flag, so since the entire field didn’t complete the lap, it would be a green-white-checkered finish.

Majeski came back over the radio to report that the engine dropped a cylinder again.

Once more, Toby keyed his mic.

“You got this.”

And he did. Majeski soared to the checkers, giving Toby his first win in the Oktoberfest main event. I looked down to the infield, where he had been pacing the entire race. He was surrounded by the entire team—everyone hugging and cheering.

I had tears filling my eyes as I dashed down the steps from the perch where I had been videotaping. Heading to the front stretch, I heard Toby come over the radio, telling Ty to “go ahead and burn ‘em down.”

My steps paused briefly, as I was shocked to hear him say this. Toby NEVER wants to have Ty do donuts or burnouts, because it’s hard on the engine.

“This ain’t Sprint Cup, where they rebuild these things all the time,” he said once, when I asked him why he never wanted Ty to do donuts after winning. Fair enough.

But he punched the permission slip on this one, so I had to motor down there and get it on tape. The bonus of doing that was I got to videotape Ty making a beeline to Toby after getting out of his car. It was a surreal moment.

As Ty moved to his parents to grab a celebratory hug, I could feel my heart swelling in my chest, and I couldn’t wait to throw my arms around Toby and plant a kiss on his lips.

He was grinning ear-to-ear when I got to him, and gave me the biggest bear hug I’ve ever had.

It was a moment that I have burned into my memory. Toby won’t soon forget it either. As a matter of fact, he wore his pit pass band well beyond Fest. He never cut the thing off of his wrist. It only recently broke and fell off, but he continues to carry it in his pocket; that’s just how special this win was to him. #FestIsBest

It’s easy to understand why the race meant so much to him. It’s etching your name in history among the greats who have come before you. After 30-some years of trying, he has finally knocked this one off of his bucket list.

But as you might guess with a guy like Toby, when you cross something off of that list, another item will take its place. It’s all about goal setting and working hard to achieve them, exactly as his father had taught him.

What’s at the top of the list now?

The Snowball Derby in Pensacola, of course. He’s been heading down there to run that race with several different drivers over the years. I can’t say that I ever remember seeing any eagles soaring around Five Flags Speedway, but you can bet I’ll be keeping my eyes open for them this year.

Originally published in the Midwest Racing Connection