‘We are devastated:’ Reflections On Scott Bloomquist, A Titan Not So Different Than All Of Us

Scott Bloomquist was an invincible titan who, despite his talents and controversies, was just a guy trying to figure it all out, much like the rest of us.

The SMS arrived early this morning, a reminder of how quickly bad news may wash across the horizon, obscuring the sun and stealing the joy of a bright new day.

Scott Bloomquist was killed early this morning while flying his plane near his Mooresburg, Tenn. home.

At first, it seemed impossible. Bloomer, you see, was an unstoppable force who operated beyond conventional human limitations. Silencing him would require more than just a ridiculous airplane. This was undoubtedly simply another Internet fake.

But it was true. One of the most significant and impactful figures in racing history had passed away.

Many feelings surged through my thoughts, including shock, despair, and disbelief. Many memories flooded back: musings on happy times, incredible performances, unforgettable interviews, and lengthy and pleasurable chats.

Scott has dominated the culture of Dirt Late Model racing for the past four decades. His enormous achievement, outsized personality, far-reaching technical influence, provocative comments, controversies, and unwavering independence all combined to make him the most interesting motorsports character of our time. He fought attempts to define him and followed his own set of rules.

All of this — the numerous successes, the enormous impact on the world around him — was exactly what Scott desired. As a young and inexperienced racer, he set wanted to be the best at his craft and never deviated from that goal. He aspired to be not only the finest, but also the most important and influential. He never got tired of the bright glare of the spotlight since it was what he most desired.

My interactions with Scott escalated considerably about 20 years ago, when I started working as a pit reporter for Dirt Late Model race broadcasts, first on Speed TV and then on MAVTV. I wasn’t sure what to think of this person; his reputation preceded him. But he was immediately cordial and constantly eager to talk.

Initially, our chats were measured and professional, but as time passed, we began to discuss topics other than racing. To be true, Scott had some opinions that were far from common. Nevertheless, he was shockingly human.

Surprisingly, he worked hard to keep certain parts hidden from view. His humanity, fragility, doubts, flaws. He preferred to convey an atmosphere of invincibility, and he mostly succeeded. But, as we all know, no one is invincible.

And so began a bond that was solidified over late-night chats in a dimly lit pit area after everyone had left. Those were the occasions when I first met Scott, not as a racing legend or a lightning rod of controversy, but as a man still trying to figure everything out.

Just like the rest of us.

I recall a night some years ago in Wheatland, Missouri, when Scott was as deflated as I had ever seen him. Bottom line, he missed his wife and young kid back home in Tennessee. When the racing at Lucas Oil Speedway ended that night, he told his crew that they would load up and travel back to Mooresburg so he could spend one day at home. Then they’d drive all the way back to the next event, possibly at Cedar Lake. Scott’s crew chief, Tommy Hicks, pleaded with him to reconsider. Going home required 25 hours of driving in the truck merely to gain a few hours at home. Scott finally gave in, but when he spoke to me that night, he was lonely and hurting. Even the titan occasionally yearned for something beyond the next race.

Despite our many discussions, I never felt like I fully know Scott. Not really. To be honest, I feel Scott had difficulty knowing and understanding himself at times. It seemed as if competing forces were tugging him in different directions. Most of all, he was obsessed by an insatiable need to win… at everything he tried.

Along the way, Scott met Randy Sweet, a mercurial free spirit and expert in the design and manufacture of racing steering systems. Scott and Randy were the epitome of compatibility. They had many unforgettable moments together, equal parts clever and weird. Massive appetites, massive egos, massive brainstorming sessions, massive ideas and opinions—everything they did together was approximately five notches above average. They were fiercely loyal to one another, nonetheless, and kindred souls. They shared a same philosophy: life was meant to be lived to the fullest – in every aspect.

I have a recollection — a vision, actually — that will stay with me forever. It was a beautiful and sunny Sunday morning in Florida, one of those perfect February days when winter feels a million miles away. We raced at East Bay the previous week, and Scott won the Saturday finale the night before. Everyone packed up and drove north to Ocala for a Sunday night race.

I observed them somewhere along Interstate 75. With the top rolled back, a convertible Mustang rental car glides easily across the right lane. Scott is behind the wheel, his long hair flying in the breeze. Randy is riding shotgun, his right hand resting on his head to keep his hat from blowing off. An gigantic trophy perched in the back seat, about 6 feet over the Mustang’s windshield line.

The two daring pals ride in style. Onward to the next race.

Randy’s death in 2019 was a devastating blow to Scott, especially given the circumstances. After years of success and victory, Scott’s fortunes took a sudden and unpleasant turn. A major motorbike accident resulted in many operations, a persistent shoulder ailment, a heartbreaking divorce, and the setbacks continued. Throughout it all, Bloomquist’s famed racing charm eluded him.

In late 2021, I stopped doing television and didn’t see my racing friends as frequently as before. I last saw Scott at the World Finals in Charlotte in November.

They were struggling to find pace, and as I approached Scott’s pit, it was clear that the night was not going well. But when Scott noticed me, he grinned and returned his attention to our talk. He was supremely certain, as always, that they were on the verge of reclaiming the upper hand with his racing program. We had a pleasant conversation, and he offered me to come down to Mooresburg for a stay.

“I miss our conversations,” he said with a smile. I missed them, too. I told him I’d gladly accept his offer. However, as is often the case, we never got around to making it happen.

I’ve never met somebody quite like Scott Bloomquist. I doubt I ever will. He was—and remains—difficult to explain and define. His death leaves a massive void in Dirt Late Model racing and across motorsports. He is one of the most exciting and flamboyant figures our sport has ever seen. His impact on the sport is literally immeasurable.

The sadness at the moment is balanced with a profound thankfulness that I was able to witness Scott’s career trajectory and to call him a friend. He wasn’t perfect, just like the rest of us, but that may have added to his appeal.

Life lasts only a short time. I doubt Scott would have altered much, regardless of the outcome or conclusion. I imagine he would have sought to soar much higher.

Rest easy, my friend. We’re going to miss you.