Her wheelchair told one story, that attending the NASCAR Cup race Sunday in Loudon would have its challenges.
But the jewelry 65-year-old Cathie Tanner wore revealed something else. She had checkered flags dangling from her ears and resting a few inches below her neck.
She wore a straw hat and cool sunglasses, and she showed the passion and determination of a NASCAR driver, shoehorning herself into a two-door coupe with black interior for the 100-mile ride from Brockton, Mass.
Attendance has been down at New Hampshire Motor Speedway over the past decade or so, but that didn’t deter fans like Tanner or Jim McLaughlin of Rochester, both of whom ignored their health problems for a chance to see the elite level of stock car racing in this country.
“Walking, it sucks,” McLaughlin said in a voice gravely from decades of smoking. “I have a walker, but I’m pigheaded and use the cane. We walked to the main gate, did it yesterday. We’re in the main grandstand.”
McLaughlin, who is 62 and no longer drives, came with his neighbor and racing buddy, Todd O’Brien. McLaughlin suffers from a neurologic disorder that interferes with his brain’s ability to send and receive signals, affecting his strength and thought.
He leaned hard on his cane, on the scorching blacktop of Parking Lot S3. He wore sunglasses over his regular glasses. He said his illness has calmed down some in recent years.
“Good days and bad days,” McLaughlin said. “I have to be careful with stress, anxiety, and all that stuff because it could activate it.
“It’s just something I’ve got to live with, and I have not learned to live with it yet.”
But there was no way he’d miss Sunday’s race. “I love to bring him along,” O’Brien said, “because he loves racing just like I do.”
McLaughlin told a classic American story. His father raced cars. So did his Uncle Willis of Keene and his Uncle Bob of Haverhill, Mass. Racing has long been associated with generations of families.
“Watching them and seeing all the trophies got me interested,” McLaughlin said. “I was also able to learn the mechanics part. I never knew there was certification like there is today. I’m a hands-on person. I get myself dirty, I sit on the motor like the old days.”
He had his own race team on the Street Stock division in his 20s, competing at local speedways in Lee and Hudson. The team disbanded after McLaughlin began paying the bills with what he called house money, cash needed to care for his wife and five children.
On Sunday, McLaughlin carried two backpacks – one containing a chest of medication, including nitroglycerin for his weakened heart.
He leaned on his cane, pushing down with his left hand, while carrying a jug of hot coffee and a cigarette between the fingers of his right hand.
They boarded a tram, two long, shaded carriages, pulled by a pickup truck, that resembled the mode of transportation used on a tour of luxurious Hollywood homes or maybe Disney World.
His life was due to change drastically later this week, when he planned to pack up and moves to Florida. His niece will care for him there. He’ll still go to races.
“I want to see the Daytona 500,” McLaughlin said, “and all that good stuff.”
Tanner chose a wheelchair over a cane to move from the parking lot to the narrow ticket lines separated by bike-rack-looking barriers.
“I’ve dreamt of this for two years,” Tanner said. “My first Cup race.”
She loses her balance easily, and in fact had fallen at a convenience store shortly before pulling into the parking lot.
She was nonchalant about it, saying, “I’m fine. I fall all the time.”
She’s got screws and a plate in her left foot and has had knee surgery three times.
“That’s one reason that I’m in this chair,” she said. “If I was walking down there, I’d probably fall.”
That didn’t stop her. Even though she needed a wheelchair at an event with tens of thousands of people on a 90-degree day.
With the help of Gary Huber, her “other half, ” and Jess Scales, who calls Tanner “Ma,” they patiently attached the foot holders to the wheelchair and eased Tanner into the chair.
Scales had bought a ticket for her friend, surprising her last month. Tanner, who lives alone, said her three Chihuahuas – Boomer, Elisie and Teddy Bear – help “keep me on my feet.”
Her friends had that role on Sunday.
“I always wanted to be here to see a Cup race,” Tanner said. “My friends bought me a ticket. They are awesome people. (The wheelchair) makes it hard, but they know that I just love to do that.”